"I hate Muggles," Draco said just to see Potter's lips tighten ever so slightly. The game never got old, despite the fact that he had used the words so many times in the past few hours that he'd lost count. They were also true, at least in reference to the occupants of the Greyhound bus currently bound for Flagstaff. Honestly, it was as though the Muggles were trying to encourage Draco's hatred.

First there was the Loud Couple. They had been happily chattering the whole trip to each other and to everyone around them, babbling inanely about how barren Arizona was and asking how could anyone possibly live here - a sentiment Draco agreed with, but he had grown bored with the topic after the first eight minutes. The Loud Couple did not. Some of the Arizona residents were glaring at them distastefully and Draco hoped one of them would snap and shout at the couple or, even better, throw something heavy at them. Like a hardbound book.

Next there was Snoring Man, who had fallen asleep immediately upon reaching his seat and quickly began to snore like a foghorn. Draco had surreptitiously awakened him twelve times by kicking the back of his seat, despite Potter's admonishments. The quiet never lasted for long. If only Draco had his wand; he would silence the cretin permanently.

His fingers itched for his wand. It was beyond cruelty to take away their magic in order to win a stupid race. Draco said as much to Potter.

"Malfoy, if you tell me how much you hate Muggles or how much you hate this race or the heat or your Muggle clothes or the quality of the air or anything else, I am going to hit you."

"I hate you, Potter," Draco said mildly, calling his bluff. Potter would never hit him in a bus full of Muggles; that much Draco knew.

Potter's green eyes flashed. "You are such a fucking prat."

Draco tsked. "Potter, language. There are children present. Not to mention your public." Draco nodded toward the Watcherbee, which had attached itself to the roof of the bus in a nondescript location, looking like a small, purposeless light fixture.

At the word "children" Potter actually glanced over his shoulder with a guilty start. The little angels in the seat behind him had obviously heard him.

"HE SAID A BAD WORD! DID YOU HEAR HIM, MOM?"

"MOM! MOM! THAT MAN SAID A BAD WORD. DID YOU HEAR, MOM?"

Despite the fact that their mother could not, in fact, hear them, the children carried on, growing louder and louder until she snarled at them to sit down and shut up. Delightful woman. Potter said she had headphones in her ears that prevented her hearing her progenies' constant and annoying pleas for attention. Potter had also mentioned he wanted a pair for himself to drown out Draco's "whinging".

"Remind me to congratulate their mother when we exit this hellish conveyance, Potter."

His partner heaved a long-suffering sigh and lifted two fingers to rub the bridge of his nose, bumping his glasses up a bit. "Why?"

"Her offspring have singlehandedly destroyed my desire to ever procreate. The Malfoy line can die."

Potter's gaze turned amused. Frankly, Draco liked to amuse Potter even more than he liked to irritate him, although he would take that secret to his grave. It was difficult, however, and most of the time seemed accidental. He liked the way Potter's right eyebrow would twitch, wrinkling his famous scar, and the lines at the corners of his mouth would deepen into an almost-smile.

"Don't you think you're overreacting? They're just kids."

Draco sneered. Those "just kids" had tormented Draco far worse than Snoring Man and the Loud Couple. The little brats had stood on the seats, fought with each other, whined constantly, spilled juice and crisps all over the place, made frequent trips to the loo at the back of the bus, and generally behaved like caged monkeys.

"When I was a child, I did as I was told, sat quietly in my chair, and read a book," Draco said, glaring balefully at the boy child, who stuck his tongue out at Draco and then began a mock war with two plastic dinosaurs gripped in his fists, complete with loud roars and crunching sounds. Draco rolled his eyes and looked away.

For some reason, Potter was giving him a sympathetic look. He did that frequently and it annoyed Draco almost as much as the look Nigel the dragon-tamer was giving to Potter.

"I think your fanboy wants something," Draco said mildly. Draco had taken a window seat in order to look out at the endlessly boring landscape of dull weeds and saguaro cacti. Potter sat next to Draco and an empty seat next to Potter held the knapsack with their Auror robes, maps, and assorted other race-related items. Across the narrow aisle sat Nigel and Brendan. Nigel frequently leaned across the open space to chat with Potter, much to Draco's annoyance. Draco had often wondered about Potter's sexual proclivities since becoming his partner, especially after the infamous Potter/Weasley breakup, which had occurred when Fireball Weasley (or so she had been dubbed by the press) had given Potter the boot in a very public tirade outside of Fortescue's in Diagon Alley.

Since then, Potter had rarely been seen in the company of another female, unless one counted Luna Lovegood, and Draco did not. She was Potter's companion to all Ministry-endorsed events and Draco had never seen as much as a romantic glance between them. Rumour had it that Lovegood liked older men and was only using Potter to get closer to Minister Edgemont. Granted, Draco had started that rumour, but still, it seemed logical.

Nigel had picked up some tourist brochures at the bus depot and persisted in asking Potter inane questions, as though Potter had some special knowledge of the Anasazi and why they had abandoned the area. Obviously they had wised up and gone somewhere less arid and death-inducing. Nigel's earnest face beamed at Potter. Honestly, the hero worship was already getting old. Draco would have to remind Potter that Nigel was their competition and therefore, the enemy. Brendan was asleep with his head propped against his balled-up jacket. It was too bad Nigel didn't follow his partner's example.

"Potter," Draco snapped to draw his attention back where it belonged. "I'm thirsty."

Potter sighed and left off chatting with his fanboy in order to dig a bottle of water from the knapsack and hand it to Draco.

"It's warm," Draco complained, wrinkling his nose.

Potter's jaw clenched and Draco regretted not keeping a tally of how many times he caused that to happen. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but we don't have access to either Cooling Charms or ice to soothe your abused palate. Deal with it."

Draco rolled his eyes and took a drink, mentally congratulating himself. If not for the heat and the Muggles and the lack of magic, he might actually consider this journey to be entertaining.

ooOOooOOoo

"Where are they?" Ron asked, sprawling on the sofa with a freshly opened Butterbeer.

"Bright Angel Point, Grand Canyon, Arizona," Hermione said.

"Looks rough," Ron said.

"They have to ride mules to the bottom of the canyon," Neville said. "Harry and Draco are in the lead, followed by the dragon tamers. It's not much of a race at the moment. Look how slowly those mules walk."

Ron laughed. "I can only imagine how much Malfoy is complaining. I'm surprised Harry hasn't thrown the match."

ooOOooOOoo

Mules should perish in Fiendfyre, Draco decided. All of them. They were dirty, smelly, hateful, slow, and most likely infested with all manner of vermin. Draco felt itchy just thinking about it. He scratched absently at his ribcage and hoped there wasn't really an insect there. Also, Muggle shorts were not made for mule riding. The insides of his knees had been rubbed nearly raw by the bloody saddle leather before Potter had pulled off the trail and arranged Draco's Auror robe beneath his legs, much to the blushing chagrin of them both. Thankfully, Potter had said nothing.

The heat was prodigious. Only the areas of shade as they hugged the wall of the wretched canyon made the trip bearable. Well, that and Potter's attitude of unshakeable awe, although Draco would never admit to that.

"This is amazing," Potter kept saying, peering around like a child on his first visit to Honeydukes. "I just can't believe that tiny river down there carved this whole canyon. And look at all the colours!"

Draco was largely immune to the canyon's charm. It was a bloody hole in the ground, for Salazar's sake. A hot, dusty, rock-filled hole.

The ride down seemed to take eternity and Draco's muscles protested with every jolt. Even though he was Auror-fit, apparently the parts of his body required for mule-riding had been under-utilized. The Watcherbees were discreet, since they were with a group of Muggle tourists. Draco tried to spot them, but only once saw one nestled against a sharp edge of rock, trying to blend in to the surrounding desert.

Reaching the river was anti-climactic, although the air temperature was slightly cooler from a gentle breeze wafting over the sluggish, muddy liquid. Draco expected Potter to make some sort of giddy comment about the damned river, but for once he was quiet. Draco hoped Potter was feeling the effects of the hours-long ride as much as he was. Even Nigel had stopped babbling somewhere around the ninety-seventh hairpin turn in the path.

Thankfully, it wasn't far beyond the bridge, relatively, that they finally reached their destination. It looked like a number of random shacks to Draco, but Potter and Nigel started up the admiration party, exclaiming about the beauty of the trees and the picturesque quality of the cabins and the oh-so-charming location. Draco just wanted to get as far away from the bloody mules as possible, eat a solid meal, and go to sleep. He doubted it would be that simple. He was right.

ooOOooOOoo

"Harry and Draco, and Brendan and Nigel have reached the Phantom Ranch first! They look exhausted, don't they? I don't think travelling like Muggles agrees with them. Brendan has spotted the box holding the next clue!"

"Malfoy looks like he's ready to hex someone," Neville commented.

"Doesn't he always look that way?" Ron replied dryly.

Hermione shushed them as Lee's face filled the screen. "The clue says SINK OR SWIM. The participants have to choose between two challenges! In SINK, they need to travel to this set of waterfalls." The view changed to show three roaring waterfalls gushing over reddish-coloured rocks and spilling into small pools. "They have to climb to the uppermost pool, dive to the bottom, and retrieve a metal chest. Since they can't use magic, it will require the combined strength of both partners to bring it to the surface!"

"Piece of cake!" Ron cried.

"That pool doesn't look easy to get to," Hermione said in a worried tone. "There isn't much clearance to get past those steep rock walls. They could fall into a pool and get swept down the falls."

ooOOooOOoo

The SWIM challenge involved swimming across the Colorado River and retrieving another metal box from the branches of a tree. Harry and Draco opted for diving into the pool while Brendan and Nigel chose to swim.

Harry was exhausted. Despite the fact that they had been sitting for most of the journey, either on a Muggle bus or on mule-back, it had still been quite stressful and draining. The heat did not help at all. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a soft bed and sleep for a week.

By the angry set of Malfoy's lips, his partner felt the same. "Let's get this over with," Malfoy said flatly. Harry was a bit worried about him, frankly. They had both purchased hats prior to setting out into the canyon, but the headgear had done nothing to shield their exposed skin from the glaring rays of the sun. Malfoy's arms and legs were pink and beginning to darken into red. Harry fared only slightly better, as his natural pigmentation was only a bit darker. By evening, he knew the sunburn would be agonizing.

The rocks that bordered the waterfalls were slippery and most of the natural handholds had been worn away by the erosive quality of the water. Malfoy stayed close behind Harry and twice pushed him strategically back toward the wall when he slipped. Either Malfoy was more naturally surefooted or he simply learned from Harry's mistakes and used different hand and footholds, for he never made any missteps.

The shadows were lengthening when they finally reached the pool, soaking wet from the billowing mist, and panting with exertion.

"How deep do you suppose it is?" Harry asked as he shucked his hat and took off his backpack.

"Only one way to find out," Malfoy replied and pushed him in.

Harry sputtered his way to the surface and spat water out of his mouth. "You bastard!" he yelled. "I don't even have my shoes off!"

Malfoy laughed and then smiled at the Watcherbee, which hovered next to his shoulder. "How's the water?"

"Freezing, damn you!" Harry yanked off one shoe and threw it at Malfoy, who deflected it with a lazy swipe of his arm. The other quickly followed and he glared at Malfoy as his annoying partner pulled the black shirt over his head and draped it carefully over a rock.

"Can you see the chest?" Malfoy asked.

Harry filled his lungs and then plunged beneath the water, pulling himself downward. Thankfully, the pool wasn't terribly deep, only about ten feet or so. A metal box rested on the rocky bottom. Harry swam down and tried to lift it, but it only managed to lift one side before releasing it and returning to the surface.

"It's there," he said when he'd caught his breath. He nearly lost it again at the sight of Malfoy, clad only in the black Muggle shorts and standing at the edge of the pool. "It will definitely take both of us to bring it up."

Malfoy nodded and he stepped off the edge near Harry, spraying him with a large splash of water. The blond head appeared next to him after a moment. "Bracing," was all Malfoy said.

Without another word, they both dove. Wrestling the heavy chest to the surface turned out to be more difficult than imagined. They could only heft it partway up before running out of air, which forced them to let it go and paddle upward to reach precious oxygen. After two attempts, Malfoy suggested they look for a ledge to rest it on at the halfway point. Two more dives allowed them to locate a likely spot and they lifted the chest onto the ledge before returning for air.

"I'd kill for my wand," Malfoy said, gasping.

Harry only nodded. The task would have taken moments with a Bubble Head Charm and a Levitation Spell. Not for the first time, he blessed the existence of magic.

They dove once more and finally shoved the menacing chest onto the rocks. Harry barely had the strength to pull himself from the water. Surprisingly, Malfoy took his proffered hand and allowed him to drag him free of the pool. They sprawled next to the box for a moment, catching their breath, and then Harry flipped the latch and opened it.

A small black and fuchsia envelope rested at the bottom. Draco opened it up and pulled out a Muggle postcard. SEE THE GRAND CANYON! was written in bright yellow letters across a photo of striated rocks. Malfoy snorted and turned it over. Harry leaned close to read the writing.

This postcard is a Portkey. It will activate two minutes after the first touch of a human hand. Hold tightly.

Harry gripped one corner of the device and Malfoy held the other. Time seemed to tick away endlessly, broken only by the rushing noise of the water and the sound of their laboured breathing. "Shit! Our things!" Harry cried suddenly. He let go and ran to snatch up their discarded items - his backpack and shoes, Malfoy's clothing, footwear, and hats, and raced back just as Malfoy reached out to snatch his wrist and press the card against his skin.

They spun away.

ooOOooOOoo

Draco felt nauseated. Travelling by Portkey, on top of near-heatstroke, followed by submersion in cold water sent him staggering against Potter, who braced himself to keep them from falling.

"Congratulations, Harry and Draco!" Lee Jordan's voice was loud and made a headache begin a terrific pounding somewhere near Draco's right eardrum. "You are the first team to finish the challenge!"

"Of course we are," Draco managed and pushed himself away from Potter, aware that they were still being recorded. He stood upright and pretended that he wasn't dripping wet and wearing only clingy Muggle shorts.

"As the winners of this challenge, you have both won First Edition Nimbus Thunderbolts! You are also safe from elimination this round. As an additional reward, you have been granted use of the largest cabin here at Phantom Ranch, plus you'll have a private meal instead of eating in the common area with the Muggles and the other competitors. Congratulations, boys, and we'll see you in the morning!"

With that, Lee and his small entourage exited the cabin and Draco sagged into the nearest chair. Which could only be considered a chair because it was chair-shaped. It was made of rough-hewn wood and looked as though a six-year-old had put it together.

"This is the largest cabin?" Potter asked, looking around at their accommodations. He remained in the centre of the room holding their belongings. Aside from the "chair" Draco sat in, there was a small, filthy-looking table, a washstand with a basin and pitcher, a shelf containing four battered-looking books, and two small beds stacked one atop the other. A twin to the chair Draco used rested against the wall near the beds. A metal-vented box covered the lower half of one window, blowing cold air into the room; Draco approved of that device, at any rate, even though he was quickly becoming chilled in his still-damp shorts. He wondered how to ask Potter to return his shirt.

"Those are both beds, yes?" Draco asked perplexed.

Potter nodded. "Bunk beds. I call top!"

Draco blinked at him, the word conjuring images he did not need at the moment, with Potter's sodden clothing clinging to every curve and his dark hair just beginning to curl as it dried. Thankfully, Potter didn't seem to notice Draco's silence as he walked over and tossed the knapsack onto the upper bunk. He threw Draco's shirt, hat, and shoes onto the lower bed and dropped his own wet shoes onto the ground. "I hope those dry by tomorrow," he said and gave Draco a pointed look.

Draco was about to retort when the door swung open and a handful of people entered bearing covered plates of food, which they placed on the table. "Enjoy your meal, folks," one older woman said before they all tromped out again. Despite Draco's desire to sneer at Muggle food, it smelled divine. He was famished.

"What is it?" Potter asked.

"A couple of huge slabs of meat. I assume it's beef. Large jacket potatoes. Salad. And what is this yellow thing?"

Potter wandered over to peer over his shoulder. "Corn on the cob. You've never seen corn on the cob?"

"Should I have?"

"I don't know. It's good."

Draco decided he would take Potter's word for it. He moved his chair closer to the table and picked up a knife in order to slice open a potato and drop a dollop of butter on top. A knock sounded at the door as Draco mashed the melting butter into the fluffy whiteness.

"Come in," Potter said as he walked to grab the other chair and drag it to the table.

A lanky teenaged boy stood in the doorway. "Misters Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," Potter said.

"I've brought this, along with a reminder not to leave this cabin until morning." He held out a long, thin box. Potter took it and thanked him.

The boy grinned and clenched his hands together in what seemed a nervous gesture. "This is so exciting. I'm a big fan, sir."

"Your food is getting cold, Potter," Draco said loudly.

The boy coughed at Draco's glare and backed out of the entrance. "I'll just be going. Goodnight, sirs!"

Potter threw Draco a disgruntled look, but Draco ignored it to ask, "What's in the box?"

"Our wands!"

Draco stood up so quickly his chair nearly tipped over. "Thank god! Give me that!" He snatched his wand and immediately cast a Drying Charm on his clothing before conjuring a hairbrush and hurrying to the mirror over the washbasin in order to fix his hair.

Potter sat down at the table and cut open his own potato. Their eyes met in the mirror and Potter smirked. "Unbelievable. You worry about how your hair looks over eating a decent meal."

Draco only sneered absently at him and cast several drying and conditioning Charms on his hair before returning to the table. The butter had melted all over his jacket potato and oozed onto the plate to mingle with the steak juices. Draco's mouth watered. He sat down and stabbed his fork into the buttery mass before raising it to his mouth and closing his lips around it. The flavour was blissful and he made a noise of pure ecstasy.

He opened his eyes as he chewed to find Potter staring at him with jaw agape. Draco swallowed and frowned. "What is it, Potter? I have eaten Muggle food before."

Potter looked away and shook his head. "Nothing." Potter's knife sliced off a bite of steak and Draco watched as Potter placed it into his mouth. Dark lashes fell shut over green eyes and Potter made a heartfelt sigh of pleasure that made Draco sit up with a jolt. He imagined that sound out of context and had to take a gulp of water to hide his sudden flush.

He noticed that Potter was completely dry, even though Draco hadn't heard him cast any Charms. The bastard was getting far too complacent about using nonverbal spells. It was so bloody easy for him. Draco envied him.

A bottle of wine had been provided with dinner. Draco spelled out the cork, poured a glass, and looked askance at Potter, who shook his head.

"I'm already tired. That would put me right to sleep."

Draco shrugged and poured him a glass, anyway. "We have nothing to stay up for."

"Point. Do you want me to heal your sunburn?" Potter gestured toward Draco with his fork. Only then did Draco realize his skin was tingling with redness. The swim combined with the cooler air of the cabin had made it less noticeable.

Draco paused, but then nodded. Potter started to get up, but Draco shook his head and gave him an almost-fond smile. "Eat first, idiot. It can wait."

Potter shrugged and dove back into his food. They ate amid a silence that was only slightly awkward. Draco thought of several questions to ask, but discarded them, since most of them revolved around Potter's new fanboy, Nigel. Draco was pleased that Brendan and his sidekick had chosen a different task.

When they finished eating, Potter rose and walked around the table while Draco scooted his chair out to give Potter access. Potter crouched and touched his fingers lightly to Draco's reddened kneecap. He winced - even the light touch was painful.

"Sorry," said Potter. "This might sting a bit."

Sting? Before Draco could protest, Potter cast a spell and a tingling rush wafted over Draco's legs. When the sensation faded, the tight, burning sensation was gone, replaced by a soothing ache.

"Better?" Potter asked, cocking a brow.

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Potter was terribly attractive when he was being heroic, even if that heroism was limited to saving Draco from the effects of solar damage. Potter stood and did the same for Draco's arms and the back of his neck. Draco thought he felt Potter's fingertips brush his skin for a moment after casting the spell, but he convinced himself that he'd imagined it. Regardless, the air in the small cabin suddenly felt stifling.

Draco got to his feet and walked to the stacked beds. "We should... get some rest," he said.

A knock sounded at the door and Potter opened it to admit the serving staff, who whisked away the remains of their dinner and bid them goodnight. By the time they were gone, Draco had Transfigured his Muggle shorts into pyjama bottoms. He dragged back the sheets and crawled between them, wincing at the rough texture and casting an absent spell to eradicate any lingering vermin.

Potter used the ladder at the foot of the bed to climb onto the top bunk. Draco admired the flex of his legs as he passed and then braced himself with alarm as the entire bed shifted. He half-feared it would collapse as Potter settled his weight and began to move around, probably taking off the rest of his clothing and... Draco's mouth went dry. He wondered if Potter planned to sleep only in his pants. He shut his eyes tightly and smacked his head against the pillow, knowing he would have that image in mind for the rest of the night.

"G'night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Potter."

~TBC~

Author's Note: Phantom Ranch really exists at the bottom of the canyon, including the little cabins with bunk beds and the common area for eating. And the waterfalls where the boys went climbing is there, too. I'm not entirely sure about the pool... :D