After the stressful evening they'd had—not to mention the subsequent de-stressing back in their suite—Ron had been exhausted and fell asleep quickly with Hermione nestled in his arms. It became apparent, however, after the third time he woke suddenly, only to find the room as still as ever, that staying asleep wasn't in the cards for him tonight. His Auror senses were on high alert, and he couldn't force himself to relax enough to get the rest he needed.

Careful not to jostle Hermione, he extricated himself from her unconscious embrace and headed out to the living area. If he couldn't sleep, he may as well do something productive with his time.

He set a warming charm to the tea kettle and pulled out the case files he had brought with them. It seemed much too convenient that Berisha was only interested in investment money. They wouldn't be here, after all, without a reasonable suspicion of wrongdoing. Ron just needed to go over their intel again and follow every lead separately to its eventual conclusion.

"Ron?" Startled, he whirled to face Hermione, his wand aloft. She didn't even flinch at his movement, other than the concerned furrow of her brow. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry," he sighed as he set his wand on the desk in front of him. "Did I wake you?"

She shook her head and walked towards him, changing course slightly when the kettle whistled. "No, I just couldn't sleep." He gratefully took the mug she handed him as she peered over his shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"Just going over Berisha's file again."

"You don't think he was telling the truth tonight?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do you?"

"No. Not entirely, anyway. It might be true that he is raising money for the resort, but there must be more to it than that." Hermione rested her free hand on his shoulder, sipping her tea with the other. "Is it worth staying, do you think? Or are you going to have Harry pull us out of here?"

"What do you think?"

Hermione gave his shoulder a brief squeeze and smiled wryly. "I'm not the Auror here."

"You're as good as, especially this week." Ron placed a hand on top of hers. "And I value your opinion, regardless."

Hermione chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip for a moment before speaking. "I think your team is perfectly competent in conducting their initial research, and Robards wouldn't have approved this mission on a whim. And I know that if we go home and something happens, you'll personally blame yourself, even if it isn't your fault." Ron smirked; she wasn't wrong. "And…" She maneuvered herself between him and the desk, perching carefully on his thigh. "I think it would be a waste of a week's paid holiday if we were to leave."

Ron set his tea down and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. "Is that so?" he teased. Hermione nodded, her nose brushing his.

"It's not exactly a reason to stay, but it's certainly a fringe benefit." She leaned in and pressed her lips gently to his before standing up, tugging at his hand. "Come to bed," she said, a simple offer, but one he couldn't refuse. "We can figure things out in the morning."

"Not sure if I'll be able to sleep," Ron replied as he climbed back under the covers.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hmm, if only there were something we could use the bed for besides sleeping." She snuggled up against him and slipped her hand just under the back of the waistband of his pyjamas to press their hips together.

He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her again. "Cheeky witch," he murmured into her hair.

"Are you complaining?" she teased back, to which Ron shook his head.

"Not one bit."

When he woke in the morning, the bed was cold, and he could hear the shower running in the next room. Assuming—rightfully, he hoped—that pretenses of modesty between them had gone out the window after everything that had transpired, Ron headed for the loo. He pushed the door open—slowly, just in case—and called Hermione's name. "Yes, I'm in here," she replied, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water.

"I know that," Ron chuckled, "but is it alright if I come in?"

"Oh, of course it is." Ron pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, closing it behind him to keep the copious steam Hermione had generated trapped for her. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice taking on a note of concern. "Did you sleep okay last night?"

"Eventually." Ron smiled at the reminder. "Listen, I was thinking—" He was interrupted by the rattle of the shower door, Hermione's soaked hair dripping onto the rug beneath her as she poked her head out. Her body was still only partially obscured by the frosted glass of the shower walls, and Ron swallowed hard.

"Aren't you coming in here?" she asked curiously.

"I was just asking about the room," Ron replied, though he was already reaching for the hem of his t-shirt to indulge her request.

"Oh." Ron caught a hint of disappointment in her tone and decided not to waste any more time divesting himself of his clothing. "Well, you're welcome either way." She ducked back into the shower but didn't completely close the door. Ron took it as the invitation he was sure she had intended and kicked off his pyjamas and pants before stepping into the shower behind her, the water stinging his skin.

"Merlin, woman, are you trying to scald my bits off?" he teased. He had almost forgotten how hot Hermione preferred her showers; even her tanned skin was tinged with red from the heat of the water, and he knew he would be crimson in no time.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she reached for the temperature knob. "Look, this was a perfectly hot, Ron-free shower just a moment ago."

"Want me to go, then?"

"Don't you dare." Hermione reached for his hand and pulled him under the spray with her. It was still hotter than he would've set for himself, but it was much closer to a temperature they'd compromised on long ago for such an occasion. "You were saying?"

"Hmm?" Hermione smirked at him as she put a finger under his chin to tilt his head up from where his distracted gaze had wandered.

"You were going to say something when you came in."

"Oh. Right." He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed at being caught, especially when Hermione seemed to be having an equally hard time keeping her eyes up. "I think—if you're comfortable—that we should stay. But only if you're one hundred percent okay."

"Ron, I'm fine, really."

"We don't have a cover."

"Sure we do. Hand me the shampoo?" Ron reached behind him for the bottle, but instead of handing it to Hermione, he squeezed a large glob of the familiar coconut-scented liquid into his hands. Hermione obligingly turned her back to him as she continued, "Berisha said the staff is being discreet, but I don't think all of them even know who we are."

Ron frowned as he worked the shampoo into Hermione's hair. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been planning a wedding with Laurel. It doesn't get much more personal than that, but she hasn't said a word to me about knowing who we are. Don't you think if I were picking out emerald green linens to match our beloved house colors that she might bring it up with me before she placed the order?"

"That's true, I suppose. Is that what you've picked out, then?" Ron teased as he gently turned her around to let her hair under the water. "Green tablecloths and silver trimmings?"

"Only the best for a couple of noble purebloods." Beneath her eyelids, Ron could tell Hermione's eyes were rolling. He cradled the back of her head as he massaged the suds out of her hair, and Hermione sighed contentedly.

"You make a point, though," he said. "Berisha has had plenty of opportunities if he meant us harm. We've been here almost a week, and we don't have any backup. The security staff alone would outman us, easily. What I don't understand, then, is why he singled us out for the investment."

"Well, we were very publicly given a lot of money after the war," Hermione pointed out with a grimace. The sum of galleons from the Ministry that had accompanied their many accolades had been nice, but the attention that came with it was more of a curse than a blessing, especially in the immediate aftermath of all the grief.

"Doesn't mean we still have it. It's been almost five years since the war; I could've blown all that money on just about anything by now."

Hermione cracked one eye open at him. "I'm still not sorry I didn't let you buy Victoire that Nimbus 3000."

"You don't let me do anything," Ron retorted teasingly. "Besides, you made a valid point."

"The fact that she was a literal infant at the time?" Hermione asked, the sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"Nah. The fact that a much better broom would've come out by the time she could ride it." The water at their feet was running clear now, and Ron let his hand slip down to Hermione's waist, pulling her out from under the showerhead and closer to him. She came to him without resistance but put her hands on his chest to spin them around before she reached for the flannel she had slung over the shower wall.

"Your turn," she teased as she reached past him for a bottle of soap, her breasts brushing against his arm as she did so. Ron was sure it wasn't an accident, as there was a perfectly acceptable bar soap just next to her, but he wasn't opposed to the contact.

He wasn't sure how she managed to maintain a coherent stream of thought while she lathered every inch of his lanky frame, but he tried to follow along as she talked and not let himself get too distracted by her touch. "He didn't know that we were coming," Hermione was saying, "so it had to be an opportunity that he realized once we arrived. But aside from the monetary awards from the Ministry, I don't know what about us says investors. Especially seeing as he seems to be dealing with some unsavory characters."

"Maybe he thought we'd fit right in," Ron said idly, tipping his head back under the water. "We did rob Gringotts, after all."

Hermione's hand froze against his thigh, and she dropped the flannel with a squelchy thud as she stood. "Ron," she breathed, gripping onto his arms. "What if that's it?"

"It was a joke, Hermione." He brushed back a bit of hair that had stuck to her cheek, hoping his touch would calm the alarm he could see forming in her expression. "You don't really think Berisha is going to orchestrate a bank robbery to get the money he needs? He said it himself, there's nothing for him behind bars."

"I think it's a theory we haven't considered, and as the only successful people to ever pull it off, you and I make a perfect resource for him."

"Okay, so are you going to be the one to tell him he has to ride a dragon out of there, or shall I?" Hermione shuddered at the memory, and Ron reflexively reached back to nudge the water temperature down again, the unpleasant memory of the burning gold forcing itself to the surface of his mind.

"Just—humor me," she said. "How many times in our lives has something sounded completely mental and ended up being right all along?" Ron shrugged; he couldn't argue with that. "How involved is the Auror department in the security at Gringotts?"

"More than it used to be."

"Enough that you could pull reports on past attempted break-ins?"

"Well, if we were at the Ministry, then yeah, I could pull most anything from the archives. But we are not at the Ministry."

"Can you reach Harry to have him look into it?"

"I can," Ron said slowly, "but we're on an undercover assignment. It's a break in protocol."

Hermione's mouth twisted into an irresistible smirk. "And when have we ever let rules get in the way of a good adventure?"