Sleepy Doodles PV Meluna Ravenwisp DNI ONGOING Closed

Silence had reigned over the past six months of Draven's life. Interactions were few and far between, just as he liked them. The only person he spoke to fairly regularly was a certain boy @Kim Sato who, for some reason, had decided Draven was worth his time.

The boy swallowed hard, studying the book. He might as well have burned it, for all the good it was doing him. He'd spent more time with his head pressed against it than reading the words he'd painstakingly copied down.

Which was why, when the purple haired girl sat across from him with a tiny, knowing smile on her face, it took Draven a while to focus on her. His eyes snapped to the clean clothes and the filed-down nails, the purple eyes that reminded him of another girl.

"Sorry," he said after a moment of staring at the first year, gathering his books in a quick, efficient move. They disappeared down into his messenger bag a bit slower than was proper, but he was too damn exhausted to care about the haste of his actions.

"I'll move. I didn't realize this was your desk."

Climbing to his feet, the taller boy slung the bag across his shoulder, dusting down the horrid, thrift store shirt clinging to his form.

"Oh-" Draven paused. Staying was a lot easier than going.

The thought of the flight of stairs down to the Slytherin common room wasn't a pleasant one. Especially given how the portraits liked to jeer at him on the way down.

"It's not the falling asleep that's the problem," the boy said after a moment's hesitation, settling back down in his seat. "It's the staying awake." Sleep came easy to him. Too easy. It crept up on him in classrooms, in hallways, tugged at his lids in bathrooms and whispered in his ears during meals. It beckoned him closer, drawing him in. Leaving him relaxed, and comfortable, and slow.

The Slytherin swallowed, rolling his shoulders back. His fingers dug back through his bag, pulling out the single book he'd been using, and the scroll of parchment he'd been busy smudging. "Studying- yeah I'm." he blinked, looking down at his parchment. "Yeah. I think this was due- two? months ago?"

He shrugged. "Not that anyone's chasing me down for the homework. I doubt any of the teachers even know my name, with how much class I've been skipping." It wasn't his fault the damn locked doors made the walls close in on him. Or at least that was what he told himself.

“Dada,” Draven sighed, looking down at the mangled mess of parchment. It wasn’t even a hard assignment, really. Half a scroll on the subject of his choice. He wasn’t sure the professors could have been any more forgiving. “I’m reading the words and my brain is not processing them, you know?”

His hands were covered in pen ink. I want to go home, he thought, a bit miserably. A bit melodramatically. Though what was home but a feeling? Home certainly hadn’t been with Rory. Nor Abbadon.

“I’m Draven,” he said, blinking back to attention. “Mirador. Uh.” That had used to mean something. “Nice to meet you, Miss.”

“It’s- second year homework.” He said, after a beat. He hadn’t seen her shock of purple hair around Hogwarts before, he could only assume she was a first year. Tiny, too. Frail, and brightly coloured, and with a tendency to turn red. “It’s not hard, I just need to get myself to sit down and focus.” It was hard. It was damn hard. He preferred sleeping all day and hiding in corners. But Hogwarts was a safe place to stay. And if he didn’t straighten himself out, he wouldn’t be remaining there for much longer.