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

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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.

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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.

"Also, that is why you're friends with Crabbe and Goyle. They haven't got brains of their own, and that's very convenient for you, isn't it? When you tell them to hit a kid, or steal candy, or run your stupid errands, you feel powerful. You like being in control." She never broke her gaze from him. He glared at her, his hard expression faltering with every word.

"You asked Pansy to the Yule ball because otherwise, you'd have no one else to go with. You come to the Astronomy Tower to think, but I think it's also because you like getting away from the chaos and clutter of your world.

"And your world is a right mess. But you probably don't have anyone else to tell, because you've pushed everyone else away. Which is why you came to me that day at the back of the castle, right? You told me it's not anybody's space, but you know what I think? I think you're scared, Malfoy. And lonely.

"You hate me, but you like me being here, because it makes you feel less alone, even though I'm just a 'pathetic Mudblood'. You make people feel horrid because you can't bear suffering alone. Did I get all that right?"

He sprung to his feet, feeling like she had stripped him naked and torn him apart - exposed him to the world. There was no where to hide. But somewhere deep down inside of him, he felt like he did not really want to.

"It's made you cruel," she said after him. "But I don't buy a minute of it. It looks to me like you need a friend. So let me, Malfoy."

"Why?" he demanded, spinning around. "Why the bloody hell would you want to be my friend? We hate each other and unfortunately, I do enjoy picking on you quite a bit." He hoped the last bit hurt her.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you really enjoy it?"

"Yes."

She chuckled softly, and he knew she did not believe him in the slightest. "Well, Malfoy, whether you like it or not, I am your friend. We don't have to chitchat over butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks, or walk to classes together. You don't have to tell me what's bothering you exactly, or what happened last night, but we can just... talk if you want to. If you need to."

"You'll regret it," he said quietly, cheeks flaming at the mention of last night.

"Why do you say that?"

"Are you daft, Dawson? Don't you see? I'm a bad person. I do bad things. You've literally just listed ten good examples of that, to which I say, BRILLIANT JOB! You really outdid yourself with that monologue. So if I'm so fucking awful, why don't you just stay away?"

Angel blinked slowly at him, unfazed by his sudden outburst. "Did you know there's a constellation called Ophiuchus?"

He threw his head heavenward and groaned loudly. "Not again with your bloody stars and constellations! I honestly don't care."

"Growing up, I was picked on quite a bit."

He snorted. "A pretty, cheerful, Little-Miss-Perfect like you? That's hard to believe." Pretty? There was no way he just said that. Thankfully, she did not seem to pick up on it.

"It was different last time," she went on. "I don't think I was barely ten. One day, I came home in absolute bits. Couldn't stop bawling. That night, my dad showed me Ophiuchus."

He remained silent, again not quite understanding.

"Ophiuchus," she repeated. "Do you know what that is?"

He glared at her, and she grinned. "Come on, Malfoy, you were literally named after a constellation. Didn't your parents ever teach you?"

Frustration bubbled in his chest again. Why did this muppet have to keep asking him things he did not know the answer to? It made him angry and uncomfortable, and he detested every bit of it.

"It means 'serpent bearer'. It's a man, holding a snake - like this." Angel grasped the air, mimicking the constellation. "Well, anyway, Ophiuchus is somewhere out there right now, amongst our stars. We can't see it now, but it's there."

"What's your point? Just spit it out."

"What I'm trying to say is... there's a place in the world for every one of us. Even snake bearers." She said this slowly and purposefully.

"Sometimes we fade in, and sometimes we fade out. But we're always here. We have the right to belong. You're not a bad person. You only think that because people don't know where you are, and so, you were made to believe that you've faded out - that you're supposed to be this way. That you supposed do bad things because you're a bad person."

She was looking at him fully now, a fervent, excited glow in her cheeks. "I think you're scared to fade in," she added gently. "You're scared to believe that you are a good person, because that means who you thought you were all this while has been wrong. And you do very much hate to be wrong, don't you?"

Her words tumbled about in his head. He despised what she was saying, hated it with ever fibre of his being, because everything was true, even if he did not want to believe it.

"You talk too much, you know that?" He did not know what else to say. She tilted her head and gave a lazy, lopsided smile.

"I don't know how to be your friend, Dawson," he said defeatedly.

She grinned. "Well, for starters, call me Angel."