Written for Hogwarts

Geography, task #12: Write about someone/a group of people who is/are isolated

Word count: 1523

Other prompts below; AU where Draco defects during 6th year and winds up going on the horcrux hunt with the Trio

"A Malfoy living under these conditions...it's downright inhumane...Can't believe I'm stuck in a bloody tent, and with a Weasley..."

The angry muttering started up right on schedule, fading in and out of earshot as Draco paced their little campsite. Harry didn't know what good it did, aside from irritating everyone who had to listen to it, but nobody had come to blows over anything lately, so that was something. He sighed, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself and leaning against the tree trunk behind him. Draco was little more than a silhouette in the darkness, his white-blond hair the only thing clearly visible.

"Give it a rest, Malfoy," Harry mumbled. "None of us like it out here."

Draco stopped his pacing and whirled around to face him. Harry couldn't make out his expression, but he could imagine it quite well anyway. Draco was a master of every disgusted expression one could have.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," Draco said with a scandalized little scoff. "Besides, the rest of you must be used to living in squalor, having grown up with Muggles and Weasleys. My situation is completely different."

At that, Harry allowed himself a moment to be grateful for the fact that Ron and Hermione were asleep. It was difficult to believe, given how easily Draco had always gotten under his skin at Hogwarts, but at some point over the past couple of months, he'd become the best at tolerating the Slytherin's complaints. Plenty of nights went this way, often enough that he thought Draco might be starting to save all his whining for when it was just the two of them.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you rather be at Hogwarts, helping out with whatever torture must be going on there? Or maybe at home, with –" Harry didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, interrupted by Draco.

"You don't get it, okay? And don't...don't fucking say his name, Potter." His voice wavered slightly, and Harry could just barely make out the movement of Draco crossing his arms.

"Alright, fine, maybe I don't get exactly what you're going through, but you don't get what I'm going through either. Don't expect any sympathy from me just because you're only now realizing you're not immune to suffering." Maybe he was being a tad too harsh, knowing that Draco truly had had a rough time of things lately, but Harry couldn't bring himself to be too soft on Draco when he was anything less than half asleep.

"Who said I was asking for your sympathy in the first place? I wasn't talking to you." Draco came closer as he spoke, now partially lit up in the glow coming from inside the tent. Hermione and Ron must have fallen asleep with a light still on. His face was red with embarrassment, and Harry's heart twisted uncomfortably.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy." He yawned, starting to get to his feet. Even with a blanket, it was too chilly to stay outside for very long.

There was a moment in which Harry could almost feel the tension crackling in the air, reminiscent of their scuffles at Hogwarts, and yet...softer, somehow. More predictable. The close confines and lack of contact with others had helped him get to know Draco more than he ever imagined he would.

Draco edged closer still, fussing with the hem of his jumper and grimacing. He bit his lip, and if Harry's eyes were drawn to it right away, well, that was hardly his fault.

"Need something?" he asked eventually, when Draco showed no signs of stopping his awkward squirming and actually saying anything.

"Don't make me ask," he replied under his breath, face going redder still. Paired with the dark green of his jumper, he looked rather festive, but Harry refrained from pointing that out.

"Fine, okay, yeah."

They both headed back inside the tent, keeping as much of a careful distance between them as possible, as if to pretend they were just heading the same way by coincidence. Draco retreated to the bathroom to change, and Harry unwrapped his blanket from around himself, laying it out on the bed before idly puttering around the tent, nerves jangling. His friends both seemed to be sleeping soundly, almost holding hands. Harry didn't feel the same clench of jealousy that he used to when seeing that. He wasn't sure when it had stopped.

"What are you doing?" he heard Draco whisper a few moments later, now clad in silky pajamas that must have cost hundreds of Galleons. Harry stopped part-way through organizing their tiny kitchen, shrugging.

"Dunno." Harry took a half-step closer to his bunk at the same time Draco did. They continued in this manner for a few more tiny steps, agonizingly slowly.

"Fuck, just..." Fed up, Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's hand, skin soft against his own. That was enough to jolt the other into motion, moving the rest of the way to Harry's bed and sliding under the covers.

He'd stopped keeping track of how often this happened, Harry realized as he joined Draco in bed, turning off the sole lit lantern. This wouldn't have happened under normal circumstances, with all sorts of people around, but here, they had no one else. He took Draco's hand again, hidden under the blankets.

"Relax," Harry muttered, thumb grazing over Draco's pulse. He had nightmares often, almost as often as Harry himself. Harry suspected that Draco was starting to fear going to sleep, given how they'd started keeping each other company more and more often.

"I'm perfectly relaxed," Draco whispered in reply, though his fluttering pulse told a different story. "You're an annoying bastard, you know that?"

"Look who's talking. I never thought you switching sides would be more of a punishment than fighting you."

"Fuck off." As he said it, though, Draco pressed closer, tangling their legs together. Harry's mind summoned up images of the Slytherin in this situation with someone else. Zabini, perhaps, or Nott. The vicious jealousy that washed over him was jarring. He shoved those thoughts aside, gazing at Draco in the darkness. He was the one here holding him, nobody else.

"I hope you don't think I'll ever believe you mean that again."

"You're...less intolerable than Weasley and Granger," Draco admitted. Harry could feel him getting closer still, and then Draco's lips were against his own.

He kissed back, giving Draco's hand a gentle squeeze.

"You've been...kind of helpful," Harry responded in kind, kissing him again.

"Of course I have been. I'm brilliant."

"Maybe a bit more than I used to give you credit for," Harry admitted. It was true that Hermione and Draco got along quite well when they were researching, bouncing ideas off each other with ease.

"Mm, I'm glad you're learning to appreciate my genius." Draco chuckled softly, free hand running through Harry's hair.

He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Harry stayed silent for a few moments, debating whether now was really the best time to bring up what had been on his mind.

"What is this?" he asked. "Between us." Draco stiffened immediately, drawing in a sharp breath.

"I don't know, Potter. Harry. We've been out here for ages, just me and your little posse. Who knows if we'll want anything to do with each other once this is over? Who knows if we'll even be alive?"

He'd be lying if he said those very thoughts hadn't crossed his mind too, so he didn't. Instead, Harry just nodded, feeling more exhausted than he had in a long while.

"I don't know. I think I'd miss you if we stopped seeing each other, though. And I don't like thinking about you with someone else."

"Oh, the Chosen One doesn't want anyone else touching what's his," Draco remarked, a smirk playing at his lips.

"It's not like that! I just...yes, I've been lonely, but I don't think that's all this is," Harry said. Discussing his emotions like this wasn't exactly in his comfort zone, but it turned out war could do wonders for communication.

"I don't think that's all it is either. Just...I'm not ready to put a label on it, alright? Being together secretly like this in the middle of the woods isn't the same thing as the real world."

"Okay." Harry wasn't in the mood to get in an argument about pureblood culture, that was for sure. "Let's just get some rest."

Draco hummed in agreement, lips grazing his jaw.

Harry slipped into a restless sleep, better than the past few nights had been. When he started to wake again, there were hints of morning light streaming in, and...

He started to jolt upright, stopping himself halfway through the motion so as not to wake Draco. Eyes wide, Harry stared at Hermione. She was sitting at their little table reading, looking completely unsurprised to see him and Draco together.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," she said. "Don't mind me."

"I, uh, good morning," Harry grunted, face hot. Draco nuzzled closer, mumbling something unintelligible.

All of a sudden, the answer was right in front of him.

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