The only sound that could be heard in the otherwise silent boardroom on the second floor of the Ministry was the methodic tapping of Malfoy's quill against the oak-lacquered conference table. His eyes had yet to look up to meet hers for the better part of the ten minutes that they had been sitting across from one other in strained silence. Hermione's agitation grew as she continued to glance expectantly at the crown of his head, fringe falling low enough to obscure his eyes.

"So, you've just decided to stop talking to me, then?" she asked to the otherwise empty room, the unexpected disruption having no effect whatsoever on Malfoy's countenance as he continued to tap his quill against the table.

With no reply for the length of several heartbeats, she resigned to that being her answer, but to her surprise, he cleared his throat and quietly muttered, "I haven't anything to discuss that isn't work-related. So, like you, I'm waiting for Potter and Weasel to arrive." His tone was clipped, almost robotic, causing a knot to form in her stomach. He didn't look up from where a stack of parchment lay on the table in front of him, collated early that morning by Hermione and placed neatly at each wizard's seat. His quill continued its deliberate rap against the hollow veneer, seeming to serve no other purpose than to showcase his indifference.

"Right, well-" Thinking of nothing else to add, she inhaled a muffled breath followed by a long-suffering sigh.

A suffocating silence yet again fell on the room, Hermione's fingers fidgeting with the topmost edge of her stack of papers as her eyes frequently checked the conference room door for any sign of rescue. Harry and Ron were already five minutes late, but it felt like much longer given the palpable tension between them.

"I guess your offering of friendship was short-lived," she muttered wistfully under her breath, absently looking around the room for a place to busy her eyes. The comment was meant to provoke a reaction from the wizard, but the only evidence she had that he'd even heard her was a derisive sniff as he shifted in his seat.

The torturous quiet of the small room lingered until Hermione could no longer tolerate it, deciding instead to go see what was keeping Ron and Harry. She pushed her chair back to stand, the loud scraping noise causing Malfoy to bristle in annoyance, never looking up from where his eyes intently followed the rise and fall of his quill.

She clamored over to the door, eager to inhale the unoppressed air of the hallway when a visibly winded Ron came lumbering through the door with Harry on his heels. "Sorry we're late. Got caught up-" His eyes snapped over to where Malfoy sat at the table, his mouth twisting into a tight frown. "What is he doing here?"

"It's a departmental meeting. He's part of our department," Hermione stated coolly, as Harry stepped around Ron and dropped a stack of papers onto the table.

"Yeah, Ron. I'm pretty sure it's old news that Malfoy is working with us on the case. Or did you somehow forget- again?" A chuckle escaped his throat as a finger pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I know that," Ron bit back, "but this is a meeting about our mission to Egypt. So why is he here?"

Malfoy finally looked up, eager to witness the explosive scene unfolding when the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio broke the news to the turnip-headed clown that he was in fact going to Egypt with them.

Hermione spoke first in the placating tone she often used when speaking to Ron. "Ron, we're a law enforcement task force. All of us." She gestured with her hand to each of them in turn, much like someone would a child. "So, until the case is solved, we work together in concert- including the mission to Egypt. That's why Malfoy is here." Aggravation flared in her gut at having to explain to Ron yet again Malfoy's continued presence in their department.

Malfoy bit back a smirk watching Ron's face contort into fury.

"No way is he going with us, 'Mione!" He looked in exasperation between her and Harry, his face flushing bright red. "Am I the only one who happens to notice how everything in your life has turned to shite since he appeared at the DMLE? Merlin, you should hear the vulgar insults the reporters hurl at me every time I walk outside- and that's just for being friends with you! Why you'd want to go anywhere with this tosser, much less be seen on the cover of the Daily Prophet with him, is beyond me!" When Hermione shot him a feral glare, he only shook his head in disgust. "Please don't tell me you actually fancy this wanker because my stomach can't handle it."

With a forced calm, Hermione glanced around the room at the three wizards who all were looking at her with varying degrees of unease marring their faces. She forcibly sidestepped Ron, aiming to close and lock the door behind them with a wave of her wand. They remained silent as she methodically rounded the room and dropped into her seat at the head of the conference table. Without uttering a word, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at the three of them with contempt.

"We will all sit here for as long as it takes for you two to get over this- this- this childish feud you seem hellbent on maintaining! This is no way to act neither personally nor professionally! Ronald-" She glowered at him with a fierce look of disdain. "Malfoy and I have put the past behind us. And if we can do that, I'm certain you can make the effort to do so, too. And you-" She looked over at Malfoy not surprised to find him staring impassively back at her. "Ron may not be your favorite person in the world and that's fine. But for the time being, it would be nice if you would at least refer to him by his name and not by some juvenile insult." Her expression was positively dangerous as she turned back to Ron before landing on Harry in a silent appeal for assistance.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hermione's right. We have work to do and it would be a whole lot easier to do so without the two of you constantly at each other's throats."

Ron crossed his arms in front of his chest and huffed. "I'm not the problem here." He pointed his finger over to where Malfoy sat with his eyes still fixated on Hermione. "He's the one who showed up and is trying to brainwash Hermione into thinking he's a good guy now. You both can think whatever you want, but I for one am not buying it." His lip curled into a sneer. "I can play nice until this case is solved, but don't ask me to pretend like this worthless sod is anyone other than who he is. A fucking Death Eater," he all but spat.

The insult echoed around the room exploding like a grenade in the space between them. Hermione counted down the seconds until it would exact a reaction from Malfoy. He'd yet to say a word, which on one hand was surprising with how exceedingly loquacious he was in any verbal altercation. But on the other hand, given his uncharacteristic silence that morning, Hermione wasn't sure which version of him they would be getting following Ron's violent outburst.

She watched Draco with unease, as he moved to sit upright in his seat, the eerily calm look on his face concerning her more than any other expression could have. He looked with indifference between the three of them, eyes finally settling on Ron. "If you are quite finished with your moronic little tantrum, I'd like to move along with this meeting. I for one have better ways to spend my day than in the company of an unhinged lunatic."

"You son of a bit-"

"That's enough!" Hermione cried out, finally reaching her limit. "If you want to hurl insults at one another, you will do it on your own time! I have an overabundance of information to go over with you before we leave for Egypt tonight." When everyone's eyes widened in astonishment, Hermione shouted, "Yes- tonight!" She watched as Harry surreptitiously lowered himself into his chair, suddenly giving her his full and undivided attention. "The Egyptian Minister contacted me this morning and said they've located MacNair and his partner just south of Alexandria." Seeing Ron still standing there with his chest puffed out and his hands in his pockets looking anywhere but at them, she barked out, "Sit down, Ronald! Unless you've decided you won't be accompanying us."

His jaw tightened as he rounded the table and dropped into his seat at the far end, a scowl still plastered across his face.

"Did he say why they may have chosen there to settle?" Harry asked perplexed, while also attempting to ignore the tension.

"Yes. Apparently, they've been sniffing around the morgue."

Harry's eyebrows crept into his hairline. "The morgue? What in Merlin's name are they hoping to find there?"

Draco snorted, causing everyone in the room to look his way. When he didn't say anything, Harry chimed in, "If you have something to say, Malfoy, spit it out."

His hands squeezed into fists on the table, clenching and unclenching, the tapping of his quill long since forgotten. "I don't think it takes anyone with a cornish pixie for a brain to figure out what it is they're looking for," he drawled.

"Well, would you care to enlighten us?" Harry asked feigning patience.

"They need the other maidservant's body," he answered in a bored tone, rolling his eyes and looking around the room as if annoyed he was subjected to such ineptitude. "They obviously need it to complete their potion. Probably thought it would be in the last place she was known to be. Alexandria."

"And how do you know this?" Ron snapped, his forehead puckered into knots.

"I do my research."

"We do our research," Hermione corrected, taking back control of the meeting from what was bound to erupt into another argument. "We've surmised that Miriam tethered to the other maidservant from the memory we retrieved from Strout's residence. When Miriam died, that woman would have followed suit. While I don't know why MacNair would need her body, I'm sure that's what they're after if they're prodding around the Alexandrian morgue. To be one step ahead of them, we need to find out why."

"What did the Minister say?"

"Only that they must have a contact on the inside, so whoever this is working with MacNair seems to be well-connected."

Harry nodded his head, rolling his shirtsleeve up to his elbow. "And he wants us to Portkey there tonight?"

"The sooner, the better. Now that they are aware of their exact location, it will be easier to track their movements. The Minister wants to meet with us tomorrow morning to go over our strategy. He says the Egyptian Auror department will be 100% behind our efforts, but given the current mole situation at their headquarters, he's held off on involving them until we know where there's a breach."

"So, what exactly is our strategy, then?" Malfoy contended, indolently drawing the point of his quill into his mouth.

Hermione's eyes couldn't help but travel to where the writing instrument gathered at the velvety surface of his lower lip, the tip of his tongue rolling along its edge. She shook her head, her mind momentarily forgetting Malfoy's question.

"Granger, the strategy," he repeated.

"Right." Her face flushed as she covertly cleared her throat. "Well, that's what I've called this meeting to discuss. You'll find all the latest details from the case on the parchments in front of you- including notes from my most recent conversation with Ingrid and information regarding the Helion family. I figured the four of us could go over our findings before we leave so we're all on the same page. Then, we can formulate a strategy for how we plan to apprehend MacNair and his cohort."

"How long will we be gone?" Ron piped in. "Because Lavender will have my head if I'm not back in time for our dinner party on Saturday."

Malfoy snorted in derision, muttering under his breath, "Ever the selfless sod."

Hermione flashed him a reproachful glare before turning to Ron. "Unless something were to go terribly wrong, we will be home in time for your party."

"And where will we be staying while we're there," he added, "because I refuse to bunk with that bloody tosser." He gestured with his head across the table to Malfoy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Ronald. No one will be bunking with anybody. The Minister has arranged a block of rooms for us at the heavily warded hotel Steigenberger Cecil right on the Mediterranean. We'll all be close enough to one another while also still having our own space."

"I'm surprised you and Malfoy didn't get the Honeymoon Suite. I'm sure he's itching to use this mission as an opportunity to get in your pan-"

"Ronald!" Hermione shouted, slapping her hand on the table. "That's quite enough!" Her anger quickly grew to outrage. "If you can't conduct yourself in a professional manner, I will not hesitate to have Kingsley remove you from this case!"

Ron's face reddened as he moved to cross his arms in front of his chest. Malfoy flashed him an antagonizing grin before saying in a mocking tone, "Yes, Weasley. Conduct yourself in a professional manner."

"Sod off," Ron spat.

"Look, we have a lot to accomplish before leaving tonight," Harry interrupted, attempting diplomacy. "I for one need to make arrangements for our international travel, which given the red tape down in Magical Transportation might just take me the rest of the afternoon. So if it's all the same to you, I'd like to move along with our meeting. Malfoy, have you spoken to Nott? He might have some tactical strategies he could offer up before we leave."

Draco checked his watch. "No, but I'm having lunch with him today. I can ask him."

"Good. And Hermione- have you exhausted all your efforts to obtain whatever background information we may need on the Helion family? Gathered all historical records and the like?"

"There wasn't much to gather as information was scarce. But I was thinking we may have some success researching the offspring of Cleopatra. Does anyone happen to know what became of them? That might be pertinent information."

When no one answered in the affirmative, Harry said, "Ok, you and Malfoy can follow up with that. Ron and I will draw up maps of Alexandria and the surrounding area, get a visual of where MacNair is holed up. We can all meet back here before lunch and finalize our plans." He pushed his chair back, rising to stand. "Ron, let's make our first stop the Department of International Transportation- get working on acquiring our Portkey."

Ron nodded, more than happy to rid himself of the sorry sight in front of him. He stood up and lumbered over to the door waiting for Harry.

"You guys alright with the plan then?" Harry asked when he noticed Hermione and Malfoy hadn't moved a muscle.

"Ummm, sure. You and Ron go and get started. I actually have the books here to continue our research." She awkwardly reached into her beaded bag and pulled out more Muggle Egyptian tomes as well as the book Lucius had given them and placed them on the table.

"Well, alright then." Harry nodded. "We'll see you shortly."

With a swish of her wand, Hermione unlocked the door, watching as the pair departed into the hallway and rounded the corner.

When the door shut with a resounding thud, silence again enveloped the thick air of the conference room, the renewed tension making it impossible for Hermoine to formulate a coherent thought. Given their already crumbling accord, no words seemed like a good lead-in to anything worthy of discussing. She didn't have to wait long before Malfoy broke the silence, muttering under his breath, "Charming company you keep," while staring at her with a hardened expression.

She wrapped her arms around herself biting back a harsh reply, instead opting for something far less incendiary. "He had no right to say the things he did," she began, looking down at the table. "I plan to have a talk with him."

He snorted in reply. "Don't bother. He isn't worth the time. At least now you know what I deal with on a daily basis. And maybe it gives you a better understanding of why my parents moved to France. Even the righteous like yourselves are prone to bias and hatred."

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't include me in that statement."

"Maybe not now, but you have to admit you thought the exact same way he does before we began spending more time together." He released a guarded sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. "It's exhausting is what it is, constantly having to defend yourself against the masses."

"That's why the public portrayal of our relationship happens to be so important- so everyone can see that people can change and lives-"

"About that," Draco interrupted, his expression suddenly shifting to something bordering morose. "I've given it some thought and I think once we return from Egypt, we go public with the story of our split." When Hermione's mouth moved to object, he continued, "Before you say another word, know that I appreciate what you were trying to do, but the reality is, it's not working. Exactly no part of it has resulted in anything good." Hermione felt a stabbing pain somewhere in the middle of her chest at his insinuation that nothing good had come from it, not even their budding friendship. "Your friends are being taunted by the press, the Wizarding community won't relent with its inflammatory accusations, and worst of all, my parents are still proceeding with a marriage contract. So, essentially, there is no other reason to continue this little charade unless of course, you have some deranged yearning to commit social suicide."

Hermione's throat constricted painfully. "You seem to have given this plenty of thought."

He gave a subtle nod before turning away. "Your untimely departure yesterday afforded me ample time to sort through some things."

"I see."

"That was one thing at least Weasley had right- everything in your life has gone to shite since I arrived and I intend to set it to rights before I depart."

"Depart? As in return to Magical Games and Sports?"

His eyes continued to be fixated on a remote corner of the small boardroom. "As in my plan to sojourn to France when the case concludes."

"What?" she gasped, not even trying to restrain her reaction. "But, why? Why would you go to France when your life is here in Britain?"

He chuckled mirthlessly at her naivety. "I think that's something you continue to fail to realize. My life has never been my own. And it never will be." He finally turned his head to look at her. "This brief little sideshow at the Ministry isn't my reality, it's everyone else's who had the good fortune of being placed in the right bassinette. My parents have made it impossible to walk away from my obligations. Continuing to fight is no longer an option."

Hermione struggled to catch her breath without appearing to be affected by this new development. How could he just give up on himself and his future like that? And he seemed completely unmoved by the idea of leaving behind his career, his friends- well, Theo- and her, if he counted her among them- but regardless, just agreeing to a life of someone else's design? It was unthinkable. Maybe she could speak to Narcissa again on his behalf. Plead his case. She seemed the more reasonable between the two and at the very least, willing to consider her son's happiness.

"I know what you're doing, so stop," he said, startling her. "You're trying to drum up some eleventh-hour plan to get me out of what both of us know is my ultimate fate regardless. So just stop."

Hermione studied his face and found a wizard now unrecognizable from the one she lay with not more than twenty-four hours prior. What had happened in the time that had passed between then and now? His defeated voice sounded like a stranger's to her- a completely different person from who she thought she knew. "I'm sorry you feel you don't have any other option but to go and marry that French trollop," she finally managed, swallowing hard. "I'd like to think you and I were making progress on that front, but I must have read that wrong. But far be it for me to judge your life's decisions." Her voice became more strained with each word, almost as if rehearsed. "When we return, I will notify the Prophet of our untimely split and help you in any way I can to make the fallout more manageable while you prepare for your departure."

He nodded his head, looking down to slowly trace a pattern on the table with his finger. "I'll miss this," he said, barely above a whisper. "Working with you, that is. Despite the fact that you are a volatile menace even on the best of days, I will miss it." He looked up at her, a rather charming smirk spreading across his face.

"You say that as if we won't be seeing each other anymore," she said, her expression a mix of confusion and trepidation. "You do plan on coming back, do you not?"

"Of course," he replied, his throat clenching tightly. "After the nuptials, you already know my obligation is to reside in the Manor with my wife- and eventually our children."

She nodded her head in solemn recognition, suddenly feeling ill at the thought of another witch traipsing around the Manor, perusing the soaring bookshelves in the ancestral library, stargazing with Malfoy in the Conservatory, and in all likelihood despotically ordering Baron around. She wished she could summons the Gryffindor courage Ginny had reminded her of and beg him to stay and see where this road they were on could lead, but seeing his determination to honor his familial obligation caused her to hold her tongue leaving her with nothing more than a gnawing ache in her chest.

Seeming to read her thoughts, he added, "Granger, some people's lives aren't meant to intersect. Just look at the catastrophe outside the Ministry offices. You can't tell me there won't be some measure of relief for you when the cause of that is gone."

Hermione choked out a laugh, free of any humor. "Relief isn't exactly the word that comes to mind when I think about your leaving, but I'd be lying if I said the press isn't and hasn't always been a nuisance. The way they've taken to our story is nothing short of animalistic. They're entirely feral to get any information they can about the two of us." She shrugged despondently, a line forming between her brows. "Hopefully you won't have that problem when you return with-" Her voice quivered causing her to clear her throat. "It's odd, I don't even know her name."

"Antoinette," he answered, reaching up to adjust his collar. "It's Antoinette."

Of course, it was. She was probably named after the Queen of France, horrible person she was rumored to be. "Let them eat cake!" Hermione thought to herself. The hideous witch would undoubtedly live up to her namesake. "I'm sure she'll make a lovely wife," she added, her eyes downcast. "And hopefully bring less attention to your doorstep than did our brief coupling."

"I imagine that won't be hard. Drantoinette simply doesn't have the same appeal as does Dramione." He chuckled wistfully to himself, only to look up and find Hermione staring at him with confusion. "What, you hadn't heard about that either?"

"Apparently not."

"Dramione- it's what they call you and me in the gossip rags- basically added our two names toget-"

"Yes, I get that. But no, I had no idea they had a name for us. That's rather amusing if I do say so myself."

She smiled and Draco thought her eyes may have twinkled when she did, causing something to flutter in his chest. "Well, as much as I'd like to sit around and think up the next clever name for the papers- Hinny, for instance- Harry and Ginn-"

"Gods," she groaned. "Please don't-"

"Or Lavendron-"

"Oh, my Gods- will you please STOP!" she cried out, now shaking with the force of her laughter.

"Fine, but only because I'm afraid of what you'll do to me if I don't," he said, eyeing the disarming way her laughter left her slightly breathless.

For a moment they just stared at each other, both with crooked grins on their faces before the realization hit her that she didn't know how she would live happily with the absence of whatever this was between them.

The reality of their situation came back to her with the force of a runaway freight train, causing her to abruptly look away. Finally submitting to the truth of the matter was going to be difficult but it didn't change the fact that there was a tower of tomes now scattered across the table that needed to be sifted through to try to piece together more of the puzzle that was the MacNair case. She shuffled through the papers with a breezy carelessness when she distinctly heard the forced clearing of a throat from across the table causing her to look up.

"You look like maybe there was something you were wanting to tell me," he said with a surprisingly hopeful tone.

Her smile faltered as she gestured down to the assortment of books and papers on the conference table. "Only that perhaps we should have a look at these before Ron and Harry return." The weight of that particularly onerous lie caused a sudden lurch in her stomach. Why was it so hard for her to tell him she wanted him to stay?

His smile fell as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ah, yes. Always so diligent about drawing us back into work."

They spent the remainder of the morning heads buried in Ancient Egyptian history books followed by pedantic verbal exchanges. The conversation came freely as it seemed to do as of late, but there was an underlying melancholy that sat like an unwanted guest at the table between them. When Ron and Harry returned several hours later, everyone seemed to have a firm grasp of the overall timetable and agenda for their mission, including the aim for their scheduled meeting with the Egyptian Minister the following morning. Draco excused himself for his lunch date with Theo, the four of them agreeing to meet in the Ministry Atrium at 7 o'clock that evening for their Portkey to Alexandria.

"Would you like to drop by the Manor on your way to the Ministry?" Draco asked when they were alone and parting ways outside the conference room. "There shouldn't be any reporters given the late hour, but in the event there are, perhaps it would be preferable if we arrive together."

"Oh, umm- sure. I can come by at around ten to seven if you'd like."

"That will work, indeed. If I don't see you before then, happy packing," he supplied blithely, turning to head in the opposite direction.

When he was gone, she stared at the space he'd been, half-wondering what the purpose was in continuing the ruse if they were to stage a public breakup in a matter of days. But she shook her compulsion to overthink it by heading in the direction of her office.