WARNING: There are some references to cultures and religions. None of it is meant disparagingly. With that said, please cease to continue if anything offends you.

Hermione wasn't much enjoying her vacation. She only took it because her boss had insisted, hinting that the interns were starting to hate coming to her for simple tasks, and Harry, disloyal being that he was, had agreed. Paxton had hinted that she wasn't about to get overtime if she worked through her vacation for the third year running and that if she insisted, Labor and Resources were going to get on his case. If he had to suspend her, he would, and it was going on her record too.

Hermione had tried to argue, she did. But the fact of the matter was that she was just in the restroom when she overheard a secretary and an intern discussing her in not so complimentary tones. It had completely thrown her for a loop in rebutting her boss.

"Who by Merlin's beard does she think she is?" the intern Hermione mildly recalled as a new Hogwarts graduate had ranted. She didn't remember the girl's name, only that she spent most of her time spelling her nail color different shades and charming the coffee steam into reflecting her appearance. It was amusing the first day only and less so when Hermione needed her to look up a file on a different level.

"Well, she's Hermione Granger," said Vicky the secretary with the tone of voice that sounded as though it were accompanied with a shrug.

"Yeah, so? It's been seven years since the war ended. Who cares about Harry Potter's sidekick? I've heard he's not half so snotty."

"Yes, she does tend to go off on you when you've made a simple mistake," said Vicky, and Hermione could glimpse through the crack of the stalls that she was rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Go off on you?! I thought she was going to bite my head off. She's such an ugly and unpleasant woman and she cares about nothing but work and more work. No wonder she's still single!"

Hermione tried to not take the comment personally. Now she remembered who the intern was. Penny. Penny the intern. She had rather gone off on her, because the airhead had not gotten the right file from the file room and had in fact, also misfiled the last ten items she had been entrusted with, and, while Hermione was waiting to hear back from her in time to make a meeting with the heads of ministry departments, she had found the girl chatting it up with Ron, the necessary (but wrong) files in her hand. It had all combined to make Hermione see red, and Ron hadn't helped at all by grinning through her tirade.

"I heard she and Ron used to have a thing," volunteered Vicky in a gossipy tone. Hermione refrained from tapping her foot. Were they going to gossip about that now? She'd be stuck in here for ages. And how were they so indiscreet they didn't bother making sure the stalls were empty first? Honestly, the incompetence of some people.

"Ron Weasley, right, the Auror?" giggled Penny. "Merlin, he's a dish. I do like it when they're so tall and burly and friendly. I can't believe what he ever saw in her."

"Well, they were classmates, you know. Proximity and all that," Vicky said practically.

"That must've been it. Seriously, the woman is a giant cow. And her hair! Have you ever seen so much hair?"

Now she was just being catty. Hermione fully intended to storm out of her stall and inform the intern that, giant cow or not, she was the one to have broken it off with the dish, and yeah, she had dated another international star too-Viktor Krum, heard of him?

But someone else walked in and the two girls left without another word, discretion coming a tad too late.

Brilliant witch or not (Ron's own words), the social aspect of working at the Ministry really bogged Hermione down. It always seemed that her female coworkers weren't interested in reform, lawmaking, or even work itself. What were they even doing here? She had done plenty of work throughout the past seven years to warrant several moves up the ladder and yet she was still right where she started, drafting and researching bills for the higher-ups when she knew for a fact Harry was no longer junior Auror. Yes, she had rejected any special treatment, but it shouldn't be this difficult to climb up in the real world.

So when Paxton had said, "It's called having fun and being a well-rounded person, Hermione. Surely you know what it's about?", Hermione had lifted her chin and said that she had vacation plans already and that she planned to rough it in Egypt, sans magic, a real hardcore "fun" trip.

She had been sarcastic, because she'd had enough of roughing it on camping trips to last her a lifetime. But Paxton grinned widely back and said how there better be pictures and not with just her in them.

In retrospect, Hermione suspected he had been calling her bluff.

Nevertheless, she had rushed home in a fit of temper and booked a trip to Egypt to see some of the sights. So what if nobody had been able to jet off with her at the last minute? She could do this all by herself and have a perfectly good time too.

Except she really wasn't.

She had brought work with her. Now she sat in the cafe downstairs from her far-from-upscale hostel, frowning in the dim light at her notes. Her mind was running two tracks: one going through tomorrow's itinerary, which involved a seven day felucca boat ride down the Nile. It really would be roughing it, because there were no bathroom facilities on board and if the wind was poor, they would be delayed, although of course the agent said that seldom proved to be the case (yeah right).

Hermione frowned and wondered why the hell she was doing such a dumb thing when there were cruises available. If only she hadn't been provoked by those two girls into doing something so rash. She was plenty of fun. She had plenty of fun. Just... admittedly, not recently.

The other side of her brain ran simultaneously through her notes toward drafting the latest bill on Muggle relations. She wished she could have done this in the Hogwarts library, or really, any library at all, but here she was, sitting in a dim cafe across a pub that was starting to grow a bit too raucous.

Wearing a scowl that could have overturned a ship, Hermione looked up to see a man stumble outside with two companions. At first glance, they seemed to be friends, but for the startling difference in appearance. The one man was blond, tall, and Caucasian. His two companions were Egyptian and much younger and shorter. They also seemed far less drunk than he was, and as she watched, one lifted the blond man's wallet from his back pocket while the other distracted him. Then, with a wink across the street at her disbelieving expression, they ran down the street before Hermione could gather her wits to jump up to shout for the authorities or stop them with her wand, which got stuck in her pocket as she tried to pull it out. That was what happened when you got too used to having a desk job.

Hermione was torn. On the one hand, she was no stranger to Egypt. There was the inevitable baksheesh to give at every corner, but generally speaking, the bigger cities like Alexandria were excepted from this practice of giving alms. Locals regularly charged double the price to every foreigner, especially if they seemed ripe for the picking. From what it looked like, the blond man-who had sat down on the curb and dropped his face on his knees in a drunken stupor-had it coming.

On the other hand, that was really pure sexism. She would have beat anyone over the head if she saw a girl being roofied and mugged.

After about five minutes, in which she kept a wary eye on the man, paid for her coffee, and packed up her belongings (nothing of great import), she looked left and right and made her way across the dim street.

She stood next to the man (she could smell the fumes) for a bit and thought about how conspicuous his white blond hair was. It really was just asking for it. Not unlike someone else she had known before.

"Hey, are you all right there?" she asked and he groaned. The sense of familiarity grew.

She crouched down at a distance next to him, feeling for her wand in her pocket. "Hey," she tried again, and he lifted his head from his knees.

Hermione rocked back on her heels. "Oh my god. Draco Malfoy. What the hell are you doing here?"

He opened his eyes and gave her a bleary smile. "Hey Mangy Grangy, is that you?"

With that, Hermione stood up with pursed lips. "Have a nice night, Malfoy," she said. "Oh, and by the way, you were robbed just now, did you know?"

A snore sounded from him.

Hermione surveyed him for about thirty seconds and decided that he was fine. It was a public thoroughfare. There was a twenty four hour convenience store right across the street and despite what had happened to him, it was a fairly safe area, despite all the news discussing "riots."

Hermione scoffed at that. The news blew it up all out of proportion, because from what she knew from personal experience, protesting was a cultural thing. You didn't want to be outside at night in the midst of it if you were a woman, but it was perfectly safe. Plus, his wallet was already gone, so there would no nothing else to be stolen from him. That was not to mention his henchmen were probably ready to jump out from somewhere and do his every Galleon-backed bidding whenever he wanted. She should be worried only if he showed an inclination to hex unsuspecting Muggles.

She left him and walked back across the street and to her hostel.

Her alarm was set for four-thirty in the morning, because the felucca would be taking off at seven in a neighboring city. Hermione ate, tidied up her bags which had already been packed the night before, and headed downstairs.

Hermione had decided to take a taxi to the meeting place since it was a holiday and all, and she didn't remember the area enough to apparate. Also, it seemed to take away from the scenic value if she were going to zip through the area by magic, even if the holiday was unwanted and forced on her. The whole point of this trip, she told herself, was to enjoy the views.

When she went downstairs, her eyes slid down the street to the pub, now quiet and she noted with relief that Malfoy was no longer sitting on the curb. That was fine then.

Except upon a second glance over, she saw that he was lying down against the wall of the pub like any common vagrant, his bright hair giving him away.

It really wasn't any of her business that he was being a public nuisance now, but officious habits died hard, so Hermione made her way over across the street again and stared down at his prone figure.

"Malfoy," she said, nudging him with her foot. When he didn't respond, she pushed harder. "Malfoy!"

Hermione thought about kicking him awake, but then the image of her (a respectable woman) kicking a prone man flashed before her eyes as criminally assaultive although mildly amusing. And then the horrible thought occurred to her that he might no longer be alive.

She dropped down to her knees and rolled him over. His mouth was open and she pried one eye open before checking for his pulse.

"Merlin's hairy arse, woman, I'm trying to get some sleep!" came the unexpected roar.

"You're lying in the middle of the street, you daft idiot!" she recovered to shout right back.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes before looking around and locking on her. He gave an almighty groan. "What now?"

"What do you mean, what now? You're the one being a public nuisance as well as a complete disgrace to England, and a drunken vagrant to boot."

"Cripes, Granger, don't you ever stop moralizing?"

Hermione stood up. "Moralizing? I'm checking to see if you were stabbed to death in a foreign country by some... rather brilliant Muggles, actually. Oh, and by the way, you were robbed last night, did you know that?"

At that, Malfoy scooted up off one buttock to check his pockets and he scowled. "Ah, fucker!"

"Have a nice life, Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Wait a minute!" he called after her. "What'd you do with my wand, woman?"

Hermione kept walking. A hundred feet away, she heaved a great sigh and turned back. "I didn't take your wand, Malfoy, and keep your damned voice down or else we'll have an international incident on our hands."

"Well, I can't find my wand," he complained, but at a more subdued volume.

"Where did you last see it?" she asked and then shook her head. "What are you even doing in Egypt?"

"None of your business, nosy pants," he said.

"Check your other pocket," she said through compressed lips.

He felt through all of them and looked up at her with raised eyebrows. She narrowed her eyes. "It's your damned wand," she hissed. "Stop looking at me like I had anything to do with it. You were sodding drunk yesterday. Or do you make a habit of sleeping in main thoroughfares?"

"I don't, but I'm not usually in Egypt, hey? Weather's quite nice here."

"Well, I'm glad you're awake now, Malfoy. I've got to be going. There's my taxi now," she said, inclining her head and waving her fingers sarcastically.

"Can I come with you?" he asked.

Because he had asked in such a small, somewhat pitiful voice (although she was sure he was playing a role), and he had been robbed and couldn't find his wand, Hermione decided it was better to drop him somewhere he could do less harm.

"Fine, let's go," she said on a resigned sigh.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Rasheed," she said. Giving him a sideways glance, she added, "Or Rosetta. It's a city. The British embassy is the other way though." On second thought, it wasn't as though he could go there. Hermione didn't know what had made her say such a thing; maybe her very Muggle flight here and the whole process of going through customs. She was just glad he wasn't saying anything rude about her comment. As a reward, she offered, "I can drop you somewhere along the way."

"I'm going there too. Rasheed, I mean. Rosetta. Whatever." He cast her a sideways glance tinged with something, but she couldn't figure out what he was plotting.

"Really?" she said dryly. "You're pretty out of your way then, considering that it's an hour away."

He did a double take that was so exaggerated Hermione almost laughed.

"You didn't know? Do you know where you are, Malfoy?"

"Yes," he replied just as snippily.

The taxi driver got out of the car and came towards them. Hermione gave the driver a steely eyed look and reiterated the price the hostel had quoted her. She emphasized "for the two of us" and gestured at both her and Malfoy. They got in and sped off.

"Are you sure you're going the right way? All the five star hotels are in the other direction. Aren't you staying in one of those?" she asked in a low voice.

"No, but why are we whispering?" he whispered back.

"Because I don't want to be robbed," she said, glancing towards the front of the cab.

"Oh. I thought you were being stingy because you had dated Weasley so long."

She made a face. "I wondered how long it was going to take you to make that old joke. Fancy being pushed out of my cab ride?"

"No no," he said, holding up both hands. "I'm the soul of civility, see?"

The roads were fairly deserted at this early hour and combined with how fast they were traveling, it wasn't long before they were deposited at the edge of the pier where the ships and boats were docked, although Hermione had to concentrate to make sure she could cast a cushioning charm in time, in case of a car accident. From past experience, taxi drivers were insane risk-takers, and Egyptian ones even crazier than normal.

Malfoy watched as she paid the driver.

"Interesting experience," he commented after they were standing alone.

"What is, the cab ride?"

"No, having a woman pay for me," he said, tilting his head to the side. Hermione saw that his white shirt was very dirty and his black slacks had dust stains. "I don't think I like it. Where do I put my hands?"

"Clasped together in supplication," she told him.

He snorted in a way that was almost laughter.

She considered him for a bit. "You're looking less than your normal pristine self," she observed.

He smirked. "Noticed, have you?"

Hermione made a face. "All right, Malfoy. You've gone the whole length of my cab ride. Feel free to go to hell now."

She took out her itinerary from her bag and walked away from him and towards a bench to go over her notes. After she had taken a seat, she remembered why she was here and extracted a wizarding camera illusioned to look like a disposable camera to take a quick selfie. There you go, Paxton. She looked up to find that Malfoy's face was next to hers and that he was wearing a goofy grin for the benefit of the picture.

"Don't tell me you plan to follow me everywhere!" she said, exasperated. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"No," he said, after giving the question undue consideration.

"Well, I do. I'm setting sail at seven."

"In that?" he asked, gesturing over his shoulders at the cruise ships with his thumb.

"No, in that," she said, pointing in front of them at the feluccas bobbing up and down in the following river.

"Huh. What for?"

"It's fun," she clipped out. "It's a vacation. Thing."

"You don't sound very sure."

"I am. It's a vacation."

"Is it entirely Muggle?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, drawing out the 's'."

"What?" he said. "I didn't even say anything derogatory!"

"You might have."

"Well, I didn't, Granger," he said, his tones clipped and hard.

She gazed at him for a moment, and he looked back at her.

"You have dirt on your face," she said finally.

He scrubbed at his face. "Where are you going, if I may dare ask?"

Hermione jerked down her itinerary. "I'm going to sail the Nile, all right? From start to finish. Delta to Abu Simbei. And you?"

He shrugged.

She considered him for a moment. "What are you doing here? Are you alone?"

"No."

"With a friend?"

He shrugged.

It was like pulling teeth. "So what are you doing here?"

"Salazar's sweaty sacs, you sure are nosy, Granger!" he finally exploded. "Clearly I'm just up to a bit of Muggle sacrificing."

Hermione stood up. "Oh, really. I'm sure the ministry would be very interested in that!" she snapped, putting a hand on her wand disillusioned and tucked in her belt.

"What the Ministry should be interested in is your complete lack of humor!" he sneered.

"Malfoy, why don't you go-"

Hermione never finished her thought. More people had shown up and were talking amongst themselves now. Two young Asian men, clearly backpackers. An Indian couple. A man and two women, who were laughing quietly amongst themselves. And her. Hermione felt a moment's qualm that she was all alone for this particular adventure, but she squashed the feeling down. It wasn't an adventure at all. She had had enough of adventures in the last decade to last her a lifetime.

It was after seven now, and Hermione frowned as she looked around and debated whether to approach the group of people clearly also waiting for the felucca and wondering where the captain was. Then, at half-past, another man arrived. He jumped down from the pier into one of the sailboats and then climbed back on the pier to grin expectantly around. Hermione stood up and made her way over. She dimly registered Malfoy following behind.

"Is this everyone?" the man who was also clearly their captain was asking. "Let's see, Harmony, is that right?"

Hermione shrugged off the mispronunciation. "Yes, that's me."

"Mochiyama?" the captain looked at the Japanese men, who were nodding. "Ah, mochi, mochi, very good, yes?"

"The Jorgensons?" The three people smiled pleasantly and resumed speaking what sounded to Hermione's untrained ear as Norwegian.

Then he said, "And you must be the Singhs. Welcome aboard. I am very happy to meet you all. I am Mohamed. My boat is the-"

"And me," Malfoy said.

Mohamed looked down at his paper and then up at Malfoy. "I'm sorry, I have only eight people on this list, but I make a call to the office."

"What are you doing?" hissed Hermione. "You're not booked for this trip!"

"I'm coming along too."

"You have no luggage," Hermione said. "Or money. Owl your damn parents if you want to sail the Nile. I'm sure you can conjure your own boat."

"I have no wand," he emphasized. "C'mon, isn't the wizarding capital of Egypt in Luxor? Can't you just pay for me? I'll pay you back."

Hermione looked at Malfoy and folded her arms across her chest. "Right, and I'll help you out why?"

"I'm a lost wizard," he whined. "You work for the damn Ministry; isn't it your job to help out people like me?"

"People like you? No," she drew the word out, enjoying herself mightily.

"Don't you think I would be more trouble here among Muggles? Don't you think they'd all be safer with me in England?"

"Undoubtedly," she said. "On the other hand, England would be more pleasant without you."

"Do I have to beg?"

Hermione tilted her head to one side. "Yes."

Immediately, he said, "Granger, please help me go to Luxor-"

"Get on your knees first," she said.

"What?"

"You heard. I want real begging."

He glared. "You are a real sadistic bitch, you know that, right?"

"I don't hear begging and the boat is about to leave."

"Fine!" he snapped, dropping to his knees. "Granger, please help me out, as I know you are a humanitarian."

Hermione looked down at Malfoy, whose faux pleading expression faded as she considered him without a hint of compassion.

"C'mon! I really need a wand!" he said, looking more urgent now.

She smirked. "And there it is. Fine. You can come along."

He rose from the ground with awkward movements. The ground must have been really hard.

"But you're going to pay me back immediately after you get a wand, you rich bastard," she added.

"Obviously," he said snidely as Hermione went forward to speak with the captain and the other curious observers. And then in a lower voice just loud enough for her to hear: "you fucking sadist." She let him have that because it had been worth it just to toy with him.

Usually, the feluccas were contracted to hold a maximum of twelve people plus crew, so Mohamed was more than happy to accept a last minute addition, despite his demurring, which just meant an additional sum of baksheesh.

They went around and introduced themselves. Mohamed had been running a felucca business for five years now. His sister, wrapped in a hijab, let him do most of the talking. She would be helping with the food. There was also someone else below who Hermione wasn't sure was crew or was just part of the shore-side assistance.

The Asians were brothers in their early thirties named Hashiya and Mashida Mochiyama, although they appeared as youthful as teenagers. They appeared to be very professional at backpacking and had very little gear. The couple was an American-Indian pair named Priya and Ali Singh. They had married straight out of college and were the youngest on board. Hermione guessed this form of travel was cheaper than the more luxurious Nile cruise. The Norwegian trio were Hans Jorgenson and Hans' wife, Anna, and Anna's sister, Sofie. Hans was fair, while the women were brunette.

"And you, Miss Harmony, Mr. Draco. Was that a proposal we just saw? Your fiance?"

"No." They had spoken at the same time.

"Boyfriend, then?"

"No," she said less loudly but no less emphatically.

"She wishes," Malfoy added, earning a glare from Hermione.

"Classmates," Hermione snapped, at the same time Malfoy said, "Co-workers." They looked at each other and then Hermione said, "Business stuff," while Malfoy said, "School project."

The people on board looked from one of them to the other and back again. Hermione noticed that even Mohamed's sister, Rashi, who she wasn't even sure spoke English, stopped what she was doing to look over at them.

Just her luck she had to run into motormouth Malfoy. Hermione patted him on the arm in a show of friendliness while pinching him hard to shut him up. "It was a joke. We just have to make it to Luxor together, that's all."

"Ouch, dammit, woman. We don't even know each other," growled Malfoy.

Mohamed nodded politely and started to talk to them about safety. The wearing of life preservers (optional considering there were no children on board). Telling them the itinerary. They would reach Luxor in six days. There was someone else on the boat as well, who would be helping him crew the felucca. His name was also Mohamed, but would go by Mo.

Then they all gingerly crossed a skinny long plank to board the rocking boat, which was padded completely with oilskin mattresses. Hermione took out a bottle of sunblock and liberally coated her skin.

"What's that?" Malfoy asked, taking a seat next to her and stretching out his feet. His face was turned up to the sky and his eyes were closed.

"Sunblock."

When he glanced at her with a blank expression, she said, "It protects your skin from the sun. Do you want some?"

"What for? I'm not afraid of the sun." His tone was mildly derisive.

"You should be," she said, reacting to his tone. "You're the color of a vampire." Hermione rummaged in her tote and took out a folded up hat. "You should probably wear this then."

"Why should I?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"You're going to burn, Malfoy."

"Nonsense. I never burn. I glow."

"Fine," she said, cramming the hat on her own head.

"Are you always such a stick in the mud on vacation, Granger?"

"I was having fun," Hermione said through her teeth. "Before I bumped into you." She was reminded of her last conversation with her supervisor, which was just irritating. Whether or not a person had fun had no bearing on the quality of her work, which was par excellence.

Malfoy snorted as though in disbelief and went back to his sun adulation position.

Hermione turned resolutely away from him and resolved to enjoy herself. What was it to her if he burned his albino skin? What was it to her if nobody ever listened to her good advice? She didn't have to be right all the time, she thought, and took a deep breath. Even though she usually was.

They sailed for three hours before they stopped for lunch. Hermione spent her time lying in the shade of the sail and ignoring Malfoy. By the time the boat was tethered by the side of the Nile and she walked off the plank onto a small stretch of beach between protrusions of reeds, Hermione decided that it would do no harm to find out exactly what he was up to in the Muggle world. After all, he had never been a proponent of Muggle rights and he should have been cowering at the side at every non-magical item around.

Hermione turned to face Malfoy and gasped aloud. He was bright red. It looked as though he had even opened his shirt to soak in the sun and now his chest was also a V of redness.

"What now?" he asked in irritation.

"Malfoy, you're…you're as red as a lobster."

"No, I'm not. I'm just a bit pink."

Good grief, the man was so contrary.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, whatever. Have it your way."

She walked off in the middle of his childish "I will."