A/N: Hullo, I'm back. I surprise myself at the speed with which I'm updating lately. The writing bug has bitten me. Note—I have skipped the month between the late-night phone call and the Sunday that Harry and Hermione are leaving for Cuba. I'm sure that none of you really wanted me to spend any effort on writing that time anyway. If you really want to know, Harry and Hermione spent a lot of time together going over details about her family, they both got the time off work for the wedding week from their bosses, and life continued normally until the Sunday. So there you have it.

This is a double chapter. Normally I would have posted this as two separate ones, but there wasn't enough in the second part. In any case, enjoy.

"Now are you sure you've got everything you need?"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry groaned. "I've checked three times already."

"Where's your passport?"

"In your purse."

"Really?" she asked, looking surprised, and checked. She came up with both their passports in one hand. "There you go."

Harry laughed. "It's safest there, according to you ten minutes ago. Look, it's already two and the flight's at four. Are we ready to go yet?"

"We're ready."

"Finally," he teased. "To Cuba!" With that, he dragged his rolling suitcase out into the hallway, let Hermione through, and locked the door behind her. Harry flagged down a cab and they took it to the airport. They went through customs smoothly, checked their bags, and waited around forty-five minutes for the plane to start loading. The flight over was long and uneventful. It took seven hours, but with the time difference between London and Havana, they arrived at six o' clock local time feeling like it was eleven. They'd both napped on the plane, though, so they weren't tired. Another cab took them from the airport in Havana out to Varadero, which took roughly an hour. Once they were driving down the road along white beaches, passing hundreds of colourful hotels, Hermione got out the little slip of paper with the name of the hotel that everyone was staying at. The driver knew it. They passed homes interspersed between the hotels, probably full of all the people who worked there.

Finally they arrived, and only at seven thirty. "We still have plenty of time to check out the hotel and see who's already here," said Hermione. "I don't think the sun even sets until much later." Harry agreed, hauling their bags out of the trunk of the car. Hermione tossed her hair in a breeze that came up, and smiled brilliantly. "I can't believe we're here," she said, her excitement showing at last. She'd been nervous all through the past week, worrying that her family would suspect something or that they'd see through her and Harry entirely and she wouldn't get the inheritance and she'd be a laughingstock and be unable to face her family and the whole week would be ruined. Harry had patiently calmed her down whenever she'd had panic attacks, but she seemed to be just fine now. He grinned, looking at her. They'd been at the hotel less than five minutes and she was already more relaxed.

"When should I start...you know?" he asked.

"Um—now, I suppose. My family has a nasty habit of popping up when they're least expected. And I don't mean just on vacations, either," she laughed. "Once my aunt dropped in right in the middle of a fight between my parents. It was hilarious, the looks on their faces. Anyway, I don't—oh my god, there's Angela," she gasped, obviously unprepared and therefore prone to a panic attack. Harry saw it coming a mile away and came up behind her, massaging her shoulders. "That's good, keep doing that for a minute so she can see. Angela!" she called, waving, and a blonde young woman turned towards them.

"Hermione!" she cried, squealing loudly and running over to the driveway past the semi-outdoor lobby of the hotel. That is, hurrying. In Harry's opinion, a woman couldn't very well run in heels the size of hers. "You made it! Oh, it's so exciting! Have you checked in yet? Was the flight okay? How are you?"

Hermione laughed, hugging her cousin. "No, we haven't checked in yet—we only just got our bags out the car," she told Angela. "Have you met Harry before? I don't think so. Angela, this is Harry. Harry, my cousin Angela. She's lovely really, if you ignore the squeals," she teased, winking at the taller woman, who laughed. Harry decided he liked her.

"Good to meet you," he said warmly, shaking her hand. "And congratulations."

"Thanks! I've heard about you, of course; you're all she talks about, though she never mentioned you were seeing each other," said Angela. Harry slipped her a smile brimming with the legendary Potter charm.

"Well, she hasn't been honest then, has she?" he declared, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders and kissing the top of her head. She blushed and fidgeted. Angela laughed at the sight.

"Too cute, I must say. I'll go tell everyone you've arrived, shall I? Oh, I'm so glad you came! This is going to be so much fun," she announced, hurrying off and disappearing into the hotel. Harry withdrew his arm and Hermione beamed up at him.

"Y'know, I think we might just pull this off," she said, and Harry laughed.

"Piece of cake, dear."

She shoved him and picked up her suitcase, purse already on her shoulder. Harry paid the cab driver and he rolled away around the loop and back out to the road. They wheeled their things over to the front desk, where they checked in without incident under their reservation. The clerk made a joke about 'another Granger', and Hermione told him to expect several more in the next day or two, making the man laugh. A talkative bellhop loaded their bags onto a cart and led them through the then-dizzying, elaborate layout of the hotel. Everything was outdoors, as was the way in Cuba. The only time anyone was indoors was when they were in their rooms or in the meal pavilion. Hallways to second floors and stairs were all outside. When they arrived at their room, they saw it was a good location; on the ground floor, in one of the buildings that lined the beach. All the different structures in Varadero were painted bright colours—theirs was orangey-pink. Coral, Hermione called it.

Once they'd finished unpacking, Hermione straightened up from the dresser and turned to look at Harry. "So, what are we going to do about the bed situation?"

Harry shrugged. "It depends on whether or not your family will routinely come into the room."

"They will."

"They don't have keys," he pointed out, but Hermione shook her head.

"Believe me. They will drop in."

"Then I suggest we both sleep in the bed, if you're comfortable with that. I'd ask the front desk for a cot, but they'd see it, and I don't want to set it up every night and pack it away every morning, y'know?" he said, scratching the back of his neck. He grinned when Hermione hesitated. "I promise not to take advantage of you."

"Oh, well in that case..." she laughed, and he did too. "Alright. It's not like they'll be examining the room, I don't think, but it can't hurt to be sure, right?"

"It's your inheritance," he said wickedly, and she rolled her eyes. Harry took a pair of long shorts, a light t-shirt and sandals and went into the bathroom to change. "It's really nice in here!" he called through the door. "All clean and sparkling, and it's pretty big for a hotel." Hermione laughed, and drew the curtains shut so she could change into lighter clothes herself. When they were both done, Harry walked over to the door. "I want to go meet everyone. Are they all as friendly as Angela?" he asked, opening it and waiting for Hermione to leave the room. She did, and he made sure it was locked before linking arms with her and tucking the card key into his back pocket as they strolled down towards the central square of the hotel where the pool, bar, and stage were. They'd learned from the bellhop that there was live entertainment there every evening, so that was Hermione's best guess as to where her family would be.

When they got there (after making several wrong turns and getting frightfully lost for a minute or two), the show hadn't started yet. Hermione immediately spotted the large group of people lounging beside the pool, many soaking up the last of the sunlight. She waved, and a chorus of greetings went up. Four children and two young teenagers jumped up and ran over, all six of them hugging her enthusiastically. Harry was introduced to each of her nieces and nephews, and he made an effort to remember their names. He wanted to be in the good books of the children especially; young observations were clearest, he'd learned, and if they didn't like him, Hermione's chances of getting that inheritance would drop considerably. Then he met the rest of the family that was there—aunts, uncles, cousins, a grandfather, and her parents whom he already knew.

Her father, Harmon Granger, looked him up and down as he shook Harry's hand. "Have you grown taller since I last saw you?" he asked, and Harry shook his head, grinning. He liked this man. "Must be the time zone difference. It's thrown me all out of whack. Feels like it's past midnight, looks like it's seven, and it's actually nine. Ridiculous!" he boomed, and Harry laughed genuinely.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Granger."

"And you, Harry. So when did you and Hermione start seeing each other?" he asked, getting right down to business. The man didn't miss a trick, Harry gave him that. He told him what he and Hermione had agreed on the other week.

"About three months ago now. We'd grown closer, and one thing led to another. You know how it goes, sir."

"I do indeed. Her mother and I started out as friends, too," he said, and smiled at Harry. "You're a good lad. I don't need to give you the don't-hurt-my-daughter lecture."

"Thanks; that takes a load off my chest," Harry joked, inviting the older man to laugh with him. Harmon clapped Harry on the back.

"Good man. I don't believe you've met my sister, Delia?"

Harry relaxed as the evening progressed, maneuvering into his role as Hermione's significant other. He spent his time working his way into the good graces of all her relatives, the lies they'd practiced slipping easily off his tongue. When the show started around nine thirty, he sat beside her, his arm casually slung over the back of her chair. It ended around eleven, and by that time everyone was utterly dead on their feet from the time change. Hermione nearly fell asleep upright on the walk back to their room. Harry could barely keep his eyes open himself. They changed into nightclothes wordlessly, and when they finally fell into bed they were both dreaming before their heads hit the pillows.

BRRRRRRRRRING.

Harry jerked awake. He got a distinct feeling of déjà-vu as he groped for his glasses, and then for the phone. Looking around to check the time, he spotted a small clock on Hermione's side of the bed that read 7:59am. He sighed.

BRRRRRRRRRING.

"Hello?"

"G'morning, is that Harry?"

"Yes."

"It's Kate," said the person on the other end, and Harry put a face to the voice and name. It was Hermione's youngest niece, six years old. "Are you awake?"

"I am now," he said, and couldn't help chuckling a little. "Would you like to speak to Hermione?"

"Yes please!" Kate chirped.

"Alright, one second," he said, and put the phone down on the bed beside him. He leaned over and touched Hermione's shoulder, shaking her gently. "Rise and shine," he whispered. She stirred and stretched. "Kate's on the phone."

"Oh." She rolled over to face him, and he handed her the receiver. "Good morning, honey. Did your mum tell you our room number?"

Harry got out of bed and let Hermione talk to her niece as he went into the bathroom and had a quick shower. He peeked his head out when he was done. The phone was hung up, and Hermione had gone back to sleep. He smiled and changed into his day clothes, then quietly let himself out of the room so as not to disturb her. He walked over to the meal pavilion where breakfast, lunch and dinners were served every day in buffet style, and grabbed himself a plate of eggs and toast. One of Hermione's aunts (Angela's mother) spotted him, and took her husband over to sit with him. Everything was going along well until the aunt—Rose—turned the conversation to the former matriarch of the family, Mabel Granger.

"So I imagine you've heard of poor Aunt Mabel's passing away," she said, and Harry choked on the crust of his piece of toast. She patted him absently on the back as she continued. "Your Hermione's getting the fat part of her money, you know. Apparently there was this whole thing in her will about Hermione having to have a male friend in order for her to inherit. When exactly did you start seeing her?"

Harry swallowed his food. "About three months ago, actually. And I did hear about her death. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Oh, she was a bit dotty anyway in her last years," Rose said, waving it off. "Three months, eh? You two must be pretty serious, I take it? Are you planning on becoming an official part of the family?"

"I—I don't know yet," Harry said, caught off guard. He had to relax or he might accidentally let something slip. "I mean—we're taking it slow. We were friends for years before, you understand," he explained, warming to the story. "We haven't decided how far this is going to go. Or at least, we haven't talked about it yet."

"And how do you feel about it? Obviously the inheritance must be some sort of factor."

"It's not, really. With both our jobs, we'd get along comfortably without it," Harry replied confidently. Rose lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you aware of the total sum, young man?"

"Now, Rose," began her husband, a quiet and mousey man named Gregory, but she shushed him with a wave of her hand, intent on Harry's answer. Both men sighed.

"No, actually. She didn't tell me, only that it was considerable." He braced himself for the expected reaction.

"It's probably just as well! You might marry her for the wrong reasons."

Harry smiled at her with just the right amount of shyness in his face. "All the right reasons are already there, ma'am," he said, and looked down at his plate. She tch-ed and smiled back at him.

"Oh, how sweet. Well, I'm sure you're a good boy," she said as Harry finished his eggs. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She was still sleeping when I left. I was planning on bringing her back breakfast," he said truthfully. That had been his intention. Rose and Gregory stayed seated when he stood up. "Well, it was nice talking to you," he said, and went over to the buffet to load up a plate for Hermione. He walked back to the room and let himself in, taking care not to make too much noise in case she was still sleeping. When he took off his shoes and stepped forward, he saw that she was. He leaned over the bed and waved the plate in front of her nose a few times, then placed it on the table beside her. Her nose followed it, eyes still closed, until she had stirred herself into wakefulness. She yawned, stretching.

"What time is it?"

"A quarter to nine," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

She yawned again, then blinked and looked around at the plate of food. "You brought me breakfast?"

"Yeah, you were sleeping after I had my shower so I went and ate by myself. Well, not all by myself—your aunt Rose cornered me while I was there."

That got Hermione's attention. She sat up and leaned forward. "She's the worst gossip of the entire family, and shall we say not one to mince words. What happened?"

"It was fine until she brought up your great aunt. She knows about the inheritance thing. If she's that bad a gossip, the whole family'll know by lunch."

"Damn," Hermione swore.

"I think I fended her off pretty well," he said in his own defense. "I said it wasn't a factor, that we could live comfortably without it and stuff. She seemed to think that I shouldn't know exactly how much it is, or—oh, and that's the other thing: she asked me pretty much what my intentions towards you are. She seemed to think if I knew how much it is I'd marry you for the wrong reasons—I handled that one well, at least."

"What did you say?"

"Just that the right reasons were there already, or something like that."

"That's sweet."

"That's what she said."

"Well, if she's up, then others probably are," she said, and put the plate into her lap to eat. "I'm starving," she said between bites. "Thanks for bringing this back here, Harry."

"No problem," he said, patting her knee and getting to his feet.

"You know, you don't have to act all boyfriend-like when we're alone," she called after him as he went into the bathroom. He stuck his head back out and grinned at her.

"I know."

She smiled up at him for a long moment, until they both blinked at the same time and went about doing what they'd been doing. That was odd, he thought to himself before putting it out of his mind and brushing his teeth.

They were out of the room ten minutes later. A few of Hermione's family were already out by the pool, including Angela and her fiancé, David, whom Harry hadn't met yet. He was tall, and looked every inch the local Cuban man except for his British accent. He'd lived in England since he was ten, he told Harry upon being asked. His parents and family had all stayed in Cuba when he'd gone overseas to school. "Must've been hard, being so far from them," Harry said sympathetically.

"It was at first, but you get used to it," David nodded. "I understand you went to the same boarding school that Hermione did?"

"Yeah, but I was glad to get away from my family," Harry grinned, and David laughed appreciatively.

Someone made the suggestion that they all tear themselves away from the edge of the pool and go for a dip in 'some real water'. Harry detoured back to the room to get his trunks while the rest headed on to the beach. When he caught up with them, they already had a good spot staked out under a couple of palms. The sand was dotted with various other vacationers as well, and there were a few people in the water. It was shallow and warm, about knee-deep up to fifty feet out before getting deeper. Harry expected Hermione to follow in Angela's footsteps and stay on the shore, saying it was too early to get wet, and so he was surprised when she dove right in beside him, splashing him on the way. "Oh, I see how it is!" he cried, and lunged for her. The waist-high water slowed him down, and she danced out of reach, laughing. He held his breath and went underwater, launching an alternative assault on her ankles from below. This time he succeeded, and yanked her feet out from under her. She tumbled over backwards with a spectacular splash, and he backpedaled away as fast as he could before she recovered.

Someone called Hermione's name, and Harry turned to look. A young woman about their age was wading towards them through the water, holding her skirt up around her thighs with one hand to keep it dry and a sunhat onto her head with the other. It was someone he hadn't been introduced to yet, so he waited for Hermione to wave him over before approaching. "Harry, this is Adele, Angela's sister. Adele, Harry."

"Good to meet you," he said with a smile, extending his hand to shake. She didn't take it, he assumed because she was holding her clothes. She nodded, unsmiling. Harry's guard, having been lowered upon deciding that Hermione's family were all a decent sort, went up. She didn't like him, and he'd never met her before, which meant that there was a reason behind it other than just not liking him. He flicked water out of his eyes and studied the woman as she talked to Hermione. There was a distinct sourness about her, when talking to either of them. He decided he would observe how she acted around other people before jumping to conclusions about her. Maybe she just had bad people skills.

But when she left, Hermione turned to him and leaned close to say something into his ear. "Adele is pretty bitter about the inheritance thing. She's not that well off, and she really wanted some of Aunt Mabel's money, but she wasn't left any in the will. My guess is she'll try to break us up over the week so that she'll get a fifth of mine."

"Well that won't be a problem, will it?" Harry winked. "Seeing as we're not really together in the first place."

"Right. Just look out for her. She's never liked me anyway."

"Will do," he agreed, and tackled her into the water.

They spent another hour in the ocean until they got sick of accidentally tasting saltwater, and headed in to land to dry off. Hermione lay on a long sunbathing chair while Harry stretched out on a towel on the sand, hands clasped beneath his head, eyes shut. He smiled. Life was good. White sand, blue sky, green palms, turquoise water; and a warm sun to boot. Not to mention he was sharing it with his best friend; he cracked one eye open to steal a look at Hermione. She looked just as content as he felt. He settled back onto his towel. He fell into a doze, only half awake.

The day passed quietly. He and Hermione spent most of it on the beach, alternating between swimming and dozing. At one point they collaborated with Kate and Neal, the two youngest children, to make a giant sandcastle. It had 'towers and everything', Kate boasted proudly to her mother when she came down to inspect it. Harry ruffled the girl's hair. She was already his favourite of the youngsters, despite having woken him up that morning.

When the sun finally set late that evening, he took Hermione to the show in the square. There was dancing that night. A man with a low voice crooned a beautiful Spanish ballad as all the couples, including Harry and Hermione, held each other close and stepped slowly to the music. When the last note of the last song drew out into the night, everyone applauded and all the couples kissed. Harry acted on impulse. He placed his fingertips under Hermione's chin to tilt her face up, and kissed her softly. She stiffened in surprise at first, but realized that everyone was, and then relaxed into it. She even started to kiss him back a moment before he pulled away. Their eyes met, and both blushed furiously. They'd known it would have to happen eventually, and had agreed to just try not to let the telltale awkwardness of friendship show to her family.

They were less tired that night when it was time for bed; they were used to the time change now. Neither met the other's eyes as they went about their nightly routines, changing and brushing their teeth and whatnot. Harry got into his side of the bed first. They had crossed a line tonight. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, they were very comfortable with each other. They were sleeping in the same bed, after all. On the other, they were going to have to kiss again and probably lots by the time the week was out. And then there was a small third hand that told him he wasn't so against the idea. Hermione slipped in beside him and said "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he whispered back, and after a while, he slept.