Hermione woke up with the sun shining fully into the room. The first thing she noticed was that Harry was gone. His clothes were no longer laying on the floor and his side of the bed was already cool. He'd been gone a while.
She sat up, sighing, and glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven in the morning. She groaned, climbing out of bed and looking around for her clothes. "What--?" she started, looking around, confused. "Where the hell are my clothes?"
She was just starting toward the bathroom to see if maybe Harry had moved them, for whatever reason, when she noticed the note of the dresser. She picked it up, immediately recognizing Harry's handwriting.
Hermione,
I went with Mr. Crispenson to find the truck. We'll be back before lunch, with any luck. Your clothes are being washed, just in case we can't get to our stuff. Mrs. Crispenson said if you were hungry, or needed anything at all, to give her a call.
There's a robe and some slippers in the closet, and a room service menu in the desk. Relax-(this word was underlined, and somewhat bolder than the rest) and take it easy.
Harry
She had to laugh. He knew her well enough to know that she was worrying about things already. How were they going to get to the truck? One glance out the window told her that the snow was falling as heavy as ever, and as far as she knew, Harry still had only a thin coat to wear. Surely, the snow was even deeper now than it had been last night, so she didn't see how Harry and Mr. Crispenson could make it through any quicker or easier than she and Harry had last night, especially without magic.
And just how long were they going to have to stay here, anyway? Something about Harry's note had clued her in that they were not going to be leaving today as they had planned. That meant she was going to have to either ask for another room, or spend another night in the same bed as Harry.
She wasn't sure she could handle that. Had he made even the slightest indication that he had wanted her last night, she would have given in to him without delay.
She put off thinking about it any longer by going into the bathroom and starting to run herself a hot bath. She needed to relax, just like Harry had said, and she couldn't think of a better way to do it than to lay in the huge, deep tub with bubbles up to her neck.
She slid beneath the surface of the water, letting out an almost-sinful moan. Her tense muscles were starting to relax, and her mind was fogging over nicely. Her hand brushed against her breast and she rubbed gently at a nipple, feeling it harden to her touch. She knew she had to do this. She had too much sexual tension built up in her, and it was dangerous to let it fester with Harry so close to her. It was hard enough to handle when he wasn't sleeping right next to her, but sharing a bed with him-she would never make it.
She laid her head back against the edge of the tub and slid her other hand between her legs, running two fingers between her folds. If only it could be Harry, touching her like this, making the warmth spread out across her body. If only he could be the one whose hands were plucking at her breasts, making her breath come out in short, rasping spurts.
His face flashed into her mind and almost sent her over the edge right away. "Oh," she groaned, rubbing harder at her clit, sliding a finger deep inside of her. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.
She'd tried everything to make it enough. She'd bought sex toys, some so large that they hurt when she slid them inside her, some that vibrated and wiggled. They weren't enough. Even her favorite, a magical one that could pump in and out of her on its own, as slow or frenzied as she wished, just wasn't enough.
She wanted Harry. Nothing else would ever be enough.
She climaxed, jerking forward, letting out a heaving gasp. It was way short of mind-blowing, but it had at least relaxed her some.
Then, there was a knock on the bathroom door. She jumped, knowing that she had been making loud noises, knowing the sound had to have carried into the room beyond. Please don't let it be Harry. Anybody but Harry. A burglar, the inn owner, a serial killer, just not Harry.
But, of course, it was Harry. "Hermione?" he called through the door, his voice holding a slightly bemused tone. "Are you okay?"
She could barely bring herself to answer. "Uh, yeah. I'm-I'm fine, Harry."
"Can I come in?"
She froze. She was sitting naked in a bathtub, and he wanted to come in? If she said yes, she'd be extremely uncomfortable. If she said no, he would have to know that something was up. After all, she wouldn't mind him seeing her in the tub if she thought of him as just a friend, would she? He'd seen her naked before, so there really wasn't any reason that he shouldn't be allowed to see her that way now.
Besides, the bubbles were still thick enough, and the water level high enough, to keep her completely covered.
"Sure," she said, trying to sound casual about it.
He opened the door and stepped in. "Now how did I know you'd have bubbles?"
She forced a laugh. "I know, I know. I'm such a girl."
He grinned. "You are, at that." She tried to ignore the fact that his eyes had flicked, ever so briefly, to the bubbles that were covering her bare breasts.
"Did you get to the truck?"
He nodded. "Your bags are out here. I got all of them, since it looks like we may be here a while."
"How long?"
He shrugged, leaning against the wall. "A few days, at least. This is one of the last roads the plow trucks will hit, and they shut down travel on every road for twenty miles. On the bright side, this place has been declared a weather refuge, so we don't have to pay anything for staying."
She laughed softly, somehow certain that he wasn't the least bit concerned if they had to pay or not. "Are we the only guests?"
He shook his head. "No, the place is actually full. Apparently a lot of people failed to check the weather before heading out on holiday. There's an older couple in the next room over and a family with three kids in the two rooms across the hall. I haven't met any of the others yet, but Mrs. Crispenson said they're all nice people." He wandered over and pushed himself up to sit on the vanity top.
"The place is full?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her tone level. Full meant she would have no choice but to stay in here with Harry. "Was it full last night?"
Harry shrugged again. "No idea. I think the family across the hall just came in this morning, but I have no idea how they got here. We had to take a snowmobile back to the truck, which, by the way, is pretty much buried."
"Great," Hermione sighed, leaning her head back. "Well, I suppose it could be much worse."
Harry laughed, his feet banging against the cabinet door. "Absolutely. We could be stuck out there in the snow, freezing to death."
She nodded. "True. I guess, if we wanted, we could always Apparate back home until the roads are clear."
Harry frowned, then seemed to shake himself slightly. "I don't see why we should. We've got everything we need here, right? We might as well just stick around. And, don't forget, we're supposed to be doing this the Muggle way. You agreed to that."
She let her eyes slide shut, trying to enjoy the warmth of the water on her body as much as she could. "You're right. I did. Okay, fine, no Apparating." She heard Harry slide off the counter and cross the bathroom, but it still scared her when she felt his hands touch her shoulders. "Harry," she rasped as he gripped her tightly.
"Relax, Hermione," he said, sitting on the side of the tub. "You look like you could use this." He was massaging her shoulders and neck, pushing the heel of his hand into her muscles with just enough pressure to make them twinge.
She sat forward at his urging, letting her head fall forward until her chin rested on her chest. "Uuuuunh," she moaned softly as his fingers kneaded the sides of her neck. His hands moved lower, between her shoulder blades and she leaned forward a little more to give him better access. He pushed his thumbs deeper into her skin, eliciting another moan. "God, Harry," she muttered, feeling like she was going to melt into the bottom of the tub. Her body suddenly felt boneless, as though sheer willpower was all that was holding her up. If that was the case, she was surely going to drown soon.
She heard his hand break the surface of the water and slide to the middle of her back. She couldn't lean any farther forward without putting her face in the water.
"I can't reach too well in this position," he said, not stopping his work. "I'd have to be in there with you to do this right."
It wasn't a suggestion, she knew that by the tone in his voice. Still, the words shocked her into sitting up straight. His hands dropped from her skin and he sat back against the wall. "I, uh-I need to get washed up," she said, blushing as she realized that the bubbles had thinned out a great deal since he'd come in.
"I'll leave you alone, then," he said, standing up and starting out.
"Harry," she called, trying to smile at him. When he turned back to look at her though, her smile faltered. She could swear there was more than a touch of frustration on his face. "Thank you. I-really did need that."
He looked at her a minute longer before nodding and stepping out. As soon as the door shut behind him, she blew out a long breath and sank beneath the surface of the water.
This would never work, she thought as she washed her hair. She had been insane to think she could be that close to him and not let him touch her.
And he-ugh, he was simply impossible. She couldn't read him at all, so she had no idea what he was thinking. Had that really been completely innocent on his part? Did he actually know that he was driving her crazy?
She climbed out of the tub and dried off slowly, cursing herself for forgetting to bring any clothes into the bathroom with her. She wrapped a towel around herself, taking great care to tuck it in tightly. Then, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.
Harry was propped against the headboard, a book open in his lap. He glanced up when she came in. "Nice bath?" he asked, and she noticed that, this time, his eyes didn't linger on her very long at all before he turned his attention back to the book.
"Yes," she said casually, pushing her wet hair out of her face and walking toward her bags. "Very nice."
She dug through her things, holding the towel to her with one hand, trying hard not to think about the fact that she couldn't very well get dressed without taking the towel off.
"Want me to leave?" he asked as she stood up, a fresh set of clothes tucked under her arm.
"No, it's-you're fine." She had felt a warmth spread through her upon hearing his voice. He was so calm, always so calm. It was almost irritating. She was standing here in nothing but a towel and he didn't seem the least bit ruffled by that.
It made her feel like doing something bold. Something very bold. Almost stupid, in fact. And since the rest of the trip had been all about doing some rather stupid things, she went with it. She dropped the towel.
Harry glanced up, then did a rather subtle double-take, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Uh, yeah. Hermione, you do realize that I'm sitting here, don't you?"
She smirked, although it took a good deal of force on her part to do so. "Yes, of course I do. You act like you've never seen a naked female before, Harry."
He stared at her (her eyes, damn him, and not her body), then gave her a smirk of his own. "Well, not recently, thanks. I, um--I guess I didn't realize that we were at this level of comfort on this trip. Nice to know."
His eyes lingered on her a second longer before flipping back to his book. She barely managed to bite back a growl. "Why's that?" she asked, stepping into her knickers and jerking them up her legs with unnecessary force.
He shrugged. "That means you won't be offended if I sit around in my underwear."
Hermione's mind began chanting one word at her as she finished dressing and stomped back into the bathroom to brush her hair: Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID!
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Lunch was so boring as to almost be painful. After all the years Harry had teased Hermione about living with her face permanently planted in books, he barely managed to take his eyes off whatever he was reading.
She'd quit trying to make conversation with him, after the last question she'd asked had been answered with only a grunt and an almost shrug.
"What exactly are you reading anyway?" she finally snapped, having no real clue why she was so irritated.
"Book."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Harry, I can see that it's a book. What book is it?"
Instead of answering, he set the book up on its end, blocking his face from view. She glanced at the cover, frowning. "When did you get so interested in spell creation?" she asked, laughing softly.
"Seventh year. Did you bring any of your books with you?"
"Some, yeah. Why?"
He laid the book down, twirling his wand absent-mindedly in his fingers. "Where are they?"
"In my shoulder bag. Do you want me to get it?"
He shook his head, standing up and going over to their luggage. He carried it back to the table, opening it, then paused. "I'm sorry. I should let you get them."
She laughed. "It's fine, Harry. There's nothing in there that you shouldn't see."
He dug through it for a few minutes, then shook his head. "None of these are going to help me. Damn."
She frowned. "What are you looking for?"
He dropped the bag back onto the floor, shrugging. "It doesn't matter. It can wait until we get home." He stretched, sitting back down and glancing out the window. "I can't believe it's still snowing. They weren't kidding when they said it was going to be nasty, were they?"
"Nope. I suppose we should find something to keep us occupied. Do you have any ideas?"
He looked at her, a small smirk playing across his face. "None that you would approve of."
Touché, she thought, sighing. "I'm serious, Harry."
He grinned. "So was I. Are you any better at holding your liquor than you used to be?"
"Why? Did you bring some?"
"No, but there's a bar downstairs, and I'm sure if we promise to behave ourselves, they'll spare us a bottle or two."
She hesitated, then shrugged. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt."