Ours {Drarry}

- vingt-neuf -

"Anita Malfoy-Potter," called Headmistress McGonagall, waiting for the messy-haired, brown girl with her dad's eyes to make her way to the stage.

"Just Anita Malfoy is fine, Miss," she said happily before taking a seat on the stool, facing the entire student body.

"If you say so Miss Malfoy."

Without another word she placed the sorting hat on the young girls head and it wasn't even a few seconds later that it was screeching out a bit too surprising: GRYFFINDOR!

"Lyra Malfoy-Potter," said the Headmistress patiently once the aforementioned girl received a high five from her now Gryffindor twin.

"Lyra Potter, if you wouldn't mind, Headmistress," says the girl politely, before sitting on the stool, pushing her glasses up on her nose and placing her hands in her lap.

"Of course," says McGonagall with a weary sigh placing the hat onto her head and looking back at her father's who each shrugged in a manner as if to say "kids, right".

After much deliberating, the hat finally shouted SLYTHERIN! and the crowd fell silent. Lyra, who had been happy to be sorted into her father's house until she saw everyone's reaction, was making her way over to the green table with her head down when a voice from across the room called out to her.

"Hey, Potter!"

She saw her sister all dark skin and pale hair and even paler scars standing in her seat, practically glowing, and talking to her. She stuck her nose up in the best impression of her father as she could, though her heart wasn't completely in it.

"What, Malfoy?"

"Congratulations!" her sister said with a goofy grin that looked just like her dads and she laughed so hard she snorted.

"Thanks," she said, taking her own seat. "Knock'em dead, yeah?"

"Don't we always?"

--:--

Professor Potter had almost forgotten what it was like to have his own kids in his class. The fact that he and Dravo hadn't been working at Hogwarts for the last couple of years for Teddy and Scorpius' Hogwarts careers, didn't help matters at all either. They would have nothing to compare the girls senior year to. It was nearing winter break when he remembered. He had written a few chapters on the board for them to read for homework over the weekend and he was asking a few extra credit questions. Lyra had taken her seat in the back of the room, charming paper to stick to the back of Kal Gulling's robes. He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair then called on her to answer a question, if only to give the Ravenclaw time to pick the paper off and move seats, which he did.

"Professor," she said whining, after much insisting that she not call him Papa in class, "I'm no good at defense, you know that. I'm no good at remembering all that stuff. I'm good at charms."

"Defense is charms. It's applied charms."

Without saying anything else he threw a wandless stinging hex her way and she lifted her wand and deflected it without a blink. She looked stunned at herself. He, however, looked smug. He remembered what it was like being in a class that he had no interest in for minutes and hours and days on end, hearing about all the cool things magic could do, but not experiencing any of it. He doesn't remember feeling that way about Defense aside from the year Umbrige taught it, or whenever Snape had substituted while Remus was recovering from a full moon.

"Alright, class," he said with a very over exaggerated sigh. "Perhaps Lyra has a point. Everyone close your books and move your desks to the edge of the room. We're done with written lessons and questions for the day. Time for more practical applications."