Known as 'Little Bear' or 'Little Dipper', Ursa Minor is a constellation in the Northern sky. The North Star, Polaris, shines the brightest in this constellation, and is thus often used for navigation.

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After his confession, Angel had mysteriously led him out of the school and across the bridge. "I want to show you something," she said. Once they had crossed the Hogwarts threshold, she grabbed his arm and they Disapparated.

Now, posh houses and cars lined the street they stood on. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. It was a picturesque neighbourhood. The houses were large, with snaking driveways and yawning gardens. But this particular one they now stood in front of was shrouded in shadows. It seemed abandoned.

"Where are we?" he asked, slightly uncomfortable being in such a highly-populated Muggle area.

Silently, she led him up the steps to the front door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and entered the darkness. With a 'click' on the wall, lights flooded the room.

The living room was wide and spacious, the walls painted a modern shade of grey-tinged white. A couch and an arm chair, all in a complimentary dark grey, stood around a glass coffee table. At the front, a black rectangular contraption hung above the large white fireplace.

He noticed the tea tray on the table, on which two empty cups and a kettle were left haphazardly, as if whoever had been drinking from them got up and left suddenly.

Still standing near the door, he began to take in the rest of the room. The windows were long and wide, framed by tasteful blue curtains. He could imagine how the sun must have lit up this place up. It was a hundred times more homely than Malfoy Manor could ever be, and then some.

He followed her to the fireplace. A row of photographs sat on the mantel, interspersed with random birthday and Christmas cards. To his surprise, the pictures were moving. This was a Wizarding house.

"Angel, where are we?" he breathed.

She picked a frame up, looking at it wistfully before turning to show him. A lady was bouncing a baby on her knee. A man sat beside her, clapping and singing an inaudible song.

The baby smiled up at him, and he recognised those large, uncanny brown eyes almost immediately.

She touched the photograph sadly. "I come here to clean once in a while. Haven't been able to touch their breakfast on the table, though. I'm afraid if I do, they'll be gone forever."

A twinge of irritation stabbed his throat. "Look, if you've brought me here to guilt-trip me or convince me that-"

Her eyebrows flew up. "What? No! I brought you here because... you said you love me. And I guess I just wanted to show you that- well, you are loved too."

In his stunned silence, she exchanged the frame for another one. This one was just of the man and a little girl. She had long, dark hair now. They stood on a balcony, and in front of them, a long telescope pointed towards the sky.

"That's dad." He could tell she was trying not to cry. "And Mum." She pointed to another picture with the lady. They were all smiling, and he did not need to meet them to know that they were good, kind people.

"Grace," she told him. "Her name was Grace. And my dad was called Jacob."

"She's pretty," he said truthfully, and she beamed at him. She walked to the couch and lay down, closing her eyes and feeling the fabric under her palms.

"They would pick me up from King's Cross every holiday. We'd all come home and Mum would make tea and scones. I would lie like this and tell my dad everything about school. Sometimes we'd even talk about you."

Memories of their earlier years at Hogwarts flashed in his mind. "What sort of things about me?" he asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Oh, everything! I'd tell him what an awful person you are, and Dad'll say 'ah, you'll get through to him eventually!' And I'd say 'I don't want friends with a prick like Malfoy!'

She smiled at the memory. "Well, anyway, it was him who convinced me you needed a friend. And he was right, wasn't he?"

He could see it - the three of them walking around here, hugging and joking around with each other. It was a scene he had observed often - like with the Weasleys - but always from the outside looking in, never the other way around.

"The Christmas tree would be right there," - she pointed at the corner next to the window - "there would be so many lights, and you could smell the chestnuts and biscuits in the air and... oh, Malfoy, it was so beautiful."

The room seemed to transform as she spoke - the stockings above the fireplace, the wreath on that dark brown door, the room aglow with Christmas lights and laughter, her mother coming out from the kitchen with freshly iced biscuits and mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows. It was the life he could have shared with her.

She sighed wistfully. "I do wish you could have come over... but you'd never have said yes."

She was right. Old Draco would not have come. After all, why would he? Jealousy and self-loathing crept into his heart. Desperate to change the subject, he gestured at the funny black box. What's this?"

"That, Malfoy," Angel giggled, sitting back up. "That is what we call a telly."

"A... telly?"

"Yeah, you know, a television. But telly, for short. We watch programmes on it."

"What sort of programmes?" he pressed in interest. She picked up a device with a dozen buttons on it and clicked one. The screen burst into life. Drawings of a grey cat and brown mouse moved across the screen, chasing each other around.

"This one is called Tom and Jerry. It's hilarious." The screen changed with another click of the button. This time, a real-life woman sat behind a desk, prattling on about something as an image of a car crash flashed onto the screen. "That's the news. They tell it like that and we listen."

"So... it's like magic?" he ventured, coming to sit down beside her. She nodded. "Yeah, something like that! Here, you try." She handed the remote to him.  He pressed a button, and the screen flashed. Each time, the images would switch to a completely different one.

He went at it for a while, completely in awe. They came across one of a girl in yellow, sweeping across a ballroom with a beast-like creature dressed in blue.

"Muggles drew all that, you know," she explained. "Pen to paper. Then they make them move."

"Muggles did this?" He asked in shock.

Angel nodded. "Not with magic. With technology."

"And your father, he was comfortable with this? How did the Ministry not say anything?"

"It's just a telly, not a bloody Lethifold!" she teased. "And anyway, Mum was in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They were an alright lot. Didn't really subscribe to the... superiority ideology."

Draco was not going to admit it - and even thinking it felt strange - but he found this Muggle technology very cool now that he had properly experienced it.

She clicked the television off, and he followed her up the stairs.

The landing was dark, but he could see the rooms ahead. She disappeared into the second one. The door was open, and he peered inside.

The bed looked freshly-made and untouched. The decoration and knick-knacks that sat on the bedside tables told him this was her parents' room.

"They woke up at seven that morning, as usual" she said, her fingers trailing along the sheets. "Made their bed, went downstairs for breakfast, and then..."

He did not know what to say. Following her in felt almost wrong, so he chose to remain by the doorframe in silence. She looked around for a little while before moving on to the last room - hers.

To his surprise, it was not as girly as he had imagined. The walls and bed were a clean white, going well with the pale pink curtains and sheets. On the wall proudly hung a large spearhead banner with the Hufflepuff crest, yellow and black. Across it was a simple white desk, piled high with Hogwarts textbooks. A string of yellow wildflowers lined the wall above. Tucked into the far corner was a telescope.

There were no windows, only a large sliding glass door that lead out to a balcony of sorts. She pulled it open, allowing the cool night breeze to flood the room. He could see the moon and the stars from where he stood. This was probably where she and Mr Dawson would have spent their time stargazing.

"It's alright, you can come in," she called, with the hint of a smile. She was now fiddling with a small record player on top of her drawers. It crackled to life, and soft, slow music filled the room.

He followed her into the balcony, where she leaned on the railings and tilted her head to the sky.

Wise men say... only fools rush in...

"Michael Bublé. He was our favourite." She closed her eyes, just listening.

Despite his ignorance of the Muggle world, he had, in fact, heard of Michael Bublé. In the brilliant moonlight, the crooner's smooth voice seeped into every crevice of the empty house, wrapping around them like melted chocolate.

But I can't help... falling in love with you...

She turned to him and held out her hand with an expectant look on her face.

"What? No. Absolutely not." He began to back away but she caught hold of him, guiding his hands to her waist. His mind flashed back to the Yule Ball when Pansy had done the exact same thing. He had absolutely despised it, but this time with Angel, it felt different.

Take my hand... take my whole life too...

He tried to keep up as she moved. It did not take long for him to find himself swaying to the music too. "You're a natural, Malfoy!" she giggled as he tried to twirl her around.

For the single, fleeting moment that she went under his arm, they were just two people in love, dancing at home like nothing was wrong.

Shall I stay?... Would it be a sin?...

She fell back into him, laughing. As he held her, he thought about everything he had seen that night. He wanted to tell her that her home was beautiful, that he wished he could come over every Christmas, bearing gifts for the family. He would eat with them and share their inside jokes.

Then they would retire to the living room, where Angel will snuggle up against him on the couch. Mr Dawson would sit in the armchair, and her mother would fuss over them, bringing them all sorts of treats and pudding. The faint sound of carollers would be heard from far down the street, or perhaps they would play a Christmas record on her player.

If I can't help... falling in love with you...

They would all have hot chocolate in front of the fireplace while having a chat or watching the telly. And then the two of them would fall asleep like that, under a blanket. Her parents will hush themselves as they turned off the lights and tiptoe back upstairs to their room.

Just a few months ago, if someone had told him that he would love - and be loved by - a Mudblood, he would have first scoffed, then laughed at them, maybe pushed them to the ground for good measure.

Now, he wanted nothing more than to be part of this fascinating, confusing, half-and-half world she lived in - as part of a family who would have treated him as their own, with warmth and respect. A family who would have had no expectations for him, only pure, genuine, and unadulterated love.

He thought of his own. The Malfoys were Slytherin royalty, insiders and right-hand men to the Dark Lord. They had power and wealth, and could squash whomsoever displeased them, whenever they liked. Following Voldemort promised the Death Eaters victory and reign over the world. With that, the Malfoys would be unstoppable.

But when he showed her the mark he bore - the person he was - she only responded by choosing to share with him the very thing he had played a part in destroying. A family who could teach a love like that - now that was something formidable.

Like a river flows... surely to the sea...

"Doesn't it hurt?" he asked. "You know, coming here."

"Yeah," she said, pulling a hand away to touch her pendant - a little tick of hers he noticed. "But I know I can always come home. It's your home now too, if you want it to be. My parents would've wanted that."

In that moment, he could not even bring himself to tell her he loved her. He did not deserve the privilege.

Darling, so it goes... some things are meant to be...

He twirled her again, this time crossing his arms over her waist to hold her close. She leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Swaying her, he nestled his chin in the nook of her neck.

Take my hand, take my whole life too..

"Tell me something good, Malfoy," she whispered over the velveteen music notes.

For I can't help... falling in love... with... you...

He pondered about it for a while. The song was beginning to fade out.

"I can't tell you, but I can show you."