A/N: Ok, I lied. I wasn't going to post this until Saturday, but I had some time tonight and I realized I might not be able to post this weekend. The "lyrics" were inspired by "The Sweetest Thing" by U2. If anyone can catch the Mystery Men shout out, you'll get a very large snickerdoodle. As always, thank you to Pips for the beta. Enjoy!
Hermione woke and stretched next to Harry, snuggling up next to him as the sleeping draught provided by the hotel wore off completely. Harry lay next to her, mouth hanging open, his arm flung over his head which allowed Hermione to get closer to him. She had hoped that they would've been able to have seen a bit of the island before having to go to bed, but it was nearing eleven at night when their portkey deposited them in the designated drop off point in the hotel lobby. Instead of the leisurely stroll Hermione had hoped they would get in, they were checked in, given a sleeping draught and whisked up to their rooms in a matter of minutes. Not the least bit sleepy, they took their time to unpack and relax a moment before taking the potion.
A gentle breeze laden with the sweet and spicy smells of tropical flowers, the deep pungent heavy smells of jungle, and underneath it all the tantalizing salt of ocean wafted through the open patio doors. Hermione smiled and kissed Harry's chest before slipping out of bed. In response Harry snorted and rolled onto his stomach, drooling on the pillow.
Hermione scrunched her nose, thankful that the bed linens would be changed while they were out as she stepped into the bathroom to shower.
Harry woke with a startled snort, momentarily disoriented with the unfamiliar smells and sunshine he could see behind his eye lids. His mind told him that it was January and the sun hardly even showed itself in June much less January. He opened an exploratory eye not buried in the pillow and took stock of his surroundings. Oh. Right. Fiji.
He rubbed his eye sleepily and wiped the drool from his cheek. I hope Hermione didn't see that, he thought with a bit self-consciousness. He sat up and looked at the patio windows with a confused frown. What was that? Maybe his glasses would make it better. Nope. What was that noise? Were tropical birds supposed to sound like that?
It was a moment longer before he could actually distinguish words in the screeching and groaning and it was coming from the bathroom. "Merlin," he sighed flopping back on the bed. "She's singing."
"I wanted to run, but she made me crawl. Oooh oh, the Swedish thing!"
Harry sat up on his elbows with a frown. Granted he didn't know too much Muggle music, but there were some artists he did know and listened to regularly. U2 happened to be one of them.
"Something something something something. Oooh oh, the Swedish thing!"
Harry's laughter had died to chuckles by the time Hermione stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a terry cloth robe, her hair swept up in a towel. He took one look at her and burst out into fresh laughter.
"What, may I ask, is so funny?" she asked planting her hands on her hips.
Harry wiped his eyes, righting his glasses on his nose and stood in front of her clad only in his boxers. "It's the sweetest thing, love. Sweetest," he explained holding her elbows.
"What?"
"The song you were singing. The lyrics. They're `the sweetest thing' not `the Swedish thing.'"
Hermione frowned, feeling her cheeks heat up. Sure now he tells her. "That makes a bit more sense," she muttered, looking away.
Harry grinned with a glint in his eye. "So. What is `the Swedish thing'? Stockholm? Furniture? ABBA?"
"I'll have you know that Sweden has a very long and ancient history predating the Vikings -"
"Love, I'm just taking the mick. But I have to admit I love it when you go into professor mode. It's sexy seeing you get all riled up."
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest but let Harry kiss her anyway. "Go brush your teeth," she muttered. "Your breath stinks."
Harry chuckled. "I love you," he murmured with a puppy dog face.
Hermione snorted and looked away. "I hate that face," she sighed with little conviction.
"Because it never fails to get me what I want," he grinned winningly.
"Go before I decide to hex you," she ordered with an affectionate shove. Already her insides were melting from the power of `The Face.'
"Yes ma'am." Harry chuckled and kissed her nose. "Be thinking about what you want to do while I take a shower." He retreated into the bathroom before Hermione could say another word.
"Cocky prat, stupid face, I hate that face, he knows I hate that face - the Swedish thing, how could I have been so stupid?" she muttered digging out her bathing costume and a sarong.
____
Ruffled feathers were smoothed by the time Harry finished his shower.
"Let's do some shopping and beach sitting," Hermione suggested, packing a book in her beach bag.
Harry grinned despite really not wanting to do shopping, but if that was what Hermione wanted, that was what Hermione would get. He dressed in his swim trunks, flip-flops and a white t-shirt.
"We're so pasty," Hermione groaned as they walked out of the hotel, hand in hand, down to the main shopping strip a few blocks away. All around them were tanned well toned bodies and even though she was slightly well toned, Harry even more so, they stuck out for the sheer fact that people winced and shielded their eyes when they passed.
"It's winter and we're English. Were you expecting anything less?" Harry asked as she pulled up on his hand to peruse a vendor's wares.
"We could've at least performed a tanning glamor or something until we got some of our own color," she replied, picking out a wide brimmed straw hat and paying for it. She sat it on her head and looked at the mirror to adjust it just so.
Harry turned back to her from looking at the exotic cockatoos on display to reply and was caught with a face full of hat. "Bloody hell, Hermione, what is that thing?" he asked dropping her hand to cover his eye. "I think it attacked me."
"Honestly, it's a hat," she replied in what Harry secretly called her "captain obvious" tone as in "don't be daft, hats don't attack people Harry" and "can't you recognize a hat when it's obviously sitting on my head?"
Nonetheless Harry glared at the wide brimmed monstrosity with new animosity. "Now how'm I supposed to steal kisses?"
"How can you steal something that was always freely given?" Hermione grinned up at him, taking his hand and leading him back down the street.
"Sure, spoil my fun. And here I was thinking I was being sneaky and clever," Harry replied with a mock put upon sigh.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't contain her grin.
They strolled through the shops and street vendors for about an hour more before stopping for an early lunch, having missed breakfast. Afterwards they made their way back down the street returning to the hotel and the beach beyond.
It was mid-afternoon when they found two vacated beach chairs and settled in to work on their tans. Harry had bought a pair of sunglasses so he could actually see in the bright tropical sunlight and Hermione grumped just as much as he had about her hat.
Hermione sighed and leaned back in her beach chair, content to read while Harry leaned forward, content to people watch for a moment.
The beach wasn't overly crowded, but had a wide enough variety of people to make watching them interesting. He felt pity for the frazzled American parents and their rambunctious sprogs, and a bit of envy for the French couple snogging furiously just down the beach from them. Harry glanced over at Hermione -
"Don't even think about it, Potter," Hermione murmured glancing over at him with a slightly wicked grin that promised she'd make it up to him later.
Grinning stupidly Harry returned to watch and after a minute or so more he felt restless enough to pull off his shirt and run head long into the surf. The water was a bit on the cool side, but no worse than a tepid bath. The ocean was a shade of blue he'd never seen before, not even in Tonks's hair. It was a crystal aquamarine so pure it was like the Mirror of Erised - it invited him to stare at it forever. The nearly pure white beaches and crisp blue water was so far removed from the deep almost black blue/green of the Channel or the murky brown of the Thames, it all felt a bit odd, like he was sullying the waters just by standing in them.
Harry wasn't the best swimmer, so he kept to the shallows, never letting the water get further than just below his chest. He saw Hermione watching, or at least he thought he did, it was hard to tell with that thing on her head, and he waved to her to join him. She seemed to hesitate, so he waved harder, jumping and falling to his side to entice her to join him. It was a few minutes before he realized that she wasn't looking at all and he'd just made a spectacular fool of himself if the American kid's reactions were anything to go by.
"Nice show Mr. Potter," Hermione murmured when he plopped next to her, soaking wet. "Do you only do matinees or will there be an evening showing too?"
"Why you little - ! Why didn't you show that you saw me?"
"And have you stop that performance? It was inspired. Besides, I didn't want to cut you short seeing as the kids seemed to be getting a kick out of that dance," Hermione replied lazily turning a page of her book.
Harry responded with an evil grin moments before he launched himself at her, laying on her dry body with his soaking wet one and kissing her face and neck with his with his wet face. Hermione shrieked various combinations of "Honestly!" and "Harry!" and shoved and smacked at his shoulders, instinctively curling up into herself. "Now I'm all wet," Hermione pouted when he finally leaned up off her.
Harry leaned down and kissed her sweetly and deeply. "What's the point of a swimming costume if you're not going to go swimming?" he asked against her lips. Satisfied she was good and soaked, he returned to his lounger to let the sun dry him off.
Hermione shot him a disgruntled glare and returned to her slightly damp book with a huff. Harry returned to his people watching. After a few minutes he raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the two over buffed men strutting across the beach. They looked ridiculous, scoffed an inner voice that sounded a lot like Hermione. But his inner Harry voice kind of wanted to be them. Ginny had talked about seeing a Greek Adonis once on a vacation to Greece with Draco a couple of years ago. Harry had wondered what a Greek Adonis looked like, but maybe these two blokes were Greek Adoniseses . . . Adonisi . . . Adonisees . . . what was the plural on that?
"Hermione, what's the plural on -" Harry turned and received a face full of vicious attacking hat. "Merlin's bloody beard! That thing's a bloody menace, Hermione! When we get back to the room you're gonna get it!"
"I'm shaking in my sarong, Potter," she grinned.
"So going to get it."
"Define `it.'"
Harry looked her over before grabbing her hand and in one swift swoop had her over his shoulder before she could even squeak. "Let me show you," he replied picking up her bag and heading back up the beach toward the hotel.
"Harry! Harry, let me go this instant! Harry! Oh! My hat! Harry, go back and get my hat!"
"Casualties of war, the good die young, the bigger they are the harder they fall and so on and so forth."
Hermione tried to get some leverage by bracing her hands just above Harry's bum, but couldn't quite manage it. The indignity, she thought with another huff. "I must say if this is `it' I'm not impressed, Potter."
Harry moved the bag he carried to the arm that was wrapped around her legs and smacked her bum. "Smart arse."
Hermione made some more indignant noises, but couldn't hide the amused and thoroughly wicked grin spreading across her face, one that she'd never let Harry see.
Harry carried her into the hotel to show her exactly what `it' was and cash in those promises she'd smiled throughout the day.
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