IN NOX, SUM VERITAS━━DRACO MALFOY

four. aphotic

━━━━  · 。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.