━━━━  · 。ﾟ☆ .☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ━━━━

(adj.) lacking light,
especially not reaching sunlight

HERE WAS WHAT THEY NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT YOUR WORLD BEING SWALLOWED BY DARKNESS:     your world was once filled with light, the most magnificent light, one that was so warm and almost palpable. You would find yourself basking in its apricity, ensuring that it would keep you safe, away from danger and any other incoming monsters that wielded sharp, glistening nightmares between their teeth and were out for your crystalline bones and ribbons of crimson blood.

Then, slowly, that darkness began its ascent from the underworld, creeping and coming in through the subtle cracks in what used to be a perfect floor and making its way up the incandescent walls, blanketing them with a thick, black, shiny coat, soaking up the wondrous light as it did so. Languidly, it then crawled over your feet and then crawled up towards you, beginning to consume you, as well.

Draco was wading through that very darkness, sloshing shallowly in its morbid, cataclysmic cesspit of unfortunate events that awaited him when his time would come.

That shiny, molasses-like liquid was barely grazing his ankles, staining his skin as he did his best to make his way through the sludge, slowing his movements as he wrestled with it as though it were quicksand, deterring him from leaving the room that had once been filled with the most magnificent light, the one so comforting, wondrous, and warm.

    Aphotic.

It was no less than a week later that Louis found himself situated within the Quidditch pitch, helping and overseeing the tryouts and teaching fledglings how to fly.

He had made the team his third year after their original seeker had been severely injured in a match, resulting in the search for a replacement after the incident. Despite the dangers that could arise during gameplay, his mother had encouraged him to try out in hopes that her only son wouldn't turn into a total social recluse by the end of his last year. Little did Harper know that it had happened, anyway—barring Luna, of course, who had come to be his only true friend.

People were scattered all over the bleachers this way and that, watching the tryouts as they took place. Louis stood beside the captain as he leaned against his broom—a Nimbus 2000 that he had stained the handle a deep red mahogany color and etched a gold star next to the numbers. He was also donned in his Quidditch robes, gracefully wrapped in sapphire and azure with his last name "Nox" and the bold number "11" branding his back, as well.

Louis found the number 11 to be his lucky number, the one that comforted him in his hardest times when he would be buried beneath stress and anxiety, and his happiest—when he got accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry once he reached his eleventh trip around the sun. His mother had had the choice and power to refuse the letter and let him be homeschooled but she knew it was just as important that he learn about and control his magical prowess as it was to learn about his Muggle heritage and where his mother came from. So yes, it had been a very lucky day for him, indeed.

Splintering his reverie, the Ravenclaw captain called order. "All right. We'll be playing against Slytherin first so we best be ready to kill. I'm gonna put you all through a few drills. Your seeker, Louis, will be assisting. Now, just because you've made the team last year does not mean that you will be getting a spot this year. Are we clear?"

All the hopeful, soon-to-be Quidditch players nodded, mumbling amongst themselves before mounting their brooms, hearing the whistle blow shrill in their ears, and letting the tryouts commence. The ones who were imagining themselves as the team's new Chasers were tested for their speed, learning to see how quickly they were able to duck and weave through their opponents while they had the Quaffle under their arm as they zoomed towards the opposite goal. The Keepers, on the other hand, were tried and tested for their agility and whether or not they were able to move from goal to goal to make sure no one on the other team ever stood a chance at scoring.

Louis was quick to move out of the way as the scrimmage went on, keeping an eye out for potential players. They were all good in their own way, showing individuality and bringing what they had to the table and presenting it for everyone. Some were obvious star potential, others were decent and had the chance to practice extra and try out their next year. However, with the way things had been going, it didn't look like there would be a Quidditch team for them to play on next year, the darkness that was looming over their heads and filling the students with unease as they breathed in the intoxicating air.

Tryouts were soon over—while also crossing and intertwining with their dinnertime—and everyone was making their way out of the pitch to change back into their uniforms and join everyone else in the Great Hall. Louis was unfortunate enough to have someone take his tie by mistake so he had to get a move on to the Ravenclaw tower so he could get a replacement from his trunk.

The Ravenclaw tower was the third tallest at the school, next to the Astronomy tower—which was the tallest—and the Gryffindor tower. Upon entering it for the first time the night they had all gotten sorted, all starry-eyed and nervous alike, Louis was in absolute awe of the composition of the common room and everything in it. The walls were adorned in several varying shades of blue and accented with bronze, the windows were beautifully arched and opened itself to the most wonderful views of the school grounds along with the lake, the Forbidden Forest, and the Herbology gardens.

Some—if not most—nights, Louis would sit on the bench and read or write to his heart's content, whichever fit the mood he was in more, thus going forward to create a habit that he would soon follow him home over the summer holiday. The bright moonlight would then spill in through the window and douse him in its serenity, calming him and ridding him of any lingering stress and doubt that had plagued his thoughts hours prior.

When Louis soon got into the dormitories, he went straight for the trunk that laid underneath his bed and pulled it out, scrounging through it for his other tie. He brought a double of everything with him so it had to be there. After finally finding it, he left with it and put it on while leaving the Ravenclaw tower, struggling a bit as he descended the stairs. It was after his third attempt of the tie working against him that he bumped into the familiar, striking blond on his way to the dining hall. He looked up and actually had the chance to issue an apology this time, although looking like he had just rolled out of bed.

"Sorry," he apologized to the young entity sheepishly, "my tie's being a bit of a prat today. Someone had taken my other one by mistake after Quidditch tryouts and—you didn't ask for a life story."

Draco gave him a once over, taking in his appearance, his eyebrows furrowing and eyesight swiftly shifting towards the area of skin that had been left a little exposed because Louis had forgotten to button the last two top buttons of his shirt before quickly landing his vision back onto the mortal boy's face, in the realization that his throat and the edges of his mouth had gone strangely dry as though they had both been coated with sand, grittiness deterring any forms of dialect from being spoken.

"Didn't take you for the 'sneaking out of the Room of Requirement' type," Draco spoke finally after his mind had decided to stop itself in its tracks. Louis tilted his head at the statement, confused by what Draco said before nodding at the fact that Draco probably hadn't heard a word he said.

Louis shook his head, disagreeing with the blond, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. "No, I'm much more the 'cuddling in the library in front of the fireplace' type. I'm not really the 'love 'em and leave 'em kind'. I've. . .I've sorta had experience in that department and it wasn't fun. Not that you care. Anyway, uh, I'm starving and I'm pretty sure all the good food is gone by now." He then proceeded to brush by the Slytherin and head to the Great Hall, where a fantastic meal was awaiting his appearance.

Draco was left standing where he was, standing in a shallow puddle of confusion and timid bewilderment before running off for the Room of Requirement where an ancient weapon was thrust upon him, entrusted to him to fix it, awaited him.

However, it was beginning to feel a little difficult to focus on the tasks he had at hand when there were irises filled with the deepest, clearest, and the most magnificent oceans disrupting his thoughts, latching onto anything that wandered his mind that would keep them relevant and within his psyche a little longer, willing to see how long he'd last, how long he'd be able to hold himself together before he was ripped down the center and at the seams, cracking, crumbling, and fragmenting the fine marble hull that protected his ego and his pride and destroying the ground beneath him, obliterating it and letting it fall through, leaving him to drop into an endless chasm, obsidian and devoid of all things light, the darkness that stole the apricity that had once been in that wonderful room finally having swallowed him whole.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 .｡.:*

how many instances do you think it'll take before
draco realizes that he's a friend of dorothy's/not as straight as he thinks he is ?