A Paradox In Time

A Steamy Encounter

Harry brushed his teeth doubly hard that night. He wanted to make sure to remove the after effects of all the beer he had drunk with Hermione's father, which were far easier to shift from his tangy mouth than his foggy head, which was still a bit wobbly and fragile. It must have been something to do with sitting with a dentist all night, Harry reasoned, that oral hygiene had suddenly thundered to the top of his agenda.

Chuckling to himself, Harry switched off the tap and dropped his toothbrush into a little glass with a light tinkle. Then he had a light tinkle, washed his hands as the toilet flushed, and marvelled that the water swirled the wrong way down the plug hole on this side of the world. That was very strange.

But not nearly as strange as the sight which greeted him upon leaving the bathroom.

"Hermione? What are you doing?"

She was lounging, lithe and sylphlike on his bed. She was wearing the satin, periwinkle blue camisole nightdress Harry had bought for her in Canberra on her birthday. It was far too figure-clinging and revealing for her to model it for him, he thought.

But here she was, draped like a goddess over his bedsheets in nothing but it.

Harry blinked at the newness. He'd never been jealous of bed linen before. But there it was. Then he realised he couldn't see properly, and it was nothing to do with the residue of the alcohol still swirling around in his brain. He reached for his glasses.

"Leave them off," Hermione purred.

"But I'm practically blind without them," Harry argued.

"You've seen my face enough to know what I look like," Hermione whispered sultrily, slipping off the bed towards him.

It's not your face I'm interested in right now! Harry thought to himself. He felt his pulse speed in his neck. He noticed how his skin was prickling with heat.

"How did you even get in here?" Harry asked through his arid throat. "I locked the door."

"I'm a witch, Harry, I have all sorts of special powers," Hermione replied, still retaining that vampish lilt to her voice. Harry shivered as each sexy syllable kissed its way along his earlobe.

By now Hermione had reached him. Harry drew a sharp breath as her fingernails softly caressed his chest. A chest he suddenly remembered was bare. After all, he hadn't been expecting company.

"Hermione!" Harry protested weakly. He tried to back away, but his legs had picked that exact moment to decide not to work anymore. "I'm only in my boxers here!"

"It's nothing I've not see before," Hermione breathed. "They're no different to swimming shorts."

"Fair enough, but I can please put my glasses on at least? I feel so exposed."

"I just want you to relax, Harry. We have a long flight home in the morning and I want to make sure you're feeling refreshed tonight. And you don't need to see for that ... just feel."

"Feel?"

"Mmm-hem," Hermione confirmed. "Come to bed."

"Wha? Come to bed?"

"Oh, silly me," Hermione giggled in an oddly girly way. "I meant come to the bed."

"Oh, that makes more sense."

Hermione took Harry's hand in her own, maddeningly soft palm, before leading him gently to the king-sized mattress at the centre of the room. She eased Harry down into the middle of the bed, then moved behind him. She sat very close, with her thighs straddling his own. Harry's mind went into a frenzy, tickled by the softness of the satin nightgown on his electrified spine and the even softer brush of Hermione's moon-cool skin against his white-hot own.