Never Let Go

As a child, I had often dreamt what being sorted would be like.

I had an entire scenario planned out in my mid, a scenario which began with my being called to be sorted before Ron was. And when my name was called, I would squeeze his hand tightly before letting go so I could march over to the stool in a calm silence. I would smile as I took a seat and then, then the Hat would be lowered onto my head and just as it would brush my hair, it would yell out Gryffindor.

In my dreams, the Hat didn’t have to stop and think about where I was meant to be.

It just knew that I was destined for Gryffindor.

That’s how things happened in my dreams.

But in real life, the Hat didn’t just know.

The Sorting Hat was forced to deliberate over what house I was best suited for. And to make matters worse, I could hear its deliberation process. Having to listen to it go on about how I was meant for more than Gryffindor could give made me uneasy, but still I clung to the hope that it would take my wants into consideration. I foolishly clung to that hope and thought that everything would just work itself out in my favor, but it didn’t.

There was no change in opinion from the Hat. No. It was firm in its resolve to place me outside of Gryffindor and when it announced to everyone present that I was meant for Slytherin. I felt the air rush from my lungs. I was left gasping for a breath that refused to come. It was as if my body had turned on itself, like it had promised itself that if I was sorted into Slytherin, it would cease functioning.

That was probably a genetic defense against Slytherin that Renner’s had.

After all, there had never been a Renner in Slytherin. There had been Renner’s in the other houses, but never Slytherin and with each passing second, I felt myself growing more ashamed but even worse than the shame was the rage that I was feeling. I wasn’t meant to be a Slytherin. Both my parents had been Gryffindors so that’s where I belonged, not Slytherin . . .

The only people that belonged there were dark wizards and assholes that believed in blood purity but were too afraid to actually dabble with the dark arts in order to “purify” the magical realm. Is that an unfair generalization? I don’t think so, not to me. Slytherin was the house where the dark wizards that had torn my parents from me, had lived. It was where my mother’s murderer had honed his ability so I thought poorly of them, of all of them.

And I honestly couldn’t fathom what the Hat meant when it said that I would do better in Slytherin. I knew for a fact that I wouldn’t. I wasn’t like them. Sure, I was a wealthy pure blood from an ancient line of wizards and witches that had been respected for centuries but I wasn’t spoiled rotten, I wasn’t obsessed with blood purity and I loved muggles far too much to ever wish them ill.

So how could I thrive in that environment?

How could I be better off there than in Gryffindor?

Was the Hat trying to tell me that there was an evil hidden deep within my soul?

Would said evil manifest itself under the proper circumstances?

Was I destined to lose myself in the darkness that my mother had so valiantly fought against?

Those pesky thoughts bombarded my poor mind as I gaped into the crowd, but then my grey eyes landed on Ron’s freckled face and I realized that I didn’t have to accept the Hat’s ruling. I could have it resort me. In order to do that I was going to have to throw in front of the entire school, a fit that would most likely condemn me to be viewed as a spoiled little rich girl that had to have her way. That was fine by me. I was willing to pay any price as long I was free of Slytherin.

I refused to don the green and silver.

With that thought in mind, I summoned all the courage that was trapped within my being and slowly turned to the elderly witch at my side. My breathing was ragged, small beads of sweat decorated my forehead and in all honesty, I wanted to jump off the stool and go home. I wanted to cry into my Nan’s arms, but I couldn’t.

Hogwarts was my home now and I had to make it agreeable to myself.

The elderly witch stared at me with curious eyes, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed no emotion. Her look reminded me of the look that Nan would shoot me whenever I was doing something really stupid that also ended up being rather interesting. It was an odd look, always made me feel uncomfortable and as the woman stared at me, I felt my mouth run dry and my resolve begin to weaken.

“Is something the matter, Miss Renner?” she asked me.

I blinked at her words. “The hat’s broken.” I told her, surprised that the words had come out smoothly.

“Broken?” she repeated, her eyes scanning mine.

“Yes Madam.” I tore it off my head and held it at my side. “It seems . . .” I paused, taking in a deep breath to formulate a proper sentence, one that would leave me seeming respectable before I threw my fit. “It seems to think that I'm supposed to be in Slytherin, but I know for a fact that I don’t belong there. I belong somewhere else . . . anywhere else.”

She parted her lips to speak but was beaten by the hat. “Say what you will, but know this, there is no house more suiting for you than Slytherin.”

“Why are you talking?” I huffed angrily. “You’re broken and broken hats aren’t supposed to talk!”

“Then by your own account, I am not broken.” The Hat countered.

I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply so that I could reign in my temper and stop myself from tearing the Hat apart with my own hands and setting fire to it.

“Let me rephrase that,” I took in a sharp breath. “You’re broken and broken hats talk gibberish so, get fixed so you can sort me again. This time try to put my anywhere other Slytherin. Anywhere at all, put me in Hufflepuff if you want! I don’t care as long as you put me somewhere.”

“I already did.” The Hat responded.

“That was the wrong house!” I held the hat up to my face as if it were a human foe I was arguing with.

“There is no such thing as being placed in the wrong house.” The Hat smirked slyly. “And your behavior only serves to prove that I judged wisely.”

“That’s it. I'm ignoring you because you’re just a hat and this fine lady over here has more authority than you.” I placed the hat on the stool. “This hat’s broken.” I motioned to it with my left hand. “And I would really appreciate if it could get fixed so I can be sorted.”

“Miss Renner, although I thank you for thinking that I have authority which I do not posses, nor will ever process, I must inform you that the Hat which you have labeled broken is not in fact broken and is actually the only authority when it comes to sorting students.”

“But it can’t be right.” I argued. “I'm not supposed to be a Slytherin. For crying out loud, there’s never been a Slytherin Renner and my mom wasn’t in that house, even though she should’ve been since most of her family was and –” I mumbled awkwardly.

“Enough, Miss Renner.” Her voice told me it was pointless to keep talking.

“You can’t just say enough to someone when they’re having a quarter life crisis. That’s rude and I'm sorry that my quarter life crisis is boring you but it is what it is and I’d really appreciate if you could help me get sorted again.”

She completely ignored my words. “You were sorted into Slytherin and that is where you will go so please, join your housemates or else there will be repercussions to your actions.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Miss Renner, go.” She turned on her heel before I could say a word.

I should’ve gone. I should’ve sat down at the Slytherin table and thought of another way to fix the mess I was in, but my feet refused to move. They were determined to have me stand there until I was resorted.

As I stood there a tall man with long silver hair began to approach me. I had met him before in passing, it had been at a dinner that my grandfather had taken me to when I was ten and although many years had passed, I still recognized his face; it was Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the modern era.

“Miss Renner,” he spoke, his brilliant blue eyes twinkling with kindness as he did so. “I have heard that you are unhappy with the house chosen for you. Is that true?”

“Yes sir.” I answered.

“Well then,” Dumbledore took the Hat into his own hands. “Take a seat, if you please.”

“Thank you so much.” I launched myself onto the chair, my hands gripping onto it as I waited.

The moment the Hat touched my head, I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply, praying that this time I would be freed from Slytherin. I sat there waiting and waiting, but when the time came for the Hat to announce its verdict, it was the same one it had given before.

I had been certain that if given another opportunity to explore my mind, the Hat would place me in Gryffindor. I had been so sure that that would be the cause, so fucking sure, but there I sat, with eyes that were flooding with tears and a heart that was falling apart. I thought of arguing some more to have another go with the Hat. I even thought of telling Dumbledore that he should let my grandfather have the Hat looked after. I decided against it though.

The Hat wasn’t going to liberate me from Slytherin.

I’d have to do that on my own.

Before I left the stool, I thanked Dumbledore for having allowed me to be sorted again and then I began my walk to the Slytherin table where the members of the elite pureblood society dwelled. I felt uneasy as I moved towards them, they didn’t clap or stand to greet me as the other tables had done for their new members, then again, none of the other students had tried to get out of the house they’d been sorted in, so the behavior exhibited by the Slytherin’s was justified.

I took a seat at the edge of the table, not daring to go further in and once there, I grabbed a nearby plate and piled on the food, completely ignoring everyone around me. All I was focusing on was the food on my plate. I just had to eat it and get through tonight, because once morning came, my Grandpa and Nan would arrive to make things right. They’d make things right.

I picked at the food at the plate, stomach growling as I stared at it, but when I lifted a forkful into my mouth, I felt myself gag. The food wasn’t as appealing as I had thought. I wasn’t as hungry as I’d been feeling. So I sat there in silence, my brow furrowed as I played with the food on the plate.

“It’s not poison, you know.” A voice spoke from behind me.

I directed my gaze towards the voice and there stood the blonde haired young man from Diagon Alley. There stood my first cousin, Draco Malfoy. I wondered if he knew who I was, if he’d asked his mother about me or if he’d only talked to me because he wanted to discover who I was.

A semblance of a smile was on his lips. It seemed, forced, like it didn’t belong there and in all honesty, it just looked off. He had the same look his father in all the pictures that my mother had of her family, not once had I seen a picture of Lucius smiling, his lips were always pressed into a tight line, he always looked like he was having irregular bowel movements.

“Move.” He growled to the person at my right.

The person grabbed their plate and shoved the person sitting beside him in order to make room for Draco. Draco was seemingly unaffected by the fact that his actions had been rude. He simply sat beside me and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“I asked my mother about you.” he told me as he turned to face me. “She said you were the daughter of my father’s sister and in effect, my cousin. You can imagine my surprise, can’t you? I had never heard of an Adelaide Malfoy or Emilia Renner, but mother informed me of everything.” He took a sip from his cup. “And I must confess, I thought you would be sorted into Gryffindor since the Renner’s are the wealthiest of blood traitors but no . . . you are here, in Slytherin.” Draco laughed to himself. “Funny, isn’t it? You’ve been sorted here, like a true Malfoy.”

I met his gaze. “I'm not a Malfoy and come morning, I won’t be a Slytherin.”

“Let me tell you something, Emilia,” the forced smile vanished, leaving nothing more than a scowl that was being held back. “You were sorted here twice so don’t prance around acting like you’re better than this, because you’re not. This is your place and it’s in your best interest to stop acting like some filthy blood traitor. That’s the only way to survive in here.” He paused briefly before adding, “Or out there.”

I wanted to tell him off for trying to tell me what it was that I should do with my life, I truly did, but I was more curious as to why he was warning about how I should act.

“Why are you telling me this?” I was intrigued.

“You’re a Malfoy and a Slytherin,” he said before turning to leave.

I cringed at his words. I wasn’t a Malfoy. My mother had been disowned so as her daughter, I was also an undesirable and as for being a Slytherin, well, that would be fixed soon enough. I sat through the rest of dinner in silence, continuing to pick at the food while the Slytherins whispered amongst themselves. They were curious as to what Draco had told me. He had been quiet with his words, only speaking loud enough for me to hear and now the others yearned to know what our brief conversation had consisted of.

At the end of the feast, everyone filed out of the Great Hall, the new students gathered together to be guided to the Slytherin Dungeon. I lingered towards the back of the group, not really paying attention to what was being saying by Draco and a pug faced teenage girl.

“And this is the entry,” spoke the girl, her shrill voice snapping me from my thoughts. “To get in you have to say the password which is fen. Remember that or else you’ll be stuck out here all night and no one will come get you. You’ll be lucky if Filch . . . well, no, you won’t be lucky if Filch finds you, he’ll punish you for being a troll that couldn’t remember the password.”

“Was that really necessary?” I didn’t care for her rudeness.

“Excuse me?” her head snapped in my direction, her dark beady eyes intently staring at my face. “Did you say something just now?”

“Yeah, I did, I asked if your rudeness was necessary because everyone here is new and sometimes when you’re new and nervous you forget things. And forgetting things doesn’t make one a troll, a person’s a troll when they’re set on being rude and offensive when it’s uncalled for.”

She walked towards me, the students parting to let her weave through them with ease.

“That’s no way to talk to a prefect.” She spat, her words dripping with venom.

“You ate a bunch of onions during dinner, didn’t you?” I fanned the air in front of my face. “I can smell it and girl; you need to wash that mouth, because I think that that nasty breath is making you nasty.”

“Filthy fat cow –”

“I’d rather be a fat cow than pug faced, because I can lose the weight but you can’t do anything about that face.”

Her face flushed with color, turning a shade of red so deep, that she looked like she had been placed in an oven for an hour. She parted her lips to speak, but all she could do was stutter and then, after quite some time, she formed words.

“Watch yourself.” Warned the pug faced prefect.

I think she expected me to break under her gaze, to lower my head in fear and act as if I regretted what I had said. I didn’t regret it and I kept my eyes firmly locked on hers. I could feel the warmth fleeing my grey eyes, I could feel it being replaced with a menacing coldness that was similar to the one in Draco’s gaze and after a few minutes of silence, it was she who broke. She played it well though, scowling at me after her shoulders had fallen so she could make it seem like she had been the victor of the stare off.

A soft sigh of relief left my lips when she resumed her place at the front.

Under normal circumstances, I wasn’t a bitch. I was actually a nice person that giggled over one thing or another but I could tell that she wasn’t a nice person by the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice. And when a mean person is attacking you in their home environment, there are only two things that one could do; a person could stand up for themselves and not back down from the altercation or they could become the person’s bitch.

I would be horrible at being someone’s bitch. I love being able to think for myself to much so I did the only thing I could, I stood up for myself. For the time being, that would earn me breathing room, but in the long run, it made me a target for her, someone for her to attack and I’d have to be ready for the next attack.

The group moved into the common room and the first years were then shown to their dormitories. I was told by the pug, whose name I later learned was Pansy, to walk up the stairs to the second to last dormitory. She didn’t want to bother with showing me around. I didn’t mind. I didn’t want to have to be in her company any longer.

There were three girls in the dormitory when I entered. They were whispering amongst themselves. When they noticed my presence, they stopped. Their heads turned towards me and after a moment of silence, after scrutinizing me with their eyes they picked up their conversations and ignored me.

In return, I ignored them and walked over to my trunk that was in front of an elegant looking bed. I rummaged through, pulling out some comfortable clothes to lounge in. Since I didn’t know where the bathrooms were, I changed in the room. I stripped myself of the Hogwarts robes in a room filled with gossiping teenage girls, knowing very well that they would tear apart every inch of my body in conversation. They would complain about the belly that was nowhere near firm, the thighs that touched and the cellulite that was just below my left butt cheek.

They were going to have a field day with it.

And who knows, they might even tease me about it. The jokes on them though. I’ve already been teased about my weight, it happened during the seventh grade when my ass grew unexpectedly and the girls at school began their taunting. That had been a trying time but I came out of it with more self love than any of them would ever have.

After I finished getting dressed I pulled out my stationary along with a few pens which were stuffed into a purse. I zipped up my hoodie and soon enough I was leaving the Slytherin dungeon and entering the castle.

Was I going to get lost?

Yes.

Did I care?

No, not really.

I’d much rather be wandering the castle than be in the dormitory. I walked around for what felt like an eternity and when I found a well lit spot; I sat down on the cold marble flooring and pressed my back to the wall, pulling out my supplies so I could begin the letter to Grandpa and Nan.

The letter was long, filled with colorful language that conveyed just how furious I was. Halfway through it, I burst into tears so the parchment ended up being stained. I thought about rewriting the letter on fresh parchment, but thought against it. The tears would freak them out and make them use their influence faster.

“Who’s there?” Ron’s voice broke the silence in which I had been writing.

The pen in my hand was set down. “Emilia,” I kept my head low, not wanting him to see me cry.

“Emi.” He sounded surprised. “What are you doing out at these hours? Did they do something to you? I swear if they did something I’ll take points from them. Teach them not to mess with you.”

“Don’t get so worked up. I'm fine.”

“Then why are you staring at that paper?” he crouched down in front of me, I could see his shoes.

“Because the paper’s prettier than you are,” I answered.

“Nothings prettier than me,” he joked. “But seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I'm in fucking Slytherin.” I lifted my face, my puffy eyes meeting his. “I wasn’t supposed to be there Ron. I was supposed to be a Gryffindor like you and my dad and mum and Nan and Grandpa and everyone else! I was supposed to be a fucking Gryffindor but the damn hat put me in Slytherin and –”

Ron sat next to me and slid an arm around my shoulder.

“And I hate it,” I continued on my heated rant. “It hasn’t even been a day and I’ve already talked with my cousin and gotten in a argument.”

“But you haven’t talked to Chey since the train.”

“I'm not talking about her.” I had forgotten that Ron didn’t known about my being related to The Malfoys, that was something that no one ever talked about, not his mother, not my family, not me. “I'm related to Draco.” I explained. “My mum and his dad were siblings but she got disowned and Draco found out that we’re related and he talked to me during the dinner. He . . . he told me that I was a true Malfoy. Can you believe that?”

“I don’t care if your mum and his dad were brother and sister, you’re not a Malfoy, never have been, never will be and I'm going to talk to Dumbledore after classes, Harry’s going with me to, we’re going to ask him if you can be resorted. I know if we do it just one more time you’ll be put in Gryffindor or at least Hufflepuff.”

“You’re going to do that for me?”

“Course, I'm not going to have you with them. It’s not right, they’re the ones that . . . they ruined everything and it’s not right, you’re not like them.” he wasn’t one for long outbursts like that and to show his discomfort, his ears began to turn red. “So what’d you mean when you said you’d gotten into an argument? Was it with Malfoy?”

“It was with some pug faced girl.” I began.

“Pansy?” exclaimed Ron. “Blimey! First day here and you already got into a fight with Pansy, that’s brilliant! So what happened?”

“She was being, mean so I asked her if her being necessary was mean, and then it just blew up into something else and she called me a fat cow and I told her that I could lose weight but that she’d always be ugly.”

Ron burst into a fit of booming laughter. “Bloody hell Emi, you don’t waste any time. Merlin,” he sighed. “I’d give anything to see the look on her face. Bet it was brilliant.”

“It was pretty rad.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “Thanks for listening to me rant.”

“You’ve heard me rant loads of times, it’s only fair I repay the favor, which reminds me, you’re not fat, you know.”

“How does a conversation about ranting remind you to tell me I'm not fat?”

“Because you were ranting about how Pansy called you a fat cow, which you’re not, I think you’re fine how you are so don’t, stop eating because then no one will enjoy good food with me.”

“Ronald Weasley, you’re absurd.”

“Promise not to stop eating.”

I giggled lightly. “I promise.”

“Good, because I would’ve forced fed ya if you hadn’t. You know I would. That letter for your Nan?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s going to go mental when she reads it. I went mental when I heard the Hat say Slytherin. I was about to go yell at it but then you yelled at it.”

“Fuck. You heard me from your seat?”

“You were loud.”

“I thought I was whispering.”

“Emi, we both know you can’t whisper.”

“But I like to pretend that I can.” I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “Do you think you can show me where the owls are? I need to send this letter out right now.”

“It’s kind of far from here, but we can go. I have to lurk through the corridors right now, might as well lurk with you.”