A/N: I'm joining the craze. I'm worthless at drawing so here is my written dabble at the Dance with Snow White theme. I hope it goes on forever.

Dance with Snow White

One night.

It was all they had been allowed. They wouldn't even remember in the morning- that had been part of the deal. It wasn't enough: it could never be enough. Ichigo wanted to cry out in anger at the unfairness of it all, he wanted to let go of the power that coursed through his veins and lash out at everything that stood in the way of his happiness.

Yet all that rage vanished the moment he saw her.

Dressed completely in white, with icicles and snowflakes lacing her hair and giving her skin a surreal glow, Rukia was just…

"Ichigo," Rukia said, a smirk playing at her lips. "You look startled."

Ichigo realized that his mouth had been hanging open and he quickly cleared his throat and straightened to his full height. His long black hair blew in a soft breeze, and he looked away, arms folded over his chest. He thought of retorting with some smart remark, but he found himself rather speechless. Moreover, he found his gaze drawn back to her like a magnet.

Rukia met his gaze easily and stepped closer. Ichigo did not shy away, even when she stood but a hair's breadth away. He remembered standing almost as close once before, just as they were about to say farewell, in another time. He hadn't reached out to her then. This time, Ichigo lifted one hand towards her, and Rukia accepted the gesture by placing her palm on top of his wordlessly. Her other hand reached up and came to rest over his chest. The coolness of her skin penetrated the dark wrappings that covered his skin and sent a slight tremble down his body. Instead of pulling away, he brought his free hand around her small waist and put it on her back. He used his hold to pull her closer, closer than they had ever dared to stand before, and Ichigo forgot to breathe for a long moment.

Before either of them had time to ponder what they were doing, they had begun to move, together, to a rhythm that only the two of them could hear. They turned and swayed, but their hold on each other never loosened. Their gazes were locked together; Ichigo's dark and smoldering, whereas Rukia's white eyelashes framed a pair of longing eyes.

Ichigo almost didn't notice how his grip on Rukia's hand tightened, and how hers tightened in return. He almost didn't notice how, with every turn, he pulled her a little bit closer, until finally there was no space left between them. When Rukia looked up at him, her lips parted and her eyes shining, Ichigo thought that that instance, that one moment before he leaned down and she stood on her tiptoes to meet him, would be forever ingrained in his mind -stolen memories be damned.

Ichigo woke up with a start, a familiar name rolling off the tip of his tongue.

Orihime slept soundly beside him, and Ichigo placed one hand on her shoulder, as if to bring himself back to the present. It felt warm, almost scorching in contrast to the cool touch in his dreams that still hovered too close to the surface.

Just a dream, he told himself. Yet, as he sat up to look through the window, Ichigo found that the glass window had been frosted over entirely. As he put his face closer to the window, he saw his breath fog over a small part of the window, and when he pressed his hand against it, he confirmed that it was icy to the touch.

Just a dream, he reassured himself, even though it was the middle of summer and his window was covered in frost. Just a dream, he repeated, though his heart was still thumping too rapidly in his chest.

Just a dream, he thought one last time, before he closed his eyes and let the images of snowy hair and sparkling eyes lull him back into a sleep that he did not want to wake up from.