So, this song was originally written for the Goblet of Fire and then of course for Ron and Hermione during the Yule ball…. But did you ever notice that it could also refer to Tonks and Remus? Well, In case your answer is yes, than you have the same twisted mind as I have! Congratulations!

Oh, and I of course own Harry Potter, and this song…….

If you believe that, then your mind is obviously too twisted!

Everything was quiet in Grimmauld Place. After a long day of moving back to the original Headquarters, most of the Order was getting their well-deserved sleep.

But not everyone. In the room that had belonged to a certain guy with the nick-name Padfoot, a witch was lying in bed. She couldn't sleep.

Perhaps it was because of the busy day that now lay behind her.

Or the fact that she had tripped more than helped, and that her knee still felt weird from the last time, just after dinner.

Or the fact that the house had belonged to a certain guy named padfoot, and that he was now dead.

Or the fact that there was also another certain guy in this house. And that she liked the guy, and he liked her, but was too scared to commit himself. He had admitted that he liked her, and she had felt some hope a few days ago at Dumbledore's funeral, but no sooner than later, he had backed out again.

She sighed. Looking for the reason why she couldn't sleep was obviously not going to help.

She sat up and turned, so that her bare feet were touching the splintered floor. Maybe she should just get some warm milk in the kitchen, or else sit by the fire for a while. She knew that if she could stare into the fire long enough, she would feel sleepy at some point and maybe would get some rest on the couch. With a glass of warm milk before that, her plan would be foolproof.

As silently as she could (which means careful enough that she wouldn't tumble over the troll-leg, but loud enough that you could hear her walking over the creaking stairs,) she descended and went to the kitchen. The kitchen table wasn't there; that one probably still stood at the Burrow. Tomorrow, they still had some work to do, the main reason why she had stayed this night. There were some stools, and in the corner stood a couch, which they would eventually bring upstairs. The place looked bigger without the table. She looked at the fireplace, but it was empty, so she decided to make some warm milk. The Muggle way. That would give her something to do, and besides, warm milk made in the Muggle way was better anyway.

With her head in the refrigerator, the witch didn't notice that someone else was entering the kitchen. The same guy who was one of the reasons she couldn't sleep.

He did notice that there was someone there. He tried to leave the kitchen immediately, but forgot about one of the stools that was between him and the door. Because everything had been so quiet a moment ago, the noise the stool made seemed to be extremely loud.

She let out a yelp; in her haste to see who made the noise, she had forgotten that she had her head in the fridge and her skull had made hard and painful contact with the appliance.

"You!" she gasped, once she finally saw who was there.

While she was rubbing the back of her head, she was also standing in a fight position, a spoon in her hand, as if it was a wand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he stammered. "I couldn't sleep . . . and . . . well, a glass of warm milk works wonders . . ."

She smiled and held the milk up. "Two souls, one thought…" Then, realising what she had said, she turned around to put the milk in a pan.

"Would you like some?" she asked without looking.

"Yes, please," Remus said. Surprised, she turned around to see Remus looking as surprised as she did. He probably hadn't expect that answer from himself either.

While she was making the milk hot, and asked herself why Remus would have said 'yes', she heard Remus walk to the radio, to break the deep silence that had fallen between them. He turned it on, with the sound so low that you could barely hear it.

And dance your final dance
This is your final chance
To hold the one you love
You know you've waited long enough

As soon as they both heard the first words, she stiffened a bit. Great, she thought. Just one of those songs I just don't want to hear now. She didn't dare look at Remus. It would make her do one of two things: scream at him or cry, and she didn't want to do either, because she had done enough of both. She screwed up her face to prevent crying, and without doing it on purpose, her hair slowly changed back to a dull, depressing, mousy brown.


So, believe

That magic works
Don't be afraid
Of bein' hurt
Don't let this magic die
The answer's there
Oh, just look in her eyes

When the refrain was over, she suddenly felt two hands on her hips that weren't her own. She turned around, and without saying anything to each other, they took each others hands and slowly danced to the rhythm. She didn't ask any questions: this could continue forever and she would be happy . . .


And make
Your final move
Mmm, don't be scared
She wants you to
It's hard
You must be brave
Don't let this moment slip away


No, believe

That magic works
Don't be afraid
Afraid of bein' hurt
No, don't let this magic die
Ooh, the answer's there
Yeah, just look in her eyes


Their bodies slowly came closer, and before she knew, she was standing in Remus' arms. She looked up to see that he was smiling, with a little twinkle in his eyes. She smiled back and put her head on his shoulder.

And don't believe that magic can die
No, no, no, this magic can't die

They were now slowly circling around. This was perhaps the nicest feeling ever, she thought.

How wrong she was.


So dance, your final dance.
'Cause this is, your final chance.

When the song ended, she saw that he had moved away. Not to shake her off, however. His face came closer to hers and they finally, finally kissed. It was soft and sweet and just as she had imagined that it would be. She didn't ask for more: she knew that he would want some time. Instead, she lay her head back on his shoulder, and they slowly swayed in the same rhythm as before, although the song had changed into something more rocky.

And it took them a very long time to notice that the milk had boiled over and was now softly dripping on the wooden floor.