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Deputy Headmistress Hermione Granger had a secret. And it was a Very Secret Secret. It was a bizarre affair, a mistake she could never admit to aloud. But it was something she could never hide from the soul, the man, the being who inexplicably now held her mind and her heart.
It started the night of the Sorting Ceremony. She’d been carrying too many things in her arms, so she asked a student to place the Sorting Hat upon her head.
She was contemplating a night in with a smutty book when a deep huff sounded in her ear. “Long time, Hermione Granger.”
She jumped. "Who's there?"
“I’m hurt you don't recognize me."
Hermione’s eyes shot upwards. “Sorting Hat?” she asked tentatively.
“Who else?”
“Oh,” she relaxed. “You sound different.” Its voice was teasing, manly, intelligent, and it spoke in a way she’d never heard before.
“I try to sound wizened, lest the First Years feel disinclined to heed my Sorting.”
Hermione snorted. “You toy with them.”
“Give me my fun. Enjoying conversation only once a year is terribly lonely.”
"Mmm."
“And peering into children's minds can be amusing, but it gets dull.”
Didn’t Hermione know it. Being in Hogwarts didn't exactly let her enjoy the company of adults her age, let alone have a sex life. Hence the books. “And the rest of the year?”
“I compose a new Hogwarts song.”
“This year's was particularly bad.”
“Thank you.”
Hermione chuckled.
When she arrived at her rooms, she lay her things down and reached for the Hat.
“Hermione.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t suppose you'd let an old hat keep you company? I’d love to read the smutty book with you.”
Hermione blushed to her roots. “I— You—”
“Legilimens, remember?” it said.
She frowned. How... creepy.
“I understand,” the Hat sighed. “Put me away, it's fine.”
“Sorry,” she shook her head. “It’s just. The mind reading bothers me.”
“You can take me off, if you want.”
Ashamed, Hermione kept it on as a show of goodwill.
That was her first mistake.
“You know my name,” she said. “Do you have one?”
“Doesn't matter,” said the Hat. “Not with my curse. I’ve been a hat for ages. Though I was a man, once.”
“Weren’t you Gryffindor’s hat? In Hogwarts: A History, it says—”
"Ha!" he - the Hat - barked. “Wonderful cover-up, that."
Hermione blinked. “Well, could you tell me?”
“How about I show you instead?”
“Okay.” She felt a pull at the edge of her mind, and then she was falling, as if into a Pensieve.
Standing before her was a man around her age, wearing a tunic and leggings typical of the Middle Ages. He appeared scholarly. And handsome, Hermione thought, with his long, dark hair tied in a queue. Even though he looked... a little worried.
Another chuckle sounded, and her eyes widened with embarrassment. Not again! “Is that you, Hat?”
“Yes. And thank you." He sounded smug.
And then he unfurled his life for her. Salazar Slytherin’s bastard by a Muggle, he was lured by the Founder with promises of kinship. But his father had wanted to hide him. Slytherin cursed him to spend eternity as a hat, then gifted him to his biggest rival, Godric Gryffindor.
“That’s cruel!” Hermione cried as the Hat pulled her out of its memory.
“He wanted me to spy for him,” he explained. “I begged Godric to put me to better use, so he did. But my story died with them. Nobody else knew who or what I was, and, well. You can guess the rest.”
“You sound very modern for a man of that period.”
“The kids keep me young.”
“Can anything be done?”
He shrugged, as much as a hat could. “Godric only said it would help to enjoy love. So, how about that smutty book?”
"Oh, all right," she sighed.
That was her second mistake.
Hat turned out to be a stellar reading partner. Every evening, she let him sit on her head as she flew through tomes of all genres. Perhaps it was because he was the son of a Founder, but he was brilliant, and they exchanged ideas late into the night.
But nothing could beat their nights with Hermione’s smutty books, when Hat offered to read the male leads' lines in his deep timbre. It was weird, but Hermione acquiesced when he got Mr. Darcy exactly right. She tried to take Hat off when her thoughts began to wander, but he swore he wouldn't pry.
“I’m enjoying the stories more than you are,” he confessed. “And I envy your human feelings. End of the day, I’m just a hat.”
“So you don’t feel human emotions like… lust? Or love?” It was a relief, but it was disappointing to hear.
Hat paused before answering, “I don’t know.”
Yet Hat made for the best company. Hermione didn’t have much of a life outside her job, what with Harry and Ron always being out on missions. She hadn’t any girlfriends either. So when classes ended each day, she retreated to her rooms to engage Hat in hours-long conversation.
“Nothing better to do?” Hat had teased once.
“Than guess your name? No,” she teased back. “Saul? Sean? Samuel?”
“That’s the one.”
“Samuel.” She liked it. A good name for a good soul, and one who read smut so well, at that.
“I heard that,” Hat - Samuel - said.
"Oh, shut up."
“You like me.” He sounded surprised.
“I do.”
"I like you, too."
In truth, her feelings for Samuel the Hat had begun to worry her. She already liked him better than she did anyone else. He knew her mind so well. She never lied to him, nor did he ever try to appease her.
But he was a hat.
Still, they eventually ceased reading at night. Instead, he filled her mind with filthy words and visions of them: human, intertwined and making love.
“I feel,” Samuel confessed, “I feel human again when I am with you.”
It all came to a head one day when she made her biggest mistake yet.
“Professor?” her student asked when she walked into the classroom. “Is that the Sorting Hat on your head?”
Hermione blanched and whipped it off. “Oh! Well. You know.”
How could she have forgotten? She shunted Samuel in a drawer as she began teaching her bemused Defense class.
“Talk to me,” she begged him later. “I’m sorry.”
Samuel was upset, understandably so. “You’re ashamed of me.”
“You’re a hat.”
“Ten points to Gry—”
“Don’t use your hat voice on me,” she said. “People wouldn’t get it.”
“I know,” he snapped. “You hardly do. And that's fine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m under no illusions as to what we are,” he said. “And what we could never be.”
“If you’d only let me help you break this curse!” Hermione cried. “Don't you get it? I'm in love with you. And I can’t tell anyone, because you're a hat!"
Hermione was sure she’d gone mad. She clutched Samuel tight to her chest, weeping. How cruel was fate that she would meet her match in a sentient hat? That she would want to spend forever with the silly thing, even if it meant living a lie?
She fell asleep in tears on the floor.
Light streamed through Hermione'e eyelids as she felt herself being shaken awake.
Gods, what time was it? Had someone found her? Where was —
A warm hand reached to tilt her chin up. Hermione found herself looking in the eyes of her biggest secret, the sum of all her mistakes.
“How?” she breathed.
Samuel gave her his secret grin, one she’d only ever seen in her head. “So that’s what Godric meant by love,” he said. “Long time, Hermione Granger.”
She launched herself at him in reply. She couldn't wait to shout her Very Secret Secret from the rooftops.