A/N: Yep, two updates in as many days! I just wanted to get both out there, since it's been so long since we updated. There's more to come, too! :) -SH

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

TARDIS - Time And a Romantic Date In Space

Of course, after he left the Great Hall, Seamus had no intention of going back to Gryffindor Tower. Rather, he headed for the eighth floor, buttoning up his collared shirt to hide the t-shirt underneath and tucking it into his jeans as he went.

Meanwhile, Rachel was in the fifth floor girls' loo, tugging a vibrant green dress over her head and inspecting herself anxiously in the mirror. She didn't know why she was so nervous, but her hands were trembling so that when she tried to sever a stray thread from the hem at her left wrist, she ended up nearly unraveling the whole sleeve and had to resort to a repairing charm and a few deep breaths before continuing.

She shouldn't be so nervous. This little outing—if one could call it that—was no different than the millions of times she and Seamus had gone places together. If what he had told her was true, then they had both gone into those excursions with the same feelings for each other they now were open about.

Exactly the same, she told herself again, turning away from the mirror and shoving the jeans and sweater she'd previously been wearing into her bookbag. One last time, she turned to look in the mirror and hoped to heaven that Seamus would not think her weird for dressing up so much, then slung the bag over her shoulder and darted out the door.

Seamus was standing at the top of the stairs leading from the seventh to the eighth floors when Rachel got there. He had been getting a bit nervous, as he had left after she had, but before long he spotted her making her way up the staircase.

"Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly, trotting up the last few stairs.

"No worries," Seamus replied. "I just got here, myself."

Rachel smiled and was nearing the very top of the staircase when it shuddered, jerked, and started slowly grinding its way to another corridor. With a shout, Seamus reached forward and dragged her up onto the landing.

"Phew," he said, watching the staircase go. "That was close."

"I wasn't even paying attention," she said breathlessly, still clinging to his arms. "I hate it when they do that…"

"A bit of excitement never hurt anyone," he told her with a grin.

"Especially when you're there to help the damsel in distress," she retorted dryly, flipping her hair at him.

He grinned again. "You ready to see where we're going?"

She hoisted her bookbag higher on her shoulder. "Yeah!"

Taking her hand, Seamus set off down the corridor that stretched out behind them. "I've only been up here a few times…but I don't think they change things often. They look pretty dusty."

"What does?"

As they neared the door at the end of the corridor, Rachel noticed a dull roar, like a gigantic, clamoring audience was waiting for them. She began to dig her heels in a little.

"Come on," Seamus urged, and turned the knob.

Rachel's protest died on her lips as she stepped into the room. It was of normal classroom size with the customary narrow windows of an upper-floor room, but the walls were not bare but covered with paintings—some small, some medium, and some taking up almost entire walls. The noise they had heard nearing the door was the clamor the subjects of these paintings were making—one of the largest paintings was of a dramatic 15th century battle, and the clash of swords and cries of the soldiers was almost deafening. Another large painting was of a band of Victorian carolers, and the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs" added to the noise.

"What is this place?" Rachel shouted, hands over her ears.

"It's the gallery," Seamus answered likewise. "Famous Wizarding paintings. That big one there is of Joan of Arc."

"What?"

"Joan of Arc!"

Rachel's face lit up, and she spun around to look where Seamus was pointing. Sure enough, the dominant figure in the painting was, upon closer examination, a woman! She was clinging to her rearing charger with just her legs, carrying a snow-white battle flag in one hand and slashing at foot soldiers with a broadsword held in the other.

"Hey!" Rachel yelled up at the painting. "Hey—hey, you!"

A few soldiers noticed her and stopped for a moment, but nearly lost their heads as a result.

Rachel looked at Seamus for help, and he shrugged, so she pulled out her wand, pointed it at her throat, and said, "Sonorous. HEY, JOAN!"

Her voice, magically magnified, echoed around the room, silencing the many paintings, whose occupants looked her way with annoyance. She ignored them, however, because the battle in the painting in front of her had stopped, and the soldiers were all looking down at her.

"You bellowed for me?" said Joan of Arc, lifting her helmet up.

"Why, yes, I did," Rachel answered after removing the charm from her throat.

"What is it that you want of me, then?"

"I've always wondered how you convinced the French generals to follow your command!"

Joan eyed her for a moment, then swiftly dismounted, sheathed her sword, foisted the banner on a nearby soldier, and sat down in the foreground right in front of Rachel. "Finally, someone thought to ask me that," she said comfortably. "Three hundred years of hanging in this drafty castle, and you're the first one to wonder."

Rachel beamed.

While Rachel and Joan were talking, Seamus stuck his hands in his pockets and meandered about the room, pausing before a small painting of a group of Russian peasants drinking tea from small glass cups. Suddenly, Rachel was by his side again, slipping her hand into his.

"Joan wants to meet you," she said, pulling him back to the painting. "This is my friend Seamus," she announced.

Joan had stood up and was leaning on a spear, peering out of her picture frame. "Hello, Seamus."

Seamus waved up at her. "Nice to meet you, Miss, um…of Arc."

She was getting up on her horse as he spoke, but she waved as a nearby French soldier handed her the banner again. "And also you, master Seamus," she said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Rachel, but I'm afraid we really must carry on…"

"As long as you keep it down a bit," Rachel replied good-naturedly.

Joan nodded as she unsheathed her sword, and before either Rachel or Seamus could react, the battle between English and French began again, albeit more subdued.

They had to laugh, and in order to hear their own thoughts, moved up the room towards the door, gazing up at the many paintings—Rachel watched the Russian tea-drinkers with rapt attention for a few minutes before moving on to a scene of small children sliding on handmade sleds down a snowy hill. Seamus and Rachel laughed with the merry sledders for a minute before turning towards the Victorian carolers.

Rachel hadn't ever let go of Seamus's hand, and as they neared the frame, she squeezed it a little and bumped his shoulder with her own. "This is brilliant," she said to him as the carolers bustled towards the front of the landscape.

"I thought you'd like it. Here, I'll pull up a bench for you," he replied, clumsily searching for his wand as his ears turned red.

Rachel smiled at him, and he waved his wand a bit haphazardly so they had to jump out of the way of the bench that came zooming at them from a corner.

The musicians were tuning their instruments as Rachel and Seamus sat down together on the bench. "I always thought," Rachel said softly, folding her hands in her lap, "that if I had a time-machine, I would go back to the 1800s just to experience a real Victorian Christmas."

"You'd think that we'd be able to devise a better way of time travel than Time-Turners," Seamus agreed. "That would be a lot of spinning the hourglass…"

"Unfortunate, but true," Rachel sighed.

"I, for one, would go back to imperial Russia."

"As a courtier, I assume; not a peasant."

"Naturally."

"As long as I could come with you, then."

"Also, naturally."

Rachel beamed with excitement for a moment before she sadly reminded herself that extensive time travel was still beyond the reach of Wizardkind. "Oh, well," she said resignedly. "I can always hope for the Doctor to come whizzing out of a vortex and ask me to be his next companion…"

"I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"What do you mean?"

"You being stolen away by a strange man who lives in a box…"

Rachel had to laugh, and she found the fleshy spot between his pelvis and ribcage to put her elbow in. "I'd have you come along, of course."

"We'd be like Amy and Rory."

"Except we're not married."

Yet, was the word that popped up unbidden into Seamus's mind, but he didn't want to make Rachel or himself gag from the sappiness of it all so he kept his mouth shut and let the clear, sweet notes of the carolers, along with the warmth of Rachel's body next to him, wash over him.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he murmured as a wave of contentment rose up inside of him.

"What, fifteen and awkward?" Rachel said dryly.

"No. Here. Warm and safe and happy. Just the two of us."

"We're hardly alone," Rachel replied, but she snuggled up against him nonetheless.

Seamus's ears turned so red they started to sting as he shifted his weight and wrapped his arms around her. How on earth he managed to survive without this for the last four and a half years, he would never know.

After a minute or two, Rachel whispered into his shirt, "I wish we could stay like this, too."

Seamus basked in those words for a minute before saying with as much composure as he could muster, "We'll have to lay down some ground rules for PDA if we're going to keep this up."

Rachel went a bit tense in his arms, but her voice was quite calm as she replied, "Oh? And what rules do you have in mind?"

He shrugged with the shoulder she was not resting her head against and said, "Well, I dunno…I mean, I like kissing you a lot, and such, but…I do give you free reign to kiss me whenever and wherever you so desire."

Rachel shifted suddenly against him, pushing his arms away, and Seamus realized that he may have just absolutely destroyed any chance he had ever had of having a long-term, fulfilling relationship, when it occurred to him several seconds too late that she had been repositioning her body all the better to kiss him with, which she had proceeded to do while he was still lamenting the loss of their relationship.

"Wait," he said when she pulled back for a moment. "I'm confused."

"What don't you get?" she said softly, playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

"Well, it's not so much that I don't get. It's just that I think I missed the beginning bit…could you start from there again?"

Rachel had to laugh. "You are a flirt, Mr. Finnigan!"

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me," he retorted with a grin. "Now, here—are you going to repeat what you just told me or what?"

"I'm not going to start spoiling you just because you flash a grin in my direction," Rachel protested.

"No, of course not. Did I say you were? No…I just want you to kiss me again. Please?"

Rachel attempted to act like his request left her completely unswayed, but it was of no use, and she gave him her best stinkeye before wrapping her arms around his neck again and gently fulfilling his request.

When she sat back a moment later, he had no wits left with which to tease her, so he compromised by pulling her back for one more kiss that lingered until one of the portraits coughed politely.

"We're one of those couples now," Rachel said, her face quite red as she sat back and smoothed her hair.

"Oh, we're a couple?"

Rachel reached over and pushed Seamus, and he bobbed over, laughing too hard to maintain his balance.

"You're impossible," she said while trying to hide her grin.

He reached over and wrapped his arms around her again, burying his smile in her shoulder. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

"Mm. As long as we don't act this way in public," she responded, smoothing a crease in the collar of his shirt. "People would be barfing in the corridors."

"Our little secret."

They fell into silence, enjoying the sounds of the carolers, the warmth of each other's arms on such a cold night, and the pleasure of each other's company.

That is, until they heard a familiar rasping meooowww.

"Oh, no," Rachel murmured, stirring just enough to peek over Seamus's shoulder. "We haven't done anything wrong."

He turned to see Mrs. Norris, her hateful bushy tail flipping across the flagstones behind her as she eyed them beadily. "Tell that to Filch!"

"Not on my life," Rachel said, leaping to her feet and Summoning her backpack from across the hall. Seamus grabbed it in midair, took her hand with his other one, and together they hurried from the hall towards Gryffindor Tower.

"We'll have to do that again sometime," said Seamus a few minutes later, when they were safely within sight of the Fat Lady and had gotten their breath back.

"Rather presumptuous, don't you think?" said Rachel, despite the fact that she was still walking with Seamus's arm wrapped around her waist.

"Presumptuous? How?"

"Making me kiss you like that," she retorted, wrinkling her nose playfully.

"How gross. I wouldn't like to kiss me, either. But you have to admit, you did get to meet Joan of Arc."

Rachel considered this point for a moment, then said, "You're right. I think that deserves at least a second date."

"And a kiss goodnight, Agent 006?"

"Only if I get to be 007."

"Fine. Kiss me, 007."

Rachel took hold of his shirt and pulled him down into a firm and rather drawn-out kiss that only ended when the Fat Lady said, "Now, really!"

"Good enough, 006?" Rachel asked, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder.

"For now, 007," Seamus responded as he smoothed his shirt. "Shall we pretend like we spent the whole time at the library and didn't look at each other once?"

"Oh, let's."

The Fat Lady swung forward and the two of them went forward into the common room and went their separate ways.