TITLE:
Roughing It

 RATING:
NC-17

 SUMMARY:
When Harry tells Draco they are going to be “roughing it” for the weekend, Draco expects them to be simply staying in a four-star hotel. What happens he discovers Harry’s idea of “roughing it” is a far cry from a hotel without bathrobes?

 WARNINGS:
Sexual content, adult language, snarky!Draco

 WORDS:
9,705

* * * * *

Many, many thanks to my wonderful new Beta, Jadzia7667, who amazingly saved me when my other Beta had to unfortunately leave fandom

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JKR owns everything.

Harry Potter wound down his driver’s side window and inhaled deeply, grinning at how wonderful the fresh country air felt. It was a beautiful day, they were nearly at their destination, and his gorgeous husband of only three short months was dozing lightly in the passenger seat next to him.

Well, ‘dozing lightly’ wasn’t exactly an accurate description. Draco Malfoy-Potter was slumped sideways in the seat with his forehead pressed against the glass. His t-shirt had somehow become hitched up under his armpit, exposing his toned stomach, which was rising and falling from the deep sleep. He was snoring, drooling, and his hair looked like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket, but Harry still thought he looked beautiful.

Harry had tried to pull Draco back up into a vertical position to avoid him getting a stiff neck a few times, but Draco always ended up back in something akin to the foetal position.

A horn blasted nearby; because Harry’s window was open, it startled Draco awake. He jumped in his sleep, then his grey eyes opened slowly a few moments later. He yawned stickily, smacking his lips a few times as he gradually became aware of his surroundings. He pulled himself up and groaned in pain. “Ow,” he muttered, sniffing and scratching his nose as he turned to look at Harry.

“You’re awake,” Harry said with a smile.

Draco yawned again and stretched, wincing at the crick in his neck. “Are we there yet?” he mumbled. He fumbled around at his feet for his bottle of water.

“Almost,” Harry replied. Draco peered out the window, taking a long gulp of water.

“Why are there no buildings anywhere?” Draco asked. “There’s an awful lot of trees… and hardly any cars… Are you sure we’re nearly there?”

“Yep, only about ten minutes away now,” Harry said enthusiastically. “Isn’t this fresh air amazing?” He drew in another long breath through his nose. “Ahhhhh,” he exhaled.

“Um, Harry, sweetheart,” Draco started hesitantly, eying the cows in a paddock they passed, “did you possibly mean a Bed and Breakfast when you said we were going to be ‘roughing it’?”

Harry smirked. “No, love.”

“So, it’s a three star hotel?” Draco squeaked anxiously. “I don’t really like staying in rooms without both a bath and shower. You know that.”

“Well, where we’re going, there is neither,” Harry said lightly, glancing at Draco out of the corner of his eye so he didn’t miss Draco’s reaction.

Draco literally spat his mouthful of water all over the windscreen in front of him. “WHAT?!” he screeched, horrified. “NEITHER?”

“Nope,” Harry laughed. “We’re going camping, baby. In a tent. No beds or bathrooms involved, I’m afraid.”

“C… camping?” Draco bent over and started panting, only a few short steps away from hyperventilating. “Tent…? As in, a piece of fabric over a metal frame and not much else?”

“Mmmhmm,” Harry confirmed with a nod. “I thought it would be fun.”

“FUN?!” Draco spat. “Oh god, you have to pull over, I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh shush, you,” Harry scolded in amusement. “A couple of nights camping won’t do you any harm. The fresh air will do you good. It will be like a second honeymoon.”

Draco’s mouth dropped. “No, dear, it will not be like a second honeymoon,” he sneered. “That would be impossible since we honeymooned for a week in the Plaza Hotel in New York, followed by another week on a secluded Caribbean island!” His voice broke as he finished his tirade, and he rapidly turned a shade of furious red when Harry just smirked at him. “Turn the car around.”

“No,” Harry said simply.

“Harry,” Draco said, his voice taking a low, warning tone.

“No.”

“Harry!” Draco whined. “Why are you doing this to me? I haven’t done anything to piss you off in at least a week, but you still insist on punishing me! This is beyond cruel – it’s barbaric!”

“Quit whinging. We’re here now. We’ll have fun,” Harry promised, pulling the car into a quiet camping ground.

“The fuck we will,” Draco sniped, folding his arms and pouting.

“Come on. Help me unpack the car,” Harry said. He climbed out, allowing himself an indulgent stretch. He surveyed their little area with satisfaction, refusing to cater to his sulking husband, who happened to be still glaring at him from the passenger seat. “Fine. Sit in there all weekend, I don’t care. But I’m going to unpack the car and then maybe go for a swim in the lake.”

“Where’s my wand,” Draco demanded, finally getting out of the car with an over-exaggerated slam of the door to prove his point.

“At home.”

“Sorry? I thought you just said ‘at home’.” Draco cocked his ear at Harry.

“I did,” Harry stated, dragging a large hold-all from the back of the car. He looked up in time to see Draco stomp over to the nearest bush and give it a firm kick. Harry shook his head and sniggered to himself as he dragged the two-man tent over to where he thought looked like a nice place to pitch it.

“Help me pitch the tent,” Harry urged, wanting Draco to relax a little so they could spend some quality time together.

“Pitch your own tent, I’m sleeping in the car,” Draco snapped.

“I bought us a brand new sleeping bag for two, just for the occasion,” Harry said in a sing-song voice.

Draco’s grey eyes roamed to the back of the car before they landed back on Harry. “Did you?” he finally asked, and Harry didn’t miss the spark of interest in his tone.

“And the tent is just for two…” Harry continued. “I thought it might be… cosy…” He dropped the tent onto the floor and sauntered over to his husband, who was leaning against the side of the car.

“Maybe it will,” Draco reluctantly agreed. As soon as Harry was within touching distance of Draco, his hands immediately went to his husband’s arse and squeezed lightly as he pecked him on the lips.

“It’s only two nights, love,” Harry said, giving his husband the big green-eyed puppy dog look that Draco could never resist. Draco tried to avoid his gaze, but Harry kept turning his face back. “Just us and a double sleeping bag. Will you try and enjoy yourself? For me?” More puppy dog eyes.

Draco smacked his lips. “Alright!” he huffed. “But I’m not helping you put up the tent. I just had a manicure yesterday.”

* * * * *

“Can you just hold this pole up for me?” Harry asked in irritation. He had been struggling to put the tent up on his own for the last ten minutes while Draco sat on a rock a few feet away watching. 

“Nope,” Draco sniffed.

“Why the fuck not! You won’t break a nail,” Harry sneered, “holding a pole!”

“I’d rather hold your pole,” Draco purred, causing Harry to drop everything and the tent pieces fell into a messy heap around his feet. “Now bend over and pick it all up.”

Harry spun around with his hands on his hips. “Are you fucking telling me what to do?!” he cried. “Piss off!”

“No, I just like watching your arse when you bend over,” Draco stated then indicated his finger in the direction of the tent pile.

“Stop the sexual innuendo and get your goddamn arse over here and help me, otherwise there will be no fucking in any way, shape, or form!” Harry snapped. Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as he got up and sauntered over to Harry. He picked up the pole Harry had been struggling with and held it up lazily, yawning in the process.

By the time Harry managed to erect something that resembled a tent, he was red-faced, hot, sweaty, and irritable.

“Phew, that was exhausting,” Draco said, swiping a hand through his hair. “I might take a nap, I think.”

“Exhausting?!” Harry cried. “You held a pole for ten minutes! I was the one doing all the work!”

“Then you really should come lie down with me. I think that sleeping bag needs christening,” Draco suggested.

Harry scowled as he kicked their bag and the sleeping bag into the tent. “You have a hand. Christen it yourself! I’m going for a swim.”

Draco frowned, disgruntled. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” he huffed.  

“I just told you.” Harry crawled into the tent to dig around in their hold-all for his swimmers. “Or you could come for a swim with me.”

“Ah, you mentioned ‘lake’ and therefore, I believe I will pass,” Draco stated.

Harry slipped out of his jeans and shirt before pulling on a loose pair of shorts, with Draco perving on him through the flap in the tent the whole time. “Your hand it is then. Have fun!” Harry cried sarcastically, flinging a towel over his shoulder and pulling on his shoes again, leaving the laces undone.

“Fine, I’ll come,” Draco said, but with a scowl on his face. “It better not be dirty.”

“It’s a lake, Draco. There is bound to be some dirt,” Harry scoffed. He stood and waiting for Draco to change, but when Draco just grabbed a towel, Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“If I’m going to have to swim,” Draco sneered, “We are both wearing nothing.”

“Fine by me.” Harry shrugged. He smiled and took Draco’s hand so they could walk together to the lake just through the trees.

“I guess this is kind of nice,” Draco admitted reluctantly. “Since the wedding, we haven’t had much chance for just ‘us time’, you know?”

“That’s why I brought us here,” Harry told him. “Your five star hotels are all well and good, but there are too many distractions there.”

“Free porn on the telly is a good distraction!” Draco protested.

“Yes, but then it’s not just you and I, is it? It’s you and me and a screen full of ten inch cock or something,” Harry pointed out. “This way, no matter how much you manage to whinge and complain, we are still forced to spend time alone.”

“You’re a shit, aren’t you?” Draco stated, but with amusement. “You’ve thought this all through.”

“Draco, baby, I know you,” Harry said lovingly. He stopped walking and turned to his husband. “Don’t you think I knew exactly how you would react to his?” 

“Hey, wait,” Draco muttered with a frown. “Did you drug me in the car so I would sleep the whole drive and not know where we were going?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “No, love. The semi-comatose state was all your own doing, I’m afraid. You’ve always been one to sleep when we travel Muggle-style.”

“It goes quicker,” Draco insisted. “How long was I asleep in the car, by the way?”

“A good three hours,” Harry replied. “Every time I tried to get you upright so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, you would just end up slumped over again. I even tried holding you up with my hand on your forehead, but I had to let go to drive on the freeway.”

“Well, thanks for trying anyway,” Draco chuckled. 

“You still have sleep hair, too,” Harry said, reaching up to ruffle Draco’s hair some more. Draco looked horrified, and tried frantically to flatten his soft blond hair, but only managed to make it worse.

“Does that look better?” Draco fretted.

Harry laughed, nodding. “Yes, baby,” he fibbed. “Race you to the lake?” Before Draco could answer, Harry took off, leaving Draco no choice but to chase after him.

* * * * *

“Come on, babe! Just get in! It’s great!” Harry encouraged from where he was splashing about in the lake a few metres from the shore.

Draco stuck his toe in the edge of the water and then pulled it back. “It’s not very warm, is it?” he stated, screwing up his nose. “It’s all… murky.”

Harry cackled with laughter. “It’s a lake, Draco! Come on! I’m naked in here…” he teased, holding his arms out for Draco. “So are you, I might add. What’s stopping you? Get your sexy arse over here. Come and fuck me, baby. I’m ready for you.” Draco swallowed heavily as he surveyed a dripping wet Harry; droplets of water trickling down his lightly muscled chest. This caused his dick to respond immediately and Harry smirked when he saw Draco’s arousal. “The water isn’t cold. Won’t it be nice to fuck in the water, love?” Harry’s hand disappeared below the surface and Draco didn’t need to think twice before he launched himself in the lake towards Harry.

Unfortunately, the water was cold, and he sprung back to the surface, gasping and sputtering for breath. Harry laughed when he saw Draco flailing and looking very much like a drowned rat. “You liar!” he shrieked. “It’s fucking freezing!”

Harry waded over to where Draco had managed to get his footing and was now standing drenched and shivering. Harry wrapped his arms around his husband and Draco welcomed the deep kiss Harry pressed to his lips. “I’m not so cold anymore,” Draco said through chattering teeth.

“You’ll warm up soon enough,” Harry promised. “You look gorgeous wet.” He slid his hands down Draco’s back, rubbing his own chest against him. Draco hummed softly into Harry’s neck at the feeling of his wet body sliding against Harry’s.

Harry took Draco’s hand and urged him out into the slightly deeper water. The water was now lapping just under their armpits and Draco stiffened as he felt strange being in water where he couldn’t see the bottom. He whimpered involuntarily and gripped tightly onto Harry’s biceps.

“It’s ok, babe, I’ll hold you. You can feel the bottom of the lake under your feet. We won’t go any further, alright?” Harry assured him with a smile. He reached down and hooked a hand under Draco’s thigh and urged Draco to wrap his legs around Harry’s waist. The water held a majority of his weight and he shuddered in pleasure when he felt Harry slip his fingers in between his arse cheeks.

They were both hard and revelling in the feeling of the cool water swirling around their groins. Harry started making small thrusting movements with his hips, rubbing against Draco as they melted into a kiss. Draco held firmly around Harry’s neck and lifted himself up slightly, allowing Harry to position his erection at Draco’s entrance.

Pulling Draco’s cheeks apart, Harry eased himself inside as Draco slipped back down again. He hissed slightly as the feeling of Harry entering him in the cold water was foreign. It wasn’t strange for them to be experimenting with places to have sex, and they had always been fond of fucking in water – shower, bath, hot tub, heated swimming pool, and even once in the back of the car going through a car wash. But the cold water was mingling with their arousal and creating a pleasantly strange feeling.

Draco put a hand to the back of Harry’s head and swiped his fingers through the wet, shaggy dark locks. He licked up the side of Harry’s face, trailing to his ear to suck sensually on the lobe. Harry sighed, nuzzling into Draco’s lips as the soft, wet tongue made its journey.

Harry was moving persistently in and out of Draco, the water splashing around them. Draco was thankful for Harry’s strong arms and legs, as, despite the assistance of the water around them, upright sex was always taxing on the person topping. Draco had never been able to hold Harry up long enough to follow right through, and they inevitably ended up horizontal, but Harry had always had the stamina, and their friends had caught them in many a compromising position up against some wall or another.

Draco moved onto Harry’s lips, swiping his tongue across Harry’s lower lip that Harry had been previously sucking on in concentration. His tongue darted out and invited Draco’s into his mouth. As their kiss intensified, Draco slid a hand in between them and started squeezing and massaging his own dick. He preferred Harry to do this, but as Harry’s hands were otherwise occupied holding Draco in place by his bum, Draco supposed he didn’t mind doing himself – just this once.

It wasn’t long before their movements became erratic. Harry’s pumping into Draco’s warm, tight arse became desperate. Draco clenched around Harry, feeling the first sign of his climax flicker in his gut. A deep moan, followed by his blond head dropping harshly onto Harry’s shoulder was Harry’s only warning that Draco was about to explode. Draco panted, and bit down sharply onto Harry’s shoulder and came with a deep grunt.

The little shudders running through Draco’s body were enough for Harry. He pumped furiously through a few last strokes before stilling and climaxing spectacularly, choking out Draco’s name.

After a few moments of afterglow, Draco dropped his legs from around Harry’s waist to find his feet on the lake floor once again, causing Harry’s now soft dick to slip easily from him. He snaked his hands around Harry’s waist to support him while they both recovered.

“Mmm, that was amazing,” Harry mumbled from where his head was cradled against Draco’s collarbone. Draco murmured in agreement, even though his arse was now stinging slightly from fucking without preparation. Good thing people always said salt water was good for healing… “I could stay here all day floating in the water with you.”

“I’d love that too, babe, but I’m really starting to fucking freeze again,” Draco said, his body giving a violent shiver to prove his point.

Harry chuckled, starting to wade through the shallow water back to shore. “Ok, let’s head back. We’ll have to think about building a fire to cook dinner.”

“WHAT?” Draco demanded. “What… what are we going to eat?”

“Baked beans,” Harry stated, wriggling his eyebrows at Draco.

“No, that’s –“ Draco cut himself off with an piercing screech as he starting scrambling through the water with petrified shrieks.

“Draco!” Harry cried in surprise. “What’s wrong?!”

“EEEEEEEEK!” Draco screamed. “IT TOUCHED ME! IT TOUCHED ME! IT FUCKING TOUCHED ME!”

“What touched you?!” Harry called. Draco was now crawling rapidly onto the shore, splashing water everywhere in his wake. He leapt up and started brushing his arms and legs, still squealing.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW! SOMETHING STRINGY AND SLIMY! Urrrghhh! Get it off me!” Draco was now doing something that looked like a dance. “Oh my god, it touched me!” He was calming down, and as Harry approached him, he was shuddering and rubbing his forearms.

Harry couldn’t contain his amusement and a laugh escaped in a snort through his nose. Draco just glared at him. He was standing there dripping wet with his blond hair hanging in a tangled mess on his forehead, still trying to brush off the imaginary intruder of his skin.

“It was probably just a weed or something,” Harry told him soothingly. He grabbed Draco’s towel and wrapped it around his husband’s shoulders, rubbing to start warming him up again. Draco was still shivering, though whether it was from the chill, fright, or disgust, Harry couldn’t be sure.

“I’m never fucking swimming in a lake again,” Draco sulked. “It wasn’t a weed, it was fingers! It might have been a shark!”

“Sharks don’t have fingers, love,” Harry said, stifling another snort. “And I doubt Jaws would be inhabiting a lake barely bigger than a puddle.”

“I don’t give a fuck what it was! It touched me and I’m not bloody swimming in anything that doesn’t have four walls again!” Draco snapped.

“Ok, ok!” Harry agreed, throwing up his hand in defeat. “Let’s go back. Are you hungry?”

“No,” Draco sniped.

“I don’t believe you,” Harry replied. “You’re always hungry.”

“Bugger off, I am not. You make me sound like I’m a fat, overeating cow with a chicken leg in each hand,” Draco tossed back.

Harry laughed. “So, you want chicken legs, so you?”

“I’m not hungry,” Draco insisted.

“Scared of eating baked beans, are you?” Harry taunted. 

“Fuck yes,” Draco answered. “They tell you its beans in the tin, but it’s probably tiny rat’s kidneys, or something.”

“Oh, ew. Draco, please,” Harry moaned.

“I’m not hungry,” Draco repeated as they reached their tent, so Harry dropped the subject.

* * * * *

Harry was wandering around the edge of their camp site collecting sticks and twigs in his arms to build a fire. They dressed in some warmer clothes after their swim, and Harry managed to get Draco to admit he was hungry, but still wasn’t successful in getting his husband to agree to ingesting the camp food.

Draco was sprawled on his stomach on their sleeping bag in the tent with his head out the door watching Harry. “Harry?” he asked, surveying the camp site for about the hundredth time in the last hour.

“Yes, love?” Harry replied, dumping his load of sticks a few feet from their tent. 

“Where’s the toilet?” Draco finally asked. It was something that had been bothering him since their swim, but he thought he could hold it. It was obvious now that that plan may not be so successful.

“Pick a tree,” Harry said with a laugh. “There are some quite nice ones here.”

Draco made a horrified noise. “A tree?! What if I need to do a shit?”

Harry stepped over to the box that had all their camping gear in it and tossed a roll of toilet paper at Draco. Draco swallowed as the watched the fluffy roll land in front of him. He looked up at Harry with wide eyes, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t make me do that in the bushes?! That’s… that’s…”

“Roughing it,” Harry finished for him. Draco literally growled at Harry, giving him a death glare that Harry swore he could feel when it pierced him, and viciously yanked the doors of the tent closed, zipping it up with an angry hiss. Harry smirked. “That didn’t quite have the same effect as slamming a door in my face, babe.”

“Fuck you,” was Draco’s scathing reply from within the tent. Harry could hear him shuffling around inside and suspected his husband was crawling into their sleeping bag to sulk.

“So you can’t sit on the pan and read for an hour this weekend. It’s not the end of the world, Draco,” Harry said. He started making a neat pile with the sticks, mentally crossing his fingers that the fire would work first go.

“I’m not listening to you,” Draco spat.

“You must be to have answered my statement,” Harry pointed out and was met with silence. He sighed as he pulled the box of matches from their box. The first match just fizzled as he threw it in the piled of sticks. “Fuck,” he swore to himself.

It took almost ten matches before Harry finally got the fire going. By this time, the sun was going down, making it a pleasant and balmy evening. Well, it would’ve been pleasant it Harry wasn’t sitting there alone poking the fire while his husband sulked in their tent. Just when Harry suspected Draco had fallen asleep, he heard the tent unzip and he looked up to see Draco crawling out. He shuffled over and sat down on the blanket next to Harry with a huff.

“Nice of you to join me,” Harry said moodily.

“I thought we should be together, despite the horrible situation you’ve forced me into,” Draco replied, picking up a stray stick and poking the edge of the fire. “Now my clothes are going to reek of smoke, too. Brilliant.”

“Didn’t you need to take a dump?” Harry said, abruptly changing the subject.

“I’m not shitting in the woods, Harry, I absolutely refuse!” Draco argued. “I’ll wait until we get home, thank you very much.”

“Yeah right,” Harry scoffed.

“What do you mean by that?” Draco asked, offended.

“You’re anal and fastidious. You crap at the same time every day, just like you like to eat your meals at the same time every day and stir your coffee the same amount of times in each cup. There is no way you are ‘waiting’ until we get home,” Harry said with a shake of his head. Draco cocked an eyebrow at his husband and shrugged noncommittally before resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

They stared at the fire for a little while. “I’m going to make dinner. Are you eating, or not? Harry asked. “You can’t not eat for two days.”

Draco pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. “Do we at least get forks? Or are we eating off a piece of bark with a stick?”

Harry didn’t honour him with a reply and started pulling out items to cook their dinner. Draco was surprised when there wasn’t a can of baked beans in sight. “I thought you said baked beans,” he said suspiciously.

“I was winding you up, prat,” Harry scoffed. “We’re having sausages, and if you sneer or snipe at me again, you can stick them up your arse.”

Draco snapped his mouth shut and settled for a glare at Harry. “Are they at least the gourmet ones from that Deli near Diagon Alley?” His tone was pleading and almost desperate. His mouth was watering at the thought.

“They are plain sausages from that nice butcher on the corner who always waves when we walk past,” Harry told him.

Draco suddenly slapped his forearm. “Fuck! Something bit me!” he cried, then smacked his thigh with a loud crack. “Ow! Bloody hell! Ungh, now it’s itchy…” he whined, scratching furiously at his arm.

“Mosquitos,” Harry stated.

“Well, why aren’t they attacking you?” Draco complained.

“You must taste better than me,” Harry laughed as Draco smacked himself in the side of the face and went on to scratch his cheek and his leg at the same time.

“Unnhnn, Harry,” Draco whined. “It’s itchy!”

“Hang on, I have something you can put on.” Harry went over to the tent and returned shortly after with a small bottle. “Spray it all over yourself, but not here near the food.”

“Who makes this? It’s not CK, is it?” Draco turned the can over and read the label.

“CK?” Harry snorted. “Draco, it’s insect repellent, not cologne!”

“Mosi-Guard,” Draco read. “What’s a mosi?”

“I suspect it’s short for ‘mosquito’,” Harry said, turning their sausages. Draco shrugged and squirted the first squirt onto his chest.

“OH EW!” Draco cried. “That reeks! No wonder it keeps the bitey things away! This would make them want to commit suicide! I can’t spray this on myself! I’m already going to smell like an over-scorched bush from that fire, I’m not going to spray this on myself!”

“Merlin, Draco!” Harry shook his head. “Is there anything you will do? All you’ve done is bitch, bitch, bitch since we arrived! All I wanted was for us to have some time alone away from everything, and you’ve just moaned the whole time!”

Draco desperately wanted to retort, but Harry really looked upset. It wasn’t Draco’s fault he had high standards. Ok, so maybe he had ridiculously high standards, but Draco felt he had done plenty by just staying there and not jumping in the car and immediately demanding to be taken home.

Harry poked angrily at a sausage, which burst and sputtered fat all over the pan. Draco wanted to gag at the sight, but instead just sprayed the repellent on – as little as possible to make Harry happy anyway – and came back to sit down next to the fire.

They remained in silence until Harry handed Draco a plastic plate with some sausages and bread on it, along with a plastic knife and fork. The look he gave Draco almost dared his husband to comment, so Draco just thanked him and cut into a sausage. They ate in silence for a few minutes, staring into the fire.

“Um, it’s nice,” Draco commented eventually, though not entirely truthfully as he felt like he was chewing on plasticine, but Harry was pissy at him and he hated when Harry was not talking to him.

“Don’t lie, Draco. Just be thankful you will have something in your gut,” Harry replied dryly.

“Well, do you like them?” Draco asked defensively.

“I do, actually,” Harry stated.

“Can we snuggle in the sleeping bag after dinner?” Draco said sheepishly.

“Do you deserve it?”

“I always deserve snuggling!” Draco insisted. “Everyone should deserve snuggling!”

“Why, Draco,” Harry said teasingly, “are you admitting to liking cuddles?”

Draco smacked his lips. “Yes,” he mumbled, stabbing the remainder of his sausage and stuffing it into his mouth in a rather undignified fashion. “I like cuddles from you. A lot. Happy now?”

“Very,” Harry told him, putting his empty plate carefully on the ground next to him. He moved over to Draco and sat down behind him with his legs on either side of Draco’s hips, slipping his hands around Draco’s middle and giving him a warm hug.

“Don’t squeeze too tight,” Draco warned. “This food has made me all bloated.”

“So, a trip to the toilet – oh, sorry, tree – may be in order?” Harry teased.

“Bugger off. Absolutely not,” Draco insisted, disgruntled.

“Well, I’m going,” Harry said lightly, grabbing the toilet roll from where Draco had left it lying earlier. “I’ll meet you in the tent.”

“I hope a mosquito bites you on the arse,” Draco huffed, watching Harry’s cute bum disappear into the darkness.  

* * * * *

“Can’t I just use my fork?” Draco asked, eying the stick Harry handed him and squishing his marshmallow in between his fingers. “Or, maybe just eat it like this?”

“They taste better cooked in the fire!” Harry enthused, shoving two marshmallows onto the end of his stick and poking it towards the fire. Draco watched as the pink and white puffs turned black on the top before Harry pulled them back and plucked them off the stick. They left a trailed of stringy goo between the stick and Harry’s mouth as Harry savoured the sweet.

Draco gave him a helpless look. “This stick could be poisonous!” But he gingerly eased the white blob onto the stick and mimicked Harry’s actions. He was too busy staring at the tiny streak of pink left on Harry’s chin and soon the end of his stick – and the marshmallow – were burnt to a crisp. “Oh, what a shame,” he murmured sarcastically.

Harry snorted. “Come here,” he urged. Draco shifted closer to Harry and Harry swiped his next marshmallow he had be roasting off his stick and shoved it in Draco’s mouth. Draco was too shocked to react at first, but soon the gooey sweet mess was melting onto his tongue.

“’snot so ba’,” Draco commented, still with a mouthful of roasted marshmallow. “A bit sweet.”

“Do you want another one?” Harry offered, and Draco nodded reluctantly. Harry laughed, slipping two more sweets onto his stick for them both. “How’s your tea?”

“It’s alright. I prefer freshly brewed,” Draco said, taking a sip of the hot, milky liquid. “I think the person who invented the tea bag was delusional. The leaves are supposed to be allowed to draw, not dangle in a wet soggy bag and just hang there.”

“Your bollocks just hang there in a soggy bag, and there’s nothing wrong with them,” Harry teased and Draco snorted with laughter.

“Wanna feel to make sure?” Draco said wickedly.

Harry grinned. “Later,” he said. He fed Draco another marshmallow, which Draco thoroughly enjoyed this time, but when he finished chewing, he yawned loudly. “Want to turn in, then?”

Draco nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted. 

“I’ll just tidy up here and have a piss,” Harry told him. “Meet you in there. Keep the sleeping bag warm for me.”

Draco leant over and gave Harry a lingering kiss.  “See you soon,” he murmured.

* * * * *

Harry crawled back into the tent and zipped it up. Draco was already snuggled in their sleeping bag with the edge tucked up under his chin.  

“Is it good?” Harry asked as he untied his shoes and pulled his socks off.

“What?”

“The sleeping bag,” Harry replied, running his hand over the thick, red material.

“Well, it’s warm. I wouldn’t go so far as are to say it was good,” Draco scoffed. He watched Harry strip his clothes off and just as he was sliding his boxers down his legs, Draco unzipped the sleeping bag for Harry to slip into.

Harry immediately melted into Draco’s arms when Draco spooned up behind him and sighed. “Mmmm, this is nice,” he murmured. Draco rubbed light circles on Harry’s stomach and kissed the nape of his neck.  

“I agree. This is definitely the best part of your little escapade.” Draco’s tongue darted out and traced little wet lines across Harry’s shoulder while his hand moved further downwards to tease Harry’s half-hard penis.

Harry sighed deeply. “Oh, that feels amazing. I love your hands,” he whispered, moving his hips slowly to massage himself against Draco’s hand. This was causing Harry’s bum to rub Draco’s already full erection and Draco groaned.

“I’m going to make love to you, Harry,” Draco purred. He slid the fingers of his other hand in between Harry’s arse cheeks and teased Harry’s anus that was pulsing erratically in anticipation.

“Oh yes,” Harry breathed. “Put your finger in me.”

“Do you have lube, baby? I’m not doing it without,” Draco insisted. “You bled last time.”

Harry smacked his lips in frustration at the halt in Draco’s ministrations. He reached over to fumble around in the front pocket of their hold-all and pulled out a brand new tube of lubricant and gave it to Draco. 

Draco didn’t waste any time squirting a liberal amount of the substance into the palm of his hand. He ran his fingers through it to ensure it wasn’t too cold before he slid his fingers back into the crack of Harry’s arse. His index finger slipped inside Harry’s entrance with ease, and Harry’s breath hitched in response.

“I love you, Draco,” Harry murmured, pushing back into Draco’s hand. Draco’s smoothed his other hand over Harry’s hip and continued on to cup his balls, Draco’s long, elegant fingers tickling Harry’s perineum.

“I love you,” Draco whispered back, tracing a figure eight pattern with his tongue on Harry’s back between his shoulder blades.

“Now,” Harry grunted.  

“Are you sure?” Draco asked. He only just managed to get two fingers inside Harry, and he didn’t want to hurt him.

Harry was writhing back against Draco, making small pleasured noises. “Yes…” he hissed. “Mmm… oh god… I want you inside me…”

Draco didn’t need to be asked twice. The feeling of Harry squirming against him was amazing. He pulled his fingers from the slick hole and splayed his hand across Harry’s stomach to brace himself as he pushed in. Harry made a soft grunting sound following by a slight whimper, so Draco stopped moving when he was halfway inside.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Draco asked gently.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “Oh fuck, you feel good…” Draco took this as his cue to continue, and he slid in the rest of the way. They didn’t often make love in this position, and Draco had to wonder why. Sure, they weren’t facing each other, but spooning was always one his favourite things to do with Harry. There was something about lying like this with Harry that just made him feel so wonderfully and intimately connected to his husband that sex like this just seemed to make sense. He made a mental note to instigate more encounters in this position. “Are you going to move, or are you waiting for an invitation?” Harry finally asked with slight irritation, causing Draco to smirk and start making light thrusting movements into his husband.

Harry was always the vocal one during sex. It wasn’t uncommon for him to try to start a conversation with Draco right in the middle of their fucking. He was the one to groan and murmur Draco’s name in the throes of passion, and Harry’s screams were a regular occurrence in their bedroom. Draco absolutely loved when Harry talked dirty to him when they were making love, and Harry wasn’t frightened to tell Draco what he wanted and where he wanted it. They topped and bottomed equally, but Draco would be the first to admit that Harry was the dominant one in their relationship. Draco liked being controlled and told what to do and, like every man, revelled in being told when he was good in bed – something which Harry vocalised often.

This time, however, Harry wasn’t very verbal, but the pleasured noises he was making were plenty to tell Draco how much he was enjoying himself. Their sleeping bag was making soft ruffling sounds with their movements. Harry grabbed Draco’s hand from where it had been resting on his hip and pressed it pointedly to his throbbing erection. Draco curled his wrist and started stroking Harry rhythmically while Harry pushed back to meet every one of Draco’s thrusts.

Draco was soon pounding desperately into Harry. The thick sleeping bag cocooned around them was making them sweaty and sticky. Draco could feel the perspiration dripping down the back of Harry’s neck, so he lapped sensually at the small droplets, knowing this was one of Harry’s pleasure points. Harry keened in response, and barely moments later he let out a sharp scream and came, his body shuddering at the intense feelings flushing through him.  

Harry’s arse tensing around Draco’s almost painful erection was too much. He thrust forward harshly one last time, shooting deeply inside Harry with a grunt, followed by a satisfied sigh.  

Harry was boneless in his arms, breathing deeply an erratically as he rode out the sated feeling washing over him. “F’ck tha’ sgood…” Harry slurred tiredly, shifting as Draco pulled from him. Harry rolled onto his back and puckered his lips, showing Draco that he wanted a kiss. Harry always wanted to kiss after sex, and Draco always wanted to snuggle, so they managed to always try to get a satisfying balance of both a majority of the time.  

“Tired, love?” Draco whispered, watching Harry’s eyes slip shut. He eased himself down so he was cuddled into Harry’s side with a leg flung over his thigh.

“Mmm,” Harry replied. “Not so sleepy though.”

“Spoon me and you might feel sleepy soon,” Draco told him, rolling over so Harry could cuddled up behind him.

“You’re all cosy,” Harry told him.

“I’m sticky and sweaty,” Draco snorted.

“Shh, you’re talking too much,” Harry murmured, tightening his grip around Draco’s stomach. Draco sighed in contentment and it didn’t take him long to start feeling sleep creeping up to claim him. 

About ten minutes later, they were both very relaxed but still not asleep. Harry was tracing circles on Draco’s stomach with his fingers when Draco shifted slightly and let out a long, loud fart right on Harry’s leg.  

“Oh my god!” Harry screeched, scrambling to get away from Draco and just managing to get trapped inside their sleeping bag while he fumbled with the zipper. Draco was sniggering. He turned as Harry managed to break free of the confines with a horrified shriek. Harry was waving his arm and had a hand over his face. “Bloody hell, Draco,” he mumbled.

“It’s not my fault. I can’t help if your camping food does that to me. I have a delicate digestive system,” Draco intoned.

“Urgh, there is nothing delicate about it!” Harry sniped. “You bloody reek!”

“Cheap meat doesn’t agree with me,” Draco insisted.

“Thank god I didn’t feed you beans or I’d be dead by now!” Harry moved to open the tent door slightly to let in some fresh air.

As if to prove his point, Draco farted again.  “Oh, pardon me,” he said with a grin. Harry just glared at him. “Sorry! That one was an accident.”

“And the one before wasn’t?” Harry demanded.

“Not entirely,” Draco said smugly.

“You farted on me! You could’ve given me warning or something!” Harry snapped.  

“I didn’t think it would be a loud one!” Draco protested.

“So that makes it alright?” Harry huffed, now kneeling about two feet from the sleeping bag with his arms crossed.

“I told you I was bloated! Come on, baby, come back and lie down.” Draco pulled the edge of the sleeping bag down.

Harry scowled. “Fine, but you fart on me again and you can sleep in the car.”

* * * * *

“Harry?” Draco whispered to his snoring husband. When Harry didn’t stir, Draco nudged him softly in the shoulder. “Harry!” he said a little louder.

Harry groaned and rolled onto his back. “What?” he asked roughly, his voice croaky from sleep.

“I need to go to the toilet,” Draco mumbled. “Badly now.”

“Toilet paper’s outside in the box…” Harry said, rolling over to go back to sleep.

“Can you come with me?” Draco asked.

“No,” Harry muttered. “There is a torch there also. Go yourself.”

“Please?” Draco pleaded. “It’s dark out there and there might be… things.” 

Harry shrunk further down into the cosy sleeping bag. “Hence the torch. Go yourself, Draco! You’ve already kept me up long enough with your bowels. Let me sleep!”

Draco whimpered. “Please, Harry? I’ll… I’ll… wash the dishes for a month!”

Harry snorted. “We have a dishwasher. You haven’t ‘washed’ anything in your life. It’s all done by our cleaner or a wand.”

“You’re such a shit when you’re tired! You’re my husband. You’re supposed to want to assist me whenever I need it!” Draco argued.

“I don’t remember making a vow like that,” Harry snorted. “I also don’t remember one stating I must do everything my husband demands.”

“I’m not demanding, I’m fucking asking politely!” Draco spat and Harry rolled his eyes.

“You don’t need me to hold your hand while you take a shit,” Harry told him.

“But I want you to come,” Draco said in a small voice, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. Harry groaned and rubbed his face.

“Must you always do the pout thing? I feel like a right arse when I say no to you when you do that,” Harry complained, unzipping the sleeping bag and dragging himself groggily out. He yanked on his shoes and then pulled on a thick jumper with his tracksuit pants. “Hurry up then. You can’t go out there in the buff.” Draco nodded, scrambling into some clothes and shoes. He crawled out of the tent, shivering slightly at the night chill. “Get the paper and the torch." 

Draco ruffled through the box and located the torch. “I can’t find the paper,” he said feebly.

Harry smacked his lips. “If I bloody come over there and find it…” he warned, stomping towards their camping supplies. Just as he was a couple of feet away, Draco whipped the roll out with a triumphant grin. “Found it!” He handed it to Harry while he closed the box.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Harry cursed to himself. “Just hurry up! I’m fucking freezing.”

“Where should I go?” Draco asked.

“Oh Merlin, Draco!” Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. “Just find a bloody tree, drop your trousers and get to it so I can go back to bed!”

“Sleeping bag,” Draco corrected.

“What?” Harry snapped, shaking his head in irritated confusion.

“There’s no bed. We’re going back to a sleeping bag,” Draco explained, traipsing in the direction of the trees.

“We might not be if you don’t get a move on!” They came to a stop. “I’m waiting here. You can manage the few more feet yourself.”

Draco pursed his lips, looking between Harry and the area behind the trees, which was dark. Very dark. “Are there bugs or snakes or something?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Harry moaned with a small whimper, rubbing his eyes. “Please just go!”

“How am I supposed to go and hold the torch at the same time?” Draco wondered.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Harry rubbed his arms furiously to try and get some heat. Draco finally shuffled hesitantly into the bushes only a short distance from Harry. Harry could hear the rustling of Draco dropping his trousers and then his blond hair disappeared down behind some bushes.

“It’s cold, Harry,” Draco whined, followed by more shuffled.

“I can hear every noise you are making, by the way,” Harry intoned.

“Well, you married me. It goes with the territory,” Draco tossed back. Moments later he let out a deep moan of relief. “Ungh, I’m never waiting this long again… uh, Harry?”

“What?” Harry bit out.

“You have the paper.” Harry looked down at the paper in his hands and sighed. He stepped hesitantly towards Draco’s bushes and tossed the roll over at him. “Ow! You fucker! That hit me in the head!”

“Just shut up and use it,” Harry demanded, his patience wearing very thin.

Not much more than a few moments later, Draco let out an ear-piercing scream and came stumbling out from the bushes, frantically trying to yank up his pants. He completely ignored Harry as he kept running and shrieking in horror.

“Draco! Draco! Wait! Bloody hell! What’s the matter?” Harry cried.  

“SOMETHING CRAWLED OVER MY FOOT! IT CRAWLED OVER MY FOOT AND IT WAS A FUCKING SPIDER!” Draco screamed hysterically. “IT WAS THIS BIG!” He held his hands about a metre apart and Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself laughing. His husband was red-faced, panting, and had the start of tears glistening in his eyes. He had always had a phobia of spiders that rivalled Harry’s best friend Ron’s own terror of the eight-legged creatures. Even the smallest garden spider would send Draco screeching into the house. They were even supposed to have gone to Australia for their honeymoon, but when Draco had discovered the supposed spider population Down Under, he had flat out refused.

Harry went over and engulfed Draco in a hug. “Shhh, it’s ok. It’s gone now,” he murmured into Draco’s ear. Draco was shaking from head to toe. “Did you leave the torch and paper, love?”

“Yes, I fucking did!” Draco spat. “It’s probably been carried away by the ten foot spider and its harem by now! Fuck camping!” He pulled roughly from Harry’s arms and stalked over to the tent, disappearing inside with a growl.

* * * * *

It seemed that Draco had forgiven Harry sometime during the night, as Harry woke to find him curled right into his side with an arm and leg draped over Harry’s body. It was nice, seeing as for a good portion of the night, Draco had squeezed himself right into the edge of the sleeping bag with his back to Harry.

Once he woke up a little more, Harry realised that it was pouring rain outside. Large raindrops were pelting heavily on the outside of their tent. Harry thanked all the gods that Draco appeared to be sleeping blissfully. This rain would be the icing on the cake. Draco hated getting caught in the rain and he absolutely despised mud.

Harry wasn’t ready to move or get up just yet, but the decision was taken from him when Draco starting shifting restlessly in his sleep. He was shuffling his legs, and Harry couldn’t quite make out if Draco was dreaming or trying to scratch his legs against Harry in his sleep.

Soon, Draco groaned, still squirming. “Ungh, fucking mosquitoes,” he mumbled as he woke sluggishly. “Harry, I’m all itchy.”

Harry pulled the edge of the sleeping bag down, and gasped. “Oh no,” he said in concern, watching Draco reach up and scratch furiously at his cheek.

“What?” Draco grumbled, catching a glimpse of his hand. He shot up, gaping at his hands, and then his arms. “What is this?!” he cried. His arms and hands were covered in a red, blotchy rash.

“Um, it looks like hives, baby,” Harry said hesitantly. “Maybe you touched some stinging nettles when you were in the bushes last night. I don’t know, but you’ve got a reaction to something.” He reached over, touching Draco’s cheek lightly to study the rash closer.

“IT’S ON MY FACE, TOO?!” Draco squeaked, scratching unknowingly at is arm again.

“Draco, don’t scratch,” Harry scolded.

“FUCK YOU!” Draco cried angrily. “I’ll scratch it I goddamn want to! I wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for you! This is all your fault!” 

Harry immediately looked hurt and shrunk back away from Draco. “I’ve got some stuff in the first aid kit that might help,” he mumbled and crawled from the tent. Draco watched him go with a sigh. He went to scratch again, but stopped, trying to heed Harry’s warning.

When Harry came back, Draco gave him a miserable look. “I’m really sorry, Draco,” he said softly. He sat down next to Draco, popping the lid off the small bottle in his hand. “I shouldn’t have forced you to come.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Draco admitted. “I’ve been a bloody wanker from the word go. I didn’t even try to enjoy myself. I know you were just trying to do something for us.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He poured some liquid onto a cotton ball and started dabbing it up Draco’s arm on the red patches.

“Uh, baby? That goes clear when it dries, right?” Draco asked tentatively, gaping at the thick pink liquid Harry was covering him in. The look Harry gave him answered in the negative and Draco had to pinch down on his lips to keep from exploding again.

“We’ll drive back as soon as the rain stops, ok?” Harry promised. “This was a ridiculous idea from the start.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Draco insisted in an attempt to soothe his morose husband. “I’ve had a good time with you in between all the…” Shit… and spiders, he thought to himself. “… stuff.”

“One thing you are not good at, Draco, is lying,” Harry said blandly. “Let me put this on your face, then I’m going to find us something to eat that doesn’t need cooking.”  

“Um, my face isn’t so itchy, really,” Draco evaded, suddenly overwhelmed with an intense desire to scratch his cheek and nose. “You don’t need to put it on my face.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Harry agreed and Draco sighed in relief. “But I’m going to. You look like something out of a horror movie and you need something to soothe the rash.” He kissed Draco quickly on the lips before thoroughly covering all the red bits on Draco’s face with the Calamine Lotion, complete with a large blotch on the tip of his nose.

* * * * *

“All I wanted was for us to fuck…” Harry slurred, swigging on his sixth bottle of beer. “Lots…” He hiccuped and then burped, causing Draco to look blankly at him. “Thought a tent would be co-sy…” he continued, speaking slowly as he tried to get the right words out. “Pfft, fuckin’ big sleepin’ bag an’ all…” Draco tried once again to wrestle the bottle from Harry’s grip, but Harry smacked his hand away. “Bugger off,” he whined. “Haven’ had tha’ much…”

After they had some bread and butter for breakfast, Draco had taken to lying on their sleeping bag alternating between scratching when Harry wasn’t looking and sulking. The rain hadn’t let up, and being stuck in the tiny confines with an itchy husband that had no interest in anything sexual while he was covered in ‘pink shit’ had proven too much for Harry. He had cracked open a bottle of beer he had been saving for their last night camping. Inevitably, this had led to another and then another, before Harry, who had always been somewhat of a lightweight, had become extremely pissed.

The thing was Harry was either a very loving drunk, or a morose, moody drunk. There was never very much in between. Draco, on the other hand, was feeling crap enough without drinking cheap beer and getting smashed. He waged a guess that as Harry hadn’t brought their wands, he likely hadn’t packed a Hangover Potion, either and drinking without said potion was just… unthinkable, not to mention idiotic.

“Maybe you should lie down, love?” Draco suggested, trying to coax Harry to lie down with him. At least that way, he couldn’t get the bottle to his lips without spilling it all over himself, and it might deter Harry moving onto the next six-pack.

“You look so sec-see all pink and blotchy,” Harry said sappily, giving Draco his puppy dog eyes. Enter pissed-and-loving Harry. He leant over to give Draco a kiss and lost his balance, falling in a messy heap across Draco’s stomach. “Let’s fuck. I dun’ care ‘bout your itchy bits…” Draco got a face full of Harry’s beer breath and he screwed his nose up.

“Even my dick is itchy, Harry. I don’t want to fuck,” Draco told him, pushing Harry back from him.  

Harry smacked his lips. “Just one fuck,” he whined. “Pleeeeeeeeease?” His whinging was cut off by a loud burp. “Jus’ a kiss then?”

“Maybe later,” Draco said dismissively. Harry screwed up his face and farted, then started snorting with laughter.

“Ha! Got you back! I must have a deci… decal… delic… deli… delicate… dis… digt…”

“I get the point,” Draco stated, smirking in amusement. “You know, you can be rather unattractive when you’re drunk.”

Harry flopped onto his side and grinned up at his husband. “You don’t mean that,” he said smugly. “You love me…” he stated in a singsong voice. “See!” He held up his left hand to show off his sparkling wedding ring. “Tha’ means you find me at… attraction… attractionative… all the time…”

 Draco laughed at Harry’s error in his pronunciation. “I find you cute all the time, but I assure you, you are very much not attractive right now,” he said, tweaking Harry’s cheek.

“Let’s go swimmin’!” Harry suddenly cried.

“Harry, it’s still raining!” Draco protested. “And I told you I wasn’t going near a lake ever again!” He waited for Harry to argue with him, but Harry remained silent. “Harry?” Harry was swallowing thickly. “Oh no. No you don’t! Not in the tent!” Draco cried, frantically pulling Harry into an upright position. He barely managed to get Harry’s head out the tent doors before four slices of bread and six bottles of lager made their reappearance.

Draco groaned, wondering if this disaster of a weekend could get any worse. He rubbed Harry’s back, hoping he would stop throwing up soon because they were both getting soaked from the rain. Once Harry was reduced to coughing and dry heaves, Draco pulled him back into the tent and started cleaning him up with a stray towel. He only managed two swipes to Harry’s face before Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out heavily in Draco’s arms.

* * * * *

Harry pried his eyes open, and before he even managed to take in his surroundings, a bottle was shoved in his mouth. “Swallow,” a voice demanded before Harry could spit the liquid out. Harry swallowed, but coughed and spluttered as it went down the wrong way. He turned and found Draco sitting on the bed next to him cross-legged with an empty potion vial twirling in his fingers.

What a minute… bed?

“Where am I?” Harry croaked, looking around to find he was nestled in a large king-sized bed in a room adorned in soft beiges and browns. There was a television blaring at the end of the bed with a rather active gay porn movie dancing across the screen.

“A hotel,” Draco stated, studying his nails. “Four stars, but I think I can live with that.”

“Um, we went camping, right?” Harry asked hesitantly. “I didn’t dream that, did I?”

“I would hardly label it a ‘dream’, love,” Draco snorted. “’Nightmare’ is a more accurate description.”

“You gave me Hangover Potion,” Harry noted. “It’s repeating on me like it always does. How did you get it, and how did we get here?”

“I brought us here, and I got the potion from Granger,” Draco told him, lying next and snuggling close now that Harry appeared to be perking up a bit.

“Hermione,” Harry corrected, as he always did and Draco scoffed. “How?”

“I phoned her once we got here and she Owled it straight to me.” Draco slipped his hand over the covers and started stroking Harry’s smooth stomach.

“How long have I been out?”

“Near seven hours,” Draco confirmed.  

“Wait,” Harry said, sitting up and studying his husband. “Are you telling me you actually packed up the tent and everything, dragged my unconscious arse back to the car, and drove us to the nearest hotel?”

“It wasn’t the nearest,” Draco insisted. “It was the nearest decent one.”

“But you did everything else?”

Draco sniffed and licked his lips. “Yes,” he admitted huffily. “But don’t expect me to fucking do it again! Look!” He shoved his middle finger into Harry’s face. “I broke a nail!”

Harry sniggered and grabbed Draco’s hand, shoving the finger into his mouth. He pulled it out of his mouth again with a loud pop. “You aren’t all red anymore!”

“I got Grang… er… Hermione to send me potion for that as well. Clear potion,” Draco said pointedly.

“So, we’re back to a screen full of ten inch cock, then?”

“And bathrobes,” Draco added, making Harry realise they were both wrapped in thick, fluffy white robes. “Despite the absolutely shitty weekend, there is simply once thing I must insist we do again.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked, grinning when Draco’s hand snaked its way into Harry’s bathrobe.

“Fuck in our sleeping bag,” Draco stated with a smirk and peered over the edge of the bed. Harry followed his eyes to find their sleeping bag spread out on the floor.  

“Then what are you waiting for?” Harry asked, tackling Draco and they fell into a heap of tangled arms and legs onto the sleeping bag.

- fin -

AUTHOR NOTES:
I just want to say a HUGE thank you again to jadzia7667. She jumped in and saved me when I thought for a scary moment my work may go on un-Beta'd! She's a brilliant Beta and I truly appreciate all the time and effort she went to editing this fic for me! Thanks, hon! *hugs*

I hope you enjoyed reading Roughing It as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Take care,

Lani