"Remind me again why I agreed to this asinine plan?"

"Because I've never flown in a Muggle plane before, and the last time we took an International Portkey, you complained for three hours that we had to wait fifteen minutes for the next one."

"Potter, it may have been several years since I was in the Muggle world, but I still remember the fact that flying on airplanes takes longer than Portkeys!"

"Look at it this way; I'm not using my fame, expecting to get star treatment . . ."

"..."

"Look, it'll be fine, I promise. It'll be fine!"

~HPSS~

"We apologise for the delay, but due to a mechanical malfunction, we will be making an emergency stop in Rio de Janeiro. Please ensure that your seatbelts are fastened, and that all technical equipment is turned off. Unfortunately, the landing may be a bit bumpier than we'd like, which may trigger the oxygen masks, but everything is completely under control. For those with a connecting flight from Washington DC, I'm afraid that we're going to be a bit delayed. We do apologise, and any costs will be reimbursed—"

"What was that you were saying about it'll be fine?"

"..."

He'd gotten a last minute deal, Harry had said. A lovely little hotel for an absolute bargain, he'd said. It apparently wasn't quite in the city centre, but was close enough that they wouldn't have to trek for hours to get there. 'Picturesque' was used often, as was 'homely', and had he mentioned yet what a steal it was?

Severus was dubious, because in his opinion you just didn't find hotels with amenities for that kind of low price, not unless there was something desperately wrong with it.

Harry, though, assured him that it'd be fine. It'd all be fine!

~HPSS~

"This is not my idea of 'lovely', nor 'picturesque'."

"But it is close to the city centre!"

"So close that I feel I'm directly inside the club that is blasting out that . . . music. Ugh, the roof is leaking on me again. Change sides."

"But—"

"Yes, you're quite right. Nobody could sleep in that draught. Change sides again."

"It's only for one night, Severus. Surely you can—argh!"

"Even if the bed frame hadn't just broken, I wouldn't remain here any longer, Potter."

"What happened to 'Harry'?"

"It went the same way as 'It'll be fine'."

"..."

"Harry, where are my swimming trunks?"

"On the bed."

"I said 'swimming trunks', not 'underwear'."

"Severus, those are swimming trunks."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive."

"Did you get the right size? These feel very . . . snug."

"Nope, those are just right."

"Harry, I really don't feel comfortable in these—"

"Trust me, Severus. You don't look any different to anyone else who'll be out there on the beach. Except paler."

"But people are bound to stare at me. It's positively indecent!"

"Be grateful we aren't at a nudist beach. Trust me, Severus, you look great. It'll be fine!"

~HPSS~

The chorus of wolf-whistles that followed them down the beach drilled straight through Harry's head, and he gritted his teeth as another one sang out. The two girls walking past were swinging their hips, more than was completely necessary, their smirks communicating that they were thoroughly enjoying the view.

Wrapping his arm around Severus' waist, Harry glared at them. Why, oh why, hadn't he brought a towel out with them? Then he could have wrapped Severus up in it. He'd known he thought Severus looked sexy in those little black trunks, but this was ridiculous.

This wasn't fine at all!

Harry had seen the building in a brochure of the area that he'd been reading. It had taken quite some persuading to convince Severus that they should go – although he had, perhaps, been more persuasive than had been strictly necessary; not that Severus was complaining. He had, after all, been quite stubborn about it.

Morning found them, therefore, ready to set off on what Harry promised would be a wonderful adventure. The brochure didn't actually give specific coordinates, but he was sure they'd be able to find it with no problem. It would be fine. It would all be fine!

~HPSS~

"Are you sure we've got the right place?"

"Positive."

"Because we've been going around in circles for three hours now, and have seen nothing but cows."

"It's round here somewhere; I know it is! Perhaps if we tried over that hill—"

"We've been trying 'over that hill' for the last Merlin knows how many hills. Give me that map, Potter!"

"I can read a map, you know."

"Really? Then you read this brochure, from start to finish?"

"Of course I did!"

"Then you read this part that says the whole place is Unplottable and under a Fidelis Charm?"

"..."

Pale hands skimmed along smooth, creamy skin, leaving shivers and twitches in their wake, and eliciting the occasional involuntary giggle. Bruises where a warm mouth had suckled dotted the landscape. The same warm mouth drew another bruise over a pulse point, before drifting upwards to meet firm lips. Tongues battled for dominance, until the need to breathe – however unwillingly – became paramount. One hand slid downwards again and, a brief murmur later, a slick finger pushed for entrance. The hot, tight channel drew it in, accompanied by an embarrassingly eager and unabashedly filthy moan.

It was fine. It was all fine.

~HPSS~

Pale hands gripped his hips so tightly he knew there'd be bruises there in the morning. Throwing his head back, his rhythm stuttered as his partner – his lover – found that special spot inside. His inner muscles clenching brought forth a gasp, followed by a groan. Close, so close. If he rose up, and corkscrewed down again like so . . . Rushing headlong into madness, his vision gone in a blur of black and grey, he collapsed, knowing there was nowhere else he'd rather be. Lips met warm lips, a gentle benediction.

It was all fine. It was all wonderful.

Finite