Disclaimer: I own nothing of the brilliance. Nothing. In italics.

A very brief chapter, but hey, sometimes the shortest are the sweetest, yes? And the followingquote is also very brief, but I mean ... think about what it says for a minute. It's deep. Profound. Meaningful.

Lord, I need sleep.

"I'm not changed, but I know I'm not the same." - "One Headlight," by the Wallflowers

Interlude the First
Him

December, 1995

Christmas again, but now there are different people at Grimmauld Place. He's still there, yes, but she isn't. No one else in the family is there. It's been almost twenty years since he left them, anyway.

Twenty years, and now he's standing in the kitchen doorway once again. He glances at the two children standing by the fireplace. They aren't really children, but he likes to think of them as such. Neither of them, however, have really been children since their first year at Hogwarts.

One is a girl, fifteen, with brown hair and brown eyes and a head much too small to contain everything that she knows. "Harry," she sighs, "let's just try it one more time, all right? Once more, then we can take a break. You've almost got it."

The boy massages his forehead. "Hermione, look, I'm grateful that you're trying to help me, but maybe I just can't do this – "

"Everyone can do it, Harry," she laughs. "Come on, once more. Give me your hands."

Somewhat awkwardly, he takes one of her hands in his and then puts the other on her back.

She arches an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to come a bit closer? I won't bite, you know."

Laughing a little, he takes a step closer.

"Good," she says, very professionally. "And now my hand goes here – " she rests it lightly on his shoulder – "and now – step one, two, three, four …"

They move slowly, mechanically, across the floor.

"And now spin me once," she commands.

He spins her out, then in, then they're doing the steps again, one, two, three, four, then another spin, and then –

"Sorry!"

They both stumble sideways; Harry lands on the floor on his bottom.

Hermione laughs at him, catching her balance on one of the armchairs. "Harry! Honestly, you're hopeless! You've stepped on my feet nearly every time!"

"This is a lot harder than it looks," Harry grumbles, standing and dusting himself off. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go upstairs and … and … play a game of exploding snap with Ron, or … I don't know … do something that I can actually do."

She laughs again. "I don't understand why you can't do it now. You and Cho were dancing quite well at the ball last year."

"That's because we were both making it up."

"Dancing is a very useful skill, you know. Helga Hufflepuff said that she wouldn't be half the witch she was if she'd never learned to dance."

"Good for her."

"Oh Harry, stop being so reproachful. You'll get it right."

"Hermione, I really don't care if I know how to dance or not."

"Yes you do."

"I really don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Of course you do, Harry," muses the observer in the doorway.

The two friends both jump, startled at this new presence. Once Harry sees who it is, however, he rubs his forehead again and sighs, "Hello, Sirius. Come to watch me make a fool of myself, have you?"

The man grins. "What can I say – it makes me look like less of a fool." He sets his cup of tea aside. "Now … wait a minute. There's one of you missing. Where's Ron?"

The two friends exchange a glance. "Upstairs," Harry says quietly. "He, Ginny, Fred, and George. I think they're spending a bit of time with Mrs. Weasley. They're all still a bit … you know." He shifts uncomfortably. "This whole thing with their dad really scared them."

Hermione nods sadly. "Ginny really thought that he was going to die."

Harry sighs. "So did Ron."

Sirius looks between the two of them. "So … they're all upstairs relaxing, shall we say, and you two are down here … dancing."

"It was her idea," Harry says at once. "I wanted nothing to do with this."

"Oh come on, Harry, you don't hate it that much."

Harry snorts. "Yes, actually, I do hate it. It's a bit difficult to like something when you're terrible at it."

Hermione shakes her head hopelessly at him. Sirius, however, grins deviously. He takes another sip of tea, discards his cup on the table, and then approaches Hermione with a distinct gleam in his eyes. "Here," he says, offering his hand. "Let's show Harry how it's done, shall we?"

Hermione takes a step back, looking embarrassed. "Sorry?"

Sirius laughs. It's a bark-like laugh. Like it always used to be. "Don't look so shocked. Maybe Harry doesn't know the first thing about dancing, but I certainly do."

Exchanging a bemused glance with Harry, Hermione hesitantly places her hand in Sirius's.

"Now then," he grins, eyes still twinkling, "aren't you going to come a bit closer? I won't bite, you know."

She grins now too, recognizing that she spoke these very words only moments before. She takes a step closer, places her other hand on Sirius's shoulder while he rests a hand lightly on her back, and then they take a step to the side. In perfect unison.

Hermione lets out a delighted laugh as they continue the dance. "Well done, Sirius! You see, Harry? You see how he's leading?"

Harry shakes his head at the two of them, though he's also grinning. "Fine, fine, you've shown me – go on and gloat about it."

"You hear that, Hermione? The boy has given us permission to gloat!"

Hermione laughs again, and Sirius spins her around twice. "Then gloat we shall!"

The two of them dance a magnificent waltz all around the room – they go in circles around Harry, around the couch, across the hearth, into the kitchen and back towards the stairs, with Hermione laughing and Sirius chuckling the entire way.

"This is the way to dance, Harry!" Hermione says in a very giddy, very un-Hermione-like fashion. "Sirius, where on earth did you learn how to dance like this?"

"A girl I used to know!" Sirius barks, spinning Hermione again. "A very special girl, Hermione!"

Hermione makes eye contact with him for the slightest possible second – it's so fleeting that in one blink she's looking away, laughing again – but in that one, brief glance, with her eyes twinkling as deviously as his, a memory shoots itself before his eyes, blurring his vision …

Sirius leads Narcissa out into the middle of the magnificent room, and he takes one of her hands awkwardly up in his own, then hesitates, unsure of where to put his other hand.

"On my back," Narcissa whispers, giggling.

Sirius does so, and Narcissa thinks she sees him blushing. He confirms his embarrassment when he glances to either side of him and whispers, "I don't really know how to dance."

"Then I will teach you," she says back. "Andromeda has been teaching me."

"A girl?" Hermione inquires merrily. "And what was this special girl's name?"

Sirius snaps back to reality. He abruptly stops dancing, so abruptly that Hermione runs straight into him and then stumbles to the side. He gives her a hand to steady herself, then quickly steps back and puts his hands to his eyes, rubbing them fiercely to rid those images of long ago from his mind …

"Sirius?"

His eyes snap open. He lowers his hands. She's staring at him, befuddled.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," he says automatically. "I'm fine, yes – perfect. Good. I just – you – you really – "

She offers a smile, waiting for him to finish. "Yes?"

He looks at her helplessly. "You really remind me of someone."

"The someone that taught you how to dance?"

Sirius nods.

Hermione isn't smiling anymore. "And you … you didn't really want to be reminded of her, did you?"

"Forget it," Sirius grins, looking like himself again. "You simply startled me for a minute there. Now you and Harry get back to work. Harry, mate – "

Harry looks up.

Sirius chuckles. "Try not to break her toes, will you?"

He then turns, leaves the room, closes the kitchen door behind him, and sinks silently to the floor where no one can see him. "You're haunting me," he whispers, burying his face in his hands and rocking pitifully back and forth. "Why are you haunting me?"