"So, Evans, fancy a walk around the lake this evening?" he said while wiggling his eyebrows.

"The answer, Potter, is no," she responded. She sighed before adding, "As always…"

He moved a bit closer to where she was sitting, by herself, at Gryffindor table, "Come on, Evans," he dropped his voice, sheltering their conversation from prying ears, "when are you going to warm up and go out with me?"

"Probably about the same time you grow up," she didn't look up from her copy of The Daily Prophet, "so, you know, never."

"I have grown up though!" He replies, "I've grown nearly six inches in the past year." She responds with a blank stare. "Honestly though, I have. I'm changing, and I'm doing it for you, so why don't you go out with me and see it?"

"Why don't you quit acting like I owe you something?" He looked completely stunned. She continued, "I never asked you to change for me. Growing up wasn't some big favor I asked of you that I'm going to repay with a date. So stop acting like, like, you deserve one just because you've changed a little. That's not how it works, Potter."

"Well," he responded slowly, "if that's the way you feel…"

"Since when have my feelings ever been a secret?"

"I guess I never realized you felt quite so strongly about it," she shrugged off his comment and continued reading her paper. He sat down on the bench next to her, facing away from the table but leaning against it. He inhaled deeply, "So, you're saying I don't have a chance at all with you. You'll never date me?"

She practically threw her paper in frustration, "Well, I can't guarantee that pigs will never fly, or that there won't be a bronze statue of me one day, but I can assure that it's not very likely."

He thought for a moment, then chuckled, shaking his head, "You have no idea," he muttered. She didn't catch his comment, "So I do have a chance then."

"Not really, no," she shook her head.

"But slightly."

"A snowballs chance in Hell, really."

"But that's a chance."

"I guess."

"I'll take it."