Emily. Emily. His fiancée, Emily.

Ron chanted Hermione's alias to himself as a feeble attempt to keep from pouncing on her, right there on the sand, to remind himself that it wasn't real. She wasn't wearing that skimpy swimming costume as a sneaky attempt to seduce him; it was all part of their act. They were here on a mission, and blending in as tourists was part of that.

They'd come down to the beach from their suite only a little while ago, and when Hermione had shed her floaty cover-up, Ron had been extremely grateful that he was already wearing his sunglasses, as they at least partially obscured the gobsmacked look he was sure was on his face at the sight of her. She was wearing a tiny two-piece in a vibrant turquoise that popped against her warm complexion. Ron hadn't seen so much of Hermione's bare skin since they were dating, and he had been hard-pressed in the half-hour they'd been on the beach to keep his eyes off of her.

On the other hand, it would be completely in character for him, as Owen, to appreciate the view of his beautiful fiancée, or even to touch her, kiss her…

Ron jumped abruptly to his feet, desperately needing to put some distance between himself and Hermione before his irrational desires got him in trouble with the woman who was, in actuality, only his best friend and temporary Auror partner. "Think I'm gonna go get us one of those big umbrellas," he said in response to Hermione's questioning look. "Already feel like I'm burning."

Hermione sat up and reached for her bag. "Do you need me to put more of the potion on you?" she asked innocently. Ron shook his head, forcing away the memories of her delicate hands on his back this morning, smoothing the lotion into his skin like it was nothing. Clearly she was no longer affected by him in that way at all.

"No, no, I'm fine," Ron replied, slipping his t-shirt over his head. "Be right back."

He trudged through the sand up toward the cabana, where a pile of oversized beach umbrellas lay at the end of the bar. John, the same bartender from the lounge the night before, was behind the counter, and he gave Ron a nod of acknowledgment. "How can I help you, Mr. Prewett?"

"Owen, please." Ron gestured over to the umbrellas. "Looking to take one of those down to my spot on the beach, if I could."

"Certainly." John emerged through a door in the side of the little building and joined Ron on the sand. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asked as he untied the rope that held the pile together.

"Nah, just the umbrella for now."

"Wise choice," John replied with a chuckle. "Don't want to tucker out too early and miss the party tonight."

Ron frowned curiously as he took the umbrella, propping one end on the ground beside him. "What party?"

John turned and tapped a finger to a flyer that hung from the edge of the bar. "The Sphinx's annual Beach Bash. Mr. Berisha likes to go all out for it, and you lot arrived just in time."

Ron wondered if that was a coincidence, or if the logistics team back at the Ministry had known about this already. If they did, they hadn't shared the information, which seemed unlikely. "And Mr. Berisha will be in attendance?" Ron asked carefully. "I'd like to thank him properly for the champagne he sent us."

"Oh, yeah, definitely. I'm surprised you haven't met him already. He's usually always around. Lives at the resort, you see." Ron nodded, making a mental note to find out where exactly the mysterious owner lived on the property, and why he hadn't been as present as usual since their arrival the day before. "Party tonight is really to kick off the tourist season. Always a good time."

"Brilliant, thanks for the invite. And the umbrella."

"Sure thing."

Ron levitated the heavy umbrella in front of him and followed it back to where he'd left Hermione on the beach, surprised to see that she was no longer alone. There was a blonde woman sitting on Ron's vacated towel, her swimsuit covering as little of her as Hermione's was, chatting away with his fake fiancée as if they'd known each other for years. Hermione looked up as he approached, and he caught the thinly veiled annoyance in her smile, no doubt the result of having to make small talk with a stranger. Ron's lips twitched with the effort of holding back a smirk.

"Oh, darling, you're back," Hermione cooed, in the saccharine voice she had adopted for their trip. "This is Lucy, she and her husband Evan are staying here as well."

"Lovely to meet you," Ron said politely, though he was also a bit annoyed at the intrusion on their solitude; he hadn't anticipated an audience when he passed along news of the party to Hermione.

"Oh no, I've taken your towel, haven't I?" Lucy asked, stretching out her long legs to stand up.

"It's no bother," Ron replied, setting up the umbrella and casting their whole setup in blissful shade. "I was hoping I could lure Emily away for a swim, anyway."

Hermione gave him a curious glance, but as he expected, she seemed to know that he wouldn't be asking without a reason behind it, and she let him pull her to her feet without any protest. "Let's hang out later, though, okay?" Lucy said cheerfully before she trotted back to her own beach chair nearby, a dark-haired man waving at them from the adjacent seat.

Ron tossed his t-shirt onto his towel and then led Hermione out into the water until they were nearly waist deep. "What's going on?" she asked softly, her fingers trailing lightly up his forearms. To keep up the charade, he reminded himself sternly as he reciprocated by wrapping an arm around her waist.

"There's a party down on the beach tonight," he replied, keeping his voice equally low. Hermione smirked up at him.

"You had to pull me all the way out here just to tell me that?" she teased.

"Watch it, or I'll dunk you," he shot back with a grin.

"You wouldn't." She seemed so confident in this statement that he couldn't help but lean forward, pushing her down toward the water's surface. "No, no, no!" she squealed, locking her arms around his neck in an attempt to hold herself up. Ron was laughing heartily right up until the moment that her legs circled his waist as well, and she seemed to realize at the same time the intimate position this put them in, and they both froze. Hermione cleared her throat nervously, but didn't make any move to disentangle herself from him. "You were saying, about the party?"

"Oh. Yeah." Ron shifted slightly to get a better hold on her as the waves picked up, his hands splaying across her back. It was hard to focus on what he had meant to tell her, with so much of her wet skin sliding against his, but if nothing else, they were making an excellent show of their cover story for Hermione's new friend on the beach. "It's a big do that Berisha puts on every year. Sort of the official, unofficial start of tourist season."

"Okay. And?"

Ron dropped the volume of his voice to almost nothing, ensuring that they wouldn't be heard over the sound of the ocean. "Berisha will be there. Or he's supposed to be, anyway. John, the bartender, let slip he's been away more than usual the past few days. I want to see what he's doing and who he's interacting with when he comes back."

Hermione leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. "You think he uses this party as a recruiting event?"

"I think he uses the whole resort as a recruiting tool," Ron replied, ducking his head to murmur the words against her neck. "But yes. I don't think we can take anything that goes on here at face value."

"So." Hermione pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, her fingers toying distractingly with the hair at the base of his neck. Ron's eyes darted to the shore, which was starting to fill up with other beachgoers. "A party?"

"Yeah." He saw Lucy glance up at them then, and hastily dropped a kiss on Hermione's cheek. Lucy smiled at them and went back to flipping through her magazine, none the wiser to their farce. "A party."

They passed most of the day relaxing on the beach, until they headed upstairs to clean up for dinner. Hermione opted for a more casual look for their second night, a yellow sundress with buttons all down the front that Ron's fingers were itching to unfasten. They were planning to go straight from dinner to the party on the beach, so Hermione's bag was stocked with a bottle of sobering draught that she had transfigured to look like a hand cream. Ron would rank the taste of that particular potion somewhere in the neighborhood of polyjuice, but it was an unfortunate necessity on missions like these, where not drinking would rouse suspicion, but he needed to stay sober to keep his wits about him.

The sun was just setting as they made their way back out to the beach, and Hermione sighed contentedly beside him as she laced their fingers together. The party was already in full swing down at the water's edge, and he allowed Hermione to lead him into the crowd while he took a look around. He hadn't yet spotted Berisha, but he suspected the man might like to make a formal entrance to the event.

A squeal from nearby snapped him back to attention, and he spotted Lucy heading towards them, her husband and another blonde woman alongside her. Lucy gave Hermione a hug and then gestured to the other woman. "Laurel, this is Emily and her fiancé, Owen. Emily, this is my sister, Laurel. She does all the interior design for the resort, but she also designs wedding robes!"

Hermione's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and Ron felt her hand tense in his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, and she replied having barely missed a beat, "Oh, it's very nice to meet you. To be honest, I haven't even started thinking about robes yet. We've only just gotten engaged." She dropped his hand and put her arm around him instead, snuggling against his side as if she was afraid of being pulled away for a wedding planning session with two women she had just met.

"Oh, rubbish," Laurel scoffed. "It's never too soon to think about your wedding robes. And custom robes take months to do properly. Please say you'll let me run some designs by you while you're here."

"Oh. Um…" Hermione hesitated and glanced up at Ron. He gave her a slight nod of encouragement, not really sure if there was a proper way to say no to the woman's offer. "Sure," she said finally. "That would be lovely."

Laurel and Lucy both clapped their hands together in excitement, and Evan turned to Ron. "What do you say we let these ladies start discussing the wedding plans, and you and I go grab drinks for everyone?"

Ron caught the slightly wide-eyed look of panic Hermione shot him, but she was already being extracted from his arms by Lucy as Laurel began chattering about fabric options. "Yeah, alright. We'll be right back." Ron walked alongside Evan over to the bar. "So, do you and Lucy vacation here a lot?" he ventured.

"First time," he replied with a shake of his head. "But it's a lovely place, isn't it? Laurel says there are a lot of repeat visitors."

"Yeah," Ron agreed idly, his mind racing elsewhere. Hermione wouldn't be thrilled about so much girl talk, but if she could get in close with a member of the staff, that could only be helpful for them. Even if she had to plan a fake wedding to do it. "Em and I met this older couple at dinner last night who come here every summer for their anniversary."

"Reckon that'll be us, too," Evan replied with a chuckle. "Eventually."

Ron gave a nod as he took their drinks, but as they turned away from the bar, a movement up near the resort caught his eye. A dark-haired man had slipped out from a side door and was hurrying along the beach, glancing over his shoulder as if he were worried about being followed. It was hard to be certain from their current distance, but the man matched the description of Berisha, and the suspicious behavior certainly lent itself to that conclusion as well.

Ron kept an eye in that direction as best he could as he followed Evan back to where the girls were waiting. No one else at the party seemed to have noticed Berisha, and Ron was eager to see what he was up to. He handed Hermione her drink and then took her other hand in his. "Ladies, do you mind if I steal her away for a sunset walk on the beach?"

"Oh, how romantic," Laurel sighed. "Go, go. We can do this later."

Hermione squeezed his hand and eagerly left her new companions behind. "Thank you," she whispered once they had emerged from the crowd and were walking along an empty stretch of sand.

"Don't thank me just yet," Ron replied, quickening their strides as much as he could without destroying the illusion of the romantic stroll they were supposed to be on.

"Why?"

Ron sighed and held her hand tighter. "Because I didn't pull you away to spare you from wedding planning. We're following Berisha."