A/N: Hello again, my dear friends. Thank you very much for those who have left very kind words on my last story – despite it having a lot of flaws and stuff. The reviews mean a lot to me :)

Anyway, here's my next story, which will be a series (I hope) of oneshots. It will still use Bellatrix and Hermione's future child POV, and even though it focuses heavily on what is going on around the child, I think I managed to throw some BellaMione in it.

It is an AU story, set around 19 years after the last battle and takes place somewhere at the beginning of my previous story "Light and Dark". You don't have to read that one to understand this, I guess – but of course I won't pass up a chance to shamelessly pimping my story ;)

The story is still unbeta-ed and therefore I expect grammatical mistakes in it. Please be kind to point the mistakes to me and I will be very happy to fix them.

And here's the compulsory disclaimer: It's not mine, I just like playing with other people's food.

So I suppose I have to just shut up and let you take the ride. Have a good ride :)

The Sorting

I am fidgeting, literally fidgeting – and I don't usually fidget, as I am following my fellow classmates, the First Years, to the Great Hall of Hogwarts. I am paying no attention at all to the details and majestic design of my surrounding as I walk; the chatters around me seem to fall to the background of my brain, drowned by the sound of my own thoughts.

Feeling a clammy hand slip into my own, I glance up to see the owner of the pale hand holding mine and see a pair of blue eyes looking at me worriedly as if searching for comfort. Hugo Weasley looks paler than usual and I'm kind of worried that he's going to faint – or worse, be sick all over me like he did back on the picnic when we were younger. I give him a smile, crooked as I'm nervous as well, but it seems to calm him down.

"I'm scared, Dru," he whispers quietly, "Dad'll kill me if I'm not in Gryffindor."

I squeeze his hand and try to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his last comment. With two Gryffindors as parents? His chance of being sorted into other Houses other than the lion's den is slim to none (although it's not a guarantee, as Mama always tells me, but there's no need adding his misery now as much as I'd love to see him squirm). "You'll be fine. Just don't look around," I suggest. I see him nod from the corner of my eyes and he hangs his head low, never letting go of my hand.

I, being my mothers' daughter, am not really good at following suggestions even if I am the one who make the suggestion. So I do the stupidest thing in the world – I look around. My eyes first land on the far left table, where I see James Potter and he begins to stand up and wave frantically to grab my and his cousin's attention when he sees us. I ignore him and turn my head to the other side of the hall. I spot my Nephew Scorpius sitting among his friends at what I suppose is Slytherin table but he doesn't seem to see me.

When my eyes land to the teacher's table it's not difficult to spot my mothers – I'd recognise them anywhere; they are sitting side by side at one end of the table, chatting idly with each other. Mama – I mean, Professor Granger (I forget about our deal for a second here) – sees me first; she nudges at Mother before smiling at me and suddenly my world seems a bit brighter. She is magical that way, my Mama is. Professor Black winks at me and I feel myself blush. I look around to see if anyone noticed, but I think everyone is too caught up with what the Headmistress has to say at that moment.

Headmistress McGonagall speaks for what seems like forever before the sorting begins. My heart begins to thump louder against my ribcage as she calls out the names of children. I almost curse Mother for having a name with the second alphabet as the initial when I hear my name being called.

"Druella Black," the Headmistress' voice rings across the hall.

For a second I can't move but I manage to catch myself and walk forward. Headmistress McGonagall looks a lot older than I've imagined before, I contemplate as she ushers me to a high stool. She catches my eyes and there's a gleam in her eyes – recognition that is beyond a surname, perhaps, since I look a lot like Mother – before she puts the hat on me.

...

"Oh another Black," the Hat suddenly speaks in my head! "You people never stop breeding, do you?"

I ignore that comment but roll my eyes nonetheless; I am not going to add 'arguing with a hat-that-speaks-in-my-head' to the ever growing list of my stupidity.

"Now, now, let's see what you've got here" the Hat proceeds, "You've certainly got your mother's blood and talent inside you."

"Which mother?" I scoff sarcastically.

"Ah, a feisty one – I like it. Fine, both mothers, if it pleases you. Now sit still for a second and stop that brain of yours from squirming so much; I'm getting too old for this. I see–.. interesting. Your Black blood pumps into your heart, child, and it yearn to go to Slytherin just like every noble member of your House Black does – save one whom I sent to Gryffindor."

There's a smile on my face now. A proper house for the youngest Black – Mother will be proud. However, the next thing the Hat says bursts my bubble.

"Hmm... how peculiar; Slytherin is not where you are meant to be."

My heart sinks a little – only a little, because it only means one thing. "Gryffindor then?" I whisper with every ounce of hope I have left. When the Hat keeps its silence I begin to dread the worst – that it will announce that this is a mistake and that I, Druella Black, am a Squib.

"You're not a Squib. Now stop interrupting me," replies the Hat as it reads my mind, "There is a lion roaring in you but I have to say that Gryffindor is not for you, either."

"I can't not be in either two!" I plead desperately.

"The blood says Slytherin and the heart is torn between the lion and the serpent – but it is clear that the head belongs to something else. You are destined great thing in your future; however, it won't happen lest you are surrounded who share the same thirst and longing as yours. And Black, you are the first of your blood so smile a little and let's welcome you to RAVENCLAW!"

The last part is shouted to the hall, I'm sure, since I hear a loud applause erupt from one of the four tables – Ravenclaw table.

Professor McGonagall takes the hat off me. I can see confusion and surprise in her eyes but she only offers congratulation as I jump off the stool and walk to my table, smiling weakly as everyone pats me on the back and offers their hands as a welcome gesture.

I can feel several pairs of eyes on me but I avoid them all. The Potters and Weasleys must be looking at me with pity; Nephew Scorpius will be smirking – oh I can imagine what he is going to write his grandparents first thing in the morning: "Dear Grandpa Lucius, our little Aunt Dru is a raven. A Black who is not in Slytherin – isn't that some news?". I grit my teeth at the thought.

And then there are my mothers. Thinking about them makes me feel bile forming at the back of my throat, blocking my airway. Mother must be beyond displeased. I'm her only daughter and I fail to live up to her expectation to be a respectable Black. And Mama; I know that I've disappointed her too. She is never hard to please but it doesn't mean that she doesn't have expectations on me. A daughter of a lion and a serpent in Ravenclaw – how very unfitting.

As the sorting continues, I feel my heart get heavier at every name that belongs to either Slytherin or Gryffindor – that should have been me, I think bitterly. I look up when I hear Hugo's name being called. The Hat only touches his hair less than five seconds when it shouts Gryffindor for all to hear. And that's it – my last straw.

I scramble on my feet and find a girl Prefect – I still don't remember her name.

"What is it?" she whispers worriedly, "Are you ill? You look so pale."

I shake my head. "I just need to go to the rest room," I make a feeble excuse. She nods and directs me there, telling me to be back quickly before dinner is over. I mumble my thanks and scramble out of the Hall. I need to be alone.

Before I've walked too far away from the Hall, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and instinctively raise my wand (a silly motion, really, since I can't defend myself properly with it yet) but then I find my Mama standing behind me. I lower my wand.

"Dru, are you alright?" she asks in that loving tone that makes the dam in me begin to crumble. I run to her and bury my head in her chest as the first tears begin to fall. "Sweetie, what's the matter?" Mama rocks me back and forth in her arms, making soothing circle on my back with her hand. "Dru, sweetheart, are you ill?"

"I'm sorry," I cry.

"Sorry for what?"

How can she ask me that? Sorry for what? Doesn't see understand? I've failed her – I've failed them both. Her question only adds fuel to the fire and I sob even harder. It takes me a moment to realise that we are no longer alone. I stiffen in Mama's arms before I recognise the sharp click of boots against the floor. When the clicking stops and Mother is looming over us, I close my eyes tightly and bury my head even further to Mama's robe, not wanting Mother to see me.

"Oh, little raven is crying," Mother drawls lazily in a mock tone.

"Bella," Mama warns her in a sombre tone and I know that she is giving Mother a look.

I hear the rustle of Mother's dress as she sits next to us on the floor and sighs audibly. She surprises me when she takes me from Mama's arms into her own embrace before placing me on her lap.

"Upset, are we?" she enquires using a tone that is closer to a statement than a question. I nod silently, fiddling with the hem of her black dress instead of looking at her. "Well, look at the bright side, little bird," she goes on cutting to the chase as if knowing what is bothering me, "at least you're not in Hufflepuff."

"Bella!"

"What?" Mother sounds offended. "It's true. If she isn't a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, then being a Ravenclaw is the last viable option. At least it shows that she's smart enough to be among those birds. Aren't I lenient enough?"

"You're incorrigible," Mama admonishes with a chuckle, swatting Mother on her upper arm in jest. "Don't listen to your mother, Dru."

"Which mother?" Mother and I ask in unison and Mama rolls her eyes.

I tilt my head so I can see Mother better. "You're not mad I'm not in Slytherin?"

"Well–.." she pauses, exchanging a look with Mama before she continues, "there's always the first time for everything, isn't there?"

"You're not going to cut me off the family tree?"

"Why on earth would I do that?" she sounds genuinely surprised. Again, she glances at Mama but it seems that Mama urges her to deal with me this time. "Who fed you that moronic idea?"

I shrug. "The Hat did say that every noble Black belongs in Slytherin," I point out.

"And you believe a smelly old hat instead of us – your own mothers?" Mother sighs when I give her no reply. "Look at me," she says. For what seems like a long time, we only stare at each other's eyes – dark against dark – and she says nothing. When she speaks again, though, her words touch me to the core. "I'm proud of you, Druella. I don't care what House you are in – I will never love you any less. It's just a House; just be your best and that's all that I ask of you."

This, coming from Mother, means a lot to me. It's not that Mama's opinion isn't as important but she is different. Mama is always all about showing her feelings, showering me with praises and love, all about supporting me. I know that she will accept me whatever I do and whoever I become. Mother is something else; she is always the first person to rebuke me should I do something wrong. A word of praise rarely comes from her because in her book, as a descendant of Black I am bound to do everything perfectly on the first try.

Mother practically renders me speechless this time – this says a great deal, really, because I am pretty eloquent in general. I can't even find a word when Mama kisses me and tells me how she is also proud of me and that she's glad that I am a Ravenclaw (she told me that the Hat wanted her to be in Ravenclaw before changing its mind back when she started school, so maybe it does run in the family after all).

"Of course, if you happened to be sorted into Hufflepuff, the idea of cutting you off the family tree is somewhat appealing," Mother, of course, has to add. It earns her another glare from Mama and a smile from me. She is only joking – her eyes tell me so. "Now go back to the Hall before I take your House points for making me starve."

"Yes, Professor," I respond. It feels like all my burdens have evaporated into thin air. I wave at them then run back to the Great Hall, leaving the two behind me. The Headmistress has just begun her speech when I squeeze myself between two First Years at the table – Ravenclaw table, my House.

The school year has just begun and I'm going to make the best of it.

I hope the ride wasn't too bumpy *hands out handmade nuttela brownies for those who are traumatised*