Hogwarts Class of 2026

"Hogwarts Class of 2026"

+Just Outside of Yorkshire: December 23+

Hermione groaned in agony, her body lying, stiffly, in the fetal position. Her stomach felt as though someone were standing on top of it, her skin was moist and sticky with sweat that seemed to pour at tremendous proportions, and her head, it swam with hazy unawareness.

"Hurting much, Mrs. Malfoy?" Adelard asked maliciously.

Hermione struggled to speak but the pain overcame that ability, and all that she could emit was a strangled cry. "Ah!"

"It's almost over, beautiful," a voice whispered softly, "soon, very soon."

+Malfoy Manor: West Wing: Parlor: December 23+

Brayton looked at his cousin, watching her eyes closely, they were the only way you'd know if she was lying or not. He knew this small trait from years of watching them cloud over at the smallest white lie and widen indignantly because of a little-believed truth or widen in total surprise.

"So my suspicions are true?" he finally said aloud, after watching her argue internally.

Roxanne shook her head softly, turning away from his prying eyes. "What suspicions, Brayton?"

"You know what suspicions I'm talking about, Roxanne," Brayton answered, moving to stand in front of his cousin.

"My world, my rules, Bray," Roxanne replied, pointedly. "So, I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about."

"Fine, be difficult!" Brayton exclaimed, exasperated.

She crossed her arms over her stomach, raising her eyebrows defiantly. "Don't worry, dear cousin, I will be."

He glared at her silently before asking, "How long have you been tormented by love?"

"What?" she gasped, her green eyes widening.

"How long have you loved my best friend, Roxanne?" Brayton asked grabbing her arms, staring into her eyes, waiting for a change.

"I-I don't," she whispered, her eyes clouding over quickly as she looked away from his gaze.

"Be honest! Please, just tell me you love him! Tell me you'd fly to the moon and back, fly through hell, and wrestle evil house-elf's for him, anything! But for once just be honest with me about this one thing," he begged, his patience quickly turning into frustration.

Her eyes filled with tears quickly as if she was watching him commit some horrid crime, he was twisting her strings and didn't even know it. "Stop it, Brayton. Let me go!"

"Just tell me and I will shut up, until then I make no promises," he replied, watching her conflicting emotions play across her face.

"I-I -- Brayton, please," she begged, her eyes pleading with him to leave it alone.

Brayton sighed loudly, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he nodded his head in surrender. "Fine."

"Brayton," Roxanne called as her cousin walked toward the door.

He turned to her, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"I-I -- nothing," she whispered, shaking her head, her green eyes clouding over once again.

The muscle in Brayton's jaw jumped as he again retreated toward the door; he turned to look at her once more. "If you were looking for the opportune moment," he began before walking through the door, "that was it."

Roxanne released a breath that she didn't know that she was holding as she heard the lock click behind him, whispering softly, "I know."

+Hogwarts: December 23+

"Professor," began a soft male voice, "I still don't feel so sure about all of this."

Professor A. R. Parksonin nodded, understandingly, wringing his long pale fingers. "Old friend, victory belongs to those who believe in it the most. You just have to believe."

"You're a brilliant man, Professor, always have been. That's why I don't understand all of this; we've all sacrificed a hell of a lot for you. I can't believe you're supporting this – this war!" Exclaimed the brown-haired man, who had more grey hair than brown.

The Professor just chuckled softly, sounding much like Santa Clause. "It is not a war, old friend, it's just a path to numerous rewards for our trouble."

"A brilliant man would find a way not to fight a war," the Professor's friend argued.

"Sometimes," the Professor began looking around his spacious office, "war is inevitable, old friend."

"Still, it's been so long, Professor."

"Twenty years is not long enough to forget the best advice my Uncle ever gave me, old friend," Professor Parksonin whispered, looking down at his pale skin, "the truly brilliant enemy hits you exactly when you think you're safe. I've never forgotten that tiny bit of advice; however, I'm sure the others have."

"A. R.," the aged-man tried to sway his friend, "please reconsider."

"We've come to far to turn back now, old friend," said the Professor, as a grim smirk swept across his face, "you aren't dead yet so why give up?"

"I've been far to close to death in my life," he replied, his brown eyes devoid any outward emotion, "Parksonin, it is quite the sacrifice."

+Hogwarts: Headmaster's Office: December 23+

"This can't continue, Sir, this has gone on long enough," George O'Hare grumbled, as he sat in front of the old Headmaster.

"George," Dumbledore began, "you and I both know that if we interfere we run the risk of endangering more than just this school."

George nodded. "But I have faith in Draco, he found her once, he'll do it again."

"If he doesn't destroy his family or himself first," Snape grumbled, looking away from the parchment that had been holding his attention.

George glared at the pessimistic dark-haired man. "Draco will make it through this! He has once before and he will again."

"He might be getting old, George," Snape replied, with a smirk. "His moment of glory may have long passed."

"Now, gentlemen, Draco has been through a lot but we cannot count out the Prince of the Malfoy's," Dumbledore interrupted, "or his Princess."

+Malfoy Manor: Gardens: Later: December 23+

Roxanne walked out of the French Doors with her eyes closed, she needed to think and inside the spacious Manor it just did not seem to be enough room. Ever since her encounter with her cousin she had just felt like she was seconds away from hyperventilation. Her heart was in her throat, she felt as though she couldn't have spoken if she had wanted to and her prolonged absence from Marsilio's presence did not seem to help.

The moment she neared the bench she saw him and quickly turned to return to the Manor but his voice stopped her, along with his hand on her arm. "No, don't go."

"Why should I stay?" she replied, turning her green eyes to his brown.

"Why should you go?" Marsilio countered, his eyes looking over her face and her hair that lay lazy on her shoulder.

"Malfoy, I am not in the mood," Roxanne said, her eyes narrowing into little slits.

"You cannot still be mad over what happened?" Marsilio inquired.

"What if I am?" she retorted, raising a well-sculpted eyebrow.

"Don't be, it's Christmas," he replied, letting her arm go.

"Fine," she whispered, "but just because it's Christmas."

"Good," he smiled, as he pulled her too him in a hug. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him, as he pulled her a little closer to him, his nose him her hair.

"Malfoy," Roxanne whispered, her breath ragged, "what has gotten into you?"

"I've been thinking a lot lately, about you . . . and a lot of other things," he replied, his breath hitting her ear softly, "and my mind has taken me down several paths, all of which lead absolutely nowhere other than the simple fact that I'm destined to love you my whole life, Roxanne."

"What?" she gasped, her knees fell right from under her and she clung to him.

"Roxanne, you're my best friend but my platonic love has matured into something else," he continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"Where is all this coming from?" she pleaded, her heart feeling as if it would explode at any given moment.

"It's Christmas, Potter, and you tell the truth on Christmas. And this is the truth," Marsilio replied as he let her go, a small smile planted on his face.

"The truth," Roxanne whispered as she pulled away from her best friend.

"Exactly," he replied, wiping a an invisible tear from her cheek, "and I wish you'd be honest with me."