Once Ron was confident that he had eyes on Berisha, he slowed their pace to keep them at a distance. Fortunately, everyone at the resort seemed to be at the Beach Bash, leaving Ron and Hermione alone to follow their target. "Where do you suppose he's going?" Hermione asked softly. "Same place he's been hiding out since we arrived?"

Ron shrugged. "S'pose we'll find out. Reckon he can't be up to anything good, though."

Up ahead of them, Berisha ducked into a small building that must have been just at the edge of the resort's property. Ron pulled Hermione to a stop and turned them toward the ocean so that the building was only in his peripheral. "What is it?" she whispered.

Ron wrapped his arms around her from behind and propped his chin on her shoulder so that he could whisper back into her ear. "I don't think that building is anything significant. Looks like a storage shed. I want to see if he's meeting someone. Give it a minute."

Hermione nodded and leaned back into him, resting her arms on top of his. He felt her turn her head just slightly to the right, and then heard her tiny, sharp intake of breath, and he knew he was correct. "Another man," she breathed. "Dark hair, navy robes."

"Anyone we know?"

"No, he's not familiar. Do you expect there are more?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Ron turned his head slowly, and not seeing anyone else, he pulled away from Hermione and nodded to a dune that raised up behind the shed. "That's a good spot to watch for whales," he said at a normal volume, in case anyone was lurking around to hear them.

Hermione played along, but he was sure she wasn't entirely joking as she scoffed back lightly, "Whales? In the Channel?"

"It could happen. Not like we're looking for Nessie," he teased.

"Yes, we're just a bit too far south for that." Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she settled next to him on the dune.

Ron grinned back. "Just a bit." He reached into her bag and pulled out his Extendable Ear. George had really improved on the product since the twins' original stringy prototype, and Ron had found it extremely useful in his Auror work. He tucked the one piece into his ear, then tapped his wand to the receiver piece, and it scuttled off through the sand like a little crab. Hermione watched him with interest, but he could tell she hated the silence. That was the one downside to the new version, that there was no sharing the earpiece, but he had only brought the one.

After a moment, a man's voice came through Ron's ear, as clearly as if he was standing next to them. "We are running out of time," he said irritably. Ron surmised from the man's accent that it was Berisha speaking, but without hearing both men, he couldn't be sure. "We have a month, maybe two, but no more."

Ron's brow furrowed as he listened. "What?" Hermione asked. He shushed her, and her eyes narrowed at him.

"I told you, Murray is interested, but he's tied up with other ventures right now," replied the other man. Ron was sure now that the first voice was Berisha's, as the second man's accent was American, which supported their theory of international involvement.

"If Murray is really interested, he would join now. No hesitation," Berisha argued.

"I'll speak to him again," the American promised.

"Good. See that you do. And what of Macnair?"

Ron stiffened at the familiar name. "Macnair is out. Too risky." That seemed odd, given what he knew about Macnair the executioner. Perhaps it was someone different. Ron flinched at what sounded like a fist pounding against a table, one sharp rap of anger, and Hermione put a hand on his arm with a concerned look.

"I was counting on him," Berisha growled. "Are there others who can contribute what he can?"

"We are still looking." Despite Berisha's clear frustration, the other man was confident in his responses, not sounding at all nervous. Ron wondered who he was, and how he had gotten tangled up with Berisha.

"Look faster. I have an event to attend." Berisha's voice quieted as he spoke, as if he were walking away from the Extendable Ear.

"Shit, he's coming," Ron hissed. "Let's move."

"We don't have time," Hermione countered, inexplicably reaching for the top of her dress and undoing two buttons, revealing part of her creamy lace bra underneath. Ron gulped.

"What are you—"

"Trust me." He did, of course, but before he really had time to process what she meant by that, she had grasped the collar of his shirt in both hands and tugged, pressing her lips firmly to his. If he were thinking rationally, he knew what she was doing: making it appear, if they were caught, that they were just two lovers having a romantic rendezvous in the fading light of the sunset.

But he was snogging Hermione, and the moment her lips touched his, all logic had flown out the proverbial window.

Ron groaned as she leaned back against the sand, pulling him with her. He held himself over her with one hand as the other clutched at the skirt of her dress, his knuckles brushing the smooth skin of her thigh. Hermione's hands skimmed across his cheeks to thread into his hair, holding him in place—as if he had any intention of moving—and he could faintly taste the margarita on her tongue as it slid against his. He had to hand it to Hermione; she was really committed to this cover story.

It was probably longer than was strictly necessary, and yet much, much too soon, when Ron pulled away and trailed kisses down her neck to her bare shoulder so that he could subtly take a look around the beach. There was no one around them and, he realized as he was coming out of the haze of their heated kiss, the Extendable Ear piece had gone silent. "Think we're clear," he whispered to Hermione as he rolled to the side of her.

She nodded and glanced around as well before fixing the buttons on her dress. "Suppose we should get back to the party," she said softly. She wasn't quite meeting his eyes as they gathered their things and stood up, and Ron felt a nervous twist in his stomach.

"You okay?" he asked hesitantly. He knew it was a fine line they were walking, but she had kissed him, and he hoped this wasn't going to make things awkward between them. That had been his fear since Harry had first brought up the idea of Hermione coming along on this mission.

"Of course." Hermione smiled at him, but he could tell it wasn't entirely genuine. "You'll fill me in later, what you heard on the Ear?"

"Er, yeah. Of course." She gave him a nod and a pat on the arm that he thought was meant to be reassuring but didn't quite get there. She was silent all the way back to the resort, and once they were back in the midst of the party, she wasted no time in finding Lucy and Laurel and diving into a wedding conversation that he knew she couldn't have cared less about. Something was definitely wrong.

It was getting late by the time they returned to their room. Ron gave a quick check to all of his security charms, finding them intact, before he turned to Hermione. She was rummaging through the dresser drawer that held her things, finally emerging with a familiar set of pyjamas, ones he'd given her as a birthday gift. Never one for fancy lingerie—not that she needed it—Ron had seen the pale blue set with the delicate rosebud pattern and thought how much they suited Hermione, and he was glad to see that she was still enjoying them. He wasn't sure how many relics of their relationship she still had. He shook his head to focus, but before he could speak, Hermione turned abruptly toward him and said quickly, "I'm going to have a shower before bed. Do you want to tell me about what you heard now or when I'm done?"

Ron frowned at her dismissive tone. "What's going on?" he asked, not fooled by her nonchalance.

"I'm tired, and I've got sand in my hair, that's all." Ron rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips; he knew that wasn't what was bothering her, and it worried him that she wasn't saying anything.

"Hermione, come on."

She sighed and fiddled with the string on the shorts in her hand. "It's nothing."

Ron sat down on the bed and ran his hands through his hair before looking at her seriously. There was no way he could have pulled off what they had done tonight with another Auror, or anyone but Hermione, really, but he wasn't going to sacrifice his friendship with her for the sake of the mission, and it was starting to seem that that was where things were headed. "Look, we knew this would be a bit weird," he began slowly. "I have the authority to pull out of the mission at any time. Just say the word."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Pull out of the mission? Why on earth would we do that?"

"Because it's too much. This, you and me." He sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, unable to meet her eyes any longer. "I knew when Harry suggested it that it wasn't a good idea. We should just—" He stopped as he felt the mattress dip next to him. Hermione had discarded the pyjamas and was now sitting beside him, her fingers picking anxiously at her skirt.

"We're not going to pull out of the mission, Ron," she said firmly. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"You're uncomfortable. And don't lie to me," he replied sternly. "I can tell."

"It's not what you think. I'm just being silly."

"Then what? Talk to me."

She gave a short little laugh and then leaned over to kiss his cheek as she stood, leaving Ron even more confused than before. "I'm going to shower."

He huffed in frustration. "Hermione," he tried again, but she grabbed her pyjamas and hurried into the loo without saying anything more. He heard the water turn on from the adjacent room, and he took the opportunity to change into his night clothes as well. With a sigh, he sat down at the desk and began writing out his notes on the day.

When he was finished, Hermione hadn't yet emerged from the bathroom, but that wasn't entirely surprising, considering what a process he knew it was to get her hair completely dry. Surely she wasn't staying in there to avoid him. He hoped not, anyway. It bothered him that she wouldn't say what was wrong, but as long as she claimed to be fine with seeing the mission through, he supposed he had to take her at her word.

Ron slipped under the covers on the bed and settled in for the night. He turned on his side to face the loo, with every intention of waiting up for Hermione—to tell her about what he had heard earlier, if nothing else. But the adrenaline of everything that had happened that evening had worn off, leaving him more tired than he realized, and he quickly fell asleep.