Everything but the Kitchen Sink

Disclaimer: I already know that I don’t own Harry Potter. Stop teasing me! *sulks in corner*

Summary: Their search for the Horcruxes begins. Harry and Hermione find themselves stuck at a rundown hotel for the night. What—ahem—entertaining things will they get up to? A witherwings.net contest submission. H/Hr. One-shot.

Rules: Must be a one-shot, no more than 2000 words [I’m a bit over], must be a Harry/Hermione centric story, and must include all of the following:
—Coin operated vibrating bed
—Reference to Blast-Ended Skrewt
—Mention of all three Unforgivable Curses
—Bogey-flavored Bertie Bott
—5 mentions of Hogwarts, A History
—Confundus Charm
—Fidelius Charm
—The words "Never had one that big before."

~*~*~*~

Everything but the Kitchen Sink

~*~*~

“I can not believe we are actually doing this.” Hermione stared at the ramshackle hotel in front of them. “I can not believe we’re actually planning to stay here,” she repeated.

“Well, what other choice do we have? Would you rather camp outside?”

“But couldn’t we have found somewhere else?” she persisted.

“Unless that copy of Hogwarts, a History you have has a map of possible Inn locations, then no.”

“But it looks like it’s been hit with every possible natural disaster known to Wizardkind and some not so natural ones!”

“It’s better than nothing,” Harry defended.

Hermione gave him a long stare, eyebrows raised.

“Well, maybe not nothing—but it’s better than being left outside to be chomped on by Merlin only knows what’s in that forest! With my luck, we’d probably come across a griffin, a nundu, and a blast-ended skrewt while changing for bed.”

They both shivered at the thought.

As they continued forward, Hermione began muttering, “There’s no book like Hogwarts, a History. There’s no book like Hogwarts, a History. There’s no book like Hogwarts, a History.”

“Don’t you mean ‘there’s no place like home’?”

“Hush, I’m trying to calm myself,” she snapped, taking deep breaths. “I still can’t believe this!”

He eventually ignored her whining, grabbed her hand, and dragged her forward to enter the broken building. “Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone here?”

Silence.

The two looked around, trying to find someone to talk to, but there was no one to be seen.

“Good evening.”

“Ah!” The teen couple jumped, looking around for the origin of the voice, yet still seeing nothing.

“Hermione, don’t tell me your precious book now talks...” he joked.

“Harry, I don’t like this! I don’t like this at all!”

Again, he ignored her. “We need a room for the night,” Harry replied to thin air.

“Two,” Hermione hissed in his ear, “we need two rooms.”

“Oh, right. We need two rooms for the night.”

The voice was silent for a moment, then spoke, “There is only one vacancy left.”

“What?” Hermione complained. “There is no way this place can be full,” she muttered in his ear. “Who in their right mind would stay here?”

“We’re staying here,” Harry reminded her.

She sighed, admitting defeat. “All right. Let’s get this over with. One room, please,” she called to the air. Suddenly, a pearly white figure materialized in front of them, causing Hermione to jump on Harry’s foot—both yowling: Hermione from fright and Harry from pain.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Harry!” she tried to apologize, but he waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said and tugged her along after their retreating quarry. They were led to a dusty room with one light, a bed, and a rather odd sink and mirror set off to one corner.

“Wow. I’ve never had one that big before,” he commented.

“What?” Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out what he meant.

“The bed! I’ve never had one that big before.”

“Oh.”

As the two entered the room, the floorboards creaked beneath their feet, and Hermione could have sworn that the walls were slanted sideways.

“So, what happens if the roof caves in on us over night?” she asked.

“It’s not going to cave in.”

“But what if it does?” she persisted.

“Then I’ll cover you with my manly strength and keep you safe,” Harry joked.

“I’m serious!”

“Honestly, Hermione, stop worrying about it. We’ll be fine,” he insisted.

She huffed at him—arms crossed—and sat on the rickety bed. “Then, I’ll have you know that you’re the one sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it was your idea to come here in the first place; this is your crazy Horcrux hunt that we’re on; and I’m the lady. You should be a gentleman and agree with me.”

“It’s not like I forced you to come with me, you know,” he said, darkly. “You could have stayed at the Burrow with Ron and the others, getting ready for Bill and Fleur’s wedding.”

“I-I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to... You know I’ll always help you, no matter what crazy thing it is; I’ll always be by your side.” She stood in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes to show she meant every word.

“Yeah, I know.”

They stared for a few moments until Hermione spoke up. “I still get the bed, though.”

“Hey!”

She ran back over to jump on the bed, spreading out to claim her territory, as if to show him she meant business. He couldn’t help it; he laughed. It was too funny—the smugness and certainty plastered on her face, the way she seemed to command the very air—it was wonderful to laugh again, and he couldn’t stop.

“What on earth has gotten into you, Harry?” She frowned when he continued sniggering. “Fine, if you want to be that way...” She promptly threw a pillow at his head. The unexpected blow caused him to fall on his bum, his protests causing her to smile. “That’s what you get for laughing at me.”

Harry glared at her. Unfortunately for Hermione, his glare didn’t last long, and his expression soon turned to one of mischief; Hermione didn’t like it at all. That look meant he was up to something, and more than likely, she would be the one on the receiving end of whatever it was he was planning.

She slowly started to rise from the bed but wasn’t quick enough because, in the next second, Harry was chasing after her, wrestling her to the bed and tickling her all over.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Never!”

He continued his attack, and she could barely breathe from laughter. “Please, Harry. Stop!”

“Not until you apologize.”

“All right! All right! I give! I’m sorry! Please?” she begged, and after one last tickle for good measure, he stopped.

They lay back against the bed, both trying to catch their breath. Hermione had her eyes closed, enjoying the moment until Harry asked, “Hermione, what’s this?” He was pointing to an odd, metal, box-like container off to the side of the head board. She’d never actually seen one in real life before, but she knew what it was.

“It’s for the bed,” she replied. “If you put money in, the bed will give you a massage.”

“Hermione?”

“Yes?”

Oh, no. He had that look in his eyes again.

“Can you pass me my bag?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

“Harry, I’m not Ron; that doesn’t work with me.”

“Fine. I’ll just get it myself.” He went to retrieve his bag and pulled out his sack of money. She knew it. He was planning to turn on the vibrating bed. Merlin, help her! He placed a sickle into the coin slot box on the side, and immediately, the bed began to shake. What would the people in the rooms next to them think? Surely not... that? Oh, who was she kidding? They all probably thought that Harry and Hermione were having wild, fuck-it-all sex. The bed was surely making enough noise to suspect as much.

At least Harry was having fun. She hadn’t seen him smile in a long time. His face was lit up like a child at an amusement park, and she couldn’t help the sense of fondness that rushed through her that moment. Yes, she would definitely always stick by his side, if only to see him smile like that again.

He caught her smiling at him and said, “See, Hermione. This isn’t so bad.”

“I suppose.”

The bed finally stopped, and the reality of what they were doing rushed back to them. They weren’t there for some pleasure trip. They were there to find a Horcrux. They were in the outskirts of nowhere near the place where Voldemort had grown up. Harry thought that retracing the steps of Voldemort’s past was the best way to find what they needed, so that was what they were doing. He hadn’t even waited for his birthday to begin his journey.

Harry had stayed at the Dursleys for one night. He had then collected her from her parent’s house and gone to the Burrow. Unfortunately, Ron had been ill from a rogue Bogey-flavored Bertie Bott’s bean, and the entire household was entirely too busy. If Ron had gone with them on their excursion with so many people there, too many questions would have been asked. Harry had jokingly suggested using a Confundus Charm on everyone to sneak Ron out, but Hermione stomped on that idea immediately. In the end, they agreed it would be better to wait until after the wedding before telling the Weasleys that the three of them weren’t going back to Hogwarts. They had also debated about telling a few people that they’d be spending most of their time at Grimmauld Place after renewing the Fidelius Charm on it but had decided it was best not to.

So Hermione and Harry had set out to start their journey. It hadn’t taken them too long to find where Little Hangleton was (about 200 miles from where the Dursleys lived). They then searched for any records they could find about the Riddle and Gaunt families. It had taken a week and a few government-building break-ins to do it, but they were able to track down the orphanage where Tom Riddle Jr. had grown up.

That’s where they found themselves: About five miles from Tom’s old home and in a sorry excuse for a hotel. The damn thing had looked abandoned (and for good reason), but Harry had insisted on going in to see if they could get a room. The hotel manager was a ghost for crying out loud! Hermione half wondered if the guests didn’t all have the same condition but decided it wasn’t worth thinking on.

They were there, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, not until they found a Horcrux. Harry had been obsessed with finding them. Everyday, they heard about people dying by the Avada Kedavra—people being tortured with the Cruciatus—and when Death Eaters were actually caught, more often then not, they were let go due to their claims of being forced by the Imperious to do horrible things. All of it hung on Harry’s conscience... was driving him mad to finish his quest and end the suffering, and she was right there with him—she would always be.

Hermione was brought out of her musings by Harry’s movements. He was getting ready for bed, and she thought it best to do as he was; they were going to have a long day tomorrow.

“Harry, turn around.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get dressed without you gawking at me.”

“So use the bathroom down the hall.”

“Do you honestly think that I’m going to go traipsing around this hotel in only my night clothes?”

“Yes?” he replied.

She threw a pillow at him.

“So that’s a ‘no’, then? Fine, but you have to turn too so I can dress. Neither one of us is to turn until we are both finished. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

They changed in silence, both only calling out when they were done.

Once Hermione turned to face Harry, her jaw dropped. “I thought you said you were done!” He was wearing a pair of sweat pants and nothing else. His chest was left completely exposed to her roving eyes. Damn him! She was sure she was blushing. At least, she felt a little better after receiving his reaction to her; his face was priceless.

“I never wear a shirt to bed during the summer, but y-you... you have the gall to ask me about my attire when you’re wearing... when you’re wearing... what exactly are you wearing?” He gestured to her night ensemble.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” She was only wearing plain shorts and a camisole. What was so wrong with that? He was acting like she was sporting a courtesan’s bustier.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong with it’? There’s nothing there, that’s what’s wrong!”

She ignored him and slipped under the covers. “Goodnight.”

“Oh no you don’t!”

She turned off the light with her wand, leaving him to fume in darkness.

“Hermione. Hermione!”

“Will you just get into bed already? I’m tired.”

“So you’re not going to make me sleep on the floor?” he asked with suspicion.

“Honestly, Harry, the bed’s big enough. I was kidding before.”

“Oh.” He tentatively slid in beside her, causing the bed’s size to shrink considerably, both lying on their backs and staring at the ceiling. It seemed like hours had passes when Harry finally spoke up. “Hermione, are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t working, is it?”

“No.”

“Hermione, can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Just anything. I—I’m kind of nervous about tomorrow. Tonight, do you think we can just forget...? About the war and the death, everything and everyone. Can we just talk like we would if we were completely alone with nothing to worry about?”

Harry rolled to face her and lit his wand. How did he get so close to her? She could have sworn the bed had been bigger. He was eyeing her with curiosity, as if wondering what she was thinking. Oh, she really wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, not when they were alone like this, not when he was so close.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah. Sure. We can talk about anything.”

But neither of them could think of what to say. He just kept staring at her, and she gazed right back. It was odd. Somehow, just by looking into his eyes, she was able to forget everything as he had wished. Those beautiful eyes of his brought her a sense of peace. It was amazing how they seemed to get closer to her with each passing second, and before she knew it, his lips were against hers. It was a soft kiss, but the unexpected shock of it sent shivers through her body.

Harry pulled away to see her reaction, and receiving what he hoped was a good response, leaned in again to capture her mouth once more. The kiss was harder this time. His arm wrapped around her waist, and she moaned when she felt his tongue slide along her bottom lip. Their tongues met tentatively at first, sliding along each other slowly to savor the feeling, but their movements soon became impatient. Hands began groping in places that friends’ hands had no business being. Their breathing quickened as Harry moved over her, covering her body with his, pressing against her tightly as her legs wrapped around his waist. They began rocking, pressing into each other harder each time.

Leaving her lips, he trailed kisses down her neck and across one shoulder, pushing the straps of her camisole to the side to continue his ministrations. He frantically pushed his hands under her top to dance along her skin, grazing her breasts and causing her to whimper with pleasure. He ended up ripping the fabric off her before latching his mouth to a nipple and sucking hard. A cry ripped from her throat as his tongue swirled around the pink bud, his teeth nipping every now and then.

Their rocking movements became erratic, almost desperate, each desperately trying to forget everything and just feel. Hermione wrapped her fingers in his hair to pull his face back to hers, willing his tongue to plunge into her mouth again. The sweet taste of him was intoxicating.

“Harry, please!” Her words were the undoing of them both. They parted only briefly to rid themselves of the rest of their clothes, quickly coming back together again after. Harry ran his length along her opening, teasing her, slipping the tip inside for only a moment before rubbing it against her clit. Her screams echoed around the room along with her pleas of more. Harry wasn’t one to disappoint. With a quick thrust, he was inside her.

They were still for a moment, soaking up the new feeling and allowing Hermione to adjust to the new intrusion, but Harry couldn’t continue that way for long. He began moving within her, each drive deeper than the last and quickly pushing her over the edge. It was a timeless dance of lovers, and they were discovering it for the first time. They forgot about everything.

Only they were left in the world, and only they mattered.

When they both came, they could feel a wave of magic flowing through them. Their cries were lost to them as the world fell away. In that brief instant, they were connected: Mind, body, and soul.

Harry fell on top of her, unable to hold himself up any longer. Their breath was ragged in the otherwise silent night, both panting for oxygen. Harry finally pulled out of her, rolling to the side and holding her close to his side.

When their conscious minds returned to them, they realized with trepidation that their room no longer existed. They shivered as the cold air hit their sweat soaked bodies. The two left their bed to find their discarded clothes inside a ring left untouched by the rubble of what was once their hotel.

“Harry, why has the entire building collapsed?” Hermione asked quietly.

“I-I’m not sure,” Harry began as he looked around for an explanation.

The circle around their bed left untouched by the debris was not lost on either of them.

“Maybe, it was a side effect of our...” he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts.

“Our love-making?” she supplied.

“Yeah. That.”

They were silent for a while. The reality of what they had just done hit them hard. They were best friends. Hermione was supposed to have Ron. Oh, God! Ron! Hermione felt tears come to her eyes as guilt consumed her. How were they supposed to explain to Ron what had happened? How was she supposed to explain?

She couldn’t. She had no explanation. They’d gotten caught up in a moment, but it had felt so good.

She knew she could never go back to Ron now, not after what had happened with Harry. It was just too much.

“Harry—”

“I know.”

“We’re still best friends, right?”

“Always.”

They continued staring around, both unable to say any more. Hermione vaguely noted that she’d been right about her theory of a ghost hotel. She could see many angry specters wandering off in the distance.

~*~*~

The next day came too soon for their liking. The sun rose, and they set out to leave the hotel and continue their journey. As Hermione looked around in the daylight, she noticed that the entire building really had caved. Not a single part of the structure was left standing.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. There was nothing really funny about the situation, but for some reason, it was hilarious; they had leveled a building because they’d gotten too hot ‘n’ heavy in bed.

Harry smiled at her. “What has gotten into you?” he asked, her laughter becoming infectious.

“It’s just that I was right, wasn’t I?”

“What?”

“I told you the roof would cave in, and it did.”

“Hermione, I think more than just the roof caved in.”

She continued laughing.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed his hand, and began to lead the way toward the distant village. She knew everything would be all right, that what had happened would stay between them and the collapsed hotel. As Hermione looked back one last time, she realized she’d been wrong in her assessment; everything had collapsed, everything but the hotel’s kitchen sink.