A/N: First storyy. A little short, but I think this gives a bit of insight into the characters which I will soon be (possibly) writing more about. Reviews are nice.
There it sat.
He looked at the hat with narrowed eyes, crossed arms and a quickening heartbeat.
She looked at it with sweaty palms, twitching fingers and dry lips.
Their nervousness was evident, and their minds were a jumble of thoughts.
She knew the threats of being disinherited were only in jest, but she couldn't help detecting a small grain of truth behind the jokes. She had been reassured a thousand times over by her mother, father, aunt, uncle, grandmother, grandfather, and countless others that it didn't matter where she was sorted. But oh, it certainly did, at least to her. She couldn't think of a single family member that hadn't sported the crimson and gold colors of Gryffindor, that omnipresent house, where every hero seemed to hail from. Did she even want to be a hero?
Needless to say, similar thoughts were going through his mind. Family legacies were not to be broken easily. He thought of his grandfather, his steely old eyes which so often looked disapproving. He thought of his father, distant and quiet. He stuffed his hands in his pocket as he looked over to the Slytherin table, the snakes on the green and silver banners seeming to stare at him. He jerked his head away and stared at the stone floor. Did he even want to follow in his family's footsteps?
She watched as her classmates were sorted, rather more slowly than she would have preferred. She couldn't stand this sort of purgatory of suspense. She then began a little game; to guess which table each newcomer would be trotting off to after leaving that three-legged stool. The majority of her guesses were wrong. What did that mean for her?
His name was called, and to his great annoyance, the expected glances and murmurs were heard. He took a deep breath as he stepped up to sit on the rickety old stool. The hat was placed over his head, and he looked up at the raggedy old brim above his eyes. This was what would be determining his academic future? His reputation? The approval of his family? A hat? At any other time he would have found this comical, but now he was too busy trying to ignore the mutterings in his ear.
There was a lot of 'hmmm'ing at first, and then the hat began to debate the inner workings of his mind to itself.
Well then. You take after your father, now, in some ways... hmm, hmm. But in others... very different, very different. You're an enigma, you are... but you mustn't let desire to conform cloud the truth.
The hat continued its muttering, then so loudly and so out of the blue that he nearly fell off the stool, it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"
There was applause, although it seemed a bit hesitant, and he glimpsed more than a few surprised expressions on the faces of the other students. He couldn't decide whether to grin or burst into tears. He decided on stony-faced silence.
Meanwhile, she was cursing her unfortunate last name, leaving her at the back of the line, watching as the new groups were being defined without her. She was sure her heart would give out if she had to endure watching any more people sighing in relief and striding over to join their future friends. Finally, she heard her name called, and she hurried up to the platform as quickly as she possibly could without seeming like a dork. The hat was placed on her head, and to her surprise, it seemed to know exactly what to do with her. Maybe she knew it deep down herself.
Well now, well now. I think I have the perfect place for you, little Weasley. You'll like this one, I'm sure..."RAVENCLAW!"
With a crooked sort of grin on her face, she took her time walking over to the table as her cousins stared at her confusedly from the Gryffindor table. She wiggled her fingers at them in a strange sort of wave, and sat down across from the person she had been ordered to beat at in every test. As he gave her the tiniest of smiles, and she returned it, she decided that she would take her father up on that offer.