You wander aimlessly, drawn by an inexplicable force. For days now, something has been shifting inside you. An unfamiliar yet intimate name keeps surfacing in your mind...

Abraxas.

At first, you thought it was a dream. But dreams don’t leave traces in your waking life – don’t leave you breathless when you pass certain corners of the castle or send shivers down your spine when you hear someone laugh a little too familiarly.

You round the corner of the courtyard, and then... there he is.

A boy with his back to you. Blonde hair. Pale skin. The way his robe falls and the way he stands are so familiar and so painfully accurate that they take your breath away.

"Abraxas?" You ask.

He turns.

It’s not him.

It’s Draco. His brows furrow and he looks at you as though you're something unexpected.

"Do I look like your ex?" He asks, his tone cool.

You shake your head, slowly. "No," You say softly. "Like an old friend."

Draco studies you, more carefully now. "Have we met before?" He asks.

You blink. You weren't expecting the question.

"In this life?" You ask.

Draco narrows his eyes. "What does that mean?"

You open your mouth, but the words come slowly, unsure if they’re yours at all. "I think I knew someone who looked like you. Not just looked like you... felt like you. His name was Abraxas."

Draco flinches slightly. "That was my grandfather’s name," He says. "Abraxas."

The world seems to tilt.

"I didn't know that," You murmur. "He was… my best friend. I think. A long time ago."

Draco stares at you. His expression isn’t mocking anymore. "You sound mad," he chuckles.

You smile. "Yeah. Maybe."

He shifts, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes slightly, not in suspicion but in concentration. It's as if he's listening for something beneath your words.

"What do you remember?" He asks quietly.

You meet his gaze. "A garden. Late summer. I remember him reading aloud, but stopping to correct my Latin every time I mispronounced something. He always had to be the clever one." You pause. "He laughed differently when it was just the two of us. Not cruel, just... light."

Draco is silent for a moment, as if caught between disbelief and something else. "You’re serious," He whispers.

You nod.

And then, in the quiet that follows, he looks away. "My father told me Abraxas d!ed young," Draco says. "Some curse. He never talked about him much. Said he was too proud, even as a boy. I only saw one picture. I remember thinking… he looked like me."