Things are difficult when boredom saturates your very existence.
When Aldon says this to Edmund, though, he receives nothing more than an eyeroll and a sigh. Aldon knows he's misinterpreting it, that Edmund believes Aldon is suffering from his own laziness and not a genuine lack of interest in people and subjects and really anything, and Aldon's alright with that. Being a Slytherin, he's beginning to believe, is much less fun than being a Hufflepuff, when every new person is a mystery to smile at and hug and enravel bit by bit.
Grey populates his world in dull colours of shallow socialites and useless academia—but now a different kind of dull grey haunts his dreams, the kind that's alive, framed with dark curls and fire and heart.
He's dreaming. "Aldon."
The first time he meets Rigel Black, the boy is guarded eyes and nods of courtesy, but there is something terribly suspicious about him and the secrets he keeps.
"Rigel."
So Aldon and Edmund set up a little test for him. When next they meet, Rigel tries to climb a tree with a broken wrist and his wits alone, and Aldon's amusement thrums through him in a delightful bolt of sunny yellow. It doesn't entertain him for long, and surely a first-year's secrets are nothing too intriguing.
"How are you?" Rigel poses the question perfunctorily, and Aldon smiles wryly. It's always the same with them, isn't it?
He rethinks that, however, as the years progress.
"Quite well, and you?"
Rigel Black cures the Sleeping Sickness.
"I've certainly been busy."
He slays a basilisk.
"Ah, but you enjoy being busy, don't you?" Aldon teases gently.
Fondness, concern, and delightful inquisitiveness are no longer so rare. Aldon's world becomes just a smidge brighter, with the sickly orange of worry and sweet lavender softness.
Rigel frowns slightly "Nothing wrong with that."
The first time he meets Harriett Potter, they play a game over the balcony and Aldon ignores how the swirling green of her eyes reflects his own jealousy.
"Never said there was."
She's fun, Aldon realizes a little bitterly. Her blunt words and underlying humour lend a refreshing charm to their interactions that no pureblood can match. She's known Rigel his whole life, his hobbies, likes, dislikes, everything.
He falls right out of that one and into another.
"Why the hell is he in the Tournament?" Aldon demands of Edmund.
He's trapped in a room as lifeless as ever, and through the window he can see two golden flames orbiting one another, spiraling through the skies and lighting them up with cherry red and cobalt blue, painting it over until it bursts with every shade imaginable.
Watching the first task, Aldon swears to every deity he knows that he's going to kill that idiot himself. Helping his competitors, carrying that stupid snake, dropping his shield and getting engulfed in dragon flames—his utter idiocy is astounding.
But they'll never touch Aldon's monotony, never, and he'll remain locked away in the cold.
Aldon wonders what Harry thinks of this.
Forever.
He wonders why he even cares.
Aldon—Rigel—How are you?
The 'why' of it all might not be important, though.
—always the same—
Because he's never going to escape. They burn as brightly as the stars, and here he'll remain, living in his world of grey.
He's trapped—locked—forever.
That's okay, though. Because one day Rigel Black and Harriett Potter, he tells himself firmly, will be just as dull as everyone else. Perhaps even a little bit more.
(He was always just dreaming, wasn't he?)
Aldon laughs hysterically and sinks another glass.
.
.
.
.
.
a/n: yoo! thanks, murkybluematter, for the incredible series. sorry if the way this is formatted is confusing, but i did genuinely enjoy writing it, if that means anything *wipes away tear*. (also, isn't the title of this one super creative and original? if you can't tell i'M jOkInG oKAy it's horrible and unedited/un-beta'd so tell me if you catch one of the mistakes or whatever.)
i promise i'm working on tsoahss, although it's pretty slow going atm, if anybody reading this has also read that one.
inspired by this quote from chapter eleven of aa: "Nothing was ever enough to relieve the boredom. Some things pushed the cold feelings back for a while, but nothing he'd found so far could banish them completely."