"Gringotts?" Ron could hear the confused tone of Harry's voice even through the crackling connection of the phone booth he and Hermione and her enormous beach bag were crammed into. "What's the bank got to do with anything?"

"Not sure it does, actually," Ron admitted. "But we haven't had any other leads since we've been here, and I reckon it's worth looking into."

The sound of Harry's rapid page-turning echoed across the line. "We haven't had an inkling of financial motive from Berisha," Harry replied. "There's nothing in his file. Everything points toward it being Death Eater related."

"Yeah, but we've not been able to pin anything on him," Ron argued. "He needs money; we know that now. What we don't know is if he's doing something illicit to get it." Hermione shifted beside him in the crowded space, twisting the watch on her wrist to check the time. "Just look into it, alright?"

Harry gave a resigned sigh. "Yeah, alright. How're things with Hermione?"

"Good, good, everything's going to plan." That wasn't quite true—rekindling some semblance of their relationship had been an unexpected though pleasant development of the mission—but he wasn't going to go into the details with Harry.

"No trouble keeping up your cover, then?" Harry asked, and Ron could see in his mind the accompanying smirk that his best mate's tone implied.

"Oh, damn, think my coinage is about to run out, Harry," Ron said instead of answering. "Got to go, send me those files." He could hear Harry's laughter as he placed the phone back in its cradle with a bit more force than was necessary.

Hermione looked up at him, her expression innocent beneath her dark lashes. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just Harry being a wanker," he muttered. "Ready to head back?" They had ventured off on a long walk on the beach that eventually landed them in a muggle town far enough from the resort that Ron wasn't worried about them being spotted. It was the safest way to reach out to Harry, though any contact was technically a breach of protocol, which Harry had been quick to remind him of after ensuring that neither of them had been gravely injured or suffered some other emergency circumstances.

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "Think we're already going to be pushing it to make dinner."

"Well, that's what room service is for," Ron replied with a grin before leaning down to kiss her. He'd meant it to be a quick peck, but after nearly two years without her, he was finding that he couldn't get enough of her. Ron was thankful that she seemed to feel the same as she laced her fingers in his hair, pressing her body even closer to his than the tiny phone booth necessitated.

They separated only when a sharp rap on the door interrupted, and Ron looked up to see a disgruntled man waiting for the telephone. They slipped out with an emphatic apology from Hermione, though the man just grunted in reply, and Ron heard him mutter, "bloody tourists," just as the door shut behind him, causing them both to dissolve into laughter.

Ron reached for her again, taking her hand in his. "What if we didn't go back just yet?" he suggested.

Hermione gave him a curious frown. "What do you mean?"

Ron grinned, overcome with spontaneity. "We're not that far from the pier. Carnival games, greasy food stands…What d'you say?"

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder, where just the tops of the letters that decorated the entrance to the park were visible over the shops. She was smirking when she looked back at him, but he could tell that she was interested. "That's how you want to spend our evening?"

He shrugged. "I've never been. And think of the stories I can tell my dad when we get back."

"Do we have mu—money?" Hermione corrected herself. "These places usually only take cash."

"Of course." Ron patted his pocket before tugging her closer. "C'mon. Let's have a night off."

"Is that allowed?"

"Sure. Call it recon."

"Ron!"

He laughed at her outburst. "Yeah, Hermione, it's allowed. Promise."

She pursed her lips in thought, but the slight lean of her body in the direction of the pier told Ron he had convinced her. "Alright," she agreed. "But if you don't win me a very large, obnoxious stuffed animal, we may be due for a lover's spat when we get back to the resort."

Ron snorted, unable to decide which part of her remark was more ridiculous. "Challenge accepted."

"And no…" Hermione glanced purposefully at the pocket where he kept his wand. "Cheating."

"Would I?" He gave her his best wide-eyed look of innocence, to which Hermione shook her head and tugged at his hand.

"Come on, then," she said, taking a step backward and pulling him along. "Let's have a night off."

They made the walk down to the amusement park hand-in-hand. Ron wasn't the least bit surprised when Hermione refused to get on any of the dizzying, high-flying rides that the park offered, so instead, they made their way through the crowds in search of the game booth with the largest stuffed animals as prizes. Once they had taken their place in line at a ring toss that displayed a colorful assortment of stuffed bears big enough to swallow them whole, Hermione nudged him in the side. "Maybe this is a bit silly," she said, hesitantly eyeing the prize wall. "What am I supposed to do with one of those if you actually win it?"

Rom shrugged and stepped forward as the line moved. "I dunno, keep it and cherish it as a symbol of our love forever?" Her eyes widened at his off-the-cuff answer, and he recoiled quickly. "Kidding, kidding. Give it to Victoire or something. I just know that I have a point to prove."

Hermione rolled her eyes, her good humor returning. "How? We're not competing against each other."

"Oh, yes, we are." The kids who had been paying stepped aside, both frowning in disappointment, and Ron handed a muggle note to the teenaged attendant. "Two, please." Hermione took her place beside him and gave him a quizzical look. "What?" Ron teased. "Maybe I want you to win me a giant stuffed bear."

"Who says chivalry is dead?" Hermione laughed as she reached for the flimsy rings the teen handed her.

"Not me. Ladies first." Ron folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at her.

Hermione squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes as she sized up the game in front of her. She gave the first ring a careful toss that landed well short of the arranged bottles. "A little harder," Ron encouraged. Hermione flung her second ring so hard that it bounced off the backdrop and nearly hit the attendant from behind, and Ron forced himself not to laugh. "Okay, something in between."

Hermione's last throw was closer, but she still missed the mark. Ron made to hand her his three rings to give her another go, but she waved him off. "No, no, show me how it's done," she teased.

Ron took a moment to survey the game in front of him, and then with three sharp flicks of his wrist, he landed each plastic ring around the neck of a bottle. The kids in line behind them gave a loud whoop as both Hermione and the attendant gaped at him, and he saw Hermione's eyes flick to his wand pocket again. "How did you…"

"Beginner's luck, I reckon," Ron replied with a grin.

The teenager running the booth scratched at his face—this was clearly an unprecedented outcome for him—and gestured around the interior of the stand. "Well, sir, you can pick anything we've got."

Ron pretended to contemplate his prize options, though he had already spotted the one he wanted while they were waiting. It seemed to be the only one left of its kind, tucked between a brightly colored row of parrots and the smaller version of the giant bears. He pointed at it and said, "The otter, please."

Hermione turned to look as the teen moved to grab Ron's selection. "You can have one of the big ones, you know," he prodded, taking his time to unhook the little tan otter.

"Nah, we're good with this one. Thanks, though." The attendant shrugged and handed him the stuffed animal, which he immediately gave to Hermione.

"This count, or did you seriously want a giant animal?" Ron asked as they shuffled to the side to let the next guests take their turn.

"I didn't even see this one," Hermione marveled, toying with one of the animal's fluffy paws before she looked up at him. "Yes. It counts. Thank you." She rolled up on her toes to kiss him. "Shall we get some food, then?"

Ron silently credited the stuffed otter that Hermione was clutching even tighter than his hand for her sudden enthusiasm in eating greasy carnival food. She even neglected her usual diatribe about the pitfalls of too much sugar and settled for a half-hearted eye roll when Ron purchased a large pink candy floss from a roaming vendor, though she declined his offer to share.

They had reached the edge of the pier, the crowds beginning to thin as the night wore on, and Ron tossed his now empty paper cone into a nearby rubbish bin. Hermione put a hand on his arm and let out a small laugh. "You've got a bit of the floss," she said, gesturing to his face. He raised his hand to his cheek, but she stopped him. "Let me," she whispered and then leaned up to place her lips against the corner of his mouth. He bit back a moan as he felt her tongue against his skin, taking care of the sticky remains of his dessert, and wrapped his arms around her to hold her in place.

"I think it's time to head back," Ron murmured, and he felt Hermione's answering nod.

"I saw a spot around the corner we can apparate from," she whispered back.

"Brilliant."

Hermione all but dragged him away from the water, back in the direction they had come, and pulled him into a narrow alley between two shops. He gave her a nod, and she slipped her wand from her beach bag, making quick work of apparating them both back to the resort. They landed at the apparition point just outside the gates, where they had first arrived a week ago now. Ron didn't have time to marvel how much things had changed since then as Hermione was already marching toward the looming golden facade of the resort, her quick strides full of purpose.

The silence between them was heavy with anticipation, and they hurried along the edge of the lobby with no intention of stopping. Just before they reached the turn to the hallway that would lead them to the lift, a voice rang out from the direction of the front desk. "Mr. Prewett!" Ron turned to find the receptionist smiling at them and waving a pink envelope. He flashed an apologetic smile at Hermione before approaching the desk. "Sorry to bother you," she said, giving an appraising look to Hermione, who was now hanging on his arm with her gaudy ring on full display. "This arrived for you while you were out."

"Oh, thank you." He took the envelope and slid his finger under the seal, revealing an elaborate card with the word Congratulations! shimmering in enchanted glitter on the front. He opened the card and read aloud as Hermione leaned over to see, " 'Owen and Emily, congratulations on your engagement! We can't wait to share in your special day. Love, Aunt Greta and Uncle Albert.' How thoughtful of them." He turned back to the receptionist as he tucked the card back inside. "Thanks again. Have a good evening."

"You as well."

Ron made an effort to slow his pace as they headed for the lift again, though Hermione, he could tell, was moving with an even greater urgency.

Once they were upstairs and Ron had checked their security spells, Hermione snatched the envelope from his hand. "Relax," he said, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. "It's from Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a playful swat with the envelope. "I figured that. What was with the show downstairs, then?"

"Eliminate suspicion of it being something it's not," Ron replied with a shrug.

"Except it is something it's not."

"Exactly." Ron took the card from Hermione and transfigured it to its original state: a single piece of parchment bearing the words Security Report in bold script at the top. There was another, smaller piece of parchment attached with a sticking charm, on which Harry's messy handwriting read: All I could find. Hope it helps.

Ron skimmed the report while Hermione looked over his elbow. About a year after the war, there had been an incident at Gringotts where a wizard that the goblins deemed suspicious lurked in the lobby for a bit before approaching one of the Auror-appointed security guards to ask questions about the various security measures in place at the bank. He claimed to be from the Daily Prophet, working on a piece about the break-in and -out that the trio had pulled the prior spring, but he had no credentials, and security escorted him from the premises. No charges were filed, and other than an unfamiliar name, there was no information about the wizard in question.

Ron shrugged and handed the paper to Hermione. "It was a good thought," he offered.

"This was about us!" she exclaimed when she reached that point. "Why weren't we informed?"

"That some guy claiming to be a journalist was asking questions about us less than a year after the war?" Ron returned. "Hermione, if you'd gotten an owl every time that happened, you could have opened your own bird sanctuary."

She huffed but set the parchment down on the table. "I suppose you're right." Ron transfigured it back to its card state, just in case. "So what now?"

Ron grinned and reached for her hand. "Plan B."

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Which is?"

"Enjoy our holiday, remember?" He tugged at her hand and began taking slow steps toward the bed as he spoke, Hermione following without hesitation. "We stay, and we watch, and we enjoy our holiday."

"Oh, yes." Hermione's hands dipped under his shirt as he sat down on the bed. "I like that plan." She flicked her wand, and the lights went dark as she hungrily pressed her lips to his.