rigor mortis [abraxas m.]

un.

I will never forget the first time that I saw her.

It was at one of Slughorn's horrendous parties.

One thing I hated most about Slughorn's ridiculous persona, was how lenient he was with mudbloods and half-breeds. I thought I'd rid myself of him when I graduated from Hogwarts, but alas, he still consistently invited me to his parties, along with other mediocre students he considered magnificent.

What could be so remarkable about descendants of filth? I always perceived them as undeserving of magic, of such power and glory only our blood held.

I had never seen Leonora at Hogwarts. Perhaps she'd attended the Wizarding school, but I never noticed her. And to think that I had been so blind, so unbelievably daft to not notice her in all my seven years of school, makes me want to reach back to my adolescent years and slap myself across the face.

Her presence was unmistakable, impossible to miss. It was that fateful night in 1947. I'd graduated a couple of years before, but social standards still required me to attend Slughorn's reunion, to make my presence known. If only I had managed to escape that damned event, perhaps fall mysteriously ill and just miss that bloody party. Everything would have been so much simpler. I wouldn't have met Leonora. And I wouldn't have been standing here, facing the Wizengamot.

The ugly round man was seated at the head of his table, rambling about merlin knows what with mouthfuls of food slurring his speech. I hated that man. Slughorn repulsed me.

And then I caught her eyes. They were so captivating, minister. You need to understand. I couldn't keep myself away.

Her dark eyes pulled me in and dissected me until there was nothing of me left. She had a knowing smirk on her face, as if she could see the disdain I had for our old professor. Is it possible that she was able to see right through me?

I was a master at hiding my emotions. Being one of Tom Riddle's friends, acquiring this talent was inevitable for many reasons. But she, she, with that teasing smile and that dark gaze, she looked at me as if she knew something I didn't. It was irritating.

And for the rest of the night, I couldn't help the way my eyes flicked towards her every few minutes. It's like I couldn't get enough. She'd be chatting with her friend beside her, or listening intently to whatever Slughorn had to say. Sometimes, she'd be looking at me, and my heart would stop for a nanosecond.

Riddle gave me a look, he'd noticed I was distracted. I really hoped he didn't know, but Tom knew everything. I don't know how he does it, he just knows.

I didn't know her name. Only once did Slughorn address her directly, and my ears perked up when he called her Ms. Gore. She was a mudblood.

Or a half-blood, perhaps? It didn't matter. She still had filth in her blood, and that notion was almost revolting enough to stop me from approaching her. Almost.

The people around me conversed and ate, unknowing of the cackling energy in the room. It seemed like I was the only one aware of that voltage travelling between me and her.

Slughorn moved his gaze to me, his face ever so delighted. "How's your work in the ministry, dear Abraxas?"

I cleared my throat, speaking for the first time that evening. "Splendid. I've been working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation." My answer was brief and emotionless, as if I wanted to keep everything about me to myself. I knew she was listening, for her eyes lingered at me since the moment Slughorn spoke my name.

"Ah, how delightful! I can already see you reaching high positions!"

I only nodded back with a hint of a smile on my face.