Blue...Lagoon?

"You're bloody serious aren't you?" Draco said, his voice tainted with sorrow.

"Yes, for the last time. I. Am. Serious. I didn't plan to bring a prima donna to the island with me, and this is all I have."

"But they're…blue jeans…"

"Actually we're just calling them jeans these days."

"This is no joke, Potter. I can't wear these."

"Then you'll just have to wear your uniform pants for as long as we're here." Harry smiled, he knew what the answer to this would be.

"I can't do that! They're dirty! I can't wear dirty pants. Besides, they're wool, my ass would sweat."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Then you'll have to wear my jeans."

Draco grunted in displeasure. "I'll have to wear jeans."

"My jeans," Harry grinned.

"Harry Potter's jeans…" Draco sighed. He walked wearily into the bathroom and closed the door with a soft snick, the very last of his dignity in shreds.

Harry cackled with glee as he changed his clothes. There was nothing better than seeing Malfoy squirm.

At least, that's what Harry thought until Malfoy came out of the bathroom wearing his jeans. His, slightly too small for Malfoy, jeans. Then the prospect of Malfoy squirming and Harry watching took on a whole new light. He blushed, and rushed out into the clearing barking at Malfoy to follow.

Draco sighed as he moved to follow Harry outside. Now he was taking orders from Potter while wearing Potter's clothes. He was officially the scarred ragamuffin's bitch. The thought depressed him in a way that he had never been depressed before. He grumbled as he walked out the door.

"You could've at least given me some bloody underwear."

Harry ignored the mention of underwear, and the idea that Draco wasn't wearing any while wearing his jeans, and the burgeoning lust that he was feeling for his sworn enemy, and the panic encroaching on his every thought, and his own fresh new insanity, as he looked around for hunting weapons. Not surprisingly, there were no weapons.

"We don't have anything to hunt with," he said.

"Hunt? Are you crazy?"

Yes, Harry thought. "No. We've got to have food."

"Well, why can't we fish?"

"Because we've no idea how far the beach is."

"Fine, we pick berries or something. I'm not hunting anything."

"Awhh," Harry cooed. "Is wittle Mawfoy afwaid of killing a wittle bunny?"

Draco sneered. "I dislike the sight of blood."

"I imagine you'll get used to it."

"What's that supposed to mean, Scarhead?"

"Nothing," Harry said, his voice low and sad. "I just remembered who you were."

Draco seethed. "You've no idea who I am, Potter, and you'd do well to remember that."

Harry walked away down a path and Draco saw little choice but to follow. He was furious, yes, but not furious enough to be left alone in the woods near a shack that may or may not stay put. There could be nothing in the woods more frightening than being left alone.

The depth of Harry's shock surprised even him. He had known who Malfoy was, who Malfoy was destined to be, and he had allowed himself to lust after him. After a day! One day was all it had taken for him to forget that Malfoy and his father and their master wanted to kill him, that Malfoy hated him and taunted him at every turn. That he could never ever be friends with Malfoy. He wasn't even sure that he should risk trying to be cordial with him. If, he thought, he was this fickle in his emotions, he shouldn't trust himself at all. It would be best to keep up the veneer of hatred and disgust. He could ill afford to be caught off guard when Malfoy turned on him.

"What the hell are you brooding about, Potter?" Draco asked after they had walked a ways into the woods. "I'm the one that was slighted back there. I should get to be angry broody pants, not you."

"Shut-up, Malfoy. You're scaring away the notkeys and I want them to come and take you away from me."

Draco stopped. He raised an eyebrow. "Is that right? Well maybe they will. I reckon living in a shit-covered tree with chattering little hairy fleabags would be better than living with you. No matter how nice the bathroom is in the shack."

"If you don't shut-up, you'll scare the berries away too." Harry groused.

Draco scowled.

The boys walked in silence for half an hour, occasionally picking some berries that looked edible, most of the time fighting. Draco was furious, and he couldn't really figure out why. He hated Potter, that much was for sure. But for some reason he found it even more offensive that Potter was actively hating him so much. It was like it was digging under his skin, and so he kept prodding Potter into larger and larger arguments. It seemed to him, that if he could just get Potter really angry, then he would be able to figure out his own issues.

Eventually though, he grew tired of even that. Potter was refusing to blow up, which was just as well, since they did have to live in a very small shack together. They found a little stream, and had followed it down to a gorgeous little waterfall, and Draco was currently basking in the spray while Potter swam around in the pool like the freak that he was. Unfortunately, there didn't appear to be any fish in the pool—Draco was pretty sure that even he could catch a fish in that small area, but oh well.

Everything was going just fine, which boded poorly for the rest of the day. They had enough food to eat, yes. The shack had running water, though how it managed was something beyond Draco's comprehension. They had yet to meet any sort of animals beyond a very very fuzzy caterpillar that had been resting on a leaf of one of the berry bushes. And no, Draco had NOT screamed when it brushed up against his hand.

Yes, maybe that's what was bothering him. (No, not that he screamed—because he did NOT scream). It was the fact that there didn't seem to be a lot of animals on this island. Dumbledore was a tree-hugging moron. I mean, he kept the Forbidden Forrest right on the grounds of the school; he adored the Hagrid oaf and his fondness for bizarre animals, and yet here had created an island with no animals. It just wasn't possible. There had to be more than fuzzy little caterpillars. Draco actually felt the cold sweat forming under his skin before it seeped out.

"Potter!" he screamed.

Harry swam around and tried his best to ignore the blonde beast on the shore. He had learned a lesson today. You do not ignore a Malfoy, but that didn't mean that it wasn't fun to goad him on by trying. It was only a matter of time before the peroxided wonder made him pay attention, but until then…la la la, swimming around in circles…

"Potter…" Draco growled.

Harry sighed. That was the shot fired over the bow. The next would be a direct hit.

"Potter!" there was a definite ear-twanging screech in that one. It hurt.

"What, Malfoy?" Harry grumbled.

"Don't you mumble! Shut up! I hear you mumbling about me."

Harry mumbled. "Stupid Malfoy stupid island stupid Dumbledore stupid blonde prick of a stupid…"

"Stop it! That is so annoying."

"What do you want?" Harry barked. "I was having a good time, in case you missed that."

"Yes you looked spectacularly entertained, swimming in circles like a retarded rubber ducky, but this might be important."

"Might? Don't you think you should make sure it is important before you bother me with it?"

"Oh you think you're so high and…" Draco took a deep breath. "It is important. I was just sitting here, and I was just wondering, where are the bloody animals?"

Harry heaved himself onto the rock shore of the little pond and sat beside Malfoy. "What do you mean? We met your little friend the caterpillaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Harry giggled.

Draco frowned. "Ponce."

Harry scoffed. "Pot," he said.

"Shut-up."

Laughing, Harry asked, "Ok, I give, what do you mean, 'Where are the animals'?"

Draco explained, about Dumbledore and the caterpillar, and the giant and as he did he saw Harry's face change. Initial boredom and that slightly patronizing look that the git always had, began to change. His eyebrows grew closer together, his forehead seemed to shrink and crinkle, and a tinge of red began to spread over his face—right before his cold sweat broke through.

"Did you feel it forming?" Draco asked.

"What?"

"Your sw…Oh nevermind."

"Yeah. Right. Oh god. What if they're like… all intelligent and they're waiting until we relax and then they're going to attack us?"

"Huh? Who?"

"The animals!" Harry screamed.

Draco laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. Dumbledore wouldn't put you on an island full of sentient animals that could make plans and attack you."

Harry squeaked.

"Oh my god, he would, wouldn't he?"

"No…?"

Draco sat frozen in his place. He stared off into space. Harry poked him.

"Say something you git," Harry whispered. "What do you think we should do?"

Draco didn't respond.

Harry poked him again, this time in the soft little underbelly.

"Oi! Stop it."

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

"I think," Draco said, "that we should get up slowly, and hope that the thing over there doesn't have really good hearing, or doesn't speak English."

Harry turned, slowly as you're supposed to in these situations, and laid eyes on his first blue deer. "Whoa," he said.

"Uh huh."

"Blue."

"Indigo, I'd call it."

"Pretty."

"If you say so."

"Doesn't look mean."

"Doesn't look friendly either."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Blue deer."

"Yes, we established that, Potter."

"It's just…why?"

Draco sighed. "One may never know the inner workings of the Headmaster's mind. I doubt that we'd really want to."

Harry nodded. "Scary."