Down to the Bottom | Alis

[attr="class","lyric2gryff"]Baby I need hale, she calls my name
Out in the desert, I pray for rain
I need love, baby I need love

[attr="class","textbodgryff"]Fifth year was great. Stellar, really. That was what Dominique had decided she would tell herself, because... what was the saying? Aunt Ange had said it, at some point. Or many points. Fake it 'til you make it. So that was what Dom was doing. She would just lie to herself, and say that things were great--even though they really weren't. Things hadn't been great ever since her third year. Dom felt like she had some weird case of survivor guilt. Weird, because no one had actually died, thank Merlin, but it still ate away at her a bit. Because she kept thinking about how her muggleborn friends should have been there with her. Or how Addie should have still been the Gryffindor Seeker, not her. None of this was right, and when Dom was left with a spare moment to just look around, when she was left in anything remotely silent, her mind starting working overtime. It all consumed her, the fact that she wasn't doing anything to fix what was happening... but what could she do? She had hardly even turned sixteen, and her parents weren't about to let her join the Order. Even the Order... so little was happening.

Dom knew she should have been focusing on school, and on Quidditch, and on clubs. On the things that any normal student worries about. Maybe even looking into an internship... she was sure Aunt Ange would take her on. But Dom couldn't find that in herself. She didn't think it was the biggest problem, worrying about OWLs. She would do well in Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures, easily enough. And then Charms and Astronomy would go all right. And there was no way she wouldn't pass her Defence OWL, with how well she was doing in the Duelling Club. The rest of it hardly mattered, as far as Dom was concerned. She hated Potions, anyways. That class was practically a torture device. And she had never been good enough with numbers to do well in Transfiguration. The theories were so beyond her, and everything else fell apart after that. But even thinking about all of that felt trivial. What was the point in any of it, when Dom knew very well what was waiting outside the castle.

Hell, even some things inside the castle were wrong.

Restless as ever, Dom had stormed out of the common room in a bit of a huff, arms crossed as she made her way down to the wooden bridge. She just needed a breath of fresh air, at first, but the wooden bridge was bound to be a little empty at this hour. It was already darkening outside, and curfew was fast approaching. Dom figured she'd probably make it back in time, if she speed-walked--and even if she didn't, it wasn't the end of the world. Who knew--maybe she would find Octi, somewhere along the way, and that would always end well. Or, at least, it would end a little less gloomy.

It wasn't Octi that Dom found at the wooden bridge, but it was a familiar face. She slowed down to a halt, her eyes looking over Alisander before travelling back up to eye level. Or, at least, his eye level. "Hey there, stranger," Dom said with a smirk, approaching the older Ravenclaw and leaning her forearms on the bridge railing, standing right next to him. Alisander Doge was... cute. Really cute. Dom had always had a soft spot for him, and she liked hanging out with him. A lot. "Sorry about your loss last week," she said with a light shrug, glancing up to meet his gaze.