You dance, and the stars are shining down on you. They aren't real stars, but. Then she arrives, and her red hair is glowing and her eyes are so bright. They're just like yours, and for the first time in ever you believe what they all say.

She isn't pretty. But she isn't ugly either. It hardly seems important, when her arms wrap around you and feel so small and safe. You're back where you belong.

And the moon is out and it's so high it hardly seems real. Which it isn't, but neither of you want to admit it.

You missed her so much, and you tell her so. Her eyes are shining, although that might just be the tears.

'I know,' is all she says, but you understand it anyhow. And no matter how hard you scream and cry you know she wont be coming back. But you do so anyhow, because there's nothing else worth while and it's nearly time to wake up.

Dreaming fades, and waking begins. He stares down at you, and his nose is hooked and his hair seriously needs a wash.

You loose more points than it's worth for sleeping in class, but not as many as he could because your cheeks are damp with crying and your glasses are broken.

'But,' says Ron as you sit down to lunch. 'I don't understand.'

'Shush,' sighs Hermione and her eyes roll at you. He never does, and neither of you feel like explaining. You raise your eyebrows at Hermione, and help yourself to a sandwich.

In your eyes the stars are dancing.

'Mr Potter,' he says, even though he means so much more. 'I suggest you get to bed, as you were so tired in my lesson.'

You blink, and wish you hadnt because your eyes are so sore and tired. You peel yourself off the desk, and close the book.

'Understanding Dreams...' reads the hook-nosed, sharp-eyed teacher. His eyebrows raise so expertly, and you shrug.

He stares into your eyes for a second, and watches you dance. Then he sighs and turns away.

You gather up your cloak and quills, and run before he changes his mind.

'I still don't get it,' complains Ron as he rolls out of bed. You shrug and close your eyes, cause you're tired and it's Potions first. She hasn't come back, but you wait and hope all the same.

'Mr Potter,' he says, and he always means so much more. 'You're late.'

You nod and bow your head, because your eyes are red and your cheeks are still damp no matter how hard you wipe them.

He takes off more points than you deserve, but, for once, your glad. So you don't argue, which makes him blink more than is normal, and you find your seat and sit in it.

Hermione's hand finds yours, and it's stained with black ink from all the notes she scribbles. You smile, and would hug her, but Ron has only had one before her and that was in pre-school so you know he'll hit you if you do.

It's dark, and the sky is covered in clouds. You stand alone, and dreams don't come true no matter what anyone says. The clock long ago struck the morning, and if you squint you can see the sun rising in the distance.

You're so tired you can barely stand.

'Mr Potter,' and he must've always known you were there all along because he got a blanket for you. 'What are you doing out at this time of day?'

You shrug, because you're shivering too hard to speak. He understands anyhow.

'Dreams don't come true,' he says, and he means it in a kinder way than it came out. For a second, his nose and hair doesn't really matter, and people are allowed to have beady black eyes that creep you out when they stare at you. You still can't imagine there not being him.

'I already knew that, sir,' you sigh, and the stars stop dancing and you start being. You always knew that, really.