A/N: Happy Birthday to the great ibuzoo ! ! :D

Tumblr : Chiseplushie

Never Say Goodbye

Their relationship wasn't what most people referred to as healthy.

They were more than Master and servant. Of course they were. Of course.

There was something else between them. Something that Abraxas knew was there.

~ o ~ o ~

Tom blinked sleepily, floating to consciousness. He was half draped across a firm body, their muscles softened from sleep and warmth. Tom curled his right limbs inward, his blunt nails scraping against soft flesh, caging his would-be lover in a snug embrace. Their legs entwined in between the sheets.

Abraxas slid his fingers over the tops of sharp bones and knuckles, lacing their fingers together to place their hands over his pulsing chest.

"It beats for you." Abraxas murmured.

Tom's lips pressed against the blond's neck in answer, his smile serrated and cutting.

~ o ~ o ~

A thin finger ran along the curved text, dark eyes following the movement along the faded parchment. The crisp page crinkled as he turned it and marked his place. He looked up, flicking his fringe out of the way with a quick toss of his head. His hair, the color as dark as burnt flesh, was not yet long enough to brush past his eyebrows and into his eyes, but it was near thing. He leaned away from the text, into the plush cushion of the settee and stretched his arms and legs, relishing the way his limbs sweetly released the day's tension.

"Abraxas,"

Abraxas stirred in his perch on the high-backed chair, the centuries old oak wood and fabric was passed down from one Malfoy generation to the next. His distinctive blond hair was tied back with a ribbon the color of ashes-the same hue as his skin. He was no longer burly, with hard muscles that rippled with each graceful gesture. The blond's wide frame seemed to be drowning in the fine robes he wore as he slowly rose and stiffly padded over to Tom.

"My Lord?" At Tom's nod, he sat down slowly, ignoring the way his bones creaked and popped.

His blue eyes were more grey these days, and contained as much personality as greystones. With his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Abraxas bent over slightly to peer at the section Tom had pointed out. His throat worked as he read the passage again. And again. He exhaled loudly, heavily, as another tremor shook his bones and vibrated his teeth.

… A small fragment of the victim's soul is entrapped in a small container, tethered to the caster's magic, while the rest of the spirit remains inside the body of the living victim. Magic from the caster sustains the victim's life force as it hovers between life and death…

He whispered, "As my Lord wishes."

With hooded eyelids, for Tom detested any sign of weakness, he shifted and turned to face Abraxas.

"You are my most loyal," his voice was low, yet piercing. "Trust in me."

"I do, my Lord."

"Nothing can take you away from me."

Abraxas shuddered again, this time from something other than the curse that wrecked his body.

~ o ~ o ~

Deep in the bowels of the Manor, the ritual altar was ready. Candles and brightly lit torches cast their long shadows, reaching out with claws in their desire to grasp the inhabitants.

Abraxas lay naked and bound to the altar with thick ropes. He sucked air between dry lips, his breath stuttering pitter pat in his the room was unused these days, the stale smell of dark magic still lingered.

"Hold on a little longer, Abraxas." Tom paused, placing the ritual blade on the altar next to an empty vial made of gold dust. "You won't be in pain anymore."

He raised his wand and chanted the latin verses he carefully memorized. Magic was give and take. The more you took, the more you had to give.

Moving his wand in a wide arc, Tom chanted, the syllables slipping and sliding across his tongue and past his lips in a song. He picked up the knife, the hilt and crossguard glittered with embedded jewels. It was heavy in his hand as he swept the flat of the blade in a figure eight just above the length of Abraxas' chest and abdomen.

Abraxas watched as the glint of metal disappear from his line of sight and felt the prickling of steel kiss the inside of his right wrist.

Tom continued chanting while the air grew heavy and humid with the oppressive hold of dark magic which spread throughout the room like a blanket. He spared Abraxas a quick glance, whose eyelids quivered in reverence.

Tom pressed until the blade bit into Abraxas' papery skin, blood weeping softly as he drew the edge of the blade, slashing his forearm. Abraxas' choked screams vibrated against the stone walls. Blood ran, pooling on the face of the altar, and the sound of it trickling on to the floor joined Tom's chanting. Goosebumps blossomed across Tom's skin. A dark heat seared into his chest and into his bones.

Soft lights materialized in the air, like fairies which lit the room with twinkling stars.

Tom's voice did not falter as he laid the knife down atop the altar, and waved his wand in a complicated pattern, ending with a sharp jab close to Abraxas' open wound. The lights coalesced into a single golden beam of concentrated magic and entered Abraxas through the marred flesh, attacking his soul. Abraxas' screams bubbled out of his throat, like gravel pressed between two stones.

Tom picked up the golden vial and with an urging voice, encouraged the magic to tear a small piece from Abraxas' soul and pull it from his mortal body.

Abruptly, Abraxas' voice came to a halt, his gasps slowed until the sound of his exhales were gentle murmurs. His face and neck were flushed with red splotches of emotion. The lights spilled from the wound on his arm, flashing golds and blues while Tom fought to contain it and force it flow into the vial.

His dark fringe stuck to the beads of sweat on his forehead, creased in concentration in Tom's efforts to make the magic and soul piece bend to his will. The beam of light flowed and twisted until it coiled, rearing back until Tom coaxed a tendril to do his bidding.

Then it flowed into the vial, steadily like the sweetest water over a smooth riverbed.

The dark pool of blood grew and grew, while Abraxas grasped at the edge of life and death.

~ o ~ o ~

Abraxas sat by Tom's side with an unwavering stare, delicate lashes framing his eyes. Finely tailored robes couldn't hide the lack of color in his pale features or the deep hollows of his face. His cheekbones peeked out, hinting at laughter that might have been. His chest rose and fell in a comatose rhythm, his heart barely beating.

Tom reached out brushing his warm knuckles back and forth across Abraxas' wrist, the dim pulse fluttered sluggishly under the pads of his fingers. The golden chain around Tom's throat was unbreakable and matched the vial which lay heavily against his chest beneath his robes. A pendant. A promise.

"Tell me again, Abraxas."

His voice was flat as Abraxas intoned, "It… beats… for… you…"