"Abraxas, darling, ready to go?"

"Yes, Mummy," the boy replied dutifully as his mother lifted him into her arms. He was bundled up against the frigid November air, his large grey eyes peeking over the scarf wrapped thrice around his chin, mouth, and nose. A hat was pulled down to his eyebrows, and all of his clothing was green. A bit older, and he would have bemoaned that fact that he resembled nothing so much as a turtle peering from his shell. At three years of age, Abraxas Malfoy had not yet developed the vanity to notice such things; however, his father had.

"Merlin, Asphodel. You're not taking him out like that."

"Of course I am; there's a blizzard, if you haven't noticed?"

"Well then why don't you just leave him here?"

"Nonsense! Theletus, our best friends just had a baby. They named her Rosalind. Do you really think I'm going to keep him away?"

Theletus smiled despite himself at his wife's insistence. Many Pureblooded families adopted quaint naming traditions over the years. The Blacks were often stars, the Notts had ten generations of 'Theodore's, the Lestranges had an affinity for names beginning with R, and the Rosiers favored pious ones that juxtaposed nicely with their daemonic surname. Additionally, for the past six generations, Malfoy men had found wives with floral names.

"He'll have plenty of time to meet her. Keep in mind that he's only a toddler; there's a very real possibility he won't notice a newborn girl."

"Thel," she whined. "I want to go now!"

Smiling in defeat, he ushered them both out into the snow.

"Well, if it isn't Thel and Del." Wilhelm McTavish opened the door, disheveled and exhausted, but grinning. "Come on in out of the snow; I suppose you're here to see Meliae and the baby?"

"Of course we are!" Asphodel laughed, pecking his cheek and brushing past him. "Is she in bed?"

"She's in the nursery with little Rose," Wilhelm told her, slamming the door against the growing blizzard. "You took Abraxas out in that?"

"Yes; say 'hello' to Uncle Wilhelm!"

"'Lo, Uncle Will," Abraxas chanted dutifully. Wilhelm and Theletus had been friends practically since birth, much like Asphodel and Meliae. The four had been inseparable throughout their Hogwarts years, and continued to be so into adult life. Today represented a moment of great excitement for all of them.

"Show us the way, Will," Theletus encouraged.

"She's a beautiful little girl. Never sleeps, though. Not at night, anyway. She's crying now- can you hear? Mel won't even hear of Silencing her, so what're you going to do?" He shrugged good-naturedly, leading them up the stairs.

"Abraxas cried quite a bit too," Asphodel assured him. "It only lasted a couple weeks."

"Good to know," he groaned, pushing open the door to the nursery. The wails grew exponentially in volume.

"Mellie! Mel, darling, oh, let's see her!" Asphodel pushed Abraxas into his father's arm, where the little boy began to restlessly peel away the layers his mother had swaddled him in.

"Del, you came! I'm sorry, she's just a bit fussy now." Meliae smiled and placed her daughter in a bassinet before embracing her closest friend. "Her eyes were clear, though," she announced with quiet pride. The other three nodded their approval.

When children were born to witches and wizards (and, though they were loath to admit, when Mudbloods were born as well), those with an exceptionally concentrated magic had a bright, clear gaze in the first hours after their births, rather than the distant, unfocused look of average infants. This alone was no guarantee of future ability, but with proper nurturing, it was often a great advantage.

Meanwhile, Theletus set Abraxas down to join in the conversation. Thus deserted and freed from his restricting outer clothes, he began to explore his new surroundings. He was vaguely interested in the white dresser drawers and the lacy curtains, but the loud, persistent screams coming from the far side of the room distracted him. He was not sure what was generating the sound, but toddled over to investigate.

He peered over the sides of the cradle with wide-eyed curiosity. It appeared to be a tiny human, her little face red and scrunched with unhappiness. He wished she wouldn't cry.

"Shhh," he whispered, placing his fingertips on her cheek.

Instantly, she fell silent. The four adults turned, and Meliae hissed, 'Get the camera!' but Abraxas scarcely noticed. The remarkable, tiny thing was staring up at him with huge, wet blue eyes, her face tear-streaked but utterly still now. He was not aware of the own wonder on his face, Abraxas continued to gape at the perfect, miniscule nose, wispy blonde hair, and her hands- doll sized but with real fingernails and chubby palms. Her big eyes were fixed upon him with equal fascination.

The camera flashed, drawing him back to reality.

"Mummy," he whispered, knowing his mother was listening without looking back. "Mummy, baby," he pointed unnecessarily. Asphodel grinned.

"Her name is Rosalind."

"Rose-ind. Rosie," he decided instead. A big name would not fit such a minute creature. "Hello, Rosie. I'm Abraxas."