Title: His Favourite

Summary: Abraxas Malfoy, a god, stays with his soon-to-be-favourite mortal, Hadrian Potter.

Warning: Greek gods, naiveHarry, death, angst, happy ending though (you guys would kill me if it was a sad ending) :D

Pairing: AbraxasHarry, one-sided TomHarry

Rating: T

A/N: This came to me while watching Clash of the Titans lol. Cheers for the Olympians xD Oh! And Abraxas is going to be Morpheus, okay? Okay. Don't kill me for over usage of Greek mythology because I absolutely love it! So there! xD

The Oneiroi (the personification of dreams)

Morpehus = Abraxas Malfoy (god of shaping dreams)

Ikelor = Gellert Grindelwald (god of shaping parts of dreams; inanimate objects)

Phantasos = Albus Dumbledore (god of shaping parts of dreams; animals)

Hades = Tom Riddle (he will play an important role here!) XD

From here on, there will be no last names except for Harry (who will be known as Hadrian because it sounds better xD). But honestly, I probably won't use their surnames much, okay? OKAY.

ON WITH THE STORY!


Somewhere on Mount Olympus lived a god. His flat was situated near the bottom floor of the vastly and ground housing of the gods. It was a nice flat. Cosy even, with the way the god's drapes were coloured a light, dusky red. There was a faint scent of flowers in the air if one cared enough to breathe deeply, and it was very comfortable. A flat, indeed, fit for a god.

If you looked deeper into flat, you would see that there were golden platters on golden tables, and there were golden chairs on the sparkling golden floors—in fact, the whole room was pure gold barring the silver handles of the doors that led to the main corridor. And they were only two percent silver (out of the rest of the ninety-eight gold).

In the middle of the flat was a lush black-furred carpet that extended all the way to the balcony nearby. The mini-staircase fitted with emeralds wound to the bottom of the flat, and hanging from each corner was a lit candle, encased in blue diamonds and pearl stones. The entire flat seemed to extend for miles and miles, but it was only because of the way everything seemed insignificant to the one single bedroom that housed the owner of the said set of rooms.

Said owner was a very quiet god. With long, flaxen hair that swept past his back and intelligent black eyes that seemed to suck everything in. He loved to garden and think. He also had an affinity for playing cards and liked it very much if he won against his brothers in a round, but never got around to it, because he wasn't very good at cards anyway. He just liked it because of the pack of cards Albus had gotten specially made by their Uncle Hephaestus. They were a beautiful grey and the cards had moving pictures of his relatives: the King being his Uncle Zeus and the Queen being his Aunt Hera. The Jack was surprisingly his favourite Uncle Hades, and no one really cared to ask why he was the Jack.

So it was on an absolutely lovely day—which was quite the norm there in Olympus—that we find the youngest son of Hypnos, Morpheus, lounging on his bed midmorning. His golden hair flipped haphazardly around his right shoulder and trailed down to his back as he sat in the centre of the large, canopied bed. The sheets were a fine, silky sky blue and his covers pure white, with the pillows large and fluffy. In reality, the whole thing seemed to engulf the tall god and caress his very body. Which was, once again, quite normal.

Thus as Morpheus, Abraxas as we shall now call him, lounged around, he sighed to himself and wondered if he'd have his usual bread and honey breakfast or seed bread lightly drizzled with nectar? The choices, the choices.

"Brother!" called out the familiar, sing-songy voice of Ikelor, Albus. "It is breakfast time!" the playful god waltzed his way into Abraxas's chambers with a sunny smile, as Phantasos, his twin Gellert, trailed listlessly behind him with a scowl.

"Breakfast," said Gellert in monotone, as he thrust a tray of food into Abraxas's hands.

"So you two did wake up earlier than me," commented Abraxas, as the twins took a seat on his bed. "I didn't think that you two did, but seeing the nice, bright day out, we must have did a good job last night on Apollo's dream. He made it quite sunny today."

"You don't say," grumbled Gellert with a dark glare, "It nearly blinded me when I opened the drapes. Damn sunlight."

"Well I liked it," said Albus cheerfully around a stolen mouthful of food from Abraxas's plate. "It's very pretty today."

"You say that because Father gave you the seaside view, not the dark, damp view of the blasted human settlement," complained Gellert. "All those mortals ever seem to be doing is slandering Uncle Zeus's name and making merry out of nothing. Fools," he sniffed.

Abraxas shrugged as he bit through the crust on his bread, since he did not want to incur his elder brother's wrath too early this morn. Gellert had the tendency to be a hot head in the mornings. The golden-auburn haired god would be in a frightful mood until late afternoon, as always. Gellert had a tendency to scare even their Father as he glowered at everything in his path with shining red eyes.

Albus, unlike his much hot-headed twin brother, was a red haired god with twinkling and very mischievous blue eyes. He was slighter than Gellert, and a little on the slim side but he had a heart of gold and a playful air. He was their Father's favourite, and neither Abraxas nor Gellert ever fought about it, because what good would it do them? It was all in their nature, as predetermined.

"You know," said Abraxas amiably, after he was done with his breakfast. "They say that some mortals are actually quite kind. A good few, even comparable to us."

"And who told you that drivel?" sniffed Gellert, expertly plaiting Abraxas's hair and patting it once after he was done.

"Uncle Zeus," Abraxas answered simply.

"And you're talking about the resident womaniser," Gellert pointed out. "He'll say anything is infinitely good if it is beautiful. Or is exotic enough to catch any eye."

"But he did create them—the mortals, I mean," Albus pointed out mildly, ignoring the dark scowl that was aimed his way from Gellert. "They are supposed to worship him and love him because he made them. But sometimes," Albus shrugged, "You can never fully guess why things turn out the way they do—with all their desecration and heresy. They're like children who don't know any better, right?"

Gellert's lips twisted but he nodded in acquiescence. "True enough," admitted the god reluctantly. "But I still don't like them much," he muttered as Abraxas and Albus got ready for another day at Olympus. There were clothes strewn everywhere as Albus passed Abraxas one outfit after another, only for them to be rejected until Gellert, quite frustrated at their pickiness, decided on a grey shirt and black leggings for his flaxen haired brother. The trio then bustled out of the room and out into the living area where the hearth was kindled and a tea kettle placed in it.

Abraxas was comfortable as he busied himself with pouring warm, liquid ambrosia tea into porcelain mugs and passing it along to his brothers. He was rather content today and in a good mood because of it, and didn't feel any real reason to get out of his flat and explore the human world that day. However, Albus argued that it wasn't right at all to make dreams to people they had never closely observed.

"So their dreams relate to them in life," explained Gellert, trying to make up for his twin's cryptic remarks about the mortal subconscious and whatnot. "I'd like some bread please," Gellert then said, and out of thin air, a slice of bread, delicately drizzled with honey and sprinkled with nuts had landed in his hands. He took a small bite out of it (feeling somewhat full from his earlier breakfast) and said, "As much as it pains me to say it otherwise, we must closely observe these mortals so we know what dreams to send them. As is our way of life and what we do, we have to do our parts as the Olympians."

"But we never had to do this before," argued Abraxas.

"Because it was never brought up by Father 'til now," said Albus, with a shifty glance at his twin. When the taller brother practically ignored the subtle hinting, he was elbowed hastily in the side by Albus.

"Ouch—what the—I mean—what do you propose we do, brother?" questioned Gellert and composed himself. He tried to look irritated with the prospect of having to go down to the mortal lands to mingle (not that it was much effort on his half). Zeus knew how most gods hated to mingle. And he was one of them.

"Ahem. Yes, well I think we should go down there in person to closely observe the mortals. Preferably in disguises that won't cause too much attention. You and I," he said to Gellert, shooting a wide grin to his sulking twin, "Are going to go down as old fishermen. If you can't beat them, join them!" said Albus cheerily as Gellert groaned and basically facepalmed at the ridiculous notion.

"And if someone finds out? What then, genius?" grumbled the reddish-golden haired god as he slowly transformed into a bent old man with browned skin and white hair. Being found out as a god was always a worry, but Albus knew his way around the mortal realm. He actually preferred them to his own relatives even!

"It will be all right, brothers. Relax. No one will find out," answered Albus breezily, waving his own, newly transformed gnarled hand. "You, on the other hand, Abraxas," he turned to face his curious faced brother, "Are going as some noble from Athens. They won't bother to make sure you really are what you say you are because the only thing we'll be disguising for you, are your eyes, height, and aura. A lot of work if you ask me."

And thus, a dazed Abraxas found himself much shorter, powerless and standing in a temple dedicated to his Aunt Athena (who was also known as Rowena to her relatives). He figured he was in Athens by the way the temple was one of the finest ones he had ever laid eyes on. It must have been the Parthenon, he recalled, remembering the way his Aunt had crowed for years about how beautiful her temple was. Go figure his Aunt was a favourite of the mortals. They even created a gold and ivory statue of her right outside the Parthenon. Large and daunting, the statue captured most of her better features like her high nose and strong chin. Too bad his Aunt was actually a little more manlier than that.

Vaguely thinking back to his fellow brothers, Abraxas wondered how long they would be out as mortals. 'Perhaps a few weeks or two, seeing as though not all mortals and gods needed to dream,' Abraxas thought and carefully walked out of the looming temple entrance. The steps leading downward were as marble and as white as the statue near him and he snorted at the height. Almost 36 meters tall. Almost as tall as she really was. Almost.

As Abraxas reached the bottom step, his eardrums were immediately assaulted with shouts from peddlers and storeowners. 'Not to mention the smell,' Abraxas thought, curbing his instincts to gag at the overall scent. The Marketplace reeked of fish oil, blood, and other such nasty things blended into one rather disgusting stench.

"Leathers, new and specially packed!" called a beefy man from behind his stall. "Only a few pieces worth left—get them while you can!"

"Cheese and spices for sale! Good for your food and especially good for your stomach!" shouted a woman nearby.

"Come to the Seaship Seafood store! Oysters, octopi, and tuna for a bargain!"

Abraxas's nose started to tingle painfully as a boy forcefully shoved a basketful of wheat into his face. "Half off today, my good man! You willing to buy some?" When Abraxas only shook his head, the boy then began to plead, "Come on, you must need some today, it's a good day for kneading dough and making bread! Please buy some!" the boy pressured.

Just to get away from the annoying mortal, Abraxas pressed a gold piece into the boy's palm and hurried off, unaware of the boy's shocked reaction. With what Abraxas gave him, the boy wouldn't need to sell things for a week! Happy, the boy went off back home, to tell his mother of the good news.

Abraxas, far enough away from that persistent peddler, and far enough away from the marketplace, breathed in a sigh of relief and continued observing the mortals (though this time, with dark and wary eyes). He avoided the normal walkways for mortals and zigzagged through suspicious alleyways and even came upon a beautiful white fountain that he dipped his feet into. It was a good thing no one was there to witness that, Abraxas thought, going further and further into Athens.

It wasn't long or far off that he jogged, when he happened by a garden with flowers.

He had never seen such flowers in full bloom.

Mouth open in awe at the beauty of it, Abraxas stepped into the privately owned gardens and looked around. The archway was decorated with blooming white and yellow flowers, and the inside was even more majestic with purple, blue, even red flowers in full bloom! Abraxas had never seen anything as breathtaking and as beautiful as these. He had to give his Uncle Zeus some credit—mortals did seem to know how to also make beautiful things.

"Hello?" said a small, quiet voice behind him.

Abraxas instantly turned around, bearing an almost guilty look for stumbling upon the place and not asking for permission. He sent the frail, black-haired mortal in front of him a nervous smile. "Hello," he replied as the stranger stared at him quizzically.

"Are you the new gardener that my Mother hired?" asked the boy, and Abraxas shook his head. "Oh." The boy's shoulders first slumped, and he then said, "Then why are you here? No one seems to like to take care of the gardens except for mother and I. Father being too busy at the capital to really understand the gardens."

"You grew these on your own?" asked Abraxas, amazed at the beautiful oasis. It was nearly comparable to his own small garden back at Olympus.

The boy shrugged. "Mother helps me sometimes, when she's not too busy with the house affairs. She tries her best really, but she can only keep the pear trees near the pond alive." He pointed a frail hand to the small body of water a few feet away. It had a range of pear trees nearby. "I happen to have a green thumb so most of the plants and trees I care for, bloom the way they do."

"But they are all so magnificent," breathed Abraxas and gestured to the sweet-smelling cypress and alder trees. "This must have taken you years to do," furthered Abraxas, sending a broad smile out to him as he took in the sights of clear, running water, apple trees and sweet figs and olives in full bloom.

"Maybe," mused the boy. "But a lot of it was already here before I started on anything. May I have your name, sir?"

Abraxas blinked, and berated himself for forgetting his manners. He bowed low to his newfound friend to make up for his absentmindedness.

"My name is Abraxas. What is yours?"

"Hadrian," the black-haired mortal took a seat on a stone bench and gestured with a thin wrist for Abraxas to sit next to him. There they sat, happy and chattering about anything and everything under the sun—the weather, the trees, and even the state of affairs. They talked about everything. Of course, by the time it was nearly evening, Abraxas realised he had lingered there far too long and had forgotten his original goal of observing mortals in their natural habitat.

As much as the god didn't want to leave, he had to. So with obvious reluctance, Abraxas told Hadrian that he had to go soon. The boy only clung to his sleeve and begged him not to leave, until Abraxas nodded and agreed to stay a few more minutes.

Time passed by pleasantly, and Abraxas found himself liking the mortal, Hadrian, more and more. But as evening set in, and the sun began to set, Abraxas knew by then, that he had to go. So again, he reluctantly told the boy he had to go.

"I sincerely apologise for taking up most of your time, but I do have to go back home," said Abraxas, glancing at the sundial situated at the middle of the garden. It was half past five already. "I had a lovely afternoon with you."

Even with just a few hours of meeting the mortal, Abraxas had come to know that Hadrian was a very sickly individual. With his much too pale skin, unnatural delicateness and frailty, it made Abraxas want to hold the mortal tight in his arms and make sure he was safe from harm. 'Which is a very strange notion,' Abraxas thought. He had never had this particular feeling before. And he had lived a very long time too.

"Come dine with my mother and me, tonight. I know she would love to meet you," urged Hadrian. "And I can even get the cook to make you your favourite honey bread," the boy then offered, though it sounded quite like pleading to Abraxas's ears. He turned bright, almost glowing green eyes to the god, and Abraxas was hard-pressed to ignore them. They were as enchanting as the owner.

Without any further thought, Abraxas agreed to it and they were off. Through the winding stone steps of the gardens, bypassing plenty of sparkling rocks in the trickling waters and even more breathtaking scenery, which Hadrian explained was part of his Father's lands. Abraxas knew to some extent that mortals had a queer tendency to take land and name it as theirs, but he also knew better than to bring it up in conversation. So he instead, remained somewhat neutral and agreeable with his queries.

They soon reached a large home with an even larger courtyard. Abraxas saw that the gardens were just another extension from a gated home and was actually connected to some private premises. Good thing that Hadrian found him and not some guard of theirs, Abraxas thought. Otherwise, he'd probably be forcefully thrown out.

He and Hadrian then entered through a simple wooden doorway that led into a vast courtyard with shaded canopies and an almost temple-esque look. Hadrian's whole home reminded him of the Parthenon, but just a smaller, homier version of it.

"I know it's somewhat small, but I hope it's to your liking," said Hadrian, almost worryingly. "Father said they'd do some renovations next summer, but he always says that. We have five bedrooms and a guest bedroom for you to sleep in should you decide to stay for awhile." With that sentence uttered, it seemed like Hadrian wanted him to stay for awhile.

Abraxas filed that thought away for reflection later tonight.

They passed by some male servants and the men immediately bowed before scurrying their way around the house to do their duties. Hadrian mostly ignored them (except for a redheaded one to which he waved to) as they made their way to one side of the courtyard, but Abraxas was fascinated with their work and he couldn't help but observe them closely with sharp, hawkish eyes.


Hadrian's mother, Lily, was beautiful in all senses of the word. She had charisma enough to get even Abraxas to lower his guard down, and she had elegance in all her manners. From the tip of her red crown, to the soles of her delicate feet, Lily Potter was a graceful and downright remarkable woman. If his Uncle Zeus was here—well, Abraxas wouldn't want to think about what the perverted god would do to Lily.

They were eating at a secluded part of the courtyard, with white canopies hanging overhead. The table was large and rectangular, and there were many dishes for a person to eat. Abraxas was rather surprised to see that Lily and Hadrian gave food out to the servants and even ate with them, but the two mortals seemed like genuinely good people. Something hard to come by in this war-laden world.

He raised a cup to his lips, and caught Hadrian's green eyes. The boy quickly looked away with a flush, and Abraxas only furrowed his brow at the bizarre reaction. Lily seemed to have seen it and only sent the god a knowing wink and continued laughing her tinkling and charming laugh as she listened to a servant recall a tale of an empty milk jug and water basin.

"So, Abraxas," said Lily, after all the plates were cleared away and the three were mostly left alone. "Are you visiting Athens because of the scenery or for something else entirely?"

Abraxas blinked and placed his cup filled with freshwater down onto the table.

"I am here purely for the aesthetics," he said and shot Hadrian a smile that caused the boy to flush once more and duck his head. "My brothers have told me that I must go out in the world more and see how things work—so here I am. Out and about in the place they left me, Athens."

Lily made an understanding noise in the back of her throat and nodded, reaching over to pat his hand. "You're welcome to stay here if you want. I know how difficult it is to find a place to sleep here at Athens. Most inns and taverns are filled with ilk that someone like you should never associate with."

"Someone like me?" he prompted curiously.

"She means someone as...striking as you," Hadrian said, with a pink and flattering tinge to his cheeks. Abraxas liked the colour on him.

However...

"Striking?" Abraxas echoed, confused.

"Have you not seen yourself in a mirror?" asked Lily, seemingly amused with the way he cocked his head to the side and lifted one shoulder up, then down. "Hermione, a mirror please," she called out, and a brown haired servant girl hurried to her side. She had in her hands a finely crafted mirror with pearls inlaid on its handles. Lily thanked the girl before handing the intricate bauble to Abraxas.

"Look and see for yourself," the woman commanded with twinkling eyes as she delicately gripped a cup to hide her smirking face.

Abraxas stared at his reflection in the mirror.

It wasn't like he had never seen himself in the mirror. Quite the contrary. In Olympus, there were mirrors every which way you turned in the corridor. Be it left or right—there would be a mirror situated right where you would see your best side. Not like Abraxas really went out enough to say he had a best side, but he knew that the other gods and goddesses had plenty of good sides. He was just the exception.

And there he was.

With his long, flaxen hair. Nothing unusual there. His eyebrows were still arched high and dark. The only visible thing he could see that changed about him were his eyes—they were a nice hazel colour. Definitely something unusual since he had always had black eyes. Figures that Albus (or perhaps was it Gellert?) would change his eye colour to a more natural colour.

Abraxas gave the mirror back to Lily and bluntly said, "I don't see anything striking about me."

The woman twittered in her seat and laughed her tinkling laugh, and even Hadrian let out a small chuckle.

"I suppose you would be the only one to say that," said Hadrian laughingly, beaming at Abraxas who only raised a brow in return.


His rooms at the Potter household were indeed, smaller than his own at Olympus. But it had a certain quality to it that just screamed home and Abraxas was content with leaving it the way it was. There were windows leading out to a small balcony and the bed was simpler and smaller than his own, however, Abraxas would not change a single thing in his bedroom. This whole room was different, yes. But as he took a good eyeful of the room, he had to admit that it was a good kind of different that made his heart ache and his chest tingle. He wouldn't mind staying here for a while.

Earlier that evening, Hadrian had led him here with a soft 'goodbye' and a kiss to the cheek, which felt immensely odd, seeing as though Hadrian was a boy. But Abraxas didn't really mind. The feeling of soft lips pressed onto his cheek lingered and Abraxas quite liked the feeling to be honest.

He looked out the window and saw his Aunt Artemis (also called Helga to her immediate family), sitting on the edge of the crescent moon, playing with her hair. She sat there with her silhouette against the moonlight, softly singing a song that his Uncle Apollo, taught her. Abraxas waved at her and in return, the goddess sent back a wide smile before continuing to braid her long, golden brown tresses.

Turning back to his new room, he walked back to the small bed and made himself comfortable, knowing that somewhere out there, his brothers would be watching over him.

It was annoying, however, that the two left him to be all alone by his lonesome.

'Just what were the two doing anyway?' was Abraxas's last thought as he drifted off into a fitful slumber.


"You think we should go to him?" asked Gellert. The twins were already back in Olympus, inside their conjoined flat. And the only thing they seemed to be doing was watching Abraxas from their seat beside the window.

"I don't think so," said the redheaded god. "He looks to be enjoying himself. Besides, Father said the Oracle at Delphi prophesised of a boy that would change Abraxas's life. He said we should do everything to get those two together. So tonight, we'll send him parts of his dream!" cheered Albus.

"Then the horned gate—"

"It is!" finished Albus with an enthusiastic grin. "Now I know we can only send parts of a dream and not the general picture like Abraxas, but we can definitely do the parts of a dream I'm sure would linger in his mind..." Albus cackled gleefully, while rubbing his fingers together. There was a scheming look to his features which made his twin purse his lips.

"Somehow, I don't think I'm going to enjoy working with you tonight, brother," Gellert told his wily counterpart truthfully.

Albus only shot him a large grin and cracked his knuckles and shoulders.

"Let's do our best to make Abraxas thoroughly enjoy his dreamstate, 'gel! Father even concocted a special sleep formula just for him, until he realises that he needs that mortal more than anything..."

Gellert only rolled his eyes at his family's antics (really, where did he get his cautiousness from, his mother-?), before readying his own fingers and mind for a night of dream weaving.


Nearly a week had passed since Abraxas's stay at the Potter household. It was pleasant and warm and positively filled with delight as Hadrian was a constant to his side morning, and strangely at night, in his dreams.

They spent almost every second together, exploring the vast fields of the garden, telling stories of gods and goddesses (which Abraxas was quite adept at) and even playing instruments in the courtyard. Hadrian had surprised Abraxas with his knowledge of the lyre and one of the more difficult instruments to play—the aulos.

While Hadrian looked absolutely ridiculous playing the aulos, his efficiency and talent at it more than made up for his funny image. The sound that was emitted while Hadrian played a song of the tales of Odysseus was low and soothing to the ear.

Abraxas vowed that if Hadrian ever died, he'd grab Hadrian's soul and place it within the stars or in the courtyard of Olympus, where he would be able to play any instrument he could ever possibly want for eternity.

However, the matter of ever meeting Hadrian's father was difficult. The older man was elusive and only ever came home during the dead of the night, when his Aunt Helga would be up on the moon, humming. She told him of how the elder Potter looked and how his personality was. From what Abraxas could sort out from her female talk, he deduced that James Potter was a very kind man.

Speaking of elder Potters, the only time that Abraxas had ever met the elder was one time in the evening of his fourth day. The patriarch had suddenly waltzed where they were dining, unannounced. By the way everyone sent the tall, regal man with messy hair a smile, Abraxas realised who he was and held his head down.

James only smiled and laughed raucously, telling Abraxas he could stay however long as he wanted. They had no fear for lack of food or warmth of fire, the man explained.

...And Abraxas rather liked the way the older mortal treated him. Like a member of his own family.

That thought sent a nice thrill down his spine and for the rest of that evening, Abraxas remained smiling and sitting next to Hadrian, who periodically squeezed his leg under the table.

Thus, now, on the fifth morning of his stay, Abraxas found himself quite close to Hadrian, and never wonting for anything more.

Until he met with his Uncle Hades that very afternoon...


Abraxas had only been with the servants, Hermione and Ron, assisting them in their daily chores of washing dishes and preparing the food for the next meal. He found their banter amusing and entertaining. It reminded him a lot of his older brothers (who had yet to appear to him, the smarmy bastards). That and he enjoyed the way the young redhead blushed whenever Hermione came near. It was obvious that Ron harboured feelings for the intelligent girl. A lot of feelings.

The tall, lanky redheaded boy was a close friend of Hadrian's since childhood, and Hermione had only come into their lives a few years prior. But from what Abraxas learned, the three were inseparable and always did everything together.

Except when he had come around.

But Abraxas wouldn't press the two for details as to what they felt about being subtly ignored by their bestfriend. And they were being ignored in favour of entertaining a complete stranger. It wasn't his place to question them as to how they felt about it, although he was very curious about their answers.

However, Abraxas had a feeling the two didn't particularly care and had other things (like each other) on their mind.

Abraxas was coming out of the kitchen when he caught sight of the tall, dark, and imposing figure of his Uncle, towering above Hadrian from his seat in the courtyard. Surprised, Abraxas jogged towards the two.

"I will not go with you, Hades," Hadrian frowned and tried to shake off the hand on his wrist. "I told you once before that I do not want to lay with you!"

"But you know your rejection would not cease my efforts, my dear flower," purred Hades's smooth, velvety voice. The sound caressed ears and spun silk and shrouded most mortals' vision, but it was impervious to Hadrian. Which meant that Hadrian was something different, exotic like the Nubians in Egypt. It made Hadrian an anomaly, thus making Tom lust for the mortal boy all the more.

"Tom!" Abraxas found himself shouting. Why? He didn't really know, but an odd urge of protectiveness surged through him, seeing Hadrian being manhandled by someone like his powerful Uncle.

"Why, nephew!" said Tom, lips curving into a condescending smile. He released Hadrian from his grasp and the frail boy landed back onto his seat with a soft thud. "I didn't know you were here, Abraxas! Come to visit your favourite uncle, perhaps?" The dark god held his arms wide open, and seeing as Abraxas stood rooted to his spot, put his arms down and scoffed. "I see."

He turned back to the fuming Hadrian and pointed a long, rude finger at the mortal. "You here for this delectable boy too?"

Confused, Abraxas only stared at him. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, bewildered.

"Oh! Forget my manners!" Tom looked positively gleeful. "You must be wondering why I'm here yes? Well I met this delightful mortal on one of my more nicer visits to the human realm. He was in his garden and seeming all sad and lonely and wanting of company that, well," the god sighed dramatically and eyed Hadrian, who stiffened in his place, "I talked to him."

"As a snake," recalled Hadrian, glowering. "And you! You tricked me into thinking that you weren't who you said you were!" He directed furious green eyes to Abraxas, and the flaxen haired god flinched and coloured slightly. He hadn't meant to lie to Hadrian all this time. It wasn't like he actually meant to do that. He just—he just...forgot. That's all-

Abraxas frowned as Tom's voice broke through his dismal thoughts:

"Yes, yes, that. I already apologised for my deceit as I am sure my favourite nephew will too. I thought we established that all was forgiven and what not." Tom waved a hand. "But honestly, what surprised me on that first visit was that you understood snake-speak, one of the most difficult languages to interpret. Even brother dearest has difficulties translating snake-speak, but what a shock to find a full mortal capable of not only understanding it, but speaking it as well! How mind-boggling!" Tom said and conjured a chair for both he and Abraxas. "Come, nephew, make yourself comfortable. Then you may tell me how you happened to meet the current apple of my eye." Hadrian shot Tom a glare but the god effortlessly ignored it and silently ordered Abraxas to sit next to him.

The flaxen-haired god gingerly took the proffered chair.

"I was sent here with my brothers earlier this week," Abraxas mildly put in, from around his Uncle's urging stare.

"Brothers?" interrupted Hadrian.

"Ikelor and Phantasos—my brothers and I are gods of dreams. "

"Oh." Hadrian looked like he wanted to say more, but at Tom's annoyed glance, stayed silent.

"Then-?" Tom said impatiently.

Abraxas hesitated, then said, "Our Father sent us out here on a mission. Something about going out into the mortal realm and understanding the mortals so we have a better grasp of what dreams to send them. It all sounded fishy to me," sighed Abraxas, "And I suppose it was, seeing as though my brothers still haven't come back for me. But I still went and well, this is where I'm at now—with Hadrian and his family."

Tom hummed. "Sounds like a divine coincidence. It makes sense for the old man to do this," the god of the Underworld commented. "He must have finally listened to the Oracle."

"You mean there's a prophecy about me?" asked Abraxas, incredulous.

"Oh? Did I let that slip? Silly me," sniggered Tom as Abraxas stood up, glowering at him darkly. The effect wasn't what the flaxen-haired god would hope for with flour smudged on his patrician nose, and his clothes rumpled, but it would have to do.

Tom just laughed and lightly cuffed his arm.

"It's nothing you should be wary of! It's just the usual prophecy given to every god. Their fortune in love."

At that statement, Hadrian couldn't help but interrupt with a loud snort. "She can make predictions about love and such?"

"Correction: he. And it sounds ridiculous, I know," said Tom with a smirk. "But it is as it always was. Every god is given a series of fortunes at the beginning of their existence. Sometimes gods—like Poseidon and I—are excluded from her worldly vision. Although Sirius does usually give us barmy fortunes foretelling our imminent doom and such. Zeus—I mean Cornelius, all-father of the pantheon of gods usually gets his fortune told but it's the same thing every mortal year: 'your bits will fall off and you shall develop a skin rash that makes you bald'. Never seen any of that happen so my brothers and I have learned to deal with the crazy Oracle."

"I see." Both Hadrian and Abraxas looked thoughtful. Hadrian, because his Uncle was the crazy Oracle and Abraxas because his father never mentioned a crazy Oracle.

"...Why didn't Father believe in it?" he had to ask.

Tom couldn't help but sneer a bit. "Most of us Olympians ignore the batty Oracle. Forgive your Father-dearest for letting it slip. He probably hadn't even known that it was true until he spotted someone that fulfilled the other half of your prophecy. And mind you, that may take hundreds of years to accomplish. Be glad that yours is coming true. I have yet to see Hephaestus, find his true lover. Not that Aphrodite isn't a sore sight. He is a little loose in his ways though, if you know what I mean," he directed a wink at Abraxas who gagged. Yes, he was fully aware of how loose his Uncle Gryffindor was with his ways. The slut.

Gryffindor was having the most obvious affair in the world with his Uncle Ares god of war, Slytherin. Everyone knew that Gryffindor was sleeping with Slytherin except for Hephaestus. The poor sap believed that Gryffindor was most chaste and faithful to his ugly self.

"In any case..." Tom stood up and clapped his hands, making the chairs disappear in a puff of black smoke. "I have lingered far too long here in this realm. I will take my leave, precious flower," he bent down to press a chaste kiss onto Hadrian's lilywhite hand and deftly ignored the scowl he earned from owner of said hand.

He then briefly glanced at Abraxas.

"Nephew, take care of my flower," he said with a serious look in his eyes, and Abraxas's lips thinned but he did still go over and give the obnoxious god a hug.

"So long for now then. I'll be sure to visit again sometime next week, precious flower. 'til then!" And the dark god then vanished through a crawling black vortex that sparkled with stars and infinite lights. The very atmosphere tightened with the appearance of the void and seemed to squeeze the air and life out of everything nearby before it completely disappeared seconds later.

There was an uncomfortable silence, in which Abraxas took the time to think about the latest events. So his Uncle Hades was wooing Hadrian—no surprise there. But what came as a surprise were the special talents the mortal seemed to have. The gift of snake-speak was something not all gods—not even Zeus himself—was privy with. Perhaps that was why his Uncle wanted Hadrian so badly. Hadrian was similar to him.

The silence stretched on until Abraxas gave Hadrian a guilty look.

"I'm sorry for not telling you that I was a god," he said. "It just completely slipped my mind. I didn't think it would matter—"

"That's right. You didn't think," snapped Hadrian coldly. Though his glare lessened a second later and he sent a small smile to the disheartened god, "But I'm glad that I met someone like you, Abraxas. And now that I know the real you," Hadrian's smile widened. "You may call me Harry. It's what Hermione and Ron call me in private. And to be honest," the enchanting mortal's voice lowered, "I'd like to get to know you better. Is that all right with you?"

And Abraxas couldn't be more confused at the myriad of feelings dwelling within him. But he took one good look at Harry's gleaming green eyes and couldn't help but acquiesce. How could he say no when Harry gave him a look such as that one?


Months passed, and summer blended into autumn. It was still bright and sunny and beautiful, and Abraxas still hadn't heard from his two brothers. Thankfully, his annoyance hadn't lingered long for he had multiple distractions to keep his mind occupied. One, being Hermione and Ron (the two seemed to have confessed to each other weeks before and were a happy couple). They somehow always needed his advice on things. Why? Well, he never knew, but maybe it had to do with his ability to just listen and not interrupt like Albus or Gellert.

Second, his dreams were starting to affect his daily life. They were always of soft, pink lips pressed against his own and sparkling green eyes. Phantom touches on his face and even the occasional whisper. He already figured that he was dreaming of Harry but he would still strangle his brothers when he had the chance.

Finally, his main and favoured distraction was Harry. He was bright and mischievous and absolutely wonderful to Abraxas. The flaxen-haired god expected the mortal to grow weary and annoyed of his presence after the first week, but much to his astonishment, Harry was neither. In fact, the boy seemed to cling to him day after day; happily chatting to him and even spending time with him no matter what the occasion. Abraxas was grateful for company for he was used to Albus's constant chatter and Gellert's snappy comebacks. Being with Hadrian oddly felt like home.

Home.

On his third month in the Potter household, Abraxas lay on a simply furnished couch in the Andron. He was playing with a loose string from the pillow his head was on and was simply staring up at the marble ceiling.

He had yet to figure out a way back home. Abraxas was still pretty new at visiting the mortal realm and his brothers had conveniently forgotten to tell him how to get back to Olympus. It wasn't as if he disliked staying with Hadrian.

It was just that he just missed his family and home.

Even in spite of the fact that Tom, true to hi word, visited periodically, Abraxas, even now, wasn't satisfied with just seeing his favourite Uncle clamour and swoon over Hadrian. He also saw Helga on a nightly basis, and sometimes his Uncle Apollo, Remus (lover of the crazy Oracle), who occasionally visited his sister.

Yes. He wasn't satisfied.

He wasn't satisfied with the way Harry seemed to shy away from his touch, the way soft lips would brush against his ear every time Harry whispered to him and the way—

Wait. Why was he even thinking of these things?

Scowling, Abraxas curled up on his side. He donned an irritated expression. It wasn't fair that Harry popped into his mind more often than not. Was it because they spent too much time together? Or was it because of something else?

...Thinking of this all just gave him a headache.

He massaged his temples and sighed, once more staring at the ceiling.


"What do you mean he's sick?" questioned Abraxas, worry etched onto his face. He was watching Harry from the corner of his eyes. The boy was sick with fever and trundled with blankets from head to toe on his bed. The only visible thing that Abraxas could see was Harry's flushed cheeks and the sweat rolling down his forehead.

Lily sighed and gave him a sharp look. "Abraxas, dear. You and I both know that Harry isn't the healthiest of boys. He's always been sick. I'm surprised these past few months that he hasn't even caught a cold or anything. Must've been your influence," the beautiful woman mused, a slight smile on her lips. She seemed to snap out of her daze a few seconds later though at his inquiring stare, "The healer tells me that there's nothing he can do for him. This sickness—whatever he has, has to go away on its own. It's never been this bad..." The woman murmured, bringing a hand to her forehead and rubbing it. She was stressed by the looks of it.

"I see." Abraxas's forehead wrinkled in thought. "I'll see if I can do anything."

A hand went to his shoulder before he could turn around and walk off, "You can't do anything, Abraxas," said Lily sadly. "All the healers have, and they came up with nothing."

For the first time since he had known the alluring mother, Abraxas felt anger towards her and her resignation with Harry's condition. Rudely shrugging off her hand, the flaxen-haired god stalked off to the gardens, intent on calling upon his Uncle Hades.

"Tom!" he barked. "Come out here, right this instance!"

There was no sweeping blackness or infinite void that his Uncle liked to use as transportation. He tried again,

"Hades!"

"All right, all right, no need to yell so loud." Tom blinked into existence right next to him, picking his ear with his pinky finger. "What's got you into such a fit?" drawled the god, in a bored tone. He only seemed somewhat curious as to his nephew's sudden summons. He never got summoned. Ever. Not unless someone needed him for sacrifice, murders, killings, etc... Now those were the kinds of summons Tom was used to.

Abraxas's eyes narrowed.

"Harry," spat the god of dreams, "is sick. Do you have any reasons why?"

Tom appeared thoughtful for a minute, then shrugged. "How should I know, nephew?" questioned the dark haired man with a yawn, "I'm not the god of healing, your Uncle Apollo, Cedric, is. I only do the dirty job of picking up their poor souls for judging when they're sent to the underworld. None of my business if he's still alive, really."

"He's your business if you want him to stay alive," Abraxas nearly snarled. He was getting angrier and angrier by the second. Didn't his Uncle understand that if Harry died—if Harry died...

"Do you think he'll die?" whispered Abraxas a moment later, when Tom refused to answer him.

Silence.

Tom's baleful red gaze then bore into his own.

"I checked his yarn with Clotho," answered the god quietly. "He doesn't have much time left." A thin, white string appeared into his grasp and he showed it to his gaping nephew.

"But-!" Abraxas couldn't believe it—but there it was before his very eyes. Harry's life. Almost at its breaking point. But he had to do something! He had to! Harry didn't deserve to die! He had too much left to do! Abraxas had planned to do so many things with Harry...so much...

Tom rapped his fingers loudly on his thigh. "But what, nephew?" he questioned.

"Can't you do anything about it? Can't you, Uncle?" Abraxas was getting desperate. He knew his Uncle could come up with numerous ways to prolong a mortal's life. He was the god of death, for Zeus's sake!

Tom turned away from him, arms crossing.

"I'd have to take him to the Underworld with me," he muttered.

"And that would make him live?" asked Abraxas, in all seriousness.

"It would," confirmed the god. "But it wouldn't make him happy. He would never be allowed above world. He would never see another living thing. He would never again be able to use his gift with plants and other living things. He would only ever see and experience death down there. And they're not very memorable experiences; I can tell you that first hand."

"...Just do it," said Abraxas, head bent to shadow his weary face.

"Are you certain?" Tom's eyes found his and searched for something. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, Tom's stare deepened. "You may never see him again, you know this."

Abraxas wanted to do nothing but weep.

"I am fully aware of it, Uncle, but what I want isn't what matters anymore. The only important thing is that he does not die. I...do not want him to die," said Abraxas softly, closing his eyes and stifling the sorrow in his heart. "He deserves much more. I know he's special, Uncle. In more ways than one."

With a nod, Tom's gaze slid away from his and the god said, "I'll give you two weeks with him—nothing more. Clotho informed me that he only has less than a month. Say your goodbyes, nephew. And be with him while you still can." For he will be all mine, after this ends was what he failed to say, though Abraxas could see his implications.

"Love him for these two weeks, nephew. It's the only thing you can do."

Sending a sympathetic look to him, the god of the Underworld then blinked out of existence.

Abraxas's shoulders trembled, and he tried to fight it—he tried to but he couldn't stop the tears from his eyes and the howling of anguish coming from his mouth. He even tasted the salty liquid pouring from his eyes.

For the first time since he had been birthed, Abraxas wept and mourned the love that he would never be able to keep.

A love that he realised much too late.


"Harry?"

"Abraxas?" whispered the sick mortal, green eyes cracking open at the mention of his name. Red-tinged green eyes met his and a slender hand rose to reach his face. The god felt much-too-warm fingertips grazing his cheeks before dropping down. "Why are you here?" Harry asked, wearily. "Mother said that no one was to visit me until I was well again."

"Your mother can say whatever she wants to say and it still wouldn't chase me off," spoke Abraxas heatedly. He captured lily-white hands into his and clasped them tight. "I wanted to see you." Say goodbye and watch as your life fades before my very eyes.

Abraxas blinked away the tears as a strange quiet enveloped them.

"...You all right?" came Harry's worried voice. "You're much too quiet, Abraxas. If me being sick upsets you—then what about me being injured. Will that make you cry?" joked the sick boy but sobered quickly at Abraxas's serious expression. "I'm sorry," he added. "But I'm just sick. Nothing's wrong with me except—well, the sick part."

As tempting as it was to tell Harry that he wasn't just sick, but dying as well, the god squashed the temptation down with an impressive slug.

"She's confined you to two weeks of bed rest," he muttered. "The healer's done all he can and he can't do anything else. So she figured that you just needed more sleep in order to get over this illness of yours. "

"She can't do that!" Harry looked outraged. "I'm just sensitive to the season, all right? I'll get better in a few days! You'll see!"

And Abraxas couldn't do anything but nod.


Four days went by and Harry's condition still hadn't improved. In fact, by the end of the first day, the mortal had gotten worse. He had started coughing blood and seeing delusions. Eventually, he couldn't tell Lily apart from the wall, and was already babbling about wizardry and talking snakes. Even hissing whenever Abraxas or Lily visited him at the sick bay of the Potter household.

Lily was openly crying in the courtyard with Ron and Hermione by her side. The bushy-haired servant seemed depressed and dark bags lined her eyes. Even Ron seemed withdrawn, only speaking a few words with Abraxas. And they were only about Harry's condition. The redhead had immediately clammed up when he heard about Harry's delusional behaviour.

"He called me a filthy mudblood liar," sobbed the beautiful redheaded woman. She was crying on Hermione's shoulder while the small, petite girl patted her back. "I don't even know what a mudblood is but he called me one and spat at me and tried to scratch me!"

"It's all right," shushed Hermione in her soft, sweet way. "He's just sick right now, Lily. He'll get better soon."

But they all knew that was a lie.


A week went by, and Harry's fever went down. But he stilled coughed up blood and his once verdant green eyes were now a milky, faded out mint. He was blind, and there was nothing anyone could do for him. The fever had left him muddled, blind but alive.

Abraxas was grateful, though he knew Harry probably wasn't. He wasn't even in the right mind.

But throughout the whole week, he had loyally stayed by Harry's side, even when the boy threw random fits. He clawed at the air, spoke in hissing tones, even cried out to unseen beings surrounding him.

Everyone thought he was possessed.

Abraxas knew better.

So he lingered by Harry and took to caring for the ill boy. Bringing him to the baths, preparing his meals for him—everything. Abraxas wanted Harry comfortable and loved. He was surprised by Lily's behaviour though. Harry wasn't even dead yet and she was already crying at random intervals during supper.

A day later, word came from the capital. It was announced by a tearful Lily that James would be arriving in the next few days. They all knew very well that this was a serious matter. James would never forgo his work just to see his family. As kind as the man was, he was ambitious and driven with his job.

It made Abraxas sad that by the time Harry's father would get here, the boy would already be in the Underworld.


He felt a little piece of his heart die as he surveyed the sickly boy on his bed.

" 'braxas?" mumbled Harry in one of his rare moments of lucidity. They were sporadic and occurred only once every day at the most. In fact, Harry behaving normally was becoming rarer and rarer.

Abraxas felt his jaw ache from the amount of times he clenched it as he watched his beloved fade in front of his very eyes.

Blind, mint eyes quietly regarded him from his place. They stared back at him searchingly, beseechingly—as if they could really see him.

Finally, with a long, drawn out sigh, Abraxas answered, "...Yes?" He reached over to cup a pale cheek and gaze adoringly at Harry. Eerie in the way those pale eyes seemed to perceive him; Abraxas had the distinct feeling that the boy was going to tell him something important.

"Was there something you needed?" he added and observed as a small smile bloomed onto Harry's pink lips.

"I'm going to die aren't I?" the mortal asked softly, if somewhat fearfully. His eyes closed as he clutched at Abraxas's hand. The way Harry clung to his hand was the way that Abraxas imagined him clinging to life.

Harry wasn't strong enough.

Sighing, Abraxas gently pulled his hand away to rest onto Harry's thin arm. He rubbed the boy's soft limb and said calmly, "Yes. You are."

Harry's shoulders tensed.

"I can't say I'm sorry that I'm dying, you know," the boy admitted in a quavering voice. "I knew it would happen someday. I just didn't expect it to be so soon."

"It's not your fault," said Abraxas carefully. He grasped Harry's delicate hand and twined it with his own. "It's not your fault that you were born sickly. It's no one's fault," he furthered and felt Harry weakly squeeze his palm. He squeezed back.

"Can I tell you something, Abraxas? Because I think I'm not going to wake up after I go to sleep tonight," said Harry, sending one of his sweet smiles that Abraxas had learned to take granted for. Abraxas cherished this one though and kept this memory locked tightly up in his head.

"What is it-?"

"I love you."

Shock settled onto his features and Abraxas gasped, his voice echoing around the barren walls of the sick bay.

"I—I—" don't know what to say—

"I loved you since the first day I met you, in the gardens," said Harry, seemingly ignoring the state he put Abraxas in. "It wasn't because of how you looked—so lost, so different. You have this light about you, you know. This really nice glow that drew me to you like a moth to a flame."

With that statement hanging in the air, Abraxas was going to say something until a thin hand lifted and stopped him. "It's okay, I already had a feeling that you were different from Tom. I liked him a lot at first, you know. Then I found out that he lied to me not once, but twice. Once when he was a snake and the second, when he said he'd come back for me in a year and he didn't. I don't fancy liars," explained Harry with a sweet, almost bitter look. "You know the sad thing about this whole ordeal was that I was willing to settle for him. All because mother told me that it was better to have someone who loved you than to have no one love you at all."

"But he doesn't love you!" Abraxas blurted out, but then slammed his mouth shut when Harry laughed.

"I know, he just wanted me. He still does," said Harry serenely. "But then you came along and, and—"

"And?" said Abraxas, leaning forward so he was closer, merely a breath away from Harry.

"You made me see the colors of the world."

Abraxas couldn't say anything to that.

"You—you were warm. You listened to me—you were just there and so lost and I couldn't help myself but I found myself liking you more and more, and then—" Harry coughed in his hands and Abraxas saw blood, but the boy continued talking in a raspy voice, "I couldn't get enough of you. I prayed to Athena for wisdom and she came to me and told me that I had to keep on trying, even though you hadn't seemed at all receptive to my actions."

"I was! I am!" the god cried out, jumping up from his seat. He embraced Harry and held him tightly, as if he was afraid that the mortal would disappear from his very grasp. "Don't leave me, Harry. Please don't. I love you, I love you, I love you," he sobbed and cradled the frail, sickly boy in his arms. His lips lightly brushed soft, trembling pink ones, in a chaste kiss, before pressing his mouth firmly onto Harry's.

The feeling of Harry's lips on his was exquisite, Abraxas thought, then groaned, as his tongue delved in between that teasing crevice. This was too good—too fast, and Abraxas felt that he was melting with all this emotions running through him. The haze that came from just one touch of Harry's delicate hands was enough to undo him and—

Aforementioned devious hands had instinctively grasped the back of his shirt as Abraxas leaned forward in order to kiss him deeper, running appreciative fingers under the boy's shirt. His fingers lightly ghosted down a somewhat prominent spine and he felt Harry shivering underneath his touch. The mortal was so receptive. The god rather liked it.

Abraxas couldn't help smiling as Harry tentatively parted his lips to Abraxas's questing tongue, allowing the god entry into his mouth. He heard the boy moan as he gently tugged at Harry's hair and slid his tongue in at the same time. That was a move he was sure to use on Harry.

If Tom would ever let Abraxas see him again, that is. He shoved that depressing thought away from the forefront of his mind and focused on Harry's lovely mouth again. Harry seemed to be getting the hang of kissing if the way the boy's lips moved against his own was any indication.

Hazel eyes nearly rolled when Harry shyly rubbed his tongue against the roof of Abraxas's mouth. 'The minx!' He thought heatedly before plundering Harry's mouth in retribution. The mortal struggled a bit, then relaxed as Abraxas petted his lower back. Harry pouted against him and lightly bit at Abraxas's lower lip, but nothing could deter the god from ravaging Harry's mouth once more.

Ambrosia, honey—everything good. Abraxas would never tire of this unique flavour! Though there was a tiny metallic hint to Harry's breath, Abraxas continued to delve deeper into the boy's moist orifice, eager—happy that he had Harry, even for a moment like this.

No one could take this away.

Suddenly, much to his displeasure, Harry's eyes closed and the mortal drew away from the kiss, a small, content smile playing at his thoroughly ravaged mouth. Mint green eyes then opened once again, and Harry sent him a dazzled look.

"Abraxas," the boy sighed, and snuggled into his arms. "That was my first kiss. I'll always remember it. Thank you."

He wanted to grant the mortal more kisses, but belatedly realised that Harry seemed to have used up all his energy with that rather heated first kiss. So he controlled his raging emotions and caressed Harry's cheek.

As he was gently rocking Harry to sleep, somewhere in the Underworld, Tom watched the scene with narrowed red eyes.

Seething, the god punched the ice mirror hanging in front of him.

It shattered on impact, like the broken pieces of his heart.


Harry was right.

As soon as he slept that night, he never woke again.

Tom, as was the deal, came by after two weeks and swept the boy off into the Underworld, glowering at his nephew the whole time.

But Abraxas wasn't aware of anything after he and Harry shared their first and last kiss. He was still, four days later, dazedly touching his lips, as if trying to remember that beautiful memory. He did not eat much, though he did bathe and look out the window from the guest room, lost in his own world.

He couldn't bear the depressive silence or the lost eyes of Lily and James Potter.

So the god disappeared from the Potter home a week later.


"He just stays there, all day moping, Father," said Gellert worriedly, looking at the depressed god in his quarters. "He does nothing the whole day. Only drinks ambrosia from that mug he brought from the mortal world. Should we do something?"

Hypnos, Nicholas Flamel, sighed.

"That batty Oracle said something like this would happen. There's nothing we can do, Gellert. You and your twin had done everything possible. We just have to let nature run its course."

"But it hurts me seeing him like this," murmured Albus from his side of the lavishly decorated room. They were talking in hushed tones in Abraxas's drawing rooms, seated on plush, scarlet cushions. The usually playful god had his knees sombrely up to his chest, and he lay his head on top his knees. Gellert was right next to him, combing fingers through his twin's red hair in an effort to comfort him.

The golden-redheaded god pressed a quick kiss to his twin's forehead and said, "He'll pull through, you'll see. Abraxas is pretty resilient when he wants to be."

"I know," said Albus glumly. He turned pleading blue eyes towards his Father. "Can't you do anything to speed up the process? Uncle Hades may take forever in having a change of mind, so what'll happen to Abraxas 'til then?"

The old wizened man rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know," he replied, "But I have a feeling Tom will realise that Harry isn't for him. His love fortune given to him by the Oracle won't come true for many a year, though your Great-Uncle Slytherin bets that it'll be in about fifteen years or less."

"And it'll take that long for him to grow weary of Harry?" said Gellert slowly, almost disbelievingly. He had a dubious expression on, as if he couldn't believe it.

"No, it'll be sooner than you think," said Nicholas, though he didn't sound quite convinced himself.

...Though honestly, that day came sooner that anyone ever thought.

It took only a month for Hades to summon Abraxas.


It was cold.

Abraxas kneeled before Tom, his forehead pressed to the black marble.

"You must be wondering why I sent for you here today, nephew."

Abraxas remained silent and unmoving.

Then, as if sensing that Tom was waiting for his answer, Abraxas dutifully said,

"I beg your pardon, Uncle. Why have you called me here today?"

Though this was all in a blank monotone that put Tom on edge.

"I called you here, you ungrateful wretch, to give him back to you. You're lucky you're my favourite nephew," spat Tom, from his throne in the middle of the large, barely illuminated ceremonial chambers of the Underworld. The tall, handsome god placed his chin in his hands as he gazed downwards at one of his favourite relatives. The only one, in fact. Barring his sick and twisted love for his elder brother, Zeus.

From this view, Tom could see that Abraxas had his shoulders slumped. And for a god, he looked absolutely worse for wear—with his flaxen hair limp, framing his pale, almost translucent features. The usual godly halo that encased all gods was dim and flickering behind his form and Tom felt a bit of pity for his fellow kindred.

For a split second, Abraxas's eyes turned completely black, and then, in the next instance, the youthful god stood up and directed a venomous look at Tom.

"Why, Uncle?" Abraxas asked, obviously angry. Tom could literally see the steam coming out from his ears. "Why do you say that now when he is basically one of the dead? When I can no longer look upon him and feel his warmth within my arms? When his beautiful eyes will no longer hold any love or heat for the world which he is missing? Why now?" Trembling, Abraxas crossed his arms, and sought for that presence lingering in his mind—his Hadrian. His Harry.

Tom sighed. "Must you be so theatrical?" the older god declared, and disappeared in an ominous black cloud to only reappear besides Abraxas. "Look," said Tom, and showed the golden string that Abraxas recognised as Hadrian's. It was longer, and thinner than before—more—golden?

Abraxas gaped, then looked at Tom incomprehensively.

"But—you know his condition—you took him away—but...I don't understand!" gaped Abraxas, overwhelmed.

Tom sighed once more, then motioned for Clotho to come by. The spinner of fate scowled, but slowly walked over to them, her ashen face twisted into a look of annoyance. "What do you want, Hades?" rasped the woman, as she approached the two. "Wasn't it enough that you asked me to spin another thread of life for that insignificant mortal, Hadrian? Make it a little godlier than before, even? No one in this entire world has ever gotten a second chance at life except for this one," grumbled the Moerae, sourly. "Lachesis and Atropos were very displeased at first, Hades. Much displeased. Until we remembered how you were the only Olympian good to us."

Tom's eyebrow twitched. "Woman," he intoned to the bent hag, "I go by Tom now, not Hades. How many times must I tell you that?"

Clotho only rolled her eyes. "Of course, Tom. I seemed to have forgotten," said the Moerae sarcastically. "And why is Morpheus here?" she eyed Abraxas critically, then snorted at his confounded look. "Yes, I know your true name, must you be so surprised? I take it that you're the one who made Hades here grow a conscience. For that, you have the Fates' gratitude." She reached one gnarled hand over to smooth the flaxen locks on Abraxas's head.

"Take good care of the child," she whispered to him gently. "I couldn't give him back his old life, but I gave him what I could—a new one. In time, perhaps, he'll love you the way you loved him his first lifetime—but that would take ages. Perhaps even an entire lifetime."

"But many lifetimes I have," murmured Abraxas, carefully grasping the frail hand in his and pressing fleeting kisses over the knuckles. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me this second chance," Abraxas said, and meant it.

The Fate seemed to glow and blush.

"Oh, I do like him, Hades, I really do," twittered the Moerae before stepping back next to Tom.

The god of the Underworld only snorted. "You can like him all you want, but he's taken," sniffed Tom. The Moerae looked like she wanted to snarl at the dark god, but thought better of it and instead, snapped her fingers. An ivory cradle appeared next to Tom, and gently, with much reverence, Tom bent down to receive the precious bundle.

Tom then held it out to Abraxas.

"He's yours, Abraxas," said Tom, as the golden haired god took the baby into his arms. "He was never happy with me, even when I gave him everything by my side. He only ever had eyes for you, really. Lucky bugger," growled Tom, and thumped his nephew on the head. "Take good care of him, as Clotho says—as my withered heart says also. He was reborn into this babe because his old body couldn't take in his new life. That was why I commissioned Clotho to create a new string, somewhat impossible for a Moerae, but not impossible for her."

Abraxas could only nod.

"Thank you, Uncle," he then glanced at Clotho, "And thank you, Clotho," hesaid, suddenly choking on his sorrow—happiness—joy. Tears were in his eyes as he stared down at his beloved's young, baby face. There was a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, which meant that he had been given a second shot at life as a god. Abraxas wasn't sure how to take care of Hadrian this way, but he would give it his all, just to see the familiar figure of Hadrian in his midst. No matter how long it took. He'd make Harry remember that first kiss by making a new memory of it.

Staring back up at his Uncle, he gave the god a watery smile.

"I will take very good care of him in Olympus, Uncle. With all my heart and soul."

"See that you do."

With that, Tom raised a hand to his lips and directed it towards them—blowing, blowing, blowing—until both Abraxas and Hadrian were gone from his sight.

"He is a nice boy, like his father," said Clotho moments later, staring at the spot where Abraxas was at only a few seconds before.

"I know," said Tom, pursing his lips. "But now, as it always was, and was in the beginning, I'll be alone. Forever cloaked in the darkness of the underworld. Always and for the rest of eternity."

Clotho scoffed at his poesy. "No you won't," she muttered and turned away as soon as Tom gave her an inquisitive look. "Nothing, nothing," she said innocently, but in a lower voice said, "You just wait for him in a field of flowers, just you wait. It'll take another few years, but Penelope, Severus, will be there someday, Tom. Mark my words."

As the Moerae scuttled back to her chambers, Tom let a smile curl at his lips.

He had heard every word.


A/N: -sniggers- I made Severus into Penelope. Why? Because the challenge written by my reviewer, NightFairy79was to make an AbraxasHarry or CygnusHarry fic...Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I've never seen this pairing around FFnet so...yeah. xD

THIS IS WHAT YOU GET IF YOU LET ME WATCH CLASH OF TITANS ALL DAY. XDD

Ahem. I had to write this around a full-schedule of doing cosmetology work lol.

Thank you to all those who reviewed! ;] I'm working on the next challenge which is a TomHarry fic, but other challenges would be accomodated! I know you probably thought this was a bore (I didn't, cos the setting made it interesting), but thanks for reading this! ;]

REVIEW PLEASE! XD