A Paradox In Time

Sydney Harbour

Seventeen years later ...

"You know, Harry, I think it's supposed to look like sails on a ship. But I'm not convinced. What do you think?"

Harry sat up, tilted his aviator sunglasses down, and turned to Hermione with a quirky, playful expression. He watched as she turned the postcard she was holding on its side, comparing it to the famous landmark standing proud on the other side of the shimmering water.

"If you want to know what I think ... I think you're sounding like the guidebook again!" he chortled. "If you're angling for a job, the guy who hosted our cruise boat tour earlier was rubbish. I'm sure you could do better."

"Thanks ... I think!" Hermione laughed.

"But I know you won't be happy with me insulting the tour guide, as I could tell you fancied him!" Harry teased.

Hermione sat up and placed her free hand to her hip. "Excuse me, but I did not fancy him. What on earth gave you that idea?"

"The fact that you spent almost the full hour of the trip staring at his behind!" Harry hooted.

"There was a mosquito there. I was fascinated to see if it would bite him," Hermione replied in her haughty tone.

"For almost sixty minutes?" Harry funned. "How many of those minutes did you contemplate biting his bum?"

"Be quiet, you," Hermione returned, wrinkling her nose and grinning cutely as she spoke.

She lounged back and stretched out alongside Harry on the grassy bank that they were sunbathing along that afternoon. It was a glorious day at Sydney Harbour, perfect for wasting away a few hours and pondering the architectural intent of the famous opera house located barely a stone's throw away from them. That was the limit of Harry and Hermione's intent for the day.

Then Hermione looked over at Harry. "Would you feel awkward if I took my shirt off? I've got my bikini top on underneath this, and it'd be a shame to waste such great tanning weather."

Harry turned his head. "Go for it. You've had to put up with my pasty skin all day so I'm sure I can tolerate yours!"

Hermione laughed lyrically, then unbuttoned her cotton shirt, throwing it on top of Harry's discarded t-shirt when she was done. Harry blinked hard. He had never seen so much of Hermione as he had on this trip, and he was feeling increasingly rueful about the fact. She was svelte and lithe when not hidden under her heavy robes and cloaks, and today her milky skin seemed to shine in the sunlight, glistening with a light layering of sweat. All except for one bit ... a bit that Harry couldn't take his eyes off.

It was just unfortunate that this part of Hermione happened to be the very centre of her chest.

"You can look at my face if you want. Eyes up here, Harry!" Hermione teased in a sing-song voice, tracing the point of Harry's gaze.

But Harry was scowling now and far from playful. Without thinking, he reached out and ran the fingertips of his right hand the length of Hermione's cleavage. She gasped softly, but didn't pull away.

"Harry ... we're supposed to have a date and a kiss or two before I let you touch me like that!" Hermione breathed huskily. She still did nothing to stop him, however.

"Don't be daft," Harry chided, still smoothing the damaged skin between Hermione's breasts. "Your scar ... it's almost as big as mine. Did you really wear the Horcrux that long?"

Hermione breathed in deeply as she understood. "We were equals, Harry. As always. So of course I did my share. Even more so when ... you know, especially after Ron left ..."