A/N: This chapter is a little longer, but I wanted to do the scenes justice. Thanks for sticking with the story guys. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 5

Harry wasn't able to conceal the shock that hit him at the unexpected request. Questions chased themselves through his mind as Snape's dark eyes probed his, and once again he couldn't escape the feeling that the man was capable of seeing more than just what resided on the surface.

He let his eyes drift down, and tried to cover his shock with a mask of confusion.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

Snape let out a soft sigh, but didn't reply; he merely stood and walked to a small table positioned at the side of the room, on which sat a tray holding a tea kettle and two cups.

He withdrew his wand from his robes, tapping it against the tea kettle which immediately began issuing steam from its spout. He then carefully grabbed a small jar from the shelf above the table and placed it on the tray, picking up the entire assembly, he carried it back to the desk and set it between Harry and himself.

"Are you familiar with a branch of magic called Legilimency, Mister Potter?"

The name sounded familiar to Harry, probably once mentioned in passing to him by Hermione, but the meaning of it eluded him. All he could think was that the word sounded like leg mincing. Was Snape planning on torturing the information out of him?

"No, sir," he admitted.

"Legilimency is the branch of magic pertaining to the mind."

Snape spoke slowly and deliberately, never once looking at Harry; instead preoccupying himself with unscrewing the lid of the jar.

"More specifically, the study of seeing into the mind and interpreting the findings."

Harry felt the uneasiness in his stomach grow.

Snape placed strainers on the top of the tea cups, spooning a small amount of tea leaves into each.

"This is usually achieved through the uttering of a simple incantation," he paused here and looked up, catching Harry's eye, "and prolonged eye contact.

Harry immediately dropped his gaze, horror consuming him as what the Potions Master said sank in.

All these years, whenever he'd challenged Snape, staring into the black depths of his eyes, he'd been unwittingly surrendering his innermost thoughts and feelings to the man most likely to use them against him.

"As I'm sure you're realizing, I'm quite gifted in this area," Snape continued. "I usually don't delve too deeply into anyone's mind; it is an arduous task and impossible to achieve while attempting to remain inconspicuous. However, it's a simple matter to see what someone is currently thinking or has recently been doing."

Harry could hear the water pouring out of the kettle's spout, the sound of it being muffled as it hit the tea leaves before trickling into the bottom of the cup.

"But in all my years I have never encountered in the mind of anyone what I did in yours when we met in the stairwell some weeks ago."

Harry clenched his fist, the initial horror at the revelation that mind-reading was, in fact, real and had been used against him probably more times than he would ever know, had passed and was quickly replaced with anger at this invasion of privacy. A person's mind was their one refuge and this man had callously and without hesitation, taken that away from him.

Snape placed a cup of tea in front of Harry.

"If you think I'm going to drink that, you have another thing coming," Harry said.

Snape waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's merely a formality. One I would normally forgo where you're concerned, but considering the circumstances, I thought the offer of a hot beverage would ease the tension between us."

Harry snorted. "Yes, by all means, try and rectify a gross invasion of privacy and years of contempt with tea."

Snape raised an eyebrow and nodded in acquiescence of Harry's jab. "Be that as it may, I did see into your mind and was met with something most unexpected. Do you know what I saw?"

"If you could just get to the point, that would be great."

Snape scowled, but continued. "I saw a mess; a jumble of conflicting thoughts and memories. I thought perhaps I wasn't seeing something correctly, so I looked just a little farther and instead of gaining any explanation as to my initial findings I just stumbled upon something even more perplexing: a recently formed memory of you in your first year at Hogwarts, but simultaneously a past memory."

Harry clenched his jaw, but kept his gaze down and his mouth shut.

"Of course, that didn't make any sense. I thought maybe I had delved too deeply or misinterpreted a dream as a memory. But over the last two weeks I have given it great thought and come to the conclusion that what I saw was indeed correct and wasn't misinterpreted." Snape straightened himself before delivering his conclusion. "You've been in the past, and very far into it by time traveling standards."

Harry looked up at this, expecting to see a look of triumph in the man's eyes or a smirk of satisfaction on his face; but what he actually saw completely threw him. It was a look of desperation.

For the first time in four years, Harry wasn't looking at a vile git hell bent on contriving ways to make him miserable or going out of his way to humiliate him. He was looking at a human being; one that apparently had feelings outside of anger and disgust.

Snape's eyes searched his. "How did you do it?"

Harry's momentary pity for his Potions professor, could not overcome years of animosity and his reply reflected this. "Why? Did you not rip that bit of information out of my mind as well?"

A glint of anger sparked in Snape's eyes, and the vulnerability that had been exposed was quickly covered.

"If I had, do you think I'd still be sitting here? No, neither of us would be."

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stones of the dungeon floor, causing Harry to flinch. He turned his back to Harry.

"If I could obtain the information in another way, or from anyone else, I would. I could, of course, force myself into your mind and take what I want, but I will only use that as a last resort."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure Dumbledore would be thrilled to hear of one of his teachers using magic on a student in an abusive way."

Snape turned his head, the side of his face cast in sharp relief by the candles lit to dispel the gloom. He looked pained as he continued. "You need something from me, Potter, and I'm willing to give it in exchange for only information. Why are you making this so difficult?"

One of the questions that had first entered Harry's mind when Snape had requested the information was what he wanted with it. Of course, he knew that having the opportunity to time travel was valuable and rare, something that anybody would covet. But the desperation that he'd seen in his professor made him think he had something specific in mind.

"And if I gave you the information, what would you do with it?"

Snape shook his head. "That's not for you to know."

"I won't give it to you without knowing what you plan to do." Harry sat forward in his chair. "Because if you think for one second that I'd give you that information with the possibility that you'd go back and somehow keep Voldemort from ever falling from power, then you're mental."

Snape whipped around with a ferocity that startled Harry. His face was contorted and his eyes ablaze, the anger exuding from him nearly palpable.

"How dare you," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.

"How dare you!" His voice began to rise, growing in volume to the point where its physical force filled the room. He walked around the desk, advancing toward Harry with such animosity that Harry was forced out of his chair, knocking it over in his haste to retreat from the oncoming figure.

"How dare you assume my intentions!"

Snape seemed to grow, his presence expanding until it seemed to fill the space around Harry. Harry stumbled backwards until his back was pressed against the office door.

"You ungrateful boy! Constantly thinking yourself better than you are and forgetting everyone that played a part in who you are— why you're even alive!

"Do you want to know why I wish to go back? So I can save your parents and no longer feel obligated to keep you alive!"

Snape seemed to shrink back, his breath coming in gasps as if his confession had taken all of his strength. He backed away from Harry, smoothing his hair away from his face.

Harry stood frozen in place, whether by Snape's outburst or his confession, he wasn't sure.

"My— parents?"

Snape sighed, passing his hand over his face before walking back to his desk and sinking into his chair, exhausted.

"How could you save them?" Harry was skeptical but he couldn't help the little spark of hope that flared in his chest.

"If I could go back, Potter, there is so much I could change," he closed his eyes, "so much I would do differently," he added in a barely audible whisper.

Harry's eyes widened, his mind already imagining his life with his parents alive. A smile started to creep onto his face and then a horrible thought intruded on his happiness and his smile faltered.

"But you can't control where you end up," he said.

Snape's eyes snapped open. "What do you mean?"

Harry sighed, the disappointment beginning to sink in. "I didn't choose to go back to that time. The whole time traveling thing was an accident. I just ended up there."

Snape slowly rose from his slumped position. "You mean to tell me that you just 'stumbled' into a way to time travel?" He was almost out of his seat now.

"Yeah."

He let out a loud guffaw, shocking Harry more than the earlier outburst, the sound unnatural coming from Snape's lips. "Of course an incompetent student would happen upon one of the most important discoveries and has no idea how it works." He continued to laugh in a way that communicated that he didn't find it funny in the least.

Harry scrunched his brow, a little hurt about being called incompetent. "Well, I couldn't have been the first one to discover it because Moaning Myrtle knew about it."

Snape stopped laughing, a note of interest creeping into his voice. "Moaning Myrtle? The miserable ghost that took up residence in the girl's bathroom?"

Harry realized too late that he had said too much. "I mean, she knew about it but not how it works," he said, trying his best to dissuade Snape's interest.

Snape looked into Harry's eyes and Harry met his gaze, confident that they were standing too far apart for Snape to look into his mind. Harry knew he was playing a dangerous game, considering he knew next to nothing about Legilimency, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

He must have assumed correctly that distance played a role in the effectiveness of the magic because Snape nodded in satisfaction to his explanation.

"So, there's no guarantee I'll go back to a time where I can make a difference," he said to himself, "but I have to try."

He looked up at Harry, setting his jaw. "If I can get back and change the fate of your parents, wouldn't you want me to try?"

Harry could see the earnestness in Snape's eyes. He took a steadying breath and nodded.

Harry walked up the steps from the dungeon, each footfall heavy and slow. As he got closer to the top of the stairs the noise from the Great Hall bled down through the dank dimness into the underbelly of the castle.

When he had reached the top, he stopped, just short of the point where he'd walk into the beams of the light streaming from the open doors of the Great Hall.

He rubbed his thumb against the jar he held clasped in his hand, his mind preoccupied with the conversation he just had. He had gotten so caught up in the possibility of a life with his parents that he hadn't taken an important point into consideration.

Hermione.

He could imagine her, sitting at the Gryffindor table, waiting for him to tell her how it had gone with Snape. The look on her face when she saw that he'd been successful; the look on her face when he told her how.

He took one last look at the open doors and turned away, skirting the edge of the Entrance Hall, and heading up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower.

A little while later he was sitting on his bed staring at the jar of gillyweed.

What's the point of taking this? After tomorrow, none of it will matter?

His last words with Snape echoed in his head.

We don't know how this works. This timeline could exist parallel with many other timelines, or there could be just the one and they merge after a divergence. And if I don't make it back to the right point in time, then I'll have to return. You must keep up pretenses.

The gillyweed floated in the water, its long grayish green tendrils moving of their own volition, waving at him.

This thing, in his hand, was a symbol of his success. It was a symbol of the possibilities that lay before him, or behind him as it were.

But he couldn't see that. All he could see was Hermione's face, smiling at him, her eyes crinkling at the corner as she laughed at something. Or the way the little wrinkles would form between her eyes when she was concentrating.

His fingers dug into the jar, turning red from the pressure he was exerting. He cried out in frustration. The cry of frustration turned to one of pain, his vision swimming as his headache which had lain dormant, returned in full force. The jar dropped from his hands as he fell back onto his pillows, screwing his eyes shot as scenes from another life played in his head.

Harry let out a pent up breath. He was sitting in front of the fire in the common room, attempting to read the same paragraph that he'd been trying to read for the last twenty minutes.

He closed the book, Seek and Find: A Seeker's Guide to Spotting a Snitch, and tossed it on the seat next to him.

Hermione was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa from him, a book balanced on her drawn up knees. She glanced up. "Everything alright?"

Harry sighed, laying his head back against the sofa. "I thought you'd never ask."

Hermione returned her gaze to her book, eyes scanning the page to find her spot. "Well, you're kind of hard to ignore when you insist on sighing like a lovelorn lead in a romantic play."

He lolled his head to the side to look at her. "Your concern is touching."

She marked her spot with her finger before looking up again. "Okay, I'm sorry. You have my undivided attention. What's up?"

"It's this stupid ball. McGonagall says I have to have a date because the champions open the ball with a dance."

Hermione shrugged. "So, find a date. There's a million girls that would jump at the chance to go with you."

"But I don't really want to go with any of them."

Hermione pressed her lips together, raising her eyebrows. "Well, it seems like you've painted yourself into a corner."

He looked at her hopefully. "You wouldn't want to go with me, would you?"

Hermione's mouth gaped open in mock horror. "And rob another girl of getting the chance to go to a ball with Harry Potter? That would just be cruel."

"I'm being serious, Hermione."

"Then in all seriousness, no."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Why not?"

Hermione sat up straighter, her book falling forward into her chest. "Have you forgotten Rita Skeeter's article about us? If we go to the ball together it'll just be adding fuel to the fire."

"Who cares what Skeeter writes?" Harry scoffed. "I certainly don't. Come on, Hermione. Don't make me beg."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Well, that might be interesting to watch."

Harry got off the couch and dropped down on his knees, scooting closer to her.

"Okay, okay," Hermione said, turning red, extending a leg to push Harry back, "Fine, I'll go with you, just—get up for goodness sake."

Harry stood back up, resuming his previous position on the couch.

"But don't say I didn't warn you," she said, raising a finger.

"Consider me warned," Harry said with a self-satisfied smirk as he picked his book back up.

Hermione let out a sigh followed by a groan of frustration. "Great, I lost my spot. I hope you're happy."

Harry shrugged, holding his book in front of his face to hide his growing smile. "I'm not unhappy."

Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs feeling completely uncomfortable in his dress robes. The material was thick and heavy, and even out here, where it was chilly, he already felt himself getting hot. He pulled at his collar, trying to create a little more breathing room. He'd been ready ages ago and was now waiting for Hermione so they could enter the Great Hall together.

He glanced at the top of the landing for what felt like the hundredth time before returning his gaze to the other couples that were walking arm in arm through the large double doors.

Something caught his attention and his gaze flicked back up to the staircase. Hermione was walking down the steps, gown in hand to keep it from becoming caught beneath her feet.

Harry's mouth became dry as he tried to swallow past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Her usual unkempt, frizzy curls fell softly around her shoulders, the hair around her face pulled back by a braid that followed her hairline over her ear, disappearing under the curls at the base of her neck. Her dark green dress hugged her torso before flowing down to her feet in emerald waves; the off the shoulder sleeves revealing large swathes of creamy white skin.

"Hermione, you look—," Harry felt at that moment that there couldn't possibly be a word that adequately described the way she looked.

"Beautiful," he finally said.

She blushed, dropping her gaze to the floor as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Thank you."

Harry stood frozen to the spot, his eyes flitting up and down trying to take all of her in at once.

"Mister Potter, if you please," McGonagall had rushed over and grabbed hold of his elbow, jerking him out of his stupor. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from Hermione.

"You as well, Miss Granger." She beckoned Hermione toward her.

She led them over to the Great Hall doors where the other champions already stood waiting, positioning them behind Cedric and Cho.

Cho looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide as she took in Hermione's transformation. She smiled. "You look amazing," she said in a low voice.

"You too," Hermione replied.

Harry noticed that Cho's arm was draped over Cedric's.

He looked at Hermione's arm out of the corner of his eye, hanging loosely at her side. He took a quick breath in, releasing it slowly. He wiped his hand against his robe, before holding his arm up. "I think that maybe we should, uh-," he gestured at Cedric and Cho, hoping she'd understand what he was proposing.

"Oh, right, of course," she said, looping her arm under his and grasping his arm.

Harry looked down to where her hand rested on his forearm, imagining what it would be like to just reach over and place his hand over hers.

"Alright," McGonagall said, breaking him out of his reverie. "It's time." She walked down the line of champions, straightening ties, and smoothing down collars. She looked at Harry's hair, which stuck up at the back, and shook her head. "Hold your heads high," she said, returning to the front of the procession, and turning, smiling proudly as she took them all in, "and make your schools proud."

They entered the Great Hall to loud cheers. Harry felt Hermione's grip on his arm tighten and he looked over to see a goofy grin playing across her lips.

He felt the corners of his mouth lift, her smile infectious.

McGonagall stopped them as they reached the edge of the dance floor. She walked to the middle of the cleared space and drew her wand, holding the tip against her throat. Her voice rose above the swell of the crowd, quieting everyone.

"And now, to open the dance," she held up her arm and motioned the four dance duos forward, "your champions."

Harry guided Hermione onto the dance floor, taking a position closer to the dais where the band was set up. He glanced up and noticed the lead singer was Dean, who threw him a quick wink before looking behind him at the band.

Harry turned to face Hermione, and bowed, his eyes never leaving hers, and she curtsied in return. He rose and held out his hand for hers. She placed her hand in his, her skin cool and smooth against his, stepping tentatively closer so that they stood a half a foot apart.

Harry swore he could feel the heat coming off his body, warming the space between them, making it difficult to breathe.

The music began and Harry was sure he was close to suffocating, his heart beating erratically.

He raised his left arm and she laid her hand in his as he positioned his other arm like McGonagall had shown him, to act as a frame for her to rest upon.

He took the first step forward— thankful that he didn't stumble— and she followed; no hesitation of movement, just two people moving as if they were one.

You're in my arms

And all the world is calm.

The music playing on for only two.

"You dance really well," Hermione said, breaking the ice.

Harry could feel his breathing come a little easier, as his mind was distracted from thinking about how close she was to him. "Yeah, McGonagall made me practice quite a bit. Something about not embarrassing her and bringing shame upon Gryffindor."

Hermione laughed softly. "Well, it paid off."

Harry felt the tightness in his chest returning as her laugh seemed to pervade every part of his being. "Yeah, it did."

And never knew

So close, was waiting

Waiting here with you

And now, forever, I know

All that I wanted

To hold you so close

Hermione gazed up at him, tender-eyed, and it was as if everything around him faded into the background.

And now you're beside me

And look how far we've come

So far we are, so close

As the interlude played, Harry was tempted to say something to her, but as he marshaled the courage he noticed her eyes flick to the side at something behind him and she nodded slightly.

As they came through the turn he saw Krum.

Harry felt his heart sink and the sights and sounds flooded back into his consciousness. His throat tightened and he felt tears prick his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, afraid to speak unless his voice should betray him.

Let's go on dreaming

For we know we are

So close, so close

And still so far

As the music ended Harry lowered his arms, reluctant to let her go. He took a step back and offered his arm to lead her from the dance floor.

As they stepped off to the side Harry felt a pair of hands clap onto his back and he turned to see Dean grinning at him. "So, what did you think?"

Harry beamed, drawing him into a hug. "Man, I never knew you could sing like that. That was incredible."

Harry let him go and Hermione threw her arms around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

"Why didn't you tell us you were going to be singing?"

Dean grunted and extricated himself from her arms. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He looked around, eyes bright. "Where's Ron?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look.

"I haven't seen him tonight, mate," Harry said.

The light began to fade from Dean's eyes, his smile falling. "Oh, I, uh, was hoping he'd seen it—the dance, I mean." He threw them a pained smile. "You guys were amazing."

Harry clasped his shoulder. "There's a lot of people here. He might have gotten stuck at the back."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, maybe." He raised a hand in a wave and disappeared through the throng of people.

"Maybe we should grab some drinks," Harry said.

"Maybe we should find a table," Hermione said at the same time.

Harry laughed, "Well, it looks like we have a plan; you grab a table and I'll get the drinks."

Hermione nodded and Harry ducked away, the smile disappearing from his face as he wove his way through the crowd.

He had to wait to get drinks as everyone seemed to have gotten thirsty at the same time. When he finally made it to the edge of the punch bowl he found himself standing next to Viktor Krum.

"Nice night tonight, no?"

Harry grunted, hoping to discourage any further conversation, grabbing a couple of cups from the stack.

"You are a lucky von, Harry," Krum continued, undiscouraged.

Harry looked up. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Zat someone like Herm-own-ninny would be your date to the ball."

Harry's hand shook as he ladled punch into the first cup. "If I'm so lucky, why didn't you ask her?

Krum chuckled, grabbing another ladle and filling his cups. "I did."

Harry's eyes flicked up at the answer. "What are you talking about?"

Krum shrugged. "Vell, I asked her to go vith me and she said she couldn't. I did not ask vhy, but I assumed zat meant she vas hoping to go vith someone else." He looked pointedly at Harry. "And now she's here vith you."

Harry's hand jerked and knocked over the cup of punch. "Shit," he said, jumping back before the drink could land on his robes. He hurriedly grabbed a handful of napkins trying to mop up the spill. When he looked back up, Krum was gone.

Harry found Hermione sitting at a table at the edge of the hall, framed by one of the floor to ceiling windows.

He held up the drinks in triumph.

"I thought you'd ditched me," she said.

"The line for the punch was forever long," he explained, placing the cups on the table, sliding into the chair across from her.

Hermione took the cup he slid toward her and took a sip.

"So…," Harry said, drumming his fingers against the table, looking everywhere but at her. "What now?"

"Well, there's really not much to do at a dance—besides dance."

"Right," Harry said, stroking the side of his cup with his thumb.

Someone crashed into Harry, and he cursed as his hand was bumped forward and his drink was flung onto Hermione.

"Man, I'm so sorry." Ron sunk into the seat between them, pulling a girl Harry barely recognized as a seventh year Slytherin, onto his lap. The girl was giggling, throwing her arm around Ron's neck.

Harry grabbed napkins off the table and handed them to Hermione as she furiously dabbed at her dress with a handkerchief she seemed to have pulled out of thin air.

Harry's hand froze. "Ron, are you drunk?"

"Maybe," he said, attempting to keep a straight face, but before too long he snorted and broke down into laughter, causing the girl on his lap to laugh harder.

"Well, I couldn't find him," Dean said, as he squeezed through a couple standing by their table. He froze when he saw Ron sitting at the table, his eyes flicking between him and the girl on his lap, his nostrils flaring.

"You fucking prat!" he shouted, shoving Ron, almost knocking him out of the chair.

"What the hell?" Ron said, standing abruptly, leaving the girl to catch herself, barely managing to not end up sprawled on the floor.

"We were supposed to go stag," he said, shoving Ron again, knocking him into the table.

Hermione shrieked as her cup was knocked over, spilling her drink into her lap.

"I did! It's not my fault you're still alone!" Ron slurred.

Dean clenched his fist. "You're such an arsehole," he said before storming away.

Ron sank back into his chair. "What the hell was that all about?"

Harry had walked around the table to help Hermione with her dress, who was glaring at Ron.

"Maybe it has to do with the fact that you're an inconsiderate blowhard. Look at my dress!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Just magic it away," he said, twirling his finger.

Hermione's cheeks reddened. "Oh," she said, calming a little. "Right."

She pulled her wand out, muttering a spell that quickly cleaned up the stain on her dress. "You're still a prat," she muttered.

"I'm going to go find Dean. Can you take care of…" she motioned at Ron, "this?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, of course."

"Thanks," she said, throwing Ron one last disgruntled look before heading off after Dean.

Harry watched her go, getting the sinking feeling that he'd just lost an opportunity. He walked over to Ron, sighing. "Come on, mate. Let's get you out of here." He grabbed Ron by the elbow and helped him up, supporting his weight against him.

"What about me?" The Slytherin girl whined.

Harry had almost forgotten she was there. "I think you should go."

She threw him a pouty look before slinking away.

Harry muttered apologies as he and Ron stumbled through the crowd. When they made it to the steps he stopped.

"Oh, well, this is going to be harder than I thought." He readjusted his hold on Ron. "Come on, then."

Ron looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What is wrong with you people? Use magic!"

"Oh, right."

Harry walked back down from the boy's dorm after putting Ron to bed just as Hermione was walking through the portrait hole.

"Dean okay?"

Hermione looked exhausted. "Not really, but he will be."

Finally alone, Harry felt unsure of himself. He shoved a hand in his pocket and nervously brushed his fingers through his hair. He cleared his throat. "Well, that was nice. Not as bad as I thought it would be."

A look of hurt flit across Hermione's face, but she looked down at her hands to hide it. "Yes, certainly. It could have been much worse."

Harry could have kicked himself.

"Goodnight, then," she said, turning away before he could apologize for his poorly chosen words.

She hitched her dress up and headed for the stairs to the girl's dorms.

He watched as she ascended the staircase, the same lump in his throat as when he'd first seen her that evening, but now it was there for an entirely different reason. Harry watched as she disappeared around the corner.

"Hermione! Wait!" Harry dashed up the steps, only making it up a few of them before he remembered the charmed stairs.

He let out a cry as the steps turned into a slide and deposited him on the floor of the Common Room. He heard a similar cry above him and a moment later Hermione came sliding down on top of him.

"Umph," he grunted out as her elbow struck him in the ribs.

Hermione struggled to right herself, "What is it, Harry?"

He pushed himself up on his arms, trying to help her stand. Her hand slipped and she fell, throwing her arms out against his chest to catch herself.

Everything Harry wanted to say seemed to be stuck in his throat as their eyes met, her face inches from his.

He leaned his weight on one hand so he could reach out and touch her; not thinking about it, just going with his instinct. He slid his knuckles along her jaw, reaching up and pulling on a curl that had fallen loose from her braid.

She looked at him expectantly, eyes wide, lips parted.

He moved his hand to cup the back of her neck pulling her in closer, touching his forehead against hers, their breath mingling between their lips. Then he closed the remaining space, pressing his lips softly against hers.

After a moment he pulled back to look at her. She smiled softly at him.

"Took you long enough."

Harry and Hermione sat in their usual spots on the sofa in front of the fire, Hermione's legs stretched out into his lap.

Harry slid his fingers under her dress and stroked her calf. Hermione was reclined against the arm of the sofa, looking at him beneath drooping eyelids.

Harry fingered her dress. "So, green dress, huh?"

"Yeah," she said drowsily.

"What would you have done if I'd never asked you?"

"Find another boy with green robes to go with," she smiled teasingly.

He swirled his thumb on her shin. "I'm glad I asked, then."

She reached her hand down to him and he grabbed it. She squeezed. "Me too."

A/N: The song they danced to was So Close by Jon McLaughlin. It was written long after the 90's, but it's the perfect song for the scene, so I used a little creative license.