After a quick nap and a not-so-quick shower—Hermione had been very thorough in checking Ron for injuries—they headed back down to the lobby to check in on the investigation. Harry spotted them immediately and broke away from the pair of junior Aurors he was with.

"I have good news and bad news," Harry said as he approached. Ron nodded for him to go on. "Berisha has consented to interrogation under Veritaserum."

"Brilliant. What's the bad news?"

"He'll only agree to talk to you."

Hermione's lips twitched, but Ron shrugged. "Not a big deal. He seems like a decent bloke. You know, assuming he's not the one who ordered his bartender to try and kill me earlier."

Hermione smacked his arm. "That's not funny, Ron."

"I'm fine, Hermione. You checked me yourself." He raised his eyebrows at her, and her cheeks flushed at the reminder. Harry was holding back a laugh but didn't say anything as Ron turned back to him. "Where's Berisha now?"

"We've set up interrogations over here." Harry motioned for them to follow him across the lobby. "There's a soundproof room behind the bar."

"Oh, yeah. I know where it is." Ron took the case file from Harry and reached for Hermione's hand. "You okay here?"

She nodded and gave his fingers a squeeze before letting go. Ron crossed the empty bar to the room where he and Hermione had joined Berisha before for their mysterious dinner. Another Auror stood guard outside the room, and she handed Ron a thin vial of clear liquid before he entered.

The room was set the same as the last time Ron had been in it, minus the delicious spread of food. The memory had his stomach twitching with hunger; he'd have to see about some food after the interrogation.

Berisha sat calmly, waiting for Ron with his hands folded atop the table, and he gave a slight nod of greeting.

"Mr. Berisha, you've been informed of your rights regarding interrogation under Veritaserum?" Ron asked as he sat across from him.

"I have, and as I've told you, Mr. Weasley, you may call me Alfie." Ron didn't respond but to pass the potion vial to the resort owner. "No pleasantries, I see? Very well, then."

Berisha uncorked the vial and drank it in one swallow. Ron allowed a full minute to go by for the potion to take effect before he spoke again.

"How long have you known John Phillips?"

"He has been in my employment here at the Sphinx for the past two years."

"And has he ever been subject to any disciplinary action?"

"Quite the contrary, John has been a model employee in his time here."

Ron nodded, jotting down a note before proceeding. "Have you and John spoken today?"

"Yes. At breakfast."

"And what was the nature of that conversation?"

"Nothing that would concern your investigation, I presume."

Ron frowned. "I'd like to make that determination for myself if it's all the same to you," he retorted, though keeping his voice calm. "What did you and John talk about this morning?"

"He stated that his eggs were cold, and a look into the staff serving area found that the warming charms had faltered."

"That's it?" Ron pressed, eyebrows raised.

Berisha tapped on the now-empty vial of truth serum and nodded. Ron sighed and took a different tactic. He flipped his file closed and leveled his gaze at the man across the table.

"Mr. Berisha, do you know why I'm here?"

"For a vacation with your lovely fiancée?"

Correcting Berisha on who Hermione was to him was irrelevant, but part of Ron didn't even want to. "Your resort is under investigation of suspected Death Eater activity. As I'm sure you've managed to deduce by now, given the throng of Aurors in your lobby."

"I told you at our last meeting, Mr. Weasley: any associations I have with former supporters of Lord Voldemort are merely transactional in nature. They are business associates. I do not, and would not, condone such activities on my property."

Ron searched Berisha's face carefully. It was rare, but not unheard of, to encounter a witch or wizard who could resist the effects of Veritaserum, and he had to be sure. Berisha wasn't showing any of the tell tale signs of resistance to the potion, but he was exceptionally cool under the pressure of an interrogation, and that had Ron's suspicions piqued.

"So you have no idea why John would have wanted to harm me today?"

"Certainly not, and I plan to address this indiscretion with him immediately."

Ron reached for the file again, flipping it open to his notes. "With all due respect, Mr. Berisha, the attempted murder of an Auror is a bit more than an indiscretion, and we'll be addressing it ourselves." He took a few notes, the silence between them only broken by the scratching of Ron's quill and the rhythmic drum of Berisha's fingers on the table top. "That being said, do you know John's current whereabouts?"

"I told you, I know nothing of what went on today."

"Yes, but you're his employer. Does he have family in the area? Friends? Places he likes to spend time?"

Berisha thought for a moment. "He mentioned a girlfriend once, but that was some time ago. His family are all in London, as far as I'm aware. Incidentally, I don't keep a close watch on my employees' personal lives."

There was a knock on the door only an instant before it swung inward and Harry's messy black hair appeared in the opening. "Ron? A word?"

Ron shuffled his papers back together and stood, tucking the file under his arm as he followed his partner out into the bar. Hermione sat at a stool near the end, a bottle of butterbeer in one hand while the other twisted anxiously around the end of her curls, and she straightened when she saw Ron.

"We've apprehended John," Harry said without preamble, and Ron saw Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "He's already back in London for booking and questioning. Which, as soon as you're through with Berisha, is exactly where you're headed." Harry glanced at Hermione over his shoulder and added pointedly, "Both of you."

"But—" Ron and Hermione's protest sounded in unison, and a ghost of a smile crossed Harry's face before his stern Auror expression was back.

"No buts," he retorted. "Have you gotten anything useful from Berisha?"

Ron shook his head. "Says he doesn't know anything about John, and insists there's no Death Eater activity on the property."

"That he knows about," Hermione muttered, and Ron and Harry both turned to look at her. "Well, honestly," she continued, waving the butterbeer about. "I've seen too many criminals go free because someone else is managing the operations, and therefore the man at the top can claim innocence. Even under Veritaserum."

Harry gave her words a thoughtful nod. "Okay. Take a full run at Berisha. I'll get you a complete list of the staff, and known associates are in your file. If he knows anything—anything, we'll find it. And then—go home."

Ron shot a perfunctory glare at Harry; his best mate didn't outrank him on any sort of day-to-day basis, but he was the lead on this case, and Ron had no choice but to relent.

"I suppose I'll head up and pack, then." Hermione sighed as she chucked her empty bottle into a nearby rubbish bin. She turned and left the bar without another word, and Ron watched her go with a curious frown.

"So, you'll fill me in on that when we get back, yeah?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

"Er, yeah. As soon as we figure it out ourselves." They hadn't explicitly spoken about the status of their relationship, or what would become of it when they returned home.

Harry snorted, mirroring Ron's thoughts. "Typical."

Ron rolled his eyes but couldn't entirely stop the smile that tugged at his lips. "Piss off, Harry. I have a suspect to interrogate."

It took so long to question Berisha that they had to stop at one point for him to take an additional dose of Veritaserum, but when they were through, Ron felt confident that the owner was not their culprit. There was no such thing as a sure thing in Ron's line of work, but with a questioning this thorough, it was about as close as they could get.

Ron gathered his notes as he stood and extended his hand to Berisha. "We appreciate your cooperation," Ron said as Berisha accepted the handshake. "I hope the next time we meet, it's under more pleasant circumstances."

"You and Ms. Granger are welcome anytime," Berisha replied. "And if you choose to return for your honeymoon, your stay is on me. You've done me a great service, keeping the resort safe for myself and everyone here."

The words twisted Ron's stomach into knots. "Actually, Hermione and I aren't engaged," he admitted. "She just came with me as a cover."

Berisha gave him a curious frown. "Interesting. You put on quite a convincing show."

"Yeah, well…" Ron shrugged as he trailed off. "We've known each other a long time, that's all."

"Hmm." Berisha quirked an eyebrow before rearranging his features into a more neutral expression. "Well, in any case, my offer stands."

Ron gave a quick nod of thanks before returning to the bar where Harry was still waiting. "All set?"

"Yeah." He handed the file back to Harry, who gave the pages a quick flip before setting it on the bar. "Reckon I'll just go grab my things and head out. You and the team will be back soon, too?"

"Yeah, we're wrapping up here. I'll take care of John when we get back tonight. He's not going anywhere. And I have a portkey ready for you and Hermione."

"Thanks, mate." Ron shuffled his feet, suddenly anxious about facing Hermione now that the mission was over.

Unfortunately for him, Harry had grown more perceptive of their relationship since their Hogwarts days. "You two are going to be okay, right?" he asked. "I mean, I know you had some concerns about doing this with her."

"Yeah." Ron shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I dunno."

Hermione's abrupt mood change before she disappeared to pack had him questioning things. Maybe it was just part of the cover for her. Something to help her get into character.

It wasn't for him, though. He had never truly gotten over her to begin with, and now that he'd had a taste of their relationship again, he didn't want to let it go.

He just had to hope that she felt the same.

"Tell her." Ron blinked at Harry, who gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Whatever it is you're thinking that's got your face all scrunched up like that, just tell her."

"Right." It was sound advice, but easier said than done.

Harry clapped Ron on the back. "You'll be fine. I'll see you back at home."

Ron crossed the shiny marble lobby to the lifts. His stomach felt heavier and heavier as he rode up to the top floor, but he forced himself to take a calming breath as the lift doors opened with a ding that reverberated in his chest.

He let Harry's advice echo in his head as he made his way down the short hallway to their suite. Just tell her. Just tell her.

With another deep breath, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.