Tiptoe to your room

A starlight in the gloom

I only dream of you

And you never knew...

Harry watched the common room with distaste. He watched the lower grades desperately scrambling around, copying homework from each other at the last minute because they were too lazy to do it on Friday night.

There will be no slacking off when you're a seventh year he thought bitterly as he watched a group of firsts copy assignments from each other.

He sneered and turned back to his book.

'Oh, how like Malfoy you've become, Potter.' read the words on the page. 'Bitter and hating. When was the last time you actually smiled? Can't remember? Not surprising. What's wrong with you? Don't know? Neither do I anymore...'

He stared at the book, shook his head and looked at the words again.

'The spirit of the BIRCH tree is called "The One with the White Hand". If the hand touches a head it leaves a vivid white mark and inflicts madness, but if it touches a heart it is the touch of death.'

He snapped the book shut and glared at the back cover. He sighed and opened it again to continue reading.

Three hours later and the common room was empty... almost. Harry watched the last student stagger to the staircase and pound his way up the bricks, secretly wanting to run after him and curse him for his flat- and heavy-footed ascension. He let out a relieved sigh and began rubbing his temple as he heard the heavy wooden door slam shut.

The younger grades were so graceless, so clumsy in their movements. It was a wonder they didn't trip over their own feet with every second step.

He waited another hour, giving everyone time to fall asleep. He read and reread the last chapter of his book, soaking up the information like a sponge to water. It was odd how he'd turned into another Hermione, albeit a male one (Thank God he added in his head).

He got up and stretched, wincing slightly as several vertebrae cracked and ground together in protest. He flexed his arms above his head, behind his back, in front of him and let them fall to his sides.

He walked his way over to the girl's dorms staircase, counting the bricks and placing his hand on the twelfth up from the floor.

Gryffindor Tower was full of little (and big) secrets, and the way a member of the male gender could access the girls dorms was one of them.

He pushed the brick into the wall, receiving a satisfying grind as the stone ground away from the others.

This was strictly for emergencies, used for the male teachers to access the dorms in serious situations... but accidents made the secret known to Harry, as a lot of things did these days.

He bolted up the staircase, making it to the sixth landing before the block could slide back into its place and replace the protection wards to stop any of the boys from getting into the girls dorms. It was bloody unfair in his opinion, but wholly appropriate for the younger grades that only really had one thing on their minds, perverted freaks.

He opened the door quietly and stepped through.

The girl's dorms were somewhat different from the boys. Neater, for one, but a lot more... a lot prettier.

The beds were elaborately carved, as was the rest of the furniture, one item of which was a full size cupboard, something none of the boys had. The carpet was... well, it was there for one. The boys just had cold stone with a few foot mats at the sides of the beds. Even in summer you had to wear slippers to stop getting chills. It was thick and lush, crimson with flecks of gold woven into it. The windows had stained-glass panes in them, depicting various scenes with maidens and fountains and roses. Beside each bed was a small dressing table you could sit at with various amounts of 'necessaries' scattered over the surfaces and a large mirror leant against the wall.

All the beds had their occupants safely nestled inside the warm sheets, buried deep within the depths of the quilts, sleeping soundly.

He slowly made his way over to Ginny's bed, being careful not to trip on any of the trunk, cats, owls or furniture that might have decided to walk about in the night (the girls were often cruel to each other and enchanted each others belongings and furniture as a practical joke. Harry frankly couldn't see the humor behind it).

Once at the young redheads bedside he stood watching her for some time. It was an odd thing to do, he knew that, and he was always careful not to disturb the other girls, far from ready to answer any questions if one of them should wake up. But he did it nonetheless.

At first it was because he woke up one morning with one of her hair ribbons clutched firmly in his hand. Though completely confused as to where it came from, he had wanted to return it to her during that day, but instead ended up with it wrapped around his wrist until midnight, when he finally remembered to return it to her.

That was when he found the Ward-Breaker. He had tripped on a book one of the first years had left on the ground and went hurtling into the wall. He stuck his hand out catch himself and it landed on the brick and it slid inwards. That's when he felt the air shift as the magic was removed. He ended up pushing the brick several times as a precaution before heading up to her dorm.

That was when he realized how truly beautiful she was. He had always thought her pretty; there was no doubt about that. But seeing her asleep and at peace was something to behold.

She had the bed beneath the largest window. He came to see her every full moon, to mark the anniversary of the first time he visited her. The moonlight would spill through the multicolored glass above her and bathe her in its shades, and she always seemed to sleep in such a way that the rose in the window was painted on her cheek and across her hair. Blood red on snow-white skin.

She was beautiful.

He knelt beside her and touched her hand. It was soft and warm beneath his own. He let their fingers intertwine.

He often woke up feeling like she had been sitting beside his bed some nights, doing this exact same thing with his hands. He would always smile lazily without opening his eyes and reach out to find her hand again, but it was never there... but the memory was, and he clung to that every morning, and the dream he would have of a simple kiss in the middle of the night as she would watch him sleep.

If he woke too early in the morning, he would fall asleep again, the nightmares gone, and he would dream of her kiss.

She was his guardian angel.

A/N: The exert for Harry's book was from 'Faeries' by Brian Froud and Alan Lee