𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 {𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲}

| 𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐌 | 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱

Caelum is Latin for 'chisel'. The astronomer who first introduced it, Nicolas-Louis de Lacaille, depicted it as a pair of engraver's tools.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖤

They did not have Potions today and he hadn't seen her the entire day either, which suited him just fine.

He decided to join the Slytherin table for once, and by the end of dinner, he was laughing and joking with his friends. But between the loud bouts of banter with Flint and Goyle, he found himself sneaking peaks at the Hufflepuff table.

He thought about last night a lot.

Although he would never admit it, fear was not a foreign feeling to him. When Hermione had pointed her wand at him that one day right before punching him; when Hagrid's stupid chicken had hit him to the ground; when his arm flamed like a thousand cuts as the Dark Lord burned the Mark onto him.

But last night was something he had never experienced before. A pit opened in his stomach as he remembered what his sleeve concealed. He pushed the last of his food around on his plate, wondering if Angel would be there tonight.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

They sat wordlessly on the platform again. She did not bring up what happened, and he began to wonder why she wasn't the least bit curious, because he was very well starting to be curious about her.

"Why do you keep coming up here, Dawson?" he asked in the spur of the moment.

"It helps me think," she replied simply.

"About what?"

"Oh, everything at once and nothing at all."

He found this reply strange, and felt a twinge of irritation at the small smile that played on her lips. It was like she knew he would not understand. He scoffed. Well, if she wasn't going to tell him, he wasn't going to ask. But her next question caught him off guard.

"What do you think about, Malfoy?"

"Who I'm going to hang next by the pants in the courtyard, of course," he shot back, trying to cover his surprise.

She gave a small chuckle and shook her head. "No, you don't."

"Look, Dawson. Like I said, we're not friends. You don't know me. So stop pretending like you do."

"But I do know you, Malfoy." She looked straight at him - the same irritating gaze that made him seem transparent, like he was made of water and air.

He met her eyes levelly. "Oh yeah?" Continue, I dare you.

"You're Draco Malfoy," she said. "Only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. You attend Hogwarts and play Quidditch for Slytherin. Your best friends are Crabbe and Goyle. Oh, but you don't mind Flint too. Pansy's got a thing for you, and you invited her to the Yule ball. Your arch-nemesis is Harry Potter, you're kind of alright at Potions, and you like to come to the Astronomy Tower to think."

"Yeah, anyone could've gotten that." He adjusted his jacket, suddenly feeling constricted by the stiff fabric. He had to wear this all the time now. Black was the colour of the death eaters. His colour.

"So there's more?" Her tone was almost challenging, and he remained rebelliously silent.

"Let me try again," she smirked. "You're Draco Malfoy, the only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. You attend Hogwarts and play Quidditch for Slytherin. But you don't really like Quidditch that much. You only do it because you hate Harry. And you hate Harry because he's better than you. In fact, you hate everyone whom you think is better than you.