Which way do we go?

"Malfoy?" Harry slurred, "Where we goin' again?"

Draco sighed. Unfortunately he had sobered up on their walk, but Potter was still delirious—it couldn't mean good things. On top of that, the sun was setting, and for the life of him he could not find their cabin. "We're going back to the cabin, you git. Where else would we go?"

"You're so smelly, Malfoy." Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

"Why thank you, asshole." As if it wasn't bad enough that Draco was having to practically carry the bastard, now he had to suffer being reminded that he reeked.

Harry grinned lazily. "Not bad smelly, but like a good smelly. Like a towel."

Draco snorted. "Well it's a rather good thing that you're a drip then, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I like to think that I'm a useful towel."

"You're so weird," Harry slurred.

"I'm not weird, it's just that you're so dense you can't possibly understand me." Draco said lightly, then frowned.

"Yeah, s'good though. Makes you all mysterious and stuff."

Draco stopped walking and stared at Harry. "You think that I'm mysterious, and that it is a good thing?"

"Well, yeah."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How long have you and Dorothy been friends?" he asked.

Harry frowned and shoved himself away from Malfoy, but he didn't have the strength to stand on his own, and fell down. "Her name's Hermione," he groused.

Draco was quite sure he had never laughed so hard in his life. In fact, he probably would have continued until he died from it, had Potter not made an interesting discovery.

"Hey," Harry said, holding up a strange stick/plant contraption. "Here's the fishin' net I tried to make this mornin'." He grinned sloppily at Draco. "We're home."

Draco looked around the clearing. He couldn't deny any longer that it did look familiar. They were home. Only, there was no home. The cabin had poofed after all.

"But I can't, Malfoy," Harry whined.

"You can. Get up."

"No. I'm tired. I'm not walkin all the way back to that stupid waterfall. 's nighttime. We need to go to sleep."

"We can't sleep in the open, Potter!" Draco was whining a bit himself now, "and there was a bit of a cave behind the waterfall. It's the only other shelter I've seen, and we're going to need water."

"There's water in the cabin," Harry yawned.

"I can't find the bloody fucking cabin!"

"Wha?"

There was no way around it, Draco was going to panic. Potter had been getting more and more sleepy and unresponsive, and now he couldn't get the git to even care that they were homeless. Honestly, it may be something that Potter was used to but it was a new thing for him.

Perfect, now Potter was asleep, or possibly dead. Draco bent down and put two fingers under Harry's jawline and pushed in. He was relieved to find a pulse, but no amount of shaking seemed to be enough to wake him.

Draco stood up and looked around, bloody perfect. He was in the middle of the woods with an unconscious invalid and he had no fecking idea what to do. Obviously he couldn't just pass out like Potter had. He'd never get to sleep while worrying about all the bugs and the monkeys (because there had to be monkeys) and, ok—he was a little worried that the caterpillar would find him and crawl up his nose and have little fuzzy babies.

He shuddered. There was nothing for it, he'd have to leave Potter and look for the cabin on his own.