He was always quiet when he was alone.

In the corridors, he would be forever noisily tripping people up, throwing stray curses at unwary Hufflepuffs, loudly taunting and catcalling. He would always cause a ruckus, especially when certain Gryffindors were around. In the Slytherin common room, he would laugh with his friends, recounting Longbottom's latest potions disaster (which was only partly his doing), and talk Quidditch strategies with his other team mates.

But it was different when he managed to find time alone.
When he was alone, he would be able to let his guard down.

It was the time when he was finally free to think about the one thing he could never stop thinking about. The one thing that was on his mind every minute of every day.
It was all he would ever dream about at night. All he would fantasize about during the day, in History of Magic.
So when Potter's arms wrapped themselves around his body, he knew it was just an illusion.

He was happy. That is what he told himself, anyway. He was happy that he was the Saviour of the Wizarding world. He was happy that his best friend's little sister was all-but forcing herself on him whenever she found the chance. He was happy that he couldn't even make his way to lunch any more without his picture being taken by at least five different people. He was happy that all everyone ever said to him these days was all high praise and gratitude. Well, almost everyone. But still, he was happy.

So he put on a brave face as soon as he got out of bed every morning. He waved at the cameras cheerfully, signed stupid pointless magazines, and joked around with his friends. All that was left of them, anyway.

It was only when he was alone that he could be himself.
For in reality, he was not happy. In contrast, he was bloody pissed off.

Everyone was worshiping him. They all treated him like some sort of god, and for what? For killing a man. And everyone else who died in that war really. He was not a god, he was a murderer. A monster.

Even his friends, who had been there, fighting right next to him, battling side by side as comrades, even they treated him differently. It made him angry. And lonely.

But when he was alone, he did not feel as lonely.
When he was alone, there was no on there to pretend they knew him, to think they knew what he was feeling. He didn't need to put up his mask than.
It was then that he was free to think. To think about the one part of his life that didn't change. Which happened to also be the only part of his life that he ever wanted to change.

So he decided to just change it himself. He slipped silently into the Slytherin common room, and took the now well known route to the eighth year boys dorm. That was when he saw him.
He was alone.
He always was alone when he came to see him. Well, watch him, really.

He took his invisibility cloak off for the first time since he began sneaking in here, and wrapped his arms around the small frame of his rival. He was surprised that he didn't pull away.

"I'm dreaming." Said Draco. Harry laughed. It was the sort of laugh that warmed Draco's entire body, almost making him laugh himself.

"What makes you sat that?" Harry asked, shaking his head slightly to get his hair out of his eyes.

"If I wasn't dreaming," He explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You would not be here."

"I appear in your dreams often, then?" Harry asked teasingly. At that moment, Draco was very glad that he didn't blush easily.

After a moment of silence, he muttered "I'm know I'm dreaming, you know. I know it. When I'm not dreaming, I'm alone."

"Well," He said slowly. "If you want, we could sill be alone. We could just be alone... together. You wouldn't be dreaming then."

There was hesitation, and then a small nod. Draco leaned into the tall figure behind him.

Now he would be content to be alone forever, as long as they could just be alone together.

A/N: So I know this is SUPER short, and not what I usually write (not that I post what I usually write on here... yet), but this was an idea that came to me when procrastinating on math study. It was designed to be short, but I was hoping to at least get to 1000 words. Oh well. A bit sad, but what the hey, it's what I do best. Hope you like. If not, well, I tried.

-T.E.C