"Harry," Neville whispered into the silence of the dormitory. "You still awake?"

"Yeah."

"And...damn, we need some sort of code word."

"Yes, I currently possess my full range of memories."

"Hmm, it's a bit long..."

"Funny. Common room?"

"Was about to suggest it myself."

Two shadows made their way down the twisting stairs of the dormitory, emerging silently into the common room.

"You have the flask?" Neville asked, reaching his hand out. Harry nodded and drew it from the pocket of his dressing gown. Neville pulled the stopper and studied the lines that emerged.

"As I suspected it'd be," he said with satisfaction. "Fourth year. Looks like the middle of it. Odd that it didn't just deposit us straight into whatever we need to do this time, though."

Harry yawned. "Maybe we have to actually look at this one before we can do anything," he said, stretching like a cat. "Let me tell you, it's awesome to not have back pain anymore."

"Amen," Neville agreed absently, trailing his fingers along the lines hovering in the air. "Have I mentioned how weird it is to read these things and remember what happened, but logically know I didn't do any of it, except that I did because I remember doing it?"

Harry blinked. "Come again?"

"Right here," Neville said. "C'mere." He grabbed Harry by the wrist and pulled him to a standing position, placing Harry's fingers over a point on the line. "All of third year, during everything having to do with Sirius Black. Do you remember being the only one who defended me when the passwords were stolen?"

Harry wrinkled his brow. "Yes."

"But do you remember actually doing it?"

"...yes..."

"But we just came from second year. We haven't lived through third year yet. But we did, because we remember it."

Harry stared at the lines, eyes unfocused. "That's fucked up," he said finally.

"Exactly what I was getting at," Neville said, releasing Harry's wrist. "And you don't actually remember any of it until you think about it, so all these weird things pop out at you and you feel like you should be surprised, but you're not because you did them." He shook his head. "Time's having a jolly old time screwing with our heads," he concluded as he placed his fingers back on the timelines.

"Good way to get to know someone, though," Harry commented. "I don't think I ever was ever this close to Ron or Hermione."

"Well, seeing as they're always throwing a strop for one reason or another, that friendship seems to happen in dollops," Neville said with a mischievous smile. He pointed at a point in the timeline. "Like right about here, Ron's still mad at you for putting your name in the goblet -"

"I did not put my name in that bloody goblet!"

" - and Hermione's...well, she's not siding with him, but as you've got me and Ron's got no one, she's spending loads more time with him. Doesn't really open the situation up to group hugs and campfires."

"I'll bet," Harry grumbled.

"And...all right, that's a bit odd," Neville said, leaning closer. "Apparently right here is going to be our next stop, but I actually have no idea what it is."

"Oh?" Harry asked, sitting up to get a better vantage point.

"It's a weird sort of...knot, with your line and mine." Neville shrugged. "I guess we'll figure out what it is eventually."

"Will we have to do it with no sleep?" Harry asked plaintively. "Because if Time's listening, I'd really like to have a nap. I've never actually been able to get to sleep before we're tossed into another scenario and it's getting old, even if the body I'm in isn't actually tired."

"I'll send a memo," Neville said drily, making to replace the stopped in the flask, but he stopped. "Can I keep this? You can't read them anyway, and I've got some spare time right now..."

"Be my guest," Harry said, not bothering to suppress another yawn. "Mind if I try to doze off? Maybe if one of us is still awake it won't dump us elsewhere before I get five minutes of sleep..."

"Go for it," Neville said, drawing his wand from his sleeve. "I'll wake you if I find anything."

Harry grunted and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch.

It didn't seem to be more than half a minute before someone began shaking his shoulder, though based on the ache in his shoulder, it had been much longer. Harry groaned.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said as he grudgingly opened his eyes. They widened as he took in the scene around him.

The silk-thin threads of the timelines wrapped around the common room, dancing slightly in a breeze it seemed only they could feel. Neville stepped back, his face grave.

"You need to see this," he said in a low voice. He offered his hand and Harry took it, leveraging himself off the couch. Neville led him to where the timelines began fraying and lost their brilliant sheen. "Here." He pointed a shaking finger at one of the shorter lines branching from Harry's, holding Harry's fingers up to it with his other hand.

Harry got a fleeting glimpse of a smiling, young female face with red-brown hair. "Lily," he gasped. "But she's older."

Neville nodded. "The lines here are in our future," he said gravely. "Couple of years after what we've lived. That's why they're not clear, like the parts of the lines we've already experienced. I can only get vague impressions...they're not memories yet...but..." Neville's face took on an unimaginable sadness. "Harry, look at her line."

Harry blinked and looked at the line. "It's shorter," he said. "It ends before..." he trailed off as a horrible realization began to unfurl in his mind. He turned to Neville, who looked so miserable with sympathy that it made Harry want to drop to his knees.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Neville said simply. "I...debated whether I should tell you or not."

"We can keep it from happening," Harry said, staring at the too-short line. "We can save her. That's part of what we're doing, changing things. We can save her."

"I'll do everything I can," Neville promised. "I swear it."

"Good, then," Harry said, pushing his glasses up. "It's not an issue. We'll change it so that she doesn't..." He shook his head. "We'll change it."

"Yes," Neville said. "We will. And I'll spend some time trying to figure out how." He gave Harry's hand a squeeze, then offered a small smile. "Shall we get to bed so that we can get on with saving the world?"

"The world can go to hell," Harry said grimly. "It's my daughter we're saving now."

Harry stormed into the Gryffindor common room and flung himself dramatically onto the couch next to Ron. At the nearby table, Neville and Hermione looked up from their parchment and quills.

"What's got you off, then?" Ron asked, scooting over on the couch.

"I wasn't even going to go to the Yule Ball," Harry moaned. "Now McGonagall says I have to - and I have to ask someone to it - and I have to dance and I don't rightly now how -"

"I can help you with that last one," Neville said as he dipped his quill. He looked up to see Ron, Hermione, and Harry all gawking at him. "Gran thought I might lose some of my clumsiness if I took dance lessons," he said, a slow blush moving up his neck to his cheeks. "Three months of ballroom dance lessons, in fact. She decided I was a lost cause." He looked back down at his parchment, his ears red. "But I could teach you the steps, at least. It's not hard."

"Erm, okay," Harry said, sitting up a bit straighter. For some reason, the notion set a small flutter through his stomach. "Brilliant."

"Will you teach us too?" Ron asked.

"Oh, did you suddenly decide you were going to ask someone then?" Hermione said with an acid tone as her eyes darted between Harry and Neville. "Because until three minutes ago you didn't need to learn to dance."

"Well, if my mates are going -" Ron began to protest. If Hermione's eyes could have growled, they would have.

"I'm sure Harry doesn't want an audience whilst learning to dance, wouldn't you agree, Ron?"

"Hermione, I don't really care -" Harry began, but then Hermione turned that glare onto Harry and he gulped. Neville looked slightly quizzical, but the blush hadn't dropped from his cheeks and if anything, he appeared more flustered than before.

"I don't mind teaching you two as well," he said to Hermione quietly, not noticeably shrinking away from her eyes. Harry was slightly jealous that he seemed to be immune to the death glare.

"I don't need to learn to dance," Hermione said loftily, "As I already know how. You really should teach Harry, though. Some private lessons might do him some good." If it was possible, Neville turned a shade redder.

Whatever Hermione was trying to force down their throats, Harry knew it was usually better to just do as she commanded rather than try to argue otherwise, and anyway, it looked as though Neville was about to eject steam from his ears. "I have free time this evening. We can start then," he said to Neville. Hermione smiled sweetly at him, and he exchanged a look with her that, he hoped, said "We will have words later."

He was right about that much, at least; as he gathered his books into his bag after Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon she grabbed his elbow. Harry looked over his shoulder to see that Neville and Ron had already left, Ron moaning about who he was going to ask to the ball.

"What?" he whispered.

"Neville," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"What about him?" he responded nonchalantly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're thick, but you're not stupid," she said. "I don't actually have to spell out 'what about Neville,' do I? Because I think that would embarrass us both a bit." Harry felt his ears begin to burn, and didn't answer. Hermione nodded in satisfaction. "Well, now that we've got that out of the way," she said, then threw her arms around him in a hug. Harry blinked in surprise. She let go and beamed at him, holding him at arm's length. "I'm so glad," she said happily. "It's brilliant that you've both finally realized it." Harry didn't seem to be able to do anything but blink. Hermione apparently was able to read whole volumes from them, however, because she continued, "Not that he's ever likely to admit it, nor you, even though it's really quite obvious -"

"Sorry," Harry said, glancing about the empty classroom, "but what's obvious?"

Hermione laughed. "You fancy each other."

"No I don't," Harry said quickly. "I mean, we don't." Realizing this was in direct opposition to the wordless admission Hermione had wrung out of him a few moments earlier, he gave up on words and just stood there, sputtering, as Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him with a knowing smile. Finally he stopped trying to deny things and turned to shove his books in his bag.

"And now we've got that out of the way as well," Hermione said smugly, "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said loudly, ignoring that he had bent his quill double under his ink bottle.

"You're not seriously going to just ignore it," Hermione said incredulously.

"There's nothing to ignore." Harry slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'm going to dinner. Are you coming?"

Hermione stamped her foot. "Boys are so stupid!"

"Yup," Harry said, turning his back on her. "That's us."

And he strode off before she could say anything else.

"Okay, so. I'll lead first, so you can see how it's done." Neville pointed at the wireless in the corner of the empty classroom with his wand and it began a lilting waltz. Neville looked back at Harry and swallowed. "When you're lead, you put one hand on your partner's back, kind of cupping the shoulder blade -" he did so, and Harry's stomach gave a leap - "and they'll put their hand resting on your shoulder. Go ahead, put your hand on my shoulder." Harry did. "And with your other hand, you're holding mine between us and off to the side. Too high - there."

Harry looked up. Somehow, Neville's eyes were a good four inches above his own. "When did you get so tall?"

"Weren't watching, were you?" Neville asked, cracking a smile. "Now. Listen to the music. Can you hear that rhythm there? The one, two, three?" Harry nodded. "Anytime you hear that triplet, it's a waltz. We'll be taking a step with every beat. As the lead, I step forward, heel first, on one, and you step back." He demonstrated; Harry stepped back and nearly tripped on the hem of his robe. "Now with your other foot, you're going to step and end with your feet a little less than shoulder-width apart - that's for the second beat - stay on the balls of your feet for beats two and three. Good. And for the last beat, you bring your feet together - right. You've completed one corner of a box - this is called the box step - and now with the second triplet, you're going to step forward while I step back...shoulder width apart again...and together." Neville's face shone with a wide smile as he dropped Harry's hand. "And that's pretty much all there is to it."

"That seems...overrated," Harry said.

"Well, that's just the basics. If you don't want to be walking in a box the whole song, you've got to add some things to it," Neville said. "Here, let's see if you can keep up with the music." He took Harry's hand and back again and counted off. "One two three, one two three, one two three, ready and go -"

Harry stumbled, then blushed. "And that makes it needlessly complicated." He stumbled again - apparently both dancing and talking was beyond him. A tiny spark of shame ignited in his chest - he hated being bad at something. It wasn't a feeling he was used to.

"You're just new," Neville said. He flicked his head to the side to get a stray bit of hair out of his eyes. "Just keep the pattern in your head - step, side, together - and you'll be fine."

"Can...we keep trying?" Harry asked.

Neville shrugged. "Sure." He reddened slightly. "D'you want to keep being the girl, or switch to lead?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's just...the bloke tends to be the one who leads, yeah? Except you're kind of..."

"Titchy, yeah, I know," Harry said, shaking his head as he tried to make his feet behave. It sent him off-tempo and he stepped quickly to try and make it up, but just fell further behind. "Apparently you and Ron stole all my height while I was sleeping."

"Try not to talk, it's throwing you off," Neville advised. "Let's get the basic pattern down first, then we'll do the more complicated stuff."

Harry stared at his feet for several bars, then looked back up and realized he had no idea where he should be looking. "What am I supposed to be doing with my eyes?" he asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Depends. It's perfectly polite to look over the other person's left shoulder, especially in a dance where you change partners. If you asked someone to dance, though, she'll probably expect you to be looking at her."

It was a slightly odd experience. Even knowing Neville as well as he did, looking up at him while dancing made him want to smile and laugh nervously, but looking over Neville's shoulder seemed rude, somehow. And so he tilted his chin slightly up, making eye contact that felt almost bashful. Neville smiled, mirroring Harry's nerves, but didn't break his eyes away. The first several moments felt awkward, invasive...but as the nervous smiles faded slowly away, Harry found himself gazing almost seriously into Neville's eyes, their line of sight almost visible as a thread of tension. Harry discovered he was slightly short of breath and wasn't quite sure why.

The song ended, and Neville halted, but did not let go. They continued to stare at each other for a very long moment, Harry painfully aware of how close their faces were to one another, his heart beginning to beat just slightly faster...Neville's grip on his shoulder blade tightened just a fraction, and Harry tilted his head to one side ever so slightly as Neville made as though to lean down...

"Right," Neville said suddenly, dropping his hands and breaking the spell. Harry sucked in a breath that he hoped didn't sound too much like a gasp as he stepped away. They both very seriously scanned the walls around them for a few moments as the tension melted away.

"I think that's good for tonight," Harry said. "It's getting late, and...ah...History of Magic tomorrow morning, you know how it goes."

He was about to leave the room when colors swirled brightly through his head, making him weave on the spot with his hand on the doorknob. He gasped as his mind lurched, reconciling decades of memories coming back at once, then froze. He very, very slowly looked over his shoulder.

Neville was staring at him, mouth agape, hands hanging limply at his sides.

They both stared at each other in silence for a moment until another song came on the wireless, of a faster tempo. Without breaking eye contact, Neville jabbed his wand to the side and the wireless fell quiet.

"Interesting," was all Harry could come up with to say, but it seemed vastly inadequate. He licked his lips.

"Yes," Neville agreed. He took a deep, trembling breath, his brow knitting just slightly.

They continued to stare as though they'd never really seen one another before. Harry almost absently took stock of his reactions - quickened pulse, tight chest, clammy palms - and yes, there was that telltale heat that told him he was blushing - he wasn't sure what to do with any of it.

"Let's sleep on it," Neville suggested suddenly. "This...is a lot to process."

Harry nodded and wordlessly turned, leaving Neville alone in the empty classroom.