#abraxas

Moths yet again killing it in the aesthetically pleasing department. Like one of those ink splot tests.

A ROMAN LIMESTONE RELIEF

CIRCA 3RD CENTURY A.D.

Sculpted in high relief with an offering scene to a pantheistic Abraxas within an aedicula, the triangular pediment with a shell-form niche framing the god's head, acanthus and palmettes for the acroteria, the syncretistic anguipede deity depicted with a wolf head crowned with sheaves of wheat, a human body clad in an animal skin, a marine-like fringe at the hips and snake legs, the head in profile to the right, the ears erect, the mouth open revealing fangs, holding a key in his raised right hand, poppies, a caduceus and sheaves of wheat in his extended left, the snake-heads of his legs slithering toward his attributes, a table to the left with a ram head, a diminutive bearded man kneeling at the right, presenting a loaf of bread on an offering table, its support with a lion head and a feline paw.

Abraxas Malfoy, angst, wc: 1.1k. No use of y/n.

You would never last.

Oh, how had he gone and fallen in love with a mudblood, for fuck's sake! 

The first time he had a conversation with you had been in your third year. The both of you had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas and New Years, neither of you wanting to go home. He thought you were a half blood, which was already bad enough, but not a mudblood! When the holiday ended and everyone came back to school, Nott had asked him why he had sat next to a mudblood at potions. He had looked at him weirdly, then felt disgusted with himself, because he should have known. You weren't even a Slytherin, after all. When you had tried to start a conversation with him again the next day, he simply walked away. He didn't talk to you for the rest of the school year, though he did watch you without anyone noticing.

Fourth year he first bumped into you in the Hogwarts Express. Both still in year normal clothes. Well, you were in muggle clothes, but that wasn't all that important, was it? What was important, was the way you had looked up at him. Like a dog waiting to be hit, even though it had done nothing wrong. He felt so bad for you. His friends would have laughed at him if they saw the way he stared at you, for sure. His mind couldn't form words and you had quickly walked away through the crowd. A few months later you were paired for a project for astronomy. It had been very awkward at first. You thought he hated you, and he thought you hated him. Neither of you did. After you finished the project, you were still somewhat friendly with each other. He held open doors for you when he saw you approach, and you flashed him little smiles when you passed him.

Fifth year, the both of you had been at a secret party at the Hufflepuff common room. Parties like that were rare in 1943, so most students, from fourth year and up, went to it. It had been fun until he had found you crying when he left the common room. You were all alone in a cold, dark corridor. Apparently, a girlfriend of you had kissed the guy you liked. He did not think the situation to be worth your tears but he could smell the alcohol on you. Oh, you looked so very lovely when you cried. He had carefully wrapped an arm around you and sat with you. You began talking after you had calmed down. He had missed talking to you, he really did. And like that, you were friends again. You had agreed to keep the friendship a secret. If his friends ever found out he was friends with a mudb- muggle born, he would be in deep shit. It was the same for you. If your friends ever found out you were friends with that blonde, arrogant, rich prick, it probably wouldn't look good for you either.

In his sixth year he became even closer to you. You would finish your homework together and steal food from the kitchens, when the students and kitchen elves were sleeping. And if you were ever caught it wouldn't matter, he was a prefect after all. Sometimes you would go to the astronomy tower, stargazing or just talking, like you did most of the time. He loved the way your cheeks would redden when he flashed his charming smile. Or when you laughed so hard you had tears running down your cheeks. He loved the way you huddled closer to him when it was cold at the astronomy tower and he could smell your nice muggle perfume. Late nights turned into sneaking around in the day, sharing a quick kiss in an empty classroom or just holding you for a minute between class changes. Even in the summer holiday you wrote each other letters. 

Seventh year he had confessed to you. Oh, he loved you so dearly. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, he thought. That was until he had to return in the winter holiday. His parents had arranged a marriage for him. It was with a girl he knew from when he was younger, when their parents were working and they had to play together to entertain themselves. He had no interest in her, none at all! You were the only person on his mind, forever! When the both of you returned to school after the holidays, you had held him when he cried in your arms in the Room of Requirement. He was so happy you had found that room. Finally somewhere where you could be yourselves without being afraid of being caught. You had no idea why he cried and you hadn't asked him either. He'd tell you when he wanted, and that was true. A few weeks later, he told you. He had to get married to someone. A woman he didn't want. He was yours already. He had cried again, and so had you. Of course, the both of you knew it would never last. He was a Malfoy and you were a muggle born. 

You had finished your last school year. On the Express back to London, you had held each other the whole ride. You were together in a compartment and neither of you cared who saw. When the Express was close to London, he kissed you. It was a distraction. He slipped the ring his mother had given him into your small bag. You would never take it from him, he knew that, but he wanted- no, needed you to have it. As a reminder of him. Of his love for you. You left the Hogwarts Express together, hand in hand, both carrying your luggage. He saw the blonde hair of his father through the crowd, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He let go of his stuff and wrapped his arms around you one last time. He kissed you so he could not see your tears, only feel the wetness they left behind. You had wrapped your arms around him. You could hear your parents calling your name but you couldn't let go of Abraxas. He kissed you, one last time. Someone gasped behind him, probably a student from their year. Or ex-student, really. Because they wouldn't go back. They would never go back. You would never see each other again. He kissed you one last time, whispered your name so you'd look up at him as he told you he loved you. He turned and walked over to his father, not ready to go back to his home and plan his wedding next month. He took a deep breath and prayed for the tears to sink away again as he reached his father. He didn't look back at you. And neither did you. 

@/burgundyvirgo no plagiarism or ai training/use authorised.

DAY 21 - Virus

Divinity of the office