Meaning

Shadows danced over the walls, lightning flashed. The thunder banished the moon with a long rumble. The infant in the cradle started crying, loud wailing echoed throughout the room. A Malfoy was protesting as to why these things of lesser value to him, should even try to wake up his most important time of day or night as it were…plus now his parents had to get up. Stupid scary things.

Two lumps stirred. The large double bed covered in blankets looked as though it had never been slept in, only contradicted by the two lumps that had now woken. The bed was large or it seemed that way. The two lumps were so far apart it was a wonder how they even managed to bear a child. The child continued to cry, one of the lumps moved around, trying to really wake up. The covers were pulled off heavily and two feet hit the ground one after the other.

"Don't get up."

Slender hands stilled their pushing motion and a tired sigh came from further up, "Scorpius is crying." She had learned to stop fighting him, he always won. She felt his bare hands on her shoulders with a light squeeze, she felt his body lift from the bed. One of the black, silk nightgowns was wrapped around his almost naked body. The nightgown was a lucky thing.

She watched her husband walk over to the cradle, pick up their son, and walk around holding him lightly. He was a natural with children, she never noticed it, nor would have thought it, till now. He had many talents, but she never would have imagined he was good with children. He always seemed so cold, so mean, so...nasty, to everyone, even her.

Draco Malfoy looked at his wife, locking eyes with her… the women who had given him herself, an heir, everything he wanted, and so much more. She would never know how much she meant to him. He looked down at his son, grey eyes and a thatch of pale blonde hair immediately registering him as a Malfoy. Draco smiled, he would be a Slytherin, no question about it , but he would have his mother's spirit. That's what he was counting on.

Draco walked over to Hermione and went down on his haunches in front of her still holding Scorpius. "Go to sleep, I'll take care of him." She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a kiss to her lips. Scorpius gurgled. He pulled away and looked her in the eyes, "go to sleep. You're exhausted." Hermione sighed closing her eyes. She could never say he wasn't good to her. She laid down at his insistence, watching him walk over to the gleaming rocking chair which she had asked for. Her eyes slowly drifted shut.

Draco watched her sleeping quietly, her brown hair sprayed around the silk pillows. Only the best for a Malfoy, he remembered saying, smirking while he said it. He also remembered feeling incredibly angry when she asked the dreaded question- "Where do I sleep?"

Draco gritted his teeth, the very thought of those words stabbed at him. He looked down and noticed Scorpius. His beautiful baby boy, was asleep. Draco placed him back in his crib and smiled down at him, watching his little hands fist into the sliver and green blanket. Hermione had seen it while they were walking along Diagon Alley. He had been surprised when she asked him if they could buy it, but when they wrapped it around him, it was perfect. Hermione had given him a true smile, he treasured that.

Walking back over to the bed, he took off the nightgown and unfolded into the bed. He watched Hermione sleep. It was not a difficult task. One of the straps of her long, silk cream nightgown was drooping down her slender, brown arm. He reached over and gently placed it back on her shoulder. His fingers brushed her skin. He hadn't felt that in a while. It was like electricity burning through his blood, he pulled away and turned his back to her, it was too bad.

She would never know how much she meant to him.

Lightning still continued to flash far away from the Malfoy's 'manor' or mausoleum as Hermione fondly called it. Yet this time the lightning did not wake a child, nor did it wake anyone else for they were already awake. Ginevra Zabini was sitting up in bed holding a baby that was laughing and gurgling up at her with big brown eyes. She smiled down at the baby, unaware she was being watched for all her focus was on the child. Blaise Zabini leaned against the mahogany double doorway. He watched his wife smile down at the baby, her forefinger being held captive by the squirt's own fingers.

Blaise continued to watch. Out of the Slytherin posse, he was the last to have an heir. He didn't care, he had made sure he was the last. Moving slightly, the door creaked, Ginny looked up still smiling. "Hey," she spoke quietly to him. She was still tired after the birth but she was still beautiful. Her long red hair was pulled back into a long plait and she was dressed in his favourite pyjamas. The satin button-up and matching pants in dark blue enhanced her hair and eyes. With her skin glowing and her holding their child, she couldn't have looked more desirable. "Hey," he spoke back softly, not wanting to disturb either of them. His feet squelched quietly over the plush carpet. He placed a mug of hot chocolate next to her atop the bedside table.

He laid next to her and lifted his arm, she leaned into his shoulder and they both relaxed. Lightning flashed loudly, still the baby did not stir. "Johan." Blaise was jerked out of his stupor and looked at Ginny, "Sorry?" he asked dazedly. Ginny smiled at him, she understood, "Could we call him Johan?" Her tone was not pleading, yet he knew she wanted that name. "Benjamin." Ginny stiffened and shifted against him, Blaise smiled "Johan, Benjamin Zabini... Good name." His eyes flickered down and he saw her looking up at him, he smiled down at her. Ginny leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips, "thank you" she whispered, pulling away. And leaning back against him she continued to mull over Johan's dark eyes and dark, black hair.

Blaise could not believe it, he was not in the middle of a family, he had a family. It was an emotion he could not describe. He was afraid of it, he had no idea how the others lived knowing they had a family to protect. Blaise had been at the birth of Scorpius Iago Malfoy. The men weren't allowed in during the birth so Blaise had bought Ginny along to help soothe Hermione. That had lasted about fourteen seconds. With the first scream from Hermione, Draco had forced his way in and there was nothing the midwife could have done to make him leave. Draco and Hermione had been at Ginny's birth earlier that week. Draco had watched Blaise pace, up and down the hallway outside the door, wringing his hands and flinching like an idiot at all the screams, Blaise had been sweating and nervous yet he held out longer than Draco. Ginny had yelled out his name and that had been it. Blaise had burst into the room, pointed his wand ferociously at anyone who tried to stop him and quickly marched over to the bed where Ginny was sobbing his name. Hermione had left them quietly and walked out of the room to where Draco was holding their son. Blaise had been terrified, but he had a son, Johan, and a wife, Ginny. He had a family.

He had never had anything with more meaning.

While Blaise was mulling over his family, another Slytherin was mulling over his. Holding a small glass of whiskey, Marcus Flint hadn't had a drink yet. He didn't intend to, as he listened to the thunder rumble through the skies. His mother, Amaryllis Flint had paid him a visit earlier on that day. He worked at the ministry and what she had to say rattled him, to say the least. He paused. Nothing. "Merlin," he was paranoid.

Unfolding himself from his chair in the sitting room he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, also mussing up his hair. Since his embarrassing seventh year repeat, Marcus had changed. At his mother's insistence, he had been given dental charms, and now his teeth were white, straight and utterly fake. He had to take care of them, if he didn't keep them white and straight his mother would strangle him, an experience he would rather like to not endure.

His hair was longer and spiked around his head, ears and eyes. His eyes... People asked him if he wore...What were they? Contacts? Intense, that was the only word to describe them. Intense-the word described him as a person, his personality, his actions, his emotions. Everything about him was intense. His thoughts continued to wander, he was walking up the grand staircase of his house now. He had almost lost her today. She had almost died, died trying to save her child, their son. He would never say it, but he had thought about it for years.

He could not live if Katie Bell was not with him.

Katie Bell, Katherine Bell, Katherine Flint, Katie Flint. She had been Mrs Marcus Flint for almost three years now. During that time, they had barely spoken more than one hundred words to one another. He couldn't stand it.

Marcus paused, and looked into the pale blue nursery. Katie sat next to the large oak crib. Her hair was down, honey blonde and shining. The way he liked it. Marcus walked into the room and stood behind her. He was taller than her, she only reached up to his chest when they were standing. He felt her body stiffen. No doubt she felt his. He kneeled behind her and turned her whole body around. She would not look at him. He cupped her cheek with his fingers and forced her look at him; he was momentarily shocked to see she was crying. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed and she had tears running down her face.

"Hey, hey," Marcus had no idea what to do, "it's alright, hey." He gathered her against his body and they knelt together on the floor. Katie was shaking and crying against his chest, fisting her hands in his robes. Marcus was holding her tightly, inhaling the citrus smell of her hair. Her crying subsided and soon she was just leaning into him. He pulled away, and she took the front of his robes with her. Marcus lifted her chin again and stared into her eyes. "I'm sorry, I know how you hate crying, it's a weak emotion," Katie said, sitting back on the stool next to the crib.

She turned her whole body back around, letting go of his robes and focusing on her son. His son, Zachary Flint slept like a log. Now was the time to test that theory. "Why won't you talk to me?" Marcus felt pathetic, there he was kneeling on the floor, asking his wife of all people why she wouldn't talk to him. An act of conversation between man and wife should not be a privilege.

He did not get an answer.

It could mean anything.

The lightning was so close he could almost feel it. The rain poured down upon him. He was too tired to place a water-repelling charm on himself, and there was no way he would risk being splinched. He glared into the night, a snort of breath coming from his nose, smoky and annoyed, no doubt the argument he was about to have would warm him up. Warm him up, no problem.

Adrian Pucey, in all his...wet glory stood dripping in the middle of his entrance foyer, barking to his house elves.

They came.

They saw.

They didn't conquer.

But they managed to get a grip on the sopping black robes thrust in their direction. One warming and drying charm later, Adrian stood in the middle of his foyer stock still.

Something was not right.

There was no sound, no yelling, no child crying, something was wrong. Adrian was intrigued. He marched through the double doors into the lounge, the parlour, dining room, kitchen, slave quarters, the entire bottom floor. Normally she was sitting in the lounge, waiting to bait him about why he was 'late' or where he had been. He was worried by now. A loud wail gave him a jumpstart.

Zander.

Racing hell-bent out of the lounge he took the grand staircase three at a time, the wailing got louder. "NO!" a loud desperate cry chilled his bones.

Angelina.

He ran through the corridors of the second floor, it was getting louder, it was coming from the master bedroom. Oh no. Adrian burst through the doors Angelina Pucey was leaning back against the foot of their bed, clutching a two year old to her body a look of pure terror engraved on her face. A white masked, black cloaked person was standing in front of her, one wand outstretched, another one- Adrian recognised as Angelina's- was being twirled aloft in the other hand. Angelina noticed him standing in the doorway. The terror on her face did not change, the look in his eyes was enough to make him react.

"STUPEFY!" Adrian roared, a flash of red light shot from his wand. The attacker dropped to his knees and fell, stunned. Adrian stood breathing heavily in the doorway, his body was so rigid it was shaking. He could see Angelina holding Zander to her body, pulling him back to her as his son was trying to reach him. She was a smart women. Pulling himself together he forced his lead-like legs to the attacker and called for a house elf. The house elf arrived, breathless and trembled at the sight before her. "Blodwin... The ministry, get them here. Now." The house elf trembled at the menace in her master's voice. "Yes sir, at once master, Blodwin will!" The house elf ran out the room as fast as her little legs would carry her.

Adrian stood tall above the attacker, his head turned slightly. He noticed Angelina calming Zander to sleep, he also noticed she was trying not to shake. The strong Gryffindor chaser was terrified. She stood up shakily and walked around their bed, placing the exhausted, but sleeping boy on it. She kissed Zander's forehead softly. Adrian saw red. In a fit he started screaming and kicking the attacker, not caring that Zander was asleep, not caring that the attacker should stay alive, all he cared was that this...thing had almost murdered his wife and son. And no one murders a Pucey. Least of all Adrian's family. He was still kicking with everything he had by the time Angelina was brought back to Earth. "Adrian! No!" She tried to pull him back, he was unrelenting, with every kick there was a yelling grunt, he didn't notice the ministry auror's running to the door. Four of them managed to pull Adrian back. "Ade man calm down!" One was able to say into his ear.

Adrian stopped struggling almost immediately. With one look at Angelina's tear-streaked face, he swore a blue streak and stomped off out the door and down the hall. Angelina watched the auror's levitate the mess of a man out the room. One of them stayed behind and squeezed her shoulder in comfort. "Don't worry about Ade, he's just mad that he wasn't here for you," he said. Angelina moved over to her and Adrian's bed and watched her son- Alexander- sleep. "I don't know how you can put up with it"

"Put up with what?" Angelina paused in the process of moving the stray strands of dark hair that were falling across Alexander's face. "The fact that he's always mad." She did not look at him. He sighed and walked out of the room. There had been no conviction in her voice, but he knew what she meant.

The lightning had stopped but the rain continued to pour, the thunder rumbled lightly and Terence Higgs ran through the corridors of his home, ignoring the moonlight splashing across his face. He burst into the master bedroom startling the light brown-haired woman out of her book. "Terence? What?" She half-asked, startled by his look of panic.

"Where's T.J.?" Alicia Higgs' face mirrored his panic.

"Why? Terence, what's wrong?" He didn't answer. He ran out of the room and bolted into the nursery where he found his two-year-old son, Theodore James, sleeping peacefully. Terence was ultimately relieved to see his family was unharmed and safe. He heard feet running into the room and loud heavy breathing followed.

Terence turned and saw Alicia looked wildly around as though expecting a child's boogieman to jump out and attack her at any moment. She strode forcefully to her son and looked down, sighing deeply. Her son was still sleeping. Terence had worried her. Alicia glared at her husband, and turned and swept out of the room before she would do anything she would regret. Terence walked out behind her with one last glance at his son. "Alicia." She ignored him. "Alicia!" She broke into a run. "Alicia wait!"

He ran after her and managed to stop the door to their bedroom shutting. He pushed the door open and strode in. "Alicia, what-" He was stopped by a slap to the face.

All that could be heard was the rain pouring.

Terence turned his head back to her, his eyes glinting He almost softened when he saw the tears running down her cheeks. Almost. "Don't do that," Alicia whispered quietly. "Never do that." Terence was stock still. "I can handle you never being here, I can handle having your child, I can handle being your wife, I can handle your friends, I can handle the stupid ministry parties, I can handle your infidelities-" Terence jerked, his hands clamping on her upper arms, he cut her off with the pain. Pulling her closer, he snarled right into her face, "I have not been unfaithful, least of all to you!"

"But I can't handle-" Alicia continued with a fierce look, her face slowly turning a light pink and the tears still leaking out of her eyes. "I can't handle you coming in here, pretending like you actually care. I can't handle you worrying me about T.J." Alicia was still locked in by Terence's hands. She noticed his fingers tighten on her biceps when she had finished the last sentence. "Not care?" he asked quietly, looking at her deeply. "Not care?" He thrust her away and rubbed his face. He had to get out.

Alicia watched him go. She knew where he would go. He would go to his friends. The all met at this one place and they would always be there when they needed each other. It wouldn't happen till tomorrow. Alicia headed to Terence's office and nicked four pieces of parchment. Tomorrow her friends would arrive and they would be there for her. They were always there for her when she needed it. She didn't know what meant more. Her friends coming to her when she needed them. Or her husband leaving her when she needed him.

End

EDITED: 3/2/2010.