Chapter 1
Harry Potter never expected his first real mission as an Auror trainee to involve babysitting. But when the Minister himself assigned him to protect Draco Malfoy, the spoiled, insufferably beautiful son of Lucius Malfoy, Harry had no choice but to accept.
Draco was the target of a politically motivated kidnapping attempt, and his father—now a powerful politician—insisted on extra security. Which was how Harry found himself tailing Draco through fancy parties, expensive restaurants, and high-end boutiques.
Draco was everything Harry had expected: arrogant, demanding, and utterly unaware of the real world. But he was also stunning in a way that was impossible to ignore, with silver-blond hair, sharp grey eyes, and a smirk that could drive Harry insane.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
A routine transport to a safe house went wrong. Their Portkey was sabotaged. Instead of arriving at their secure location, Harry and Draco were thrown into a violent storm over an unfamiliar ocean. The world spun, magic crackled, and then—blackness.
Harry woke up to the sound of waves. His head throbbed. Sand clung to his damp clothes. Groaning, he pushed himself up and saw Draco lying a few feet away, half-buried in seaweed.
“Malfoy!” Harry crawled over and shook his shoulder.
Draco groaned and cracked one eye open. “Potter? What—ugh, why do I taste salt?”
“We got thrown off course,” Harry said. “We’re stranded.”
Draco sat up, looking around at the endless stretch of white sand and dense jungle. “You mean, no mansion? No bed? No civilized society?”
“No,” Harry said grimly.
Draco exhaled slowly, then turned to Harry with pure horror. “You mean, I’m stuck with you?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either.”
### **Survival 101: Malfoy Edition**
Draco was useless.
Harry quickly realized that the only thing Draco knew how to do was complain.
“I don’t *do* manual labor, Potter.”
“These clothes are not meant for wilderness survival.”
“Do you really expect me to *forage* for food?”
“Kill that fish? Absolutely not. I have people for that.”
But as the days stretched on, Draco had no choice but to adapt. He learned how to gather fruit without getting his robes dirty (by making Harry do it), how to build a shelter (by criticizing Harry’s work until it was perfect), and how to start a fire (which, to his credit, he did with magic after several frustrated attempts).
Harry had to admit—begrudgingly—that Draco wasn’t *entirely* useless. He was clever, he was observant, and once he stopped whining, he had a dry sense of humor that made Harry snort with laughter more than once.
And there was something else. Something dangerous.
Draco looked *good* on the island.
Sun-kissed skin, messy hair, robes discarded in favor of a loose shirt that kept slipping off one shoulder. His usual sharp, aristocratic air had softened into something wilder, freer. And Harry was looking at him too much.
Way too much.
### **Something More**
One night, after a particularly brutal storm, they sat by the fire, exhaustion pressing on their shoulders.
“You know,” Draco said, staring into the flames, “I never thought I’d survive something like this.”
“You’re doing better than I expected,” Harry admitted.
Draco turned his head, smirking. “Careful, Potter. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
Harry huffed a laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was *charged*. Draco’s gaze flickered down to Harry’s mouth.
“Do you think we’ll get rescued?” Draco asked softly.
Harry swallowed. “Yeah.”
Draco sighed, looking up at the stars. “Good. Because when we get back, I’m making my father buy an entire island. A nice one. With an actual bed.”
Harry grinned. “What, you’re not enjoying roughing it with me?”
Draco’s smirk faded into something more contemplative. “Surprisingly… I don’t hate it as much as I should.”
Harry’s heart did something funny in his chest. He wanted to blame the firelight, the isolation, the sheer insanity of their situation. But he knew the truth.
He didn’t want to be rescued just yet.
Not when things between them were finally getting interesting.