━━━━ · 。ﾟ☆ .☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ━━━━

(adj.) possessing an aura of sophistication in
dress, manner, or design

HERE'S WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO HAVE A TEENAGED GOD IN YOUR YEAR:     there's a boy so proud of who he is and believes he stands above all the rest, looking down at his peers with the sharp bridge of his nose so perfect that it could've been carved from marble and no one would have thought anything different.

He'd waltz into any room with that prideful air that stuck to his clothes and surrounded him constantly, his chin would be tilted up at just the right angle, signaling to others that you would have had to have lost your mind to try and cross him. His jaw would be clenched as he crushed stars between his teeth and his chaotic, stormy, grey irises would be sparkling with mischief despite his pupils being overshadowed and hardened by darkness, his pained starlight soul bleeding through.

He would then ride his high horse into every class and no one dared to even try to get him down, knowing it would be too difficult to get around him to do so. They figured he would fall off sooner or later, the stallion beginning to buck before throwing him to the ground because he had pulled on the reins a little too tightly that time around, the adolescent Icarus beginning his descent into the dark, thrashing sea below because his proud demeanor had gotten him too close to the sun.

Then he would be at the same level as everyone else, no longer that juvenile deity that walked the halls proudly, his chin tilted just so. Just a mere mortal among other mortals.

That's what it was like to have someone like Draco Malfoy.

Louis thought Draco to be an interesting person as he's never seen someone so deluded by their upbringing and it amazed him absolutely how someone could be so blinded by their privilege that they could hardly watch where they were walking despite always marching in a pointed direction, always knowing where they were going to go. He did admit that it bothered him a bit, considering that something similar had happened within his own family, but that didn't stop him from bearing a smile wherever he went.

He didn't know what was going on in other people's lives, what troubles they had, or what intrusive thoughts were barraging through their minds. So it was a reminder to himself to be kind because he had once been in the same miserable place and it had been a horrible experience, as though there had been a vat of foul bile sitting in his stomach, sloshing around and making him nauseous.

So Louis had let it go that a silver-blooded teenager was running about an ancient magic school playing a game of make-believe gods with a box of matches in one hand and a fire starter in the other, the adolescent Icarus would come to melt his wax wings sooner or later. However, Louis didn't want to be the one to see him fall into the seemingly endless blue abyss like a dying star because deep down in his very core he knew it'd be too painful to watch.

Louis stood by himself on the Platform 9 ¾, patiently waiting for the crimson and gold-painted Hogwarts Express to arrive. He then made a move to sit on his trunk because his knees were just about ready to give way to gravity and knock his feet out from under him. He pulled out his journal and flipped through the pages, taking in the newness of the blank parchment and making sure to write something down before he went to bed that night.

For the most part, Louis was a bit of a lonesome person, usually keeping himself company and tucked away in a corner of the library with his nose buried in a book or atop the Astronomy tower because he had a pass from the professor, allowing him up there after hours. He didn't mind being on his own as he had learned to make do with being an introvert for the last five school years and being an only child on top of that.

Sure, he had a lot of acquaintances and was Ravenclaw's Quidditch seeker, however, it didn't necessarily grant him any special perks besides the congratulatory pat on the back for catching the Snitch and winning the match, which was something he had to do. Other than that, he was alone, taking up space in the pages of a book or making room for himself within the stars.

The train finally made its way into the station and everyone began to pile on, handing their luggage off before boarding with their friends and animal companions, carrying on the conversations they had left behind on the platform. Louis climbed on with his owl and began to look for an empty carriage, scooting his way around students as he did so. He couldn't quite tell if being able to have an entire compartment to himself was a bonus or a severe disadvantage that capitalized on his total loneliness, making him look like he had managed to befriend ghosts instead of the living, breathing flesh and bone like his own.

He sat himself down in an empty seat, placing his owl down beside him before reaching for his journal once more and cracking it open to admire it. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that it was his to write in. To the analphabetic eye, one would think that it was just another decorative journal to pen one's thoughts but to Louis, it was a place where he was able to write to his heart's content, to create a world away from his own and fill it with the prose that had been occupying his psyche for weeks on end, finally free to dance its way across the page.

Louis had come to learn that writing was an escape and more or less a coping mechanism for the plaguing that was his father's absence. It was his way of dealing with the world around him, seemingly as it was the only thing he could control.

Time had passed and Louis could see the school coming into view, the haunting and majestically beautiful castle welcoming him back once more as it had done in past years. He thought he was the last to leave when he accidentally bumped into a sharply-dressed student as he made his way up to the front of the train. With a quick glance, he noticed that it was Draco he had made contact with before he made a move to apologize, however, Draco was already heading for the back of the train.

     Soigné, Louis thought, taking note of the well-tailored, dark suit the juvenile deity was wearing.

As far as Louis knew, the name Draco Malfoy was a moniker set in stone—cold, cruel, unwavering. It did not crack, it did not crumble, it did not go weak-kneed or slack-jawed underneath the weight of the universe, nor did it melt under the heat of a thousand burning suns. It was forged from the strongest steel, carved from the highest quality marble. It was made to be handled by only the most powerful. Anyone else would simply deteriorate at the thought of carrying the name, knees buckling.

Draco felt someone bump into him as he made his way towards the back of the train, nothing but determination occupying his psyche.

A shoulder came into contact with his, thus splintering his concentration. He turned to look at who the culprit had been and what he could catch before the person could turn around was a copper-curled student cloaked in their robes carrying an owl's cage in one hand and a journal in the other. They then turned around to sound an apology, their bright cerulean irises oddly registering within the platinum-haired boy's head. With a quick once over, Draco made his way to the back of the train.

The ground Draco Malfoy had been standing on for as long as he could remember was as solid as ever, firm concrete beneath the soles of the expensive shoes he wore with every step he took. Little did he know that a tiny piece had broken off the second his stormy grey irises had met the ocean its clouds were rolling over for that one, brief moment.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 .｡.:*

cheese louise, these chapters do be short ! (if you consider ~1400 words "short") draco's crisis is the on the verge of showing itself and i am *excited*
not excited that i have to write a breakdown but excited to see where i can take it !