I spent the rest of the next few days pulled back to that moment in the archway outside the defense against the dark arts classroom, remembering. Every time my hand, which was now bandaged and cleaned although Madam Pomfrey said it would likely leave a nasty scar, occasionally burned, I would find myself in Malfoy's arms. However, things were unbearably ordinary between us. During potions, he would look at me with the same mock scorn, the same teasing flirty manner, all of it meaning nothing. I saw no more of the pitying softness I saw that day. On the upside, other matters concerned such as school work and social events were all going surprisingly well. Although for some subjects- like arithmancy and defense against the dark arts- I had little to no clue what I was doing, I found that Hogwarts was very much like normal school, and I was able to talk my way out of many situations.

Things with my classmates were going better as well, everybody had gotten used to the squib girl in their class, although it seems the nickname stuck. Bloody Malfoy.

As we sat opposite each other in Divination, another lesson in which I am unfortunate enough to be next to Malfoy again, as the universe's cruel idea of a joke, he decided to give me another nickname.

"How goes it, princess?" he asked, swinging his satchel from his shoulders and pulling out a book with a large picture of a grave on the front. I had not paid much attention to the cover, or really the textbook at all. Divination was something of a joke lesson. There were only a handful of students in the class. Apparently, Professor Tralewny had a bad habit of predicting a young wizard's untimely death every year. This year she had picked on a pale looking Hufflepuff who had run out of the room in tears. It seems that when she got to Professor Flitwick in a state of hysteria, he had let her in on what a joke Professor Tralewny was between the teachers. Nevertheless she had not returned to class.

"Princess?" I was snapped back into reality ready to bite Malfoy's head off. Blaise called me Princess. It was affectionate and sweet, and it made me feel at home to hear it at breakfast each day. However, I knew that Malfoy and Blaise shared a room, and I had no doubt that this was to make fun of Blaise as much as it was to make fun of me. The words became contorted in his mouth, they made me wish Blaise had never said anything, and they made me resent that wish.

"Shut up Malfoy," was all I said, I didn't have the energy to engage in this banter at this time in the morning.

"What's the matter? Pea under your mattress?" Personally, I was surprised at Malfoy's knowledge of muggle fairy tales. However, I was not about to compliment him.

"I think the matter is actually this pathetic court jester." I snapped, stirring my tea and taking a sip. Divination was really a quite leisurely morning excuse for tea and a lot of imagination and some conversation, although I was seriously considering making friends with some of the people in other houses, as reluctant they were to speak to me my being both in Slytherin and an ex-squib.

"That hurts," he said, clutching his chest and pulling at his robes. I momentarily remembered my ear by his chest, feeling his heart thumping...

"Oh Malfoy, how can a non-existent heart hurt?"

"Come on, Angeline, surely you believe I have a heart?" he asked leaning forward with a mischievous look in his eye, his voice low and husky. I started when he said my name, it sounded foreign in his mouth but there was something about it that I quite liked, the way he tasted the word, the way his tongue seemed to embellish it. It reminded me of all the loving and caring things I thought he could be capable of. Realizing that I wasn't going to answer, Malfoy leaned back in his chair, taking a swig of his tea. It was a comical sight, such a big, hulking figure holding a dainty china tea cup. my thoughts wondered to Blaise again...

"He likes you, you know," said Malfoy absent-mindedly. My face immediately flushed bright red.

"Who?" I knew very well who. The real question was how did he know I was thinking about him?

"Blaise does. He can't shut up about you. He talks about you in his sleep too. Calling out 'Princess', it's pathetic..."

"Shut up about Blaise." I said. Although I didn't find myself as excited as I should be about the discovery of another's affections towards me, I would not hear anybody call him pathetic. My heart sank as I realized that I only felt this because Blaise was a friend. Though I had no doubt that he liked me, I knew I couldn't like him back.

"Just," said Malfoy, leaning in again with the same softness and huskiness, "Just don't break his heart, ok?" he leant back and looked into his empty teacup. "I think I see a broomstick and a cup. That must mean a win for Slytherin in the house Quidditch tournament!"

I smiled and looked down at my tea leaves. Unlike the usual green mass formed at the bottom and would never turn out to be decipherable, I saw a very clear arrow. I was familiar with the arrow. 'Your path is leading you straight to love' it meant. As I looked up, I realized the arrow was pointing towards Malfoy.