Hi HP fans. I missed you too.

Wannabe Interdimensional Voyeurs, or This Chapter Title Could Have Been a Mad Lib

It started when they were looking at an old photo. There were precious few photos of the two together, and especially few in which they were the only subjects. This was one of those. In a rare moment of brilliance, Ron had taken it. It depicted Harry and Hermione in the common room, seated on a notoriously squishy crimson couch. Well, Hermione was seated. Harry was merely mostly upright. He'd fallen asleep after a particularly rough quidditch practice, his head lolling to the side, thankfully catching on the incredibly pliant cushions in a way that prevented him from falling over. Ron had taken the photo with the intent of teasing Harry about his moment of weakness at a later date, but he'd inadvertantly captured something much more interesting. Harry's slightly open mouth was good for a laugh, but the look Hermione was giving him – heedless of Ron and the camera – made the photo a keeper.

There was so much love in her eyes. One could tell from her eyes alone just how much she wanted to reach out and touch the sleeping wizard – perhaps to tug his shirt, causing him to fall over. She could gently support him as he fell, finally letting his head rest in her lap where she might stroke his wild, jet-black hair. Of course, if one examined the very bottom edge of the photograph, it was evident that Hermione's hands were operating in wish-fulfillment mode. She'd taken her pinky and curled it around Harry's. Can't be too obvious. Just a little touch. We're not really holding hands. She'd rationalized.

When Hermione had seen the picture, she'd been somewhat surprised at her own image. So bold! The look on my face! Harry can't see this. She'd taken it from Ron under the pretext of stopping his mean-spirited joke and hidden it away, where it remained very much unappreciated. When she finally showed the picture to Harry (only after they were dating, of course), he thought it was beautiful. Hermione had told him that she'd pined for him silently just as he'd done for her, but this was something else. It was hard evidence. It mesmerized and emboldened him.

Tonight though, Harry's mood took an unexpected turn upon viewing that particular picture. He was usually nostalgic, but now he appeared more morose than anything else. "Do you ever think about the time we lost?" His tone was subdued, and he wore a sad smile. "Loving each other but not knowing it, I mean?"

"A few times." Hermione admitted. "What's wrong?"

"It's just... Things could have been different. Better, maybe." He thought of a few nights when his heart had ached for Hermione so much that he'd actually cried over her. What if he'd never suffered through all that time not knowing she felt the same? "I just can't help but wonder what it would have been like." He sighed. "Sorry for being gloomy." He muttered.

"It's not gloomy." Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It's an interesting question. Somewhere – in the multiverse, I suppose -" She smirked at the oddly scientific idea. "There might be an answer."

"What's the multiverse?" Harry asked.

"It's a theory stating that there are an infinite number of universes. Every instant in time would be a branch – a fork in the road. A new universe. At some point, there was a single beginning, but after that... everything would start to diverge. There could be a different universe for every choice someone might have made. Somewhere, there might be a universe in which we were together when that picture was taken." She examined her younger self. It could have happened. You adored him. What if I'd just taken his hand?

"I don't suppose there's any way to take a peek at another universe." Harry said with a wry smile. "Or to just go back and live it again."

"Nothing known to science or magic, I'm afraid." Hermione agreed. She was lost in thought for a moment. Seeing an easy target, Harry moved to kiss her cheek, paying his regular tribute to her for just being her. As Harry worked his way to her lips, he felt the corner to which he was closest rise to meet him. Something was going on in that head of hers. "Although, magic might just be able to facilitate a..." She paused, trying to find the right term. "Therapeutic workaround." The smile grew wider. "Give me some time. I have an idea." She had some reading to do.

Do it over... without going backwards. Yes, that might just work.

But that could wait for tomorrow. For now, she turned her full attention to Harry.

I'm envisioning short (but possibly more frequent) chapters.