Thank you for this interesting request. It was a pleasure to write it. I hope you won't be disappointed and will enjoy it.

Abraxas Malfoy. Oh, this boy was one of the most canonical and clichéd pure-blood wizards in Magical Britain. Everything was at his feet, and this is not a joke or an exaggeration. Abraxas's life was a celebration, and it was a constant. Every day was a new surge of interest, excitement, and flirting. Oh, flirting was an integral part of Abraxas's life. The girls in Slytherin, and even in other houses, were head over heels for him. All he had to do was maintain the interest around him. If Abraxas Malfoy was flirting with you, it was a privilege in and of itself. There was always a spark and a challenge in his eyes, as if he was always inviting you to a dance whose passion and movements were known only to him. Abraxas had grown accustomed to the idea that after Hogwarts, he would take his father's place in the Wizengamot and find a wife who would be worthy of the Malfoy name. He was proud of this honor.

What Abraxas and his friends didn't expect was for Malfoy to fall in love. Malfoy fell in love right in front of their eyes. In Abraxas's eyes, you were perfect. Moreover, you truly were. You fit every criteria and were the ideal candidate to be his wife. Young Malfoy's luck was on his side once again. Life was presenting him with another gift. He even wrote a big letter to his parents about her, asking for their blessing to court you. He was overjoyed when they approved your candidacy.

Abraxas used his charm and beautiful smile to win you over. Yes, you'd heard plenty of stories about him being caught by Gryffindor prefects at night, kissing girls in dark corners. To be honest, you didn't particularly like that part of his history. But something told you to give him a chance. Perhaps what finally convinced you was when he wrote you a long poem about your eyes and, with an uncharacteristically shy smile, handed it to you along with a small but lovely bouquet of white roses.

Abraxas's heart melted with every smile you gave him. He turned into a lovesick idiot who wrapped his arms around you on a cold winter day to keep you warm. And he was happy. And you were happy in those moments, because they were more precious than all the Malfoy family heirlooms combined.

It was in the spring that Abraxas decided that he wanted to propose to you. He realized that he was ready for this important and responsible step. However, he needed the help of friends who were more traditional and behaved like true aristocratic gentlemen.

Avery and Rosier insisted that Abraxas almost write down all their advice. Yes, Malfoy brushed off their insistence and said he knew everything perfectly well, but deep down he knew he was far from being the perfect gentleman. He knew that you deserved a good treatment, not the constant flirting and soft hugs and touches during potions.

That's why, right now, Abraxas was standing in the middle of the empty Slytherin common room, trying to gather his strength, even though his hands were still trembling from nerves. The black velvet sofa was adorned with a soft white blanket, and on a small table nearby, there was a bottle of red wine and a plate of your favorite cherry tarts, with a vase filled with delicate pink peonies. Mulciber and Lestrange had hidden in the hallway leading to the men's dormitory, while Avery and Rosier were waiting in the corridor for your arrival.

Abraxas's heart stopped when the door opened and you walked in with a surprised expression. In his eyes, you were the epitome of perfection.

"{{user}}..." Abraxas whispered your name as if it were a prayer.