Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I do not own the places. I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, all I own is the plot. Any resemblance to any other piece of fiction or something is purely coincidental.

- For Old Time's Sake -

- Chapter one -

Harry opened his eyes.

'Not again!' he thought.

It was after midnight and he had done it again. He couldn't sleep. Knowing that he couldn't go back to sleep, he got out of bed and took a book and started reading. Through his head, pictures of his dreams passed by.

Some made him smile.

'If I could just do it…' he thought.

He watched the sun rise. A golden orb, glowing in the sky. It was actually very pretty, but after seeing it six times in a row it began to lose its charm.

Ron yawned and rolled out of bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around.

"Aw, Harry…not again." He exclaimed.

Harry just nodded.

"You too, this time Ron. This is weird. Why?"

"Beats me. I just wanted a good night's sleep."

Harry put his book down. Ron noticed his tired face.

"Boy…you could use a good night's sleep as well. Was it the same again?"

"Yeah…Can't seem to get it out of my head. Never thought it was this bad."

Ron shook his head, a bit of a smile on his face.

"But," Harry continued, "There is something else…it's my parents…I- I keep seeing them too. I want to get to them…but I can't reach them no matter how fast I run. I just…it keeps coming back to me. I'm tired, exhausted."

"Oh…Oh, I'm sorry Harry. I didn't know."

"It's not your fault their dead, Ron. And it's not like I'm dreaming about you, or something." Harry added, jokingly.

Ron seemed a little edgy now Harry had mentioned his parents, but the joke made him smile again.

"Well….we're awake now…why not use it to do something important." Harry said. "I wasn't really pleased with that combo Julia and Ginny performed last practice. They didn't pass the ball quick enough."

"Yeah, You're right. They need to practice it a bit more. And not to mention what our Beaters did last time."

Harry groaned loudly as he remembered that nasty fall.

"Let's get cracking. Accio chart!"

"Harry! You look tired! Are you getting enough sleep?" Hermione ran over to him at the breakfast table.

He looked at her with his green eyes, trying to put a smile on her face, but his tiredness made it hard.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. Don't fuss about me."

He felt his face go red as she laid a hand on his forehead. There they went again, those butterflies. Fluttering around in his stomach as if they had nothing better to do than to tease him.

Ron smiled behind his hand.

"Say Harry…Isn't there something you want to tell Hermione? About why you can't go to sleep at night?" Ron teased with a cheeky grin plastered over his face.

Harry felt himself go red. "N-No…not really…"

Hermione looked into his eyes curiously.

"What? Is it your scar? If you tell me, I might be able to help you." She said softly. "Perhaps I can find a spell to stop the dreams…"

"N-no…I'm pretty sure you can't help me…I, err…" he stuttered.

He knew he couldn't keep this up. She'd drag it out of him in a matter of seconds if he didn't come up with something really quickly. So he did the only thing he could do.

"It's a dream about my parents."

He lied.

"I keep running, but I never reach them. It's just…it's just so…frustrating…"

So it wasn't a complete lie. It was true that he had dreamed about his parents. It just wasn't the dream Ron had hinted about.

"It's just that…I wish I could see them, talk to them. Hold their hands. Even if it was only once. I just want to know what kind of people they were…"

Hermione put her arm around him to comfort him. "We all do, Harry. All the things we've heard about them were so wonderful. They were really brave and they were strong. They were all the good things you can imagine. I would want to meet them too!"

A sudden clatter at the head table made the three of them look up. Dumbledore had dropped his goblet and hastily took out his wand to clear up the mess.

He smiled politely at professor McGonagall, who gave him a curious look.

Hermione turned back to Harry, suddenly realising what she had just said.

"But it's different for you, for course. I'm sorry, I let myself get carried away and I….that was horrid of me."

"No, don't worry about it."

"Yes I do. I'm so sorry. I'll…I'll just go to- to the library…"

She hastily gathered her things and left the table.

"Hermione wait!" Harry followed her, as well as Ron.

Dumbledore looked at them, at Hermione. A gleam appeared in his eyes and a smile formed on his face.

"So…why didn't you do it?" Ron said, his face half smiling, half wondrous.

Harry looked back at him with a hint of anger in his eyes. "I could just strangle you for saying those things. I can't believe you did that!"

He sighed.

"But you understand why I did it, right?" Ron asked as he stretched out on the couch.

"Yeah…I understand."

"You've got to tell her one day. You can't keep this up for ever, you know. It's keeping you up at night, you think about her every minute of every day…I'm sure you really love her."

"But I just can't! What if she doesn't…feel the same way. I'd feel like a real prick and she would stay away from me."

Ron closed his eyes. "Don't worry so much. I'm sure she won't stay away from you if you told her. If it's not mutual then she'll still want to be your friend. It's Hermione we're talking about! For heaven's sake, she won't avoid us for the rest for our lives just because you told her you love her."

Harry stayed silent. He stared at the chart of the Quidditch Pitch in front of him. Ron sat up and bowed down over the chart, pushing around little brooms with his wand.

"So…are you going to tell her or not?" he urged.

Harry silently wrote down the moves Ron had just pointed out.

"It'll make you feel better."

Harry finally looked up. "…Alright. I will."

Ron let out a loud sigh of relief and smiled broadly. "Good on you, mate. And not a moment too soon either I might add. So….when?"

"I'll…I'll tell her….after the match on Saturday…yeah, I will!"

"Then let's make sure we win."

Eagerly they concentrated on the chart again. Now they had an extra reason to win the last match of the season.

Harry waited in the shelter of his bed curtains until he was sure he heard Ron snoring. He reached under his bed and fumbled around in the dark until his fingers stumbled upon a leather-bound book.

He carefully laid the book on his pillow and looked at it for a while, tracing the letters with a finger. He opened it and went right through it, right to the last few pages.

He searched for the photograph of a young couple underneath a tree. They smiled and hugged each other, sometimes waving at him. The next picture was of the same couple, only this time they were kissing. The boy's hands were tangling themselves up in her read hair.

It made Harry happy to see his parents so young, so happy. So perfect.

He took it out of the album to look at it more closely. The young James released Lily from the kiss to wink at Harry from behind his glasses. Harry smiled.

He started and dropped the photograph when he heard a shout coming from Ron's bed. "No, Harry! The snitch!…it's right there…"

Harry breathed out again. It was just one of Ron's Quidditch dreams.

He bent down over the picture again and suddenly noticed it had writing on the back of it. He looked at it curiously.

'This photograph was taken by Sirius on the day James asked her out for the first time. It was taken in Hogsmeade the day after our spring ball.'

Harry didn't recognise the handwriting, but assumed it to be one of Lily's old school friend's, as it looked like a female handwriting.

He looked at the photograph again. So this was their first date. It looked romantic. Maybe he should take Hermione to Hogsmeade…take her to that tree, if he could find it…

No. He'd decided to ask her Saturday after the match and that was what he would do. He couldn't keep trying to be like his dad.

With a sigh he put the photograph back into the album. He looked at the little white envelope on the page next to the photograph and opened it. Inside it was a little note that accompanied a silver ring.

The ring had a lion depicted on it. The Gryffindor lion, he assumed.

He read the note.

'Given to Lily by James.' It said in the same handwriting as before. 'On the day after the spring ball.'

He put the note back into the envelope but slipped the ring into his pocket.

'Perhaps…' he thought sleepily.

Hermione smiled as the wastebasket in front of her changed into a small stool.

"Well done, miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Hermione beamed and blushed at the praise she got from Harry and Ron behind her.

"Nice one Hermione." Neville muttered just before his own wastebasket caught fire.

The bell rang. A loud rumble of books being shut, chairs being dragged over the floor and people talking filled the classroom. Before Hermione could leave the classroom, she was stopped by professor McGonagall.

"Just a minute, miss Granger. The professors noticed that the assignments they give you are not costing you as much effort as they are the other students. They are concerned that your talents aren't being challenged enough."

Hermione stared up at her with surprise.

"So the school council has decided to give you some more assignments of a more advanced kind of magic."

She handed Hermione a stack of books and a silver hourglass filled with blue sparkling sand.

"They know you are familiar with time travelling, because of the Time Turner they gave you in third year. So it was decided to start with some essays about time travelling."

Hermione looked at her difficultly. "I won't have to actually do any time travelling, will I?"

McGonagall laughed. "Good heavens, no! These assignments don't require that at all. It's just some plain answering of questions, miss Granger. And all the answers can be found in these books. Good luck."

"Thank you professor."

"Now hurry along. You're late for your next lesson. Potions, I believe."

Hermione nodded and hurried down to the dungeons.

"I'm sorry I'm late, professor!" she squealed as she took her place next to Neville. "But professor McGonagall-"

Snape looked at her with icy eyes. "Five points from Gryffindor for talking before you're asked."

She opened her mouth to say something but decided it was better not to. Instead she looked at the chalkboard.

'Floating Draft.'

Below it the ingredients were stated. She started to pulverise the feathers of a dove when Harry whispered her name.

"Hermione?"

Her heart fluttered. It did that every time he said her name. He just had to look at her with those green eyes and she'd melt on the spot.

"Yes?"

"What kept you? Ron thought you had passed out under the weight of your bag."

He grinned.

She smiled at him and wanted to answer him, but turned around when a rotten, burning smell entered her nose.

She quickly stirred her feather powder into her own potion and looked at a frightened Neville next to her. Instead of a sky blue, the potion had turned a deep colour of yellow. It was bubbling like mad and the smell of rotting eggs and burnt milk soon filled the entire classroom.

Neville had gone white. He looked at Hermione, hoping she could help him. But a large shadow was already blocking the light on their two cauldrons. Snape looked at him with a look that could have killed sunlight. A sweat drop hung from the end of his nose.

Neville whimpered. The entire class shuddered at Snape's intake of breath.

"How many times! For goodness sake, Longbottom! How many times!"

This was the first chapter of a number to come and I hope you all enjoyed it. If you did, or even if you didn't, leave a review if you like. I promise I will update soon.