Harry was in the shower when it happened.
He'd just finished lathering up, letting the hot water run over his back and decidedly not imagining anyone's soft but lightly calloused hands rubbing soap all over his body, or gently gripping him to reach every inch of skin, or roughly pumping away at his… What was left of Harry's willpower failed him. If he shut his eyes and focused, he might be just about able to pretend to himself that the fingers wrapping around him belonged to her.
A heady moan escaped his lips as he approached the peak, every sense on overdrive. He was so close, just a few more strokes before he'd – CRACK! Harry froze, all thoughts of gratification vanishing in an instant as the sound seemed to reverberate around the tiny cubicle. A quick tap from his wand switched the shower off so he could strain his ears in search of any hint of activity outside. Maybe Hermione had woken up and decided to take a quick walk outside the tent? He dismissed the idea immediately. She'd been asleep when he'd headed into the shower and not even an earthquake could get her out into the cold when she'd only just woken up.
Another rustle from outside. Now there was no doubt in Harry's mind. There was something outside the tent.
He grabbed his wand from the counter, Summoning his glasses to his hand with a whispered charm as he grabbed the nearest towel to wrap around his waist. He paused for a moment at the bathroom door to Silence his feet before rushing quietly out of the bathroom. Despite his spell, the wooden floorboards creaked underfoot as Harry crept towards the tent flaps. A quick glance into the gloom outside revealed nothing, and Harry silently cursed himself for forgetting the cloak when it struck him that whatever had made the sounds outside could be standing invisibly right in front of him and he'd have no way of knowing. Gripping his wand between two fingers, he debated casting a revealing spell. He'd never quite gotten the hang of casting it nonverbally, but if he was quiet enough then maybe he wouldn't alert whatever was out there to his presence, if indeed they hadn't already spotted him.
In the midst of his silent debating came another rustle. Turning his head, Harry caught a flash of motion in the gloom in the corner of his eye. Without pausing to think, he fired off three stunners towards its source, dropping low into a duelling stance ready to defend against any counterattacks. When none came, he carefully stepped out into the chill postmidnight air. His towel, loosened by movement, now lay forgotten at his feet as he cast wand light in a wide arc over the area. Small patches of scorched grass marked the impact sites of two of his spells, and as he approached the site, he caught a glimpse of red amongst the greenery. Leaning down, Harry poked at the bushes with his wand to reveal his great adversary: a brown rooster, laying stunned in the grass.
In his relief, Harry raised his wand to revive the bird until he remembered their last meal of roast acorns with a side of grilled grass. He wasn't sure if rooster tasted as good as chicken, but he had a feeling it couldn't be worse than acorn. Resigned to the animal's fate, he grabbed it by the neck and turned back towards the tent. He'd only made it a few steps before a figure in the darkness brought him to a stop. Hermione stood in front of the flap, a very un-Hermione-like smirk upon her face as she looked him up and down. After a moment of confusion, Harry finally registered exactly what she was holding. His discarded towel.
A blush spreading across his exposed skin, he quickly covered himself with the only thing to hand – the ill-fated rooster. It was at that moment that he realised with another flood of embarrassment that his unintended hunt had done little to temper his earlier… excitement, and from the look in Hermione's eyes, she'd definitely noticed. At that moment he wanted nothing more than for the world to swallow him up, and he probably wouldn't have been entirely too upset if Voldemort himself had chosen that moment to finally kill him. Fully aware of his discomfort, Hermione passed him the towel, taking the bird out of his hand in exchange.
"Thanks, Harry. This cock looks delicious." She grinned, gesturing unsubtly with the rooster towards his, now mercifully covered, crotch.
Harry only groaned, turning somehow even redder.
"Ginny's a very lucky woman," she made no attempt to hide the laughter in her voice, "after all, not many wizards can boast such impressive wand work."
"I'm going to bed" he muttered, giving her as wide a berth as possible as he passed through the doorway.
"Just so you know, we don't have enough canvas for another tent." Her evil smile became somehow even wider at Harry's look of confusion. "It looks like you're carrying a spare tent pole there."
"-Please obliviate me."