Rose woke up crying, tears spilling onto her pillow without a pause. All she could think of was him .He was everything to her and yet he barely knew she existed.

After all she was Rose Weasley, the academic, unco-ordinated, average girl with no personality. What reason would he have to know her? She wasn't one of the girls who flocked to him after every Quidditch match to congratulate him, she wasn't the type who laughed loudly at all his jokes or the ones who boldly asked him to Hogsmead at every opportunity.

She was just Rose, and she was unwanted.

How could it be that everyone else had places to be today and she didn't?

How was it that they all had boyfriends to snog, studying to do and other great friends to chat to when she had nothing?

She pulled herself out of bed and got dressed. Then she walked quickly through the common room and out the door. Quickly. That's how she always did things. Neatly, wit out a fuss. She did things as cleanly and elegantly as she could. It made her appear to others as though when she finished what she was doing she would have some other place to be. Some friend craving her advice or boyfriend begging for a snog.

But she didn't. She had no one.

But Rose Weasley knew that that pretence had long since failed, and nearly everyone knew that she was just nothing. Just an extra, one who would go through life just being nothing .

It wouldn't matter really, Rose thought, that I was a nothing, if just one person could see me. If he could see me.

Rose was sitting quietly at a table at the library that Sunday. The reason it was quiet was because most of Hogwarts' student had headed of to Hogsmead. Rose, though, sat at a table at the library looking at an essay she had finished weeks ago, trying to make it better. That was why she loved the library. It didn't make her seem quite so friendless. She could pretend she was busy when she really wasn't. She could pretend to be catching up on essays when really she finished them weeks ago because she had no other way to spend her time.

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and splashed onto her essay. She was in her seventh year and still she had no friends, no one to spend her time with.

She was in her seventh year and she still had no one.

She wished she had him, but it was just a dream. She wished she could teach herself that you always woke up from dreams, you were always pulled back into a cold, harsh reality. That dreams would always stay dreams.

Suddenly the library door burst open.

And he walked in. He looked up at her and those perfect lips curved into a perfect half smile and the serene grey eyes gave her a smouldering wink.

Just a dream?