A conjunction is when two or more solar system bodies line up in the same area of the sky, as seen from earth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🤍

She burst through the heavy doors. The effort to keep from crying caught hiccups in her throat.

"Who's there?"

Angel stopped in her tracks, startled. She hadn't been expecting anyone else to be here this late. Draco had his wand pointed straight at her. "What are you doing here, Dawson?" he demanded, moving in front of a large cabinet almost protectively.

When she didn't respond, he took a step towards her. "Get out." He gestured to the door with his wand.

"Malfoy, I really couldn't give a rat's arse what you're doing in here," she managed, her voice cracking. It was unbearable, the pain. And she could not care less if he used the Crucio curse on her right now, because that - anything - would be better than what she was feeling.

She ignored him and ran towards the back of the room. Finding a stack of old crates and boxes, she sank to the floor and let out a wail, the sound so awful she couldn't believe she was capable of making it.

Her rib cage felt like it was splitting apart, her heart exploding out of her chest. She sobbed and sobbed, clutching the orb that hung around her neck.

Memories flashed through her mind like an old video film reel - her parents laughing on the couch across from her; her dad had told the lamest joke and her mum had smacked him with the tea towel. Then, Grace nursing a butterbeer that one winter's day at a wizarding pub in London three years ago - she was smiling, asking Angel how her year had been.

Her dad's wool coat as he kissed the top of her head before she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Mum behind the empty trolley that had carried her suitcases, smiling and waving as their figures disappeared in the smoke as the train departed. The last time she would see them ever again.

They were gone. She would no longer hug or speak to them, or feel the warmth of their bodies beside her. She would never hear their voices, the aged happiness in their laughter, or the rumbles of her dad's gentle snoring.

It felt like hours before her crying finally died down to silent tears. Not because she was feeling better - because how could she possibly ever? - but she was completely and utterly exhausted. She leaned against the crate and gasping for breath.

Footsteps approached her, and she realised she had completely forgotten Draco had been in here when she came in. Shiny black shoes came into her peripheral, stopping right next to her. She stared at them in a daze.

The figure crouched and sat down beside her gracefully, barely making any noise besides a gentle rustle.

In any other circumstance, she would have wondered what he wanted, perhaps even felt nervous or embarrassed to be in such a state. But this time, she could neither think or feel anything.

Draco didn't say anything either. The entire room was deathly silent except for the sounds of their breathing.

Angel pulled her legs close to her chest, hugging them as she pressed her forehead to her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished it all away. Draco, the room, Hogwarts, the students, the world. Herself. She wanted everything to dissolve into smoke and blow away into oblivion, until there was nothing left but empty white space.

They sat in silence for a while before his velveteen voice sliced the still air. "What's your name?"

Angel stared at the stone between her knees, eyebrows knitted in disbelief. "What are you on about, Malfoy? You know my name, it's Dawson. We have Potions together." Her voice was hoarse and her throat hurt.

"No. What's your name?" he repeated his question, almost irritably. She blinked her sore eyes for a moment before realising that he had never bothered to ask for it. Same form for nearly seven years, and this boy never even know her name!

"Angel." She still couldn't bear to look up at him.

He got to his feet and smoothed out his jacket, before turning on his heels and walking out of the room without another word.