It was dark in the Gryffindor tower.
In the dormitories boys and girls were all sleeping tight, from the common room, not even the laughter of Fred or George Weasley sounded.
Outside, snow was falling silently.
Harry stirred in his sleep. Lately, he'd been haunted by nightmares. Nightmares about his parents, his friends, Voldemort...
A door creaked open. In the end of the common room, a silvery shape appeared.
It was a young woman, almost just a girl.
She walked silently across the room, closing in on Harry's bed.
She sat down at his bedside, and loot a silvery, transparent hand glide through his hair.
She looked at him, a smile on her face, but her eyes were awkwardly wet. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Another silvery hand was laid on her shoulder. She turned her head, and smiled once again at the sight of the man with the messy hair.
She stood up, and hugged the man. Both of them turned and looked at Harry, and then looked around the room.
Boys sleeping in their beds, trunks standing here and there. Clothes hung over an old mirror, and a single broomstick leaned against the wall.
The man walked over to it, and bent down and read the label.
Firebolt.
He nodded approvingly, and pointed at it, so the woman would see it.
She smiled, and beckoned him towards herself.
He walked over to her, and laid his arms around her.
They stood there for a moment, and looked at Harry.
A tear ran down the woman's' cheek, and the man tightened his grip around her.
Then, as the school bells rang the New Year in, the man became restless, and it seemed as he wanted them to leave. The woman leaned down, and planted a soft kiss on Harry's' temple. Then, as she straightened up:
"Good night, baby..."
A/N: Finally I wrote something else than angst, but this one is pretty sad to.