That's just how life works, he thinks vaguely, as he twists in place and feels the tug of apparition pulling him away from the cozy Burrow. Hermione stays up all night doing the research, and we take care of the adventuring.
He doesn't notice that somewhere along the line, 'we' has morphed from him and Ron to him and Draco.
September 2004 — Somewhere in the Caribbean
Harry marvels at the shimmering, blue-tinted world around him. Fronds of sea-grass wave seductively off to his left; a school of tiny fish darts past him to the right, rainbow scales shimmering in the weak light. The fierce tropical sun is dimmed and filtered here below the water, only the tiniest fraction of light able to pierce the depths. It's otherworldly. Beautiful.
A hand clamps down suddenly on his shoulder and he starts, turning abruptly toward Malfoy's exasperated face. He can't speak underwater, but his thumb jerks toward their goal, then taps impatiently at his wrist, where his air-gauge gleams faintly. Harry nods, chastised. They only have enough air for an hour - an hour-and-a-half, tops if they push it. He doesn't want to push it.
He turns resolutely away from the beckoning alien world around him and follows Malfoy's wetsuit-clad form toward the hulking shipwreck.
Malfoy looks even more dangerous in a muggle wetsuit, all gleaming black rubber and toothy grin. Harry feels a frisson of something unfamiliar running up his spine, and he looks around warily, scanning for danger. The ocean stares back at him, placid and opaque. After one last wary glance behind, he turns back to follow him.
They've kept this dive as secret as they can, even laying down a false trail in the American Southwest, but... he wouldn't put it past Zabini to turn up here. The man has an uncanny knack for finding them when he's least wanted.
Malfoy's expression is hard to read as he waits for Harry to catch up, hidden in the shadow of the decaying mass of barnacle-encrusted timber. Harry wishes, not for the first time, that Snape had been able to teach him legilimency all those years ago. He'd give a pretty penny for one of the magical communicators Ron and George are working on, as Malfoy's scowl deepens. His hand twitches reflexively toward his hip, where he feels the lack of his wand keenly.
The wreck just had to be in a strong magical dead-zone, didn't it? Of course, that's likely why the blood diamond hasn't been recovered before now. For that matter, Harry thinks, eyes widening, it isn't terribly unlikely that something in that wreck is causing the dead zone — maybe even the blood diamond itself.
Malfoy rolls his eyes and taps a button on his wrist.
"What on earth is wrong, Potter?"
His exasperated voice echoes suddenly around Harry's skull and he jumps, then glares when Malfoy sniggers. He'd forgotten about the muggle communication device that's built into their suits.
He presses the button on his own wrist. "Yeah, yeah, Malfoy, very funny. Let's just get on with this, yeah?"
Malfoy studies him for a moment, frowning, then glances down at his air gauge and nods.
"I'm leaving the channel open, though. We may get separated, and the last thing I need is to have to rescue you because you've spaced out again. Follow me."
Harry hates to say he loves it when Malfoy is bossy, but Merlin help him, he does.
Malfoy turns, kicking slowly through a gaping hole in the hull. Harry follows, using his forearm to brush away more of the sea grass that clings to the opening, kicking his feet and propelling himself past the rotting timbers — they don't look even a little bit like teeth, he tells himself firmly — and into the darkness beyond.
Malfoy has already activated his flashlight, and Harry does the same. The twin beams of light dance crazily around the cavernous room, obscuring more than they reveal. Harry squints, looking for some sort of opening... There.
"Found it!" he calls, and Malfoy's light swings around to join his. Together, they reveal that it is indeed a doorway with a set of rickety stairs leading down and to the right.
Malfoy shoots him a quick grin. "I'm going in. Light my way from behind, will you?"
Harry nods and follows him deeper into the ship.
It takes longer than they'd expected to find the right storage room, even longer to find the right crate inside it. But when they do...
"Bloody hell!" Malfoy whispers. Harry's low whistle echoes over his words, and then he snorts.
"Been hanging out with Ron lately, have you?"
"Shut up," Malfoy says, but his words don't have the usual bite to them. "I've been going with you to the Weasley dinners for months now, you know. Years, even."
Harry stares at him. It's true, he realizes. After that first day, when he'd pulled him with him into the side-along apparition without thinking about it because they were in the middle of some argument or another, he has been going to Weasley dinners regularly. Now that he thinks of it, Astoria's joined them lately as well, and Lucius, and Narcissa, and even Pansy has become a regular after that job in Florence. Huh.
"Potter!" Malfoy snaps. "Get ahold of yourself! You can go back to whatever identity crisis you're having after we get this thing back to the boat."
Harry blinks, then blinks again. "Ah, Malfoy... How are we going to get this back to the boat?"
He rolls his eyes. "Obviously, Potter, we'll just cast a — oh."
Harry snorts. Oh, indeed. He grasps one of the chest's handles and tugs experimentally on it. Malfoy gets the idea and copies his movement on the other side. It doesn't budge.
"Well, shit."
They stare at it in silence for a moment. Malfoy frowns down at his air gauge, tapping it lightly and grimacing at whatever he sees there. "We'll have to leave most of it here. Do you have that detector?"
Harry nods, fishing it out of the pouch at his waist, and passes it to him.
They find the diamond, eventually, with only minutes to spare. The needles on both air gauges are pushing disturbingly close to red — and they still have to get back up — when Malfoy lifts the umpteenth jewel and the dark magic detector goes crazy.
They eye one another, eyebrows lifted in surprise. This thing is dark.
Harry checks his gauge again and winces, hurrying to pull out the specially enhanced magic-dampening containment pouch — Charlie, Bill, and George's contribution to the endeavor. His fingers, clumsy in the enhanced scuba gear, fumble for a moment as he tries to open it. The needle ticks over into the red.
Harry shakes the bag impatiently, finally wrenching it open. Malfoy drops the jewel in and Harry closes it, securing it to his belt.
He glances down at the chest regretfully, jewels winking temptingly back at him, then back at his gauge. Shit.
"Malfoy — we have to go, now."
Malfoy sighs, but nods. "Right. Just let me..."
He draws out a second pouch and fumbles it open. The needle ticks again, and Harry can feel his anxiety rising. "Come on, Malfoy!"