Much to Ron's surprise and dismay, it was actually harder to keep his hands off of Hermione now, now that he knew how his advances would be received. Before, he hadn't wanted to take advantage of their situation or do anything to make her uncomfortable after she had agreed to this monumental favor. The problem with that was that in the nearly a week they had been at the resort, they had sort of established Owen and Emily as a couple that did not engage in a lot of PDA. They had held hands, and were often innocently touching the other's arm or shoulder or something, but it hadn't really gone beyond that, outside of a few kisses on the cheek. Just enough little gestures to make them believable as a couple.

Now, ironically, if they were to truly act like a couple—which Ron wasn't sure if they actually were or not, but he was content for now to just go with it—it was going to counteract their carefully built cover. So, as much as Ron wanted to pull Hermione around the side of the pool cabana and snog her senseless, he knew that he couldn't. No longer for Hermione's sake, but for the mission's.

"You alright?" she asked suddenly from his left. They were lounging side-by-side on the deck of the pool the next afternoon, Hermione flipping through a wedding magazine that Laurel had given her with a surprising amount of interest. Her face was half covered by the giant floppy hat she wore to protect her face from the sun—which Ron thought was also ironic, considering she was wearing that tiny swimming costume again, which protected next to none of the rest of her.

"Yeah, fine. Just getting hot, might go for a swim." Hermione nodded absently, barely looking up from the glossy pages. "Want to come in with me?"

"No, thank you. I'll stay right here and enjoy the view." Hermione winked at him, and Ron grinned. Whatever was happening between them, at least he knew that these flirtatious comments were coming from Hermione, and not her alter-ego.

Ron stood and walked the short distance to the pool's edge, sliding in easily. He frowned at how quickly his feet hit the bottom; the sun was still beating down on him all the way down to his rib cage. Ron groaned and bent his knees to duck completely under the water before standing back up, brushing his wet hair back from his face to find Hermione watching him from her chair. This time, though, she didn't avert her eyes at being caught. "Come over here," he requested, propping his arms up along the deck.

Hermione's expression turned a bit wary, but she set the magazine aside and walked slowly towards him. "If you pull me into this pool, just remember that I know about a thousand ways to hex you," she warned as she sat down at the edge and dropped her legs into the water between them.

"I swear on my prefect's badge," Ron promised. Hermione laughed loudly.

"Wouldn't say that means much, coming from you."

"Hey, I was a great prefect." Hermione rolled her eyes lightly as she lifted her hand to play with his hair. Ron glanced around the pool deck; it was nearly deserted now as other guests had made their way inside to clean up for dinner, but Ron and Hermione were due to meet Berisha after the resort's normal dinner hour, so they had some extra time. Despite their relative solitude, Ron lowered his voice. The absence of other people wasn't any guarantee of privacy. "Are you nervous about tonight?"

Hermione hesitated a moment before she answered. "I don't believe I have any reason to be."

"That's not what I asked."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "It's just recon, right?" she whispered, her lips so close to his ear that she barely spoke at all. "Not as if there'll be someone there to brand Dark Marks on everyone who shows up."

Ron chuckled in spite of himself. "No, but—"

"I know." She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze seriously. "I know."

He brushed his nose against hers and was about to lean in to kiss her when a cheery voice rang out across the pool deck. "Hullo, you two!" Ron groaned to himself as he spotted Lucy heading toward them, but a part of him was grateful that she had interrupted. If he had started kissing Hermione, he wouldn't have wanted to stop.

Hermione indulged him with a quick peck before they both straightened and she turned to face the approaching woman. "Hi, Lucy," she greeted her.

Lucy tossed her bag down on the chair next to Hermione's and immediately joined them at the edge of the pool. Her indifference to the moment she had intruded upon would have rivaled Harry's, Ron thought grumpily. He moved his hands closer to Hermione until the tips of his fingers just brushed the side of her thighs; that would have to suffice for now. "Heard you and Laurel had a good chat yesterday," Lucy said as she paddled her feet in the pool's surface, rippling the smooth water all the way to the other side.

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied. "Your sister is lovely, and it was so good of her to help advise on some of the planning."

Lucy shrugged. "It's what she does. Have you set a date yet?"

"Not yet. We're just enjoying being engaged for now." Hermione spun the gaudy ring around on her finger to emphasize the point, and Lucy reached for her hand.

"It's such a beautiful ring. Owen, you have good taste." He and Hermione shared a conspiratorial look; the ring she wore wasn't either of their tastes, but it served its purpose. "I can't believe I haven't asked yet—how did he propose?"

Lucy was still examining Hermione's ring and therefore missed the anxious look that crossed her face, but Ron didn't. They hadn't planned any elaborate explanation as to how their fake engagement came to be, and Ron was now wishing they had. "It's such a long story," Hermione said, improvising quickly. "I wouldn't want to bore you."

"Nonsense!" Lucy exclaimed. "Go on, then, tell me. It must have been so romantic."

Ron gently pressed his fingers into Hermione's leg, pulling her attention to him. He gave her a tiny little nod, hoping she would understand that he meant he would handle it. "Well, actually," she said slowly, holding his gaze, "Owen tells it so much better than I do."

Hermione's initial statement had ruled out going with a simple story, like saying that he had popped the question over a romantic dinner, but fortunately, Ron had another idea. "Well, Emily's always been quite the bookworm, you see," he began. "So of course, if I wanted her to say yes, I knew the way to her heart was through a book. So I asked a favor of the bloke who runs Flourish and Blotts, in Diagon Alley, so that we could have the place to ourselves for a night. She's one of his best customers, so of course he agreed." Ron forced himself to turn to Lucy as he spoke. Hermione was looking at him so intensely that he was sure he would be unable to continue the story if he held her gaze any longer. "Anyway, so I take her over there on the pretense of showing her this new book I'd found that I knew she would love."

Both women were hanging on his every word. "What was it?" Lucy asked. "The book?"

Ron didn't answer her directly, keeping with the spirit of his tale. "So I lead her over to her favorite section, magical history, and I pull a very special book off the shelf," he continued. "The book is called Owen and Emily: A History—like Hogwarts: A History, y'know? And it's just full of stories and pictures of us through the years. Well, half-full—because the other half is all blank, for the rest of our story. The part that's in the future. And that's when I got down on one knee and pulled out the ring and asked her to marry me." Ron chanced a look at Hermione; her eyes were teary, and she reached up to wipe at them quickly.

"Oh, that's amazing!" Lucy cooed. "Look, you've got her crying even now just talking about it."

Hermione gave Lucy a watery smile. "It was perfect. How could I say no?" She sniffled and then made a show of checking her watch. "Oh, it's later than I realized. Owen, we should head in and wash up for dinner." She had turned back to him but wasn't meeting his eyes as she stood and shook some of the water from her feet.

Ron pulled himself out of the water and followed her back to their chairs. Aside from the quick goodbyes they called to Lucy as they left the pool area, both of them were completely silent on the walk back up to their suite. Hermione had obviously been affected by his proposal story, but he wasn't sure if she was charmed by it or completely pissed at him. Either way, he was certain she could tell it wasn't entirely fabricated.

She bustled around the bedroom, opening and closing drawers, picking things up and putting them down again; anything, Ron was sure, to avoid looking at him. He waited, watching her silently, until she finally turned to him in a huff. "Why do I get the feeling that you didn't make that story up on the spot just now?" Hermione demanded, the slight quiver in her voice undermining the firmness of her question.

"Because I didn't," Ron replied simply. Though this was clearly the response she expected, Hermione drew in a shuddering breath at his answer. "It's...how I thought I would propose to you. Before."

Hermione turned to the side, but he could still see the tears she was trying to blink away. "We never...talked about that."

"I know," Ron acknowledged. "But I thought about it."

He almost didn't hear her when she whispered back, "I did too."

Ron took a deep breath and walked over to her. She didn't move away when he put his hands on her shoulders, which he hoped was a good sign. "Why are you upset, then?"

"Because we're not together, Ron!" she snapped back, stepping away from him as she threw her hands up in frustration. "We broke up."

"Two years ago," Ron countered. "And we slept together yesterday."

"Yes, and it was wonderful, but I think we're letting ourselves get carried away with the mission." Her words stung, and he took another step back from her.

"You started it!" He stared at her in disbelief, forcing himself to take a breath. They were due with Berisha in just over an hour, and besides that, they hadn't had a serious fight since their breakup. He didn't want to start now, but he also wanted answers. "Or didn't you mean anything you said yesterday?"

"Of course I did, but—" Hermione stopped abruptly and covered her face with her hands. After a moment, she sighed heavily and looked up at him. "There's a reason we broke up, Ron. We hurt each other. A lot. And yes, I still want you, and yes, I still care about you, but I also don't want to lose you. That's why we ended things, remember? Before we reached a point where we couldn't even stand each other as friends."

He wanted to tell her that things were different now. That they were older, more mature, than they had been when they embarked on a serious relationship as war-torn teenagers. But at the end of the day, they were still Ron and Hermione. Their passion was a double-edged sword; when they were happy, things were brilliant, but when they were fighting, all of the bad things were amplified as well. He sighed and nodded at the clock on the wall. "We should get ready," he said softly. "You can shower first."

She watched him for a moment, as if waiting for him to say more, before she gave a tiny nod in return and disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour later, they took the lift down in stony silence. As she had every day though, Hermione slipped her hand into his, lacing her delicate fingers between his. He squeezed her hand in return; they still had a job to do. Sensing an opening, Hermione laid her free hand against his arm and said quietly, "I always liked this jacket on you."

"Thanks. You look beautiful too."

"Thank you." She paused, her hand tightening against his. "Ron, I—" She was cut off by the ding of the lift signaling their arrival on the first floor. He leaned over slightly to kiss the side of her forehead.

"Later," he whispered. Hermione's lips twitched, but she nodded and allowed him to lead her out into the lobby, rearranging her expression into a smile that would fool everyone but Ron.

The private dining area Berisha had directed Ron to was adjacent to the lounge, and they waved at John, ever present behind the bar, as they wove through the growing crowd. The dining room was as lavish as the rest of the resort, and the savory aromas of the extravagant spread of food assaulted Ron's nose as soon as they entered. Although the dishes laid out on a table against the far wall held enough food to satisfy the entire Weasley family—spouses and kids included, and maybe even a few cousins—he and Hermione were alone in the room. "We're not the only ones he's meeting with, are we?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice low. Ron was fairly sure the room was silenced, but with the sounds from the lounge still drifting in through the open door, it was hard to be completely certain.

"That's not the impression I got," Ron replied. Aside from the lack of other guests, there was nothing suspicious about the room. Still, he was considering whether they ought to head back up to their room and send their apologies to their host later, when Berisha himself walked in.

"Ah, you're here. Lovely to see you both," he greeted them jovially, shaking Ron's hand before kissing the top of Hermione's.

"Thank you so much for the invitation, Mr. Berisha," Hermione said politely.

He waved her off as he returned to the entrance. "Please, call me Alfie."

Ron watched anxiously as Berisha closed the door, confirming the presence of some heavy-duty silencing charms. "Are we expecting many other guests?" he asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

"No, no," Berisha replied with a shake of his head. "Tonight, it shall just be the three of us, Mr. Weasley."