For five years, {{user}} and Draco Malfoy had made one fucking good Auror duo.

Five years of chasing dark wizards, surviving cursed artifacts, narrowly escaping explosions, and perfecting the art of synchronized eye-rolling had turned them into the Ministry's most effective, and most insufferable, Auror duo.

So when a string of high-profile magical thefts began pointing toward a new, organized threat, there was hardly any question about who would be sent after it. Of course, it was them who were send. The mission had been simple. Infiltrate, identify, apprehend.

What wasn't part of the plan was waking up in a sun-drenched bungalow with the scent of salt and jasmine hanging heavily in the air, {{user}}'s head pounding as though she'd been hit by a particularly vicious Levicorpus*

The last thing she remembered was the glint of a wand.

A voice, sharp and furious "Expelliarmus!"

And then—

Nothing. Not even a blackout. Just... a void.

As her vision slowly cleared, three things became immediately obvious.

First, she was definitely not in Britain anymore. The palm trees outside the open windows and the blistering warmth were rather difficult to ignore. Second, the bed beneath her was suspiciously comfortable for somewhere she had presumably been kidnapped to. And third—

Draco Malfoy was lying beside her.

His face was buried in a pillow, his usually immaculate platinum-blond hair reduced to a ridiculous mess of tangled strands. One arm was thrown carelessly across the mattress, his Auror robes nowhere in sight.

{{user}} stared at him.

Then she jabbed him in the ribs. Once, twice. Draco groaned only at the third time.

He swatted vaguely in her direction without even opening his eyes, turning his face deeper into the pillow.

"Five more minutes."