Seventeen years later ...

"You know, 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, took an appraising look at the famous opera house across the water, and turned to Hermione with a quirky, playful expression.

"I think you're sounding like the guidebook again!" he chortled. "If you're angling for a job, the guy on the cruise boat tour was rubbish. I'm sure you could do better!"

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

She lounged back and stretched out alongside him. Harry hadn't noticed how slinky and lithe she was before. He supposed it was because he wasn't used to seeing her without her overloaded school satchel dragging her spine into a painful arc. Even that little bag she carried during the Horcrux Hunt weighed her down, and if not that then the Locket Horcrux was a burden when it came time for her to wear it. He knew that she, like him, would have had a sore patch of flesh on her chest as a memento of the cursed object.

But it would have sat right in the middle of her perky breasts, so Harry didn't think it was appropriate to ask to see it. At least not without a beer or two in his belly first!

Harry laughed aloud at the very thought. Hermione turned her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

"What's so funny?" she asked gently.

"What isn't?" Harry quipped back. "We've survived Voldemort, we're here in the Sydney sun having a great time, your parents are recovering in the hotel ... it just feels like winning."

"And that's funny?" Hermione queried with a laugh.

"It is to me," Harry grinned. "I haven't felt like I've been allowed to laugh for the longest time. Not properly, you know? It's like 'how can I laugh, when Voldemort is out there killing people?' ... but now he's gone. And we're here in the sun, just you and me. I cant think of a better way to be right now."

"And you like that? That it's just the two of us? You wouldn't rather Ron or Ginny be here?"

Harry sat up on his elbows. "Hermione ... have you seen how ginger they are? I'd be afraid that they might combust in all this Aussie heat!"

Hermione hooted out a laugh. "Oh, Harry ... you're terrible!"

"Dont tell Ginny I said that," Harry told her warningly.

"You know, telling me secrets to keep from your girlfriend could be seen as very naughty, Harry," Hermione purred sultrily. Harry shivered oddly, despite the scorching afternoon sun beating down on him. "Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

"I don't keep secrets from you, Hermione, you know that," Harry replied simply. "I'd swear a bond on that, to never keep things from you."

"You would?" Hermione asked, surprised. "That's ... that's actually quite a lovely thing to offer, Harry. I wish you weren't so sweet. It makes it so hard not to fancy you!"

Harry laughed deeply at her playful teasing. "You can fancy me if you want. I wont tell anyone."

"Thanks!" Hermione chuckled. "I have permission to fancy The Boy Who ... what is it they're calling you these days? I lose track of your monikers and titles!"

"Just Harry will do, if you please, Miss G," Harry frowned. "But you might have to get in line. Witch Weekly wants to give me the Most Charming Smile Award and Mizz Sorceress has me down to win Rear of the Year! Can you believe that? I don't know if I'm supposed to be offended at being so blatantly objectified by the young witches of Great Britain!"

Hermione gave him a shrewd look. "Well ... do you like the admiration?"

Harry blushed coyly. "A little bit, yeah."

Hermione burst out laughing. "There we go then. If it makes you feel better, you have my vote."

"Oh, you like my smile then?"

"Who said anything about that award?" Hermione grinned flirtily. She felt very racy, it must have been the heat or the glass of wine she'd had at lunch. "I'll have you know I think you have a very nice bum!"

Harry flushed all over. "Um ... thanks? I didn't know you'd looked."

"I've looked," Hermione confirmed vampishly. "I hope you don't mind."

Harry thought about it. He found that he didn't.

"No, you're welcome to look any time you want," Harry grinned. "Best friend privileges and all that!"

Hermione giggled again. "Sounds fair enough. On that note, would you feel awkward if I took my shirt off? I've got my bikini top on and it'd be a shame to waste this tanning weather."

Harry gulped. "Go for it. You've had to put up with my pasty skin on this trip so I'm sure I can tolerate yours!"

Hermione laughed lyrically again and 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, and he felt instantly rueful about that fact. She was svelte and smooth under all that fabric, her milky skin shining in the sunlight and glistening with a light layering of sweat. Harry couldn't take his eyes off her chest.

"You can look at my face if you want!" Hermione teased.

But Harry was scowling and far from playful. Without thinking, he reached out and ran his hands 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.

"Dont be daft," Harry chided. He was still smoothing the damaged skin between her boobs. "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. And ... especially after Ron went ..."

Hermione's words tailed off. They'd only tried to discuss this once in the aftermath of the war, but it made them both soberly bitter. It would lead to something if they openly discussed it ... something like resentment. So they ignored it.

But here was Hermione, physically scarred by the betrayal. Harry couldn't let it go anymore.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, tracing the scar tissue with his fingertips. Hermione gasped and shuddered with the gentle tickles of it. But she still didn't pull back. But Harry's thoughts seemed a billion miles away. "I ... I should never have let him back. If I'd know he'd done this to you ..."

"Harry - Ron didn't do this, the Horcrux did," Hermione breathed. Her chest was heaving. She wished Harry would stop touching her like this, or rather she wished that she wanted him to stop. But in that moment she was mindless to just enjoy it, to thrill at the intimacy of this contact. It wasn't allowed, and the forbidden nature of it was delicious.

"Your beautiful skin ... your wonderful body ... broken like this ..."

Harry seemed to be talking to himself more than Hermione. But he showed no inclination to stop his circular caresses. A month ago in England, he wouldn't have dared to be this brazen. But they'd shared things this month, on this journey to recover Hermione's parents. They'd cried together, laughed together, let their hurt go together. And the experience had brought them ridiculously closer, and they were pretty much entwined before all this. Some part of both was dreading the day when they had to return home and give up this intimacy.

But this felt like they'd crossed a boundary without even flinching at the border. Even when they'd shared a sleeping bag in the Bush, Harry had insisted on laying back-to-back ... just in case. He said his body often struggled to tell the difference between a sexy woman and the vibrations of the Knight Bus. The last thing he wanted was to wake up and find he was poking Hermione in the base of her spine ... he'd never live it down and her giggles would haunt him forever!

"I never knew you thought I had a beautiful body," Hermione joked. "You should have said!"

"You should have shown me sooner!" Harry smiled, lightening up at Hermione's playfulness. "If I'd known you were hiding this I'd have never let you put yourself at risk."

Harry finally took his hand away from Hermione's chest to gesture at her. She felt colder for the loss of his touch.

"Ah, so now I know why you left Ginny behind when we went looking for Horcruxes!" Hermione laughed. "You only wanted to protect the sexy girls!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry quizzed. "I think you're sexy. I mean, I'm looking at it!"

"I should tell you off for that, Harry. I'm not an 'it'. You're objectifying me."

"You objectified me ... but you're right. I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed. "I'm kidding, Harry! Best friend privileges, remember?"

Harry frowned. "Hermione ... why have we only ever been best friends? Have you ever thought about that?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked shakily. Where was Harry going with this?

"Well, I mean, I don't know a lot of people as close as you and I are," Harry began. "And tons of people have thought that something was going on between us at different times. But it never has. That's weird, don't you think?"

"Which part?"

"Well ... all of it, I suppose," Harry mused. "One, that we're so close; two, that so many people see this thing between us; and three, that we don't. Why don't we?"

"Harry - I'm not entirely sure I know what you're getting at," Hermione replied in a small voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable ..."

"No! It isn't that!" Hermione shrieked quickly. "It's just ... you've never talked about this before. What's different? Why bring this up now?"

Harry gulped. "Can I be honest ... without getting a slap?"

Hermione smirked at him. "That depends how crass you plan to be. Make a start, and we'll see how you go!"

"Okay, well, I'm looking at you now and do you know what I'm thinking?"

"I'm only half sure I want to ..."

"I think you look hotter than the sun up there," Harry blurted out. Every inch of Hermione 's exposed skin turned a shade of crimson. "But it's weird. I know how beautiful you look, but it's like I cant feel it. In my head I'm wondering what the rest of you looks like without those clothes on, but I don't feel like I want to sleep with you. But that's wrong, because I should. I mean ... I know I shouldn't, because you're going out with Ron and it would ruin our friendship and stuff ... but as a boy looking at a pretty girl ... I so would."

"Harry ... you shouldn't be saying these things to me," Hermione muttered. "It isn't that they're horrible to hear - or that I don't like you saying them - but it's just ... I don't understand the timing."

"This trip has just got me thinking," Harry confessed. He had to go all in now he'd begun. "About us."

"Us?"

"I was thinking, that day we went to watch the sunrise in Melbourne," Harry ploughed on. "I was thinking that you tick all my boxes for everything I'd want in a perfect girlfriend. But I've never been allowed to consider it. It's like some cruel, omnipotent author was writing my life but never gave me the chance to consider you romantically. And I still cant. I think of you and I think sister ... but I see you and think something very different. You do things to my heart and soul that scream for something ... but it's like there's a barrier between me and whatever that is."

"What ... what are you saying, Harry?" Hermione whispered. Her heart and mind had totally lost control. She felt dazed by Harry's confession.

"I'm just asking, as a last favour," Harry begged. "That before you commit to Ron, and I commit to Ginny, can we check ... just in case?"

"In case of what?"

"I don't know," Harry moaned. "But something has started to niggle at me. And I just want to be sure. Don't you?"

Hermione sighed and looked up at the sunny sky. She thought she was sure of everything, but if she knew one truth in her life it was this - Harry Potter had good instincts and they were nearly always right. It was enough to convince her to make this commitment to him.

"Okay, Harry. I promise to look into it with you. But ... there is one thing we really should agree on."

"What's that?"

"We ... probably shouldn't share a room anymore. You know ... just in case."

Harry nodded solemnly and agreed. Or, at least, half of him did.