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ABRAXAS Malfoy hated America.

Alright, not quite. He liked it there, but hated the constant meetings he had been forced to attend for the past month, sitting by his father's side and acting interested in everything they were saying.

Most of the time, he was ignored and his presence was deemed extra. Some of the time, however, his opinion was asked for and so were his thoughts—treating him like the Heir of the Malfoys he actually was.

But his mind constantly was on Athena, worried for his sister. He checked up on her through letters he secretly sent with his owl, telling his father that he was sending it to Dorian Nott when asked.

Athena's replies were vague, but also reassuring. Multiple times, she repeated the words, "I am fine. I am safe, she is not hurting me." in her letters.

Abraxas did not know what to make of it—if he should believe it at all. But Athena was stubborn, and he never forgot that even during the time they stopped having a sibling bond for many years.

However, as the brother of the girl he ignored all those years and did not pay enough attention to her to realize what she was going through in the hands of those whom he chose over her... he could not help but feel guilty.

As if the pain she felt was conjured from his wand, delivering the Cruciatus curse, even though he was not the source of her suffering.

He was not the one sending the torture curse her way.

But in his dreams, he was.

Many nights, Abraxas woke up sweating and frantically looking around, searching for his sister's safe face.

Though, he never saw it.

Not when he was a whole other continent away—not even when he was in the same manor as her.

He had to act stronger than he felt, if only to show her that he was worthy of the heir ring on his finger—even though Athena would always know his worth more than anyone else. More than their own parents, even.

But in Abraxas' mind, he was not worthy of it. In his frustration, he took those thoughts out on trying to prove to others his worthiness. Rather than to his own self.

As if their opinions of him mattered more to him than his own.

"—Right, heir Malfoy?" the man asked, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him look at him.

The man's name was Mr. Abernathy.

Abraxas remembered meeting him the first time in a Slug Club party back in Hogwarts two years ago, back when he was a fourth year. He was now almost a sixth year, and yet, Mr. Abernathy looked the exact same. Polished shoes, crisp gray suit, same musky cologne—the man upheld his position in the Ministry quite well.

Much like all the others in the meeting he was in at the moment.

Abraxas clasped his hands together, which were placed on top of the black meeting table. He cleared his throat and nodded, as if he was listening to what was being said.

Though, the nod seemed to satisfy Mr. Abernathy and even his own father, who glanced at him from his left side and gave him a discreet nod.

"Well, this meeting is over." Mr. Abernathy stood, giving a firm handshake to each and every one of the men who attended the meeting and were now leaving.

Abraxas stood alongside his father, who had his hands in his pockets and did not seem to be leaving anytime soon. The young boy had to refrain a sigh, wanting nothing more than to go back to the hotel room and pack up.

Thankfully, the month-long visit to America was ending that night, and he would be back at Malfoy manor within a few hours.

A minute later, the meeting room had only the three of them in it. Abraxas was not quite sure exactly what position Mr. Abernathy held in the Ministry, but he knew it was a high one.

Though not as high as his father, it appeared, since Septimus Malfoy's look in his eyes held a glint of superiority.

"Hopefully, Gellert Grindelwald will be caught soon." Mr. Abernathy pursed his lips, putting his own hands in the pocket of his gray pants that looked like it cost a fortune.

Abraxas knew, though, that his own suit probably cost more. Judging by the material of Mr. Abernathy's, it seemed expensive, but cheaper than the suit he was wearing himself at that moment.

"Yes, let us hope," replied Septimus Malfoy in a drawling voice, his gaze leaving the other man's face and returning to his son's. He put a small hand over Abraxas's shoulder and asked, "Did you find the Ministry's methods of governance to your liking? One day, Abraxas, you will find yourself in a position of similar authority as mine."

Abraxas had to refrain himself from sighing again. Instead, he nodded and replied, "Very much, father. I find it delightful and can already see my future."

Mr. Abernathy smiled fondly, looking at him as well. Then, he looked at Septimus and asked curiously, "I must say, I have been wondering where that wonderful daughter of yours is, Lord Malfoy? I have met her and found her to be extremely smart and well spoken. Surely, she should have joined us this past month?"

The hand on Abraxas' shoulder tightened, making him wince slightly. He could feel the tension radiating off of his father at that moment, and he was suddenly glad he was not on the other end of it.

"Athena is not my heir," replied Septimus coldly, sneering slightly at the now-frowning man in front of him.

Mr. Abernathy shook his head in confusion. "Why does that matter?" he asked, disappointment etched across his features. "Your daughter possesses a remarkable intellect, one that will carry her far in life."

Sepimus Malfoy gave him one last cold look before announcing, "My heir and I have the matter of packing to get to. I will see you tomorrow morning at the Ministry, Abernathy."

With that, he led Abraxas out of the room, the tension never leaving his form as they left the meeting room and the man inside.

Abraxas missed his room in Malfoy manor.

But as soon as he was home after using the floo system that night, he rushed to his sister's room first.

Knocking on the door after leaving his trunk on the corridor, he heard her say the words "come in", so he pushed the door open.

Seeing her safe, on the bed reading a book, made him let out a sigh of relief. But watching her face change from dread to absolute shock, then excitement as she stood and rushed over to him—he felt his breath hitching in hope.

And when she wrapped her arms tightly around him, he could not help but pick her up and spin his sister around.

Athena let out a laugh, slapping him half-heartedly after he put her done. But she did not let go, and nor did he.

"I thought you wouldn't be home for another night," she admitted, voice muffled into the crook of his shoulder where she buried her face in.

Her brother shook his head, embracing her tightly, filled with love.

"You got it wrong," replied Abraxas, closing his eyes and swallowing.

He did not know how he got so lucky to earn her forgiveness. If he was in her place, he knew it would take a while to forgive and be comfortable with something as big as a hug—but Athena took only seven months to do so.

Seven months was all it took for her to be comfortable with hugging him and showing him the affection she had wished to receive from him for more than half a decade.

Abraxas knew she had a big, soft heart. A heart so brave and strong, it hurt him to think of how many times he must have broken it without knowing.

Athena pulled away, giving him a bright smile he never saw on her face. "I'm so glad you're back," she admitted with a sigh. "Mother has been going insane without her precious little heir around."

He rolled her eyes at her teasing and crossed his arms, looking at her with concern after a moment. "Did she...?"

She shook her head.

His shoulders slumped with relief.

"I avoided her at all costs." Athena merely shrugged. "When she was here, I wasn't. When I was here, she wasn't. She rarely acknowledged me, and I honestly prefer the neglect over the abuse."

He shook his head sadly. "You shouldn't have to prefer either of those or have gone through either one at all."

Again, she shrugged. They sat down on the couches by the fireplace in the end of her room, and were silent for a moment.

Until, Abraxas broke it by saying, "I heard Lestrange got betrothed. When is his celebration ball?"

"Next week," replied his sister, putting her legs on the coffee table in front of them. She crossed her right ankle over her left, and sighed. "How did you hear?"

"Mother sent a letter," said Abraxas, wincing at her look. "Every day, actually. Father had to get her to stop, telling her I had to focus on the meetings."

Athena grinned. "How were the meetings?"

"Dreadful." Abraxas shuddered, remembering the one he had been in a few hours ago with Mr. Abernathy.

He frowned in confusion when his sister became quiet and grabbed the Daily Prophet he hadn't noticed on the coffee table, hanging it to him.

Abraxas felt all the color drain from his face as he read.

Daily Prophet Exclusive: Gaunt's Gruesome Crimes Unveiled!
In a shocking revelation that has sent ripples through the wizarding community, Morfin Gaunt has been sentenced to life in Azkaban for the chilling murder of the Riddle family in Little Hangleton. This tragic event unfolded after Gaunt claimed his 'squib sister' brought shame upon their illustrious bloodline by marrying a Muggle.

In a grisly scene that has horrified locals, Tom Riddle Sr. and his elderly parents were discovered lifeless in their home, all three victims of the infamous Killing Curse. Sources suggest that this heinous act was fueled by Gaunt's obsessive belief in blood purity, reflecting the dark legacy of the Gaunt family.

When he was done, he looked up and shook his head. "I did not know," he said immediately with pleading eyes, showing how her believing him meant so much to him.

She immediately nodded, snatching the Daily Prophet from his hands. "I know," she reassured. "But it's obvious whose crime it actually is, Abraxas."

Abraxas did not deny it, but still said, "Morfin Gaunt admitted his crime, though. It cannot be Riddle's doing—"

"Riddle is smart enough to have changed Morfin Gaunt's memories and made him believe it," Athena pointed out with a look.

Again, Abraxas did not deny it as he let himself mull it over.

But, he still asked, "How do you know?"

At that, Athena looked back at the Daily Prophet in her hand.

"Because it's what I would have done," she admitted, "and he is, in some ways, equal to me."