Rating: Still R, sadly.
Disclaimer:
Never gonna be mine…
Category:
Romance, adventure
Notes:
For other Drarry action, please see my other stories PROPER INSTRUCTION and FIREWORKS, for those who haven't seen them yet and leave your mark for the giggly author. This one goes out to my dear cousins Ate Pia, Ate Charry, Kuya Jake and Kuya Deo (hugs and kisses).

DREAMCATCHER: CHAPTER SEVEN

"I'm hungry."

Harry absent-mindedly kicked a pebble on the edge of the stream they had found a couple of minutes ago. He had decided to traverse the pebbled path parallel to it since it would solve their basic problem of lack of water amidst Draco's wails of protest that the pebbled, muddy and uneven ground would ruin his custom-made shoes, and that the water looked too dirty to drink. The stream, in Harry's opinion, was quite clear and clean, but trust Draco to look down on it because it was not his usual bottle of sparkling water from some spa. And now the latter was whining loudly again, too loudly to ignore, much to Harry's irritation, about being hungry.

"Oh now I'm starting to regret deeply why we left your prized coconut by the waterhole," the black-haired Gryffindor glowered, keeping the desire to yank Draco's head off at bay.

"The coconut meat was of no use to us. We couldn't even open the damn thing," Draco sulked, pounding his custom-made shoes angrily against the chicken-egg sized pebbles on the shore of the stream.

"Oh I wasn't thinking of feeding you the coconut, Malfoy. I was thinking more along the lines of beating your head to a pulp by pounding the rock-hard coconut on your skull," said Harry, clenching his fists in irritation.

"Look, as much as I want to keep away from your wrath and every opportunity of talking to you, Potter—I cannot ignore the somersaulting complaints of my digestive system pleading to be sated. I need food. If you're not hungry, then good for you. But just because you are going on a hunger strike, trying to beat all world records of self-torture by voluntary deprivation of all forms of nourishment, doesn't mean I have to suffer along with you. I intend to eat to have the energy to look for a way to get the fuck out of this place," Draco argued. Harry nearly cried with frustration, and for the nth time, thought that it was the greatest punishment to be in the middle of nowhere with one Draco Malfoy, whiner extraordinaire.

"You are not helping any in our predicament! Stay the hell away from me, Malfoy, because I might forget my Gryffindor nobility and strangle you with my bare hands! I am now seriously regretting that I didn't drown you in the pond when I had the chance! And if you're fucking hungry, do some more fucking manual labor and get your own fucking food because I'm not one of your fucking servants to hand you a fucking meal in a fucking silver platter! Do you fucking get my point, you fucking arsehole?" Harry was already red in the face, pouring out all his anger at having to tolerate the pompous Slytherin aside from trying to find a way to get out of the dream they were both in. He was gesticulating wildly and clenching his fists at the other boy in thundering rage. Draco, on the other hand, was quite shocked to hear the many swear words from the rumoured-to-be-noble-and-a-saint Gryffindor and, for the first time in quite awhile, actually kept his mouth shut.

"Oh, if I could only leave you right here to rot, I would. But sadly, this is not my dream to get out of; it's yours. And don't you dare tell me that this fucked-up dream is mine or I wouldn't think twice about burying you alive." Harry thundered on, hunger, fear and weariness fueling his rage at the hapless Slytherin.

Draco pouted, still hearing the echoes of Harry's tirade. But when the Gryffindor started walking again, he followed suit. "I've nowhere else to go, Potter," was all he mouthed from his lonely place, three paces behind Harry after the ringing silence over the latter's outburst.

Harry didn't say anything but cursed inwardly at his rotten luck. What Draco said was true. Both of them had got nowhere else to go. If there were any other options of places to go and people to be with, he would've taken them, but he was stuck with Draco—just as Draco was stuck with him. And it was slowly killing them both. Or, if he was honest with himself, he was making it kill them both; but he didn't feel like being honest right then.

Draco didn't pester Harry further about being hungry, though he undeniably was. He didn't want Harry to go ballistic again. He tried to put up with his rumbling stomach begging for nourishment for as long as he could but after what seemed like a lifetime of walking, sharing nothing but soft grunts and heavy breathing, he just had to get the attention of his raven-haired companion that his small intestines were already being devoured by his large ones due to hunger.

"Um Potter—I, ah, really am starving. We need to stop for awhile," Draco called from way behind Harry, practically crawling with fatigue and famish.

Harry froze in his progress and Draco grimaced, preparing himself for the telling-off that Harry might give him again. But Harry just looked at him and shook his head softly. "Fine."

Harry went back a few paces and offered a hand to help Draco back to his feet. "To tell you the truth, I'm quite hungry, too," Harry admitted softly; that tirade had gotten the steam out of his system, not to mention had drained him physically too.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, apprehensive whether he should say something to the other boy. Harry, meanwhile, was looking around, surveying the terrain for possible sources of food. Draco was internally debating, trying to pluck up the courage to say something, anything, to Harry. He feared for a fleeting moment that Harry would only mock him if he said something nice, and therefore something completely out of character.

"I'm really sorry for bothering you. It's just that I don't know what to do and I don't know how to help myself because I'm not as resourceful or as optimistic as you. I—I really need your help; it's not just to infuriate you or to be a pest," Draco softy said, but he regretted his decision to say something the moment the words were out of his mouth. The Gryffindor would only mock his vulnerability now, he was sure.

Harry looked at him, slightly surprised and more than a little guilty, but he merely nodded, "It's OK. I'm sorry, too. Both of us are just so wound up that our patience is running out. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that for no reason at all," he managed, but he looked like every word was being tweezed through his teeth. Draco was the one who was mildly shocked then at Harry's words. No matter how much he wracked his brains for nicer things said by Harry in the past, he couldn't come up with anything. This will go down as a Hogwarts record—the nicest things two rivals could say to each other…Dumbledore would die of shock if he weren't already dead.

"I have an idea," said Harry. He pursed his lips and then bent over to yank his shoes and socks off. He quickly took off his robes and his other pieces of clothing before Draco could object. Harry dove into the stream in his boxer shorts. The blonde Slytherin's mouth was open in astonishment, wearing an appalled look that Harry had to laugh at when the latter surfaced after a few laps under the stream.

"What's the purpose of this?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest, eyes questioning.

"To search for food, what else?"

"This stream probably has piranhas or man-eating fish. It's not safe," said Draco, worriedly.

"I wouldn't put anything past this crazy dream, but this stream has to be put to good use, not to mention I'm in desperate need for a bath," Harry exclaimed, submerging once again. Draco shook his head disbelievingly at Harry's antics. He was reminded yet again of the dreams about Harry that he had wanted to forget.

Draco sat down by the stream, dipping his tired feet in the cool water. He silently waited for Harry to resurface, a little wistful. He couldn't believe that he was with Harry at that very moment. He had always dreamed of it, obsessed over it even in his sleep, and now it had finally happened. He couldn't believe that the golden, opportune moment he had always dreamed about was happening within a dream as well, a dream frighteningly too real for comfort. But the real Harry was a bit too prickly and rude for his exact liking, what he wanted was…

"Hey Malfoy, you alright?"

Harry was swiping wet strands of his black locks away from his face before swimming to where Draco was seated, in deep thought.

"You OK?" Harry asked again.

Draco nodded with a grin. "As much as I want to join you and take a well-deserved bath en route to finding food, I'm quite obsessed with my arse cheeks being intact the way they are."

"Nothing is going to attack your arse cheeks or any part of you, Malfoy. C'mon, help me find food!"

Draco hesitantly took his filthy robes and clothes off, while Harry was submerged again, dove into the stream before Harry could resurface and get a chance to see him in his underwear. The water was cuddling cold and fresh against his dry, slightly sunburned skin. The floor of the stream was strewn with round pebbles and sand, rubbing against his feet calloused from walking too far for too long. Gurgling of water being sliced through by powerful arms filled his ears as he dove deep underwater. The water was clear enough to see some five yards away, but there was nothing beyond his range of vision; not one small carp or trout was visible.

He surfaced, took a deep breath of precious air and dove under again to help find food. His feet paddled through the tides and his arms propelled him forward. Something encircled his ankles and he thrashed around, surfacing abruptly in fear that some giant water demon had got hold of him. "Relax Malfoy, it's just me," Harry chuckled, swiping his wet hair that had gotten over his eyes because of Draco's thrashing.

"Very funny, Potter! I thought for awhile there that some Grindylow has got me," Draco squirmed.

"Grindylow? I don't think so. Still nothing though, not even a single clump of edible waterweeds or something—" It was then, very suddenly, that something slimy slithered up Malfoy's backside.

Draco screamed and furiously paddled towards shore, breaking hell loose. "There's something there!" He hollered imperiously, much to Harry's bemusement, holding his butt when he had made it back to the safety of the edge of the stream. "It was going to eat my arse! There're piranhas in that stream, Potter!"

Harry stared at him a bit dazedly, "Alright! You found some food." He dove underwater and vanished from sight. Draco hurriedly put on his clothes after self-consciously noticing that Harry had already seen him in wet underwear. Shit!

The Slytherin walked to the clump of shrubbery farthest away from the stream and sat down with his back to the water, cheeks hot with embarrassment. He shouldn't have screamed and kept his cool, and he shouldn't have jumped out of the water so suddenly thereby exposing things that should've been better left concealed—in full view of Harry Potter.

The flush on his cheeks was probably raging. Thoughts of the old dreams bombarded his consciousness again, overwhelming him, scaring him. The whisper of flesh on flesh; Harry's smooth arms, which weren't too bulky with muscles and the smell of his black hair like chamomile and chocolate. The dreams of Harry were also so real like this dream where they were both trapped in, but he summoned all of his willpower to shove the remaining details in the deeper part of his mind that even he, himself, wouldn't be able to reach. He forced himself to forget them, to banish them from his mind…and his heart. They were just dreams…

"Hey." Harry tapped his shoulder lightly, breaking into his thoughts. He never noticed how much time had already gone. Harry wasn't dripping anymore. He must have emerged from the stream some thirty minutes ago already, but he was still in his under shorts, barefoot and half naked. "I thought you were hungry?"

Draco stood up from his spot and followed Harry back to the edge of the stream, uneasy. There were debris of a hastily created fire there, twigs, dried leaves and some sharp stones. "I should thank you for finding our lunch," Harry jested. "Though you almost scared it away with that ear-splitting scream."

Draco could've collapsed with shame, but held his Malfoy dignity, "I didn't scream."

"Right, right—you screeched like a runaway banshee, more like," Harry stifled a mocking guffaw. "You scream like a girl; has anyone ever told you that?"

Draco could feel the beginnings of another violent blush, so looked away and pulled his robes closer to his chest. "And you conduct yourself like an uncouth caveman! If anyone ever tells you that, agree with him! And anyways, I thought it was going to eat my butt. I doubt you'd react differently if something had slithered up your butt."

Bad move. Including Harry's butt in the conversation was definitely a bad move… Harry bit his lower lip to stifle another laugh and just passed the cooked fish impaled on a crooked stick to Draco.

Draco looked at the fish dubiously; its one side was bright orange while the other side was blood red. It looked dreadfully unappetizing and ugly. "This fish looks mutated or something; are you quite sure this isn't poisonous? And how did you cook it?"

"Made a fire by rubbing two stones together and feeding the feeble flame with dried twigs and leaves until it was big enough to cook. It's not so hard; Muggles on TV do it all the time in adventures in the outback," Harry replied nonchalantly, omitting the fact that starting the fire had been so frustrating he had nearly hit himself with the said stones. "And I suggest you taste it first before you pass judgment. It's probably a carp or something," He said as he grabbed the stick with the fish from Draco, pinched some meat off and stuffed it in his mouth. "Tersht white grubd—" He shoved the fish to Draco again but the latter only grimaced more pointedly. "I said it tastes quite good; try it," urged Harry.

Draco took a small, suspicious bite, which was later on followed by bigger, more animated bites of the fish. The boys shared it quite civilly; Draco finished off the red part while Harry worked on the orange side of the mutated fish. Most of the meal was polished off in silence they were so hungry, although once or twice they joked about Draco's earlier agitation. By the time the fish was properly licked and sucked clean, both Draco and Harry were full and recharged to continue searching for a way out of the dream.

It was only when they were climbing to their feet again to resume their journey that Draco realized that there was something disturbingly familiar about the stream. He concluded later on in his thoughts, though, that it was probably just the joy of sharing a meal with Harry that had made the stream seem familiar. He had always secretly wished for it after all.

Thanks again to VesperAgain for keeping me in check… you are an angel. A very Merry Christmas (though I am a bit late with the greeting) and a Superb New Year to everyone! Let's not allow the recession in the world economy to get to us… Reviews will be greatly appreciated…

-emeraldine-