Problems are for notkeys

Harry thought the hut was lovely, a heaven on earth that he'd designed himself, and though it had only three rooms it was (like most wizarding homes) much bigger on the inside than the out. The kitchen was small, but should have been stocked to the hilt and plenty big enough for one person. The bathroom, he admitted to himself, was a little luxurious for a hideout, but well there were just some things that a guy had to pamper himself with. The main room, with a couple chairs around a fire (not connected to the floo network, but functioning in the old fashioned way) was cozy, and had the biggest, softest, bed that Harry had ever slept in. It was perfect, and he had almost looked forward to his eventual time in this oasis. He could even have dealt with the lack of food—hell, he'd done it before at the Dursley's—the only real mar on this perfection was, the ferret-faced blonde boy in his big cozy bed.

Yeah so he'd put him there, so what? It wasn't as if he was heartless. But, Draco Malfoy would no doubt make existence on this island impossible at least figuratively, assuming he didn't try to kill Harry literally. But, Harry realized, Malfoy hadn't last night when he'd stupidly dozed off in front of him, so perhaps that wasn't really a problem. It felt good to (sort of) mark one worry off of his ever-increasing list. Still, it bothered him that Malfoy hadn't woken him up to whine about Harry taking the bed. It could be that the mini-Death Eater was trying to lull him in to a false sense of security. But, that was a problem for later. He had bigger things to wrap his mind around right now.

His newest problem—the one that he'd encountered outside— was the issue. He had tacitly decided to try to avoid thinking about it all together, because he had no idea what to make of it. Somehow his plan was refusing to work, as he could think of nothing but what he'd seen when he stepped out of the cabin. So, glumly, he sat in the chair by the fire and stared into the flames, willing them to tell him how to remedy his situation. It was becoming increasingly clear that Malfoy had been right, no one was going to realize where he was, and it was quite possible that the maker of this island was insane. Harry sighed. Dumbledore should have figured out where he was by now, and as the only one that knew of the island or its location—if he didn't realize soon, then Harry didn't have high hopes for his and Malfoy's future.

He tried to decide if he should wake the boy up or let him sleep. It was a curious quandary that he never thought he'd be dealing with. To wake a sleeping Draco? All common sense advised him to stay as far away as possible. Sure, it had gone ok last night, but there was no telling what he would do if he tried to wake him now. Harry considered his options. When he was in the dorm and he wanted to wake Ron, he just threw things at him. While Ron had no problem with this strategy, Harry was sure that Malfoy would be deeply offended and start the day off in a snit if he did this. His second option, that of yelling "Malfoy!" until the boy got up, offended his sense of the islands' lush and silent calm—he owed it some respect. The third option, that of actually touching Malfoy again to wake him, left Harry feeling inexplicably wiggy—so he just sat, and pondered the issue outside the cabin in wild wide-eyed, horror. All the time trying to tell himself that his worst case scenarios were defintely not what was happening.

Draco eventually woke, groggy and wiping at his eyes. Harry watched him, feeling somewhat creepy for doing so. He could tell the exact moment that Malfoy remembered where he was and what was going on. The satisfied, sleepy haze lifted, his pointy little nose scrunched, and his hands flew to his hair to flatten his bed-head—there may even have been a glance around to locate his futile wand, but Harry couldn't be sure of that one.

Malfoy yawned, in that funny cat way where your jaw seems to detach entirely from your head. Harry furiously resisted the urge to smile.

"What did you go outside for last night?" he asked, yawning again halfway through.

Harry jerked back into himself, away from his funny little daydream about cat-Malfoy and extremely amusing, yet fussy, adventures. "Oh," he said, "I was, er, going to do some fishing. Try to find us some food. I saw that the tide was almost completely low when we came in, so I thought it must be high by that time of night and at least it wouldn't be hot outside so I thought, well…when would be a better time to, uh, fish?"

"What the hell is the matter with you, Babble-britches? And if you went fishing, why aren't you in the kitchen frying us up some breakfast?"

Harry scowled. "I'm not going to be your servant, Malfoy. You're the bloody reason we're here. If anything, you should be waiting on me."

"I'm the guest here!"

"Guest! You…ARGH!" Harry screamed.

Draco really tried to maintain his calm. "The fish?" he asked.

"There aren't any fish, there was no…" Harry turned his gaze fearfully towards the door.

"There was no what? I say again, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"We're not on the beach anymore. There was no ocean," he ground out.

"You said it was a sea," the correction was automatic. Internally, Draco was having a seizure.

Harry scoffed, "Yeah, there's not one of those either."

"What do you mean? How can there be no sea? Did you see any sea? I mean, maybe the trees were hiding…"

"The sea?"

"Well, were they?"

"You really think I'm stupid. Fine, have a look for yourself, Malfoy," Harry walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Draco stormed off of the bed, and Harry heard him muttering loudly to himself as he went to open the cabin door about 'further insanity' and 'how defective could one island be?' and so on. Then there was the creak that was the opening of the door; then, there was silence.

Two minutes later, Harry heard Malfoy curse.

Five minutes later, he was furiously pounding on the bathroom door. "You get out here, Potter. This is all your fault. Where are we? Why are we in a fucking forest all of a sudden? Are there monkeys? Oh, god, please tell me that you hate monkeys—and that we're not going to meet any not-monkeys." Draco's head thumped against the bathroom door.

Harry decided, with a smirk, that this was as good a time as any to open it, and Malfoy nearly fell into the room. "Technically, they would be monkey-nots, wouldn't they? But that doesn't make sense, not really. Would they be faux-monkeys? Or maybe just notkeys. In any case I doubt we'd get close enough to see their labels."

Draco narrowed his eyes and pushed Harry roughly into the wall. "Do not mock my monkey fear, you coconut freak."

Harry shoved Malfoy away from him and slipped past him back into the main room. "Someday you're going to have to get over yourself, Malfoy. If we're here for very long it better be soon, or you'll be living with the notkeys."

Draco growled and marched into the main room, but Harry wasn't there. He must have gone outside. With a fear so deep that he didn't care to really acknowledge it, Draco joined him, praying that the shack wouldn't poof off into the ether as soon as they were both out of it at the same time. When it stayed put, he rolled his eyes at himself. The things that he suspected that old coot of a headmaster of doing were getting ridiculous.

"All right, so, all you have to do is tell me that you really like a change of scenery and that you and Dumbledore planned this, and I'll be perfectly happy accepting that explanation. Ok, Potter?"

Harry grinned; he sniffed the air and detected salt. "I think we may be on the same island."

"Tell me the lie, Potter."

"Dumbledore may have planned this, he likes a surprise."

"Yes, that's fascinating. Tell me that you were in on it, and you know how to stop it. We can't live in a traveling shack. It is sooo white trash."

"I was obviously not in on it, Malfoy, or I would have known what was going on when I came outside last night."

Draco sighed, the boy had no idea when to tell a kind lie. "Fine," he hissed. "Are we to expect a new location every night?"

Harry thought about it, and considered his knowledge of the headmaster. "I would imagine so, at least once a week."

"Fabu, so you won't be hanging our clothes outside to dry them."

"I won't be hanging our clothes anywhere."

"That's ridiculous. We can't wear them wet; we'll chafe." Draco smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"So, really, what're we going to do?" Draco asked.

"You're asking me?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the problem solver? Hero type, take care of all my worries?"

"Right," Harry drawled sarcastically. "I'm just like that."

"Lucky for you, I can pick up the slack. I'm hungry, that means we go and find food."

Harry shrugged, looking around helplessly. He couldn't think of anything better to do.