Title: Hogwarts Class of 2026
Chapter: Chapter 4
Author name: Brittney
Author email:
Category: Romance
Sub Category: Drama
Keywords: D/Hr Kids Future Sequel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's 2024, fourteen years have past since the ending of "Ordinary Just Won't Do" and Marsilio Malfoy, Sixth Year Gryffindor, is welcoming his twin brother and sister to Hogwarts. Meet the new DADA teacher, meet Marsilio's best friends, and meet his first crush. Watch as Marsilio grows up, feels his first pangs of Jealousy (mixed with angst), and discovers the truth about his parent's past not knowing there is a threat from an old adversary.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: A special thanks to my amazing BETA! I am trying my bestest not to rush this story, I want to enjoy it, the original was rushed and not as good as it could've been so I am trying my darndest for this to be better the original.
"Hogwarts Class of 2026"
+Christmas Holidays: A Week Later+
"Do you think the Yanks really have a chance this year against Bulgaria?" Brayton asked as Andreas and he exited the breakfast room.
"The Yanks won't even make it past the Japanese squad. I highly doubt they even get a shot at Bulgaria, mate," Andreas replied as he followed Brayton out to the Malfoy Family Quidditch Pitch.
Ginny shook her head at them as they began to argue, asking, "Couldn't they have allowed their breakfast to digest before going out there?"
"That will never happen, darling," Narcissa Malfoy replied as the servant magically cleaned the table.
Pansy watched the two boys for a moment longer before saying, "I have to wonder where Andreas received his love for the sport. His mother can barely tolerate the game and his father played only out of obligation."
Narcissa took a long sip of tea before replying, "Andreas is very much Marsilio's brother. Marsilio used to be the same way about the sport himself it just seemed to taper off as he got older."
Before anyone could say another word Marsilio entered the large breakfast room solemnly, the room's occupants went silent. Marsilio frowned at them, not understanding why they got so quiet; however, he didn't see himself that morning, his hair was wet and combed back, he was dressed in black robes lined in green, it was doubtless that he could look more like a Malfoy man.
Narcissa almost dropped her tea cup when she saw her grandson. He was a Malfoy completely, though Lucius would never admit it, Hermione was exactly what the family needed to keep the line strong and truly pure.
She watched her grandson nod at the other ladies and realized that what she had to say to him could not wait any longer. This Malfoy had to understand what his father was too hurt to explain.
Narcissa stood, her thin frame still intimidating in its age, announcing, "Could you two excuse Marsilio and myself, we need to talk."
Marsilio looked confused as Pansy and Ginny stood quickly and exited the room. He decided not to ask why, he decided that sitting was best just and wait for her to explain.
"Marsilio, honestly, for the first time in my life, have no idea how to begin," she stated before sitting in her chair again.
Marsilio remained quiet as his grandmother got herself together and continued softly, "There are things about yourself that I believe it is time you understood. Do you know who you are Marsilio?"
"I am Marsilio Xavier Malfoy, a fifteenth generation Malfoy son, first generation half-blood Malfoy," he recited just as he was taught by his governess years ago.
Narcissa smiled softly at her grandson as she reached out and placed her hand over his, "You sound so much like your father."
"Thank you grandmother."
"Yet that is not who you are Marsilio. Yes, you are a Malfoy, but you are also a symbol of peace to our world. The world your mother comes from is turbulent, at best, but my world, your father's world, your world, was flipped on its side by the war. For many years, before even I was born, the wizarding world was ruled by classes. The class system of pure, mixed, or muggle was all that was ever thought of. The prejudice carried by the pure-bloods poisoned many generations before you, Marsilio," Narcissa said as her eyes drifted to the painting of Lucius over the fireplace. Narcissa knew the painting watched everything that went through the breakfast room but, unlike most of the paintings in the Malfoy house, Lucius' painting never spoke and never moved.
"I know that grandmother. I've heard all kinds of stories from Uncle Harry," he replied, looking almost confused.
"But I have yet to make my point, Marsilio. Your grandfather, Lucius Caesar Malfoy XIV, was one of those poisoned. When I say poison, my dear, I do not mean just prejudiced I mean he was in a league with Voldemort himself."
Marsilio nodded, showing that he understood, whispering, "You mean a Death Eater?"
"Yes, Lucius was a Death Eater. But he was one of the worst, Marsilio, he was Voldemort's right-hand man. Many meetings were held in this very house, much worse has happened in this Manor that even I do not know."
His eyes flew to the same picture she had been eyeing moments ago, his brown eyes full of confusion. "Your father was well on his way too becoming exactly what his father was. However, something happened in Draco's sixth year, something I will always be grateful for. Lucius was getting tired of Draco's rebellious ways so he decided to punish him by forcing him to take a Muggle studies class. Little did my dear Lucius know that his punishment would backfire. During that class Hermione and Draco forgot to hate each other and your father asked Hermione to a Ball that year. So the endless stories of redemption you may hear about your father are complete lies, he was never enough like his father to need redemption."
Marsilio blinked rapidly, digesting his grandmother's words before asking, "All right, grandmother, what's your point?"
"Patience young man, I'm getting to it. To shorten this long story the war would start just two weeks, I believe, after they graduated. Things got hard, not just safety wise but in the way things were done. Lucius cutoff all communication with Draco when the war began. That was the day I realized that either my husband would return or my son would return but both couldn't survive this. Then there came the Battle of Orleans, in France, where your mother would become a Joan of Arc of sorts. In Orleans, months before Voldemort would fall, Hermione would kill the General of his army." She fell silence as the words left her lips, the memory was still painful after more than twenty years.
"My grandfather?" Marsilio asked, the shock evident in his voice, he was realizing the truth in Ryan Flint's words.
Narcissa squeezed his hands as she continued softly, "Your mother saved Draco's life by taking Lucius's life. I do not think I should go on, I think I should leave that to your father."
"No, I want to know."
"Pansy's father sent men to avenge your grandfather. For five years after the end of the war we would believe that Hermione was dead but your father found her in Louisiana. I believe you know bits and pieces of the story. Nevertheless, Marsilio, those four men could have something to do with what is going on now," she stated firmly before letting his hand go.
+Meanwhile+
Draco stood stoically over his only daughter as she indulged in her passion for art. She had been painting the grounds from her bedroom window since they had arrived from Hogwarts. Morgaine, unlike Cillian, had found an outlet for her emotion. Cillian had done nothing of his normal self since he had returned home and Draco couldn't blame him. Malfoy Manor was nothing without Hermione, which was why some twenty-odd years earlier he didn't move back in when she disappeared.
"Daddy," Morgaine whispered softly, bringing Draco back from his reverie, the endearing term was always a welcomed changed from the cold, distant father.
"Yes, Princess?" he answered as she turned to face him with her mother's eyes.
"This is hard for you, isn't it?" she asked innocently, her silky chestnut hair moving with her every gesture.
Draco tried to smile at his only daughter reassuringly. "Do not worry about me."
"But I do daddy, that's my job. I love you and I do not want you feeling lonely without mother," Morgaine stated firmly, sounding like an eleven-year-old Hermione.
"It's hard not to feel lonely without your Mother, Princess," Draco replied as she placed her brush on the bottom of the easel.
"I guess we all miss her." Draco watched her silently as her voice became softer and she turned her gaze back to the window. "Nevertheless, I bet you can live off the memories huh?"
Draco sat at her vanity and called her to join him, she sat on his knee. He chose his words carefully, "Do you remember when Andreas first went to Hogwarts and it was just you and your mother at the manor?"
"You had taken Cillian to see Uncle Ron play?"
"Yea, she said that you sketched her for the first time. She told me that she had decided to work in the gardens while you napped and instead you had stood by this very window for hours just sketching her." Draco watched as Morgaine stared down at her hands.
"The sketch was so beautiful princess. She was so lifelike in your sketches that she had it framed in her office."
Morgaine sniffed softly before speaking, "Came up just before tea and discovered them. She smiled at me so you would think I had sketched like Picasso or Rembrandt."
"She was always so proud of her Malfoy-clan, everything you kids did pleased her, everything," Draco whispered running his fingers through Morgaine's hair.
Just as the words slipped from his lips Morgaine turned toward her father, threw her arms around his neck, and said in a fit of tears, "She loved you too, daddy!"
Draco embraced his daughter lovingly, trying to soothe her by rubbing her back, yet wishing Hermione were there. "I know, princess, I know.
+Later: South Wing - Malfoy Manor+
Roxanne placed her hand on Marsilio's shoulder reassuringly as he sat in front of the fire watching the flames. He had gone directly to her quarters after the talk with his grandmother and hadn't moved from that room since.
Roxanne struggled to find the words to say. "Ah -- I -- Marsilio."
He didn't turn to look at her. He just continued to watch the flames. "It's fine, Potter."
"No, Malfoy, I do not suspect that everything is fine," she began, trying her best to sound assertive.
"Potter, do you remember when we were six and you kissed me in front of mum?" he whispered, his quiet tone and soft words caused Roxanne's reserve to break and she sat on the floor beside him.
A small smile played at her lips, the memory unforgettable. "Yea, she teased us for days."
"She told me once that it gave her visions of our wedding day," Marsilio continued as if he never heard her speak.
Her eyes widened at his words, she didn't dare look at him, for fear her face was aflame. "Mother loved you, Potter."
"One couldn't help but love her, Malfoy." Roxanne replied, trying her best to forget his comment.
Suddenly he turned toward Roxanne, then to her immediate surprise said, "We have got to find her, Potter."
"They are, I know dad will find her."
"NO!" He yelled. "We, have to find her."
"We?" She questioned, almost apprehensively, she knew he was a Malfoy at heart and was quite a bullheaded wizard at times.
"Yes, Potter, we -- us -- whoever we are! You, Brayton, and I!" he continued frantically, missing the worried look in her eyes.
Roxanne decided it time to stop playing the confused role and argue. "Marsilio do not be absurd! We -- whoever we are -- would only aid in getting ourselves killed! We have no honest idea of who is in charge, why, or what they are capable of! Open your eyes and think!"
"I do not have to see the shades of gray to understand that we could find mother without father and everyone else eyeing us so," Marsilio replied, his determination set in his voice, and Roxanne knew the argument was lost.
Yet, she was a Potter and she was not going to give up. "Malfoy, it's like you live behind a brick wall and now everything that could help you, you seem to ignore! Listen to me, Malfoy! We cannot do this! I refuse to. I'm not going to do this."
Marsilio looked at her coldly, his glare doing to nothing to allay her fears. "Well, I guess I'll be going with Brayton then."
Roxanne growled lowly, her temper beginning to flare, and her words were spoken coldly, "Malfoy, don't you dare to even dream of going without me. I'll be darned if you get yourself killed and I'm not there to save your obtuse arse."
He grinned slyly, knowing his childhood friend entirely to well. "Then you're game?"
She sighed loudly. "I'm game but we are not jumping into this."
"Fine, we can plan this out, I'm just making sure you come along, Potter," Marsilio replied with a grin.
Roxanne glared at him and mumbled, "You knew I wouldn't let you go with just Brayton."
"I know," he replied, his brown eyes gleaming with some mysterious emotion.
At that moment, her green eyes connected with his and a jolt ran through her veins and her heart almost jumped out of her chest. It wasn't a new feeling for her but then she realized, as she smiled at her best friend, that she would never let him be alone.
She couldn't imagine losing Marsilio as Draco had lost Hermione. She couldn't imagine the grief she would have to deal with and she didn't want to experience it, ever. At that very moment, as she gazed deep into her best friend's eyes, she realized that Marsilio was the part of her that she had yet to discover. He was the piece of her soul that the gods above had ordained for her to have years before either of them were born.
Marsilio was love.
His voice interrupted her reverie, "Potter, you OK?"
"Yea," she replied softly, shaking away her thoughts, "I'm fine."
"We better get to work if this is going to workout. First, to the Malfoy Family Library," he announced, as he headed for the door.
"Oh, God," Roxanne whispered as she followed Marsilio out the door, "how can feel this way about him?"
+Just Outside of Yorkshire+
Hermione groaned softly as she woke from her short nap. Her back felt as though it was seconds away from snapping, she felt numb because of the cold floating into the cave, and her skin was tinged with her own blood. She licked her lips, tasting the dried blood, and recoiled in disgust.
"Good afternoon," came a gruff voice with a thick, French accent.
She struggled to keep the utter contempt from her voice as she asked, "What is so good about this afternoon?"
"What is so good about this afternoon?" repeated the man, completely hidden by the shadows. "A lot, I've decided to let you loose for a meal."
Hermione tried to keep the excitement from her voice, "Oh, really?"
The man chuckled at her loudly. "No need for the false sense of calmness, I know you must be quite hungry because four days is a long time with no food."
"Not exactly," she replied as he used his, obviously stolen, wand to take the ropes from around her wrist.
Before another word could be spoken, a bowl appeared in front of Hermione. As the soup's resonant scent surrounded her, Hermione struggled to keep her composure. Hunger was not an easy existence but the war days, when food was scarce, aided her cause. She could remember being eighteen and wishing that she could just close her eyes and wake up full. The feeling of physical emptiness was so strong at that she imagined that even her blood was weak and diluted.
"Sometimes I wonder--" the man began but the moment Hermione locked eyes with him he stopped abruptly.
She swallowed a spoonful before asking, "Sometimes you wonder what?"
"Nothing, just eat, Malfoy," he replied harshly, as he fingered the thick grime in his hair.
Hermione studied him cautiously. His ways and movements almost seeming familiar to her. "This is good . . . Adelard."
The dark-eyed Frenchman just about gasped aloud when he heard her almost inaudible whisper, "How? You just --"
"I know," she whispered, turning her gaze downward.