Epilogue
Eleven years later – March 7, 2012
Spring was just around the corner. The sun shone brightly through the opened windows of Malfoy Manor. Hermione Malfoy was juggling cooking the massive spread that was her children's favourite birthday breakfast and a cake, when a small curly headed witch came prancing into the kitchen with her nose stuck inside of a very big book.
"What are you reading there, Rosalie?" Hermione asked her daughter with a knowing smile, flipping a rather large pancake in the skillet.
"'Hogwarts, a History'," she deadpanned, "Mummy, will daddy be mad at me if I don't get Sorted into Slytherin? Malfoys are always Slytherins." Silver curls surrounded the young girl's worried face as she slid into her chair at the breakfast nook.
Stifling a chuckle, Hermione shook her head, "Daddy will be pleased with whatever House you get into, love. But between you and me," she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I'm betting you'll be in Gryffindor!" She bent down and kissed her daughter atop of her head, "By the way, Happy Birthday."
Rosalie smiled brightly and her hair reverted to its usual pink as she looked back to the large tome sitting across the table. As she dipped her spoon into the bowl of oatmeal and blueberries, she thought further on her mother's hunch, "I wouldn't mind being in Gryffindor. I've read that they are the most loyal and courageous."
"Mm, well," Hermione set a glass of orange juice in front of her daughter, "I think you will do just fine in whichever House you get placed into. After all, you can still be loyal and courageous in the other Houses. But don't worry your pretty little head too much; the Sorting Hat will take into account what you want. Would you believe it wanted to put me in Ravenclaw? In the end I chose Gryffindor."
Rosalie nodded as if satisfied and turned eagerly back to her book, when the sliding door that lead into the kitchen area opened. A young boy with hair the colour of a raging fire treaded through with mucked wellies and the latest model of Fireboltbroomstick. The angry boy was clad in a practice jersey, a scowl, and dry dirt smudged across his face. Followed close behind was an older, yet identical man, except this one was sporting pale blond hair; Draco Malfoy.
The young boy trudged passed his mum and sister without saying a thing and headed up the stairs to (hopefully) take a shower.
"What's wrong with Teddy?" Hermione asked her husband as he dusted a bit of flour from her cheek and planted a chaste kiss upon it.
"His team lost the Quidditch scrimmage," Draco frowned.
His wife tutted, "That's too bad. I know he was looking forward to it."
"I don't understand why he's so mad about it, it's not like he can even play his first year!" Rosalie alleged firmly, not taking her eyes from her book.
"Because he enjoys it Rosie. Plus, it's your birthday, I am sure he would've liked to have won it, even if it is just practise." Draco ruffled the pink—quickly turning deep purple—locks of his daughters hair, "However, I'll have you know it's not exactly unheard of for first years to make the team."
"Did you make the team first year?" she asked her father, suddenly interested.
"No, I didn't. But… Harry Potter did," he stated matter-of-factly.
"And it's all thanks to your dear old dad trying to get him expelled!" Hermione said, stifling a giggle.
"Oh, so that is why you don't like Uncle Harry?" the young witch asked inquisitively, eyes squinted and nibbling her lip in thought.
"I never said I don't like Uncle Harry," he said as he caught a scowl from his wife, "He and I just have differences of opinion. About the only thing Scar –er, Uncle Harry and I agree on, is the love we have for the two of you and your mum."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the route his conversation was taking, "Alright, when they come over later, sweetheart, let's not bring this up to Uncle Harry. We don't want daddy to be hexed by Auntie Gin again."
"You're right, mum. That was rather embarrassing, wasn't it, dad?" Rosalie giggled.
Draco sneered at the reminder, then started to pour himself a cup of coffee just as the other Malfoy twin slumped into a chair at the table. He started to pile pancakes and bacon onto his plate, still glowering, Hermione sat beside him, kissing him on his cheek, "You alright, Ted?"
The boy side-glanced at his mum, "I'm fine, I just wanted to win. Stupid Weasley had to run into me on his bloody broom!"
"Theodore Draconis! You watch your mouth!" his mother said firmly, trying to hide the humour of him hating a Weasley. Just like his father, she shook her head vaguely.
"Sorry, mum. But the snitch was right there," he held his hands before him, "I could have caught it if the bloke would have just watched where he was going…Dad, I don't know why you insisted on saying Weasley is our King! He can barely stay on a training broom!" Hermione nearly choked on her tea at that.
Draco smirked with self-satisfaction, "Maybe next time. You're a good seeker, it's not your fault at all."
"I know it's not! I'm the best in the bloody league!" he retorted, getting a stern look from both parents this time.
Theodore rolled his eyes and shook his head and now began to shovel bacon into his mouth. Rosalie glared at her twin, "Get over it, Ted. It's just a game."
"Right, well, let us see you just get over your love for books," he mocked.
"I will do no such thing! That's just blasphemy!" she spat.
"Hey! You two!" Draco said, setting his cup down on the table, "Today is your birthday. It is supposed to be a good day. Stop the bickering."
"Sorry dad," the twins said in unison.
"Happy Birthday to my favorite twinsies!" the loud voice of Theo Nott suddenly called out, to which was followed by Matti, their daughter Anne-Marie and son, Milo.
A smile appeared on the young Theodore's face as the four walked in, Rosalie set her book aside and turned to greet their guests.
"We are the only twins you know, Uncle Theo," Rosie called.
Theo bent down and kissed the top of Rosalie's head, rounded the table and noogied Theodore's.
"What is up champ? Good game this morning!"
The smile left the boys mouth, "Please, let's not talk about it."
Milo sat beside his friend and started to make himself a plate of breakfast, "I wasn't too pleased about it either, mate—"
"Mum, why did you have to invite Billius to our party?" Teddy whinged. Today wasn't the first day the younger boy had gotten on his nerves.
Hermione looked at her son sourly, "Because, whether you like it or not, he's your family."
"Not by blood," he retorted, his eyes rolling earning a stern glare from his mother.
Draco chuckled, "Well it's because your Uncle Theo here decided to set Weasel and Miss Honey up, so that's why they are family."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "No! That's not it! It's because Ronald is one of my oldest friends. But this is all beside the point."
The older wizards just laughed.
Theo walked from the window and began to make his very pregnant wife a plate of food, "I am quite certain that Headmistress McGonagall is perched outside on the wall."
"Why would she be sitting on the wall, daddy?" Anne-Marie asked her father.
"Because, she's a cat," he stated very plainly, as if it were obvious information.
"Our headmistress is a cat?" the young Theodore asked exasperatedly, dropping his mouth.
"Oh yeah, have you not caught up on your 'meow-nese'?" Theo countered, grabbing a piece of bacon, winking at his godchildren.
Rosalie looked to her mother with attentiveness and whispered, "Why didn't you tell me I needed to learn how to speak cat?"
The adults began to snicker, all the while the four children looked confused, sharing nervous glances.
Matti sat beside Hermione as they began to talk about their trips to Diagon Alley for the upcoming weeks and all of the different items they'll need to be getting for the upcoming year, as the Twins and Milo were due to start Hogwarts in September.
Rosalie and Anne-Marie reopened the large book and began to read the chapter about the bewitched ceilings. Teddy and Milo started to draw out new strategic plans for the next scrimmage.
Just as Hermione was removing the birthday cake from the oven, there was a knock on the door. Draco answered it to reveal a tall woman, wearing a crooked hat with a green feather sticking from its rim. She had rectangular spectacles sitting on the bridge of her nose. Two letters were secure in her hands and with a smile she greeted, "Hello, Miss Malfoy, Mister Malfoy. I am Headmistress McGonagall and I am pleased to inform you that you've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She went very firm in her face, raising an eyebrow as her gaze drew from Draco to an eager Theo staring on with bated breath. The elder witch cleared her throat, "Meow."
The End.