IN NOX, SUM VERITAS━━DRACO MALFOY

twelve. toska

The gaze itself only lasted a few seconds, however, in those few seconds, Draco believed he could see the cosmos and every good thing that existed through them. Louis's eyes were such a crystalline blue that he found it rather difficult to look away. Then he had remembered the first time he had seen them, that split-second moment they had bumped into each other on the train, grey nimbus clouds rolling over the ocean, the rain still yet to come.

And it was in that moment Draco Malfoy realized that he was falling for the Ravenclaw Seeker, that comet, that phoenix of a boy. And he was falling hard.

Louis was in the Ravenclaw common room and staring at the moon that night.

Of course, he could have gone up to the Astronomy Tower by himself if he was so pleased but the wound was a little too fresh still and it would only sting more if he went, slowly being consumed by the loneliness that would be waiting for him. So here he stayed, curled into the nook by the window, his journal laying discarded at his side. He had been having a difficult time trying to write, currently at a loss for words and searching his brain rampantly for something to pen. Reaching for his journal, Louis flipped it open to where Draco's note lay, the wax seal taped to the page. He picked it up, getting a feel for the parchment and then being suddenly struck with a flash of inspiration.

And so Louis wrote a note of his own. He went on to pour his heart and half his soul into it, hoping—always hoping—that he would have the chance to be able to give it to Draco when the time was right. If that time would ever soon come and make itself present.

The note stayed in its place for the time being, next to the blood-red wax seal bearing the Malfoy crest that was on the other page. It told a tale of longing, of stars that razed, burning through the night and bearing witness to their subtle yearning long-time—if they could even call it that—and of secrets kept under the heavy weight of the night. It was all a magnificent sort of chaos, really, falling beneath spells of storm grey irises in an age of oncoming darkness while also trying to maintain anything that resembled an adequate social life. With this very note, with the confession that had been spilled onto the parchment with fresh midnight blue ink, Louis was submitting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known. He was breaking open a part of himself that hadn't been recognized in a while, that had been closed off for quite some time.

When it came to things like physical affection and affection itself in general, Louis found himself to be starved of it, that human connection and all sorts of intimacy that came along with it. He was a particularly touchy person, always needing to be holding something between his fingers. However, as of late, he was getting rather lonely until Draco had shown up in the library and they had begun conversing with one another.

When Louis had had his hand around Draco's elbow that first night, his grip slightly squeezing, it had been the first time he had actively touched anything that was relatively human and if he hadn't done it, he probably would have forgotten what people felt like. And to then have Draco reciprocate the same movement must have meant the same thing for him, in some way, shape, or form.

There was a week until Slughorn's Christmas party would soon come around the corner and Luna was very firm in reminding Louis about it, whom she had found looking distracted in the Great Hall the next morning. Which was fair of her to notice due to the reason that Louis had been distracted over the past few days, trying to think of anything that didn't consist of a number of midnights spent underneath the stars, finding comfort in someone he had least expected, and thinking about meeting their lips with his own.

Louis did admit that he had thought about what it would feel like to kiss him. Draco. He had expected something tender, taking in the newness of the situation that was going on between the two of them—that had been going on between the two of them—into consideration. He wasn't sure what they were at this point if they had been worth anything up until now. He also felt that it would be a soft, somewhat experimental thing at most, no desperation to it, no fire. Just something that would stick to their psyches for the rest of their days, a memorization, a map to guide them through as they slowly learned the other, taking themselves apart, stripping themselves of their abhorrent childhoods and putting themselves back together with new ideas between each languid kiss they shared.