I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in this story.

Thanks as always to kabg01

Despite Ron's initial confidence, Hermione had not been able to pin him down about when exactly they would tell everyone. She could understand his reticence – as soon as they told everyone, it would become real – and she herself was hardly keen to start the bandwagon that would end in her and Ron being married. So although she sent him the occasional owl asking when he thought they should announce the fact, she accepted his answers that the happy announcement could wait until all the family was together without too much argument.

Hermione's birthday had been uneventful – Molly had insisted she had come to the Burrow for a tea party and Hermione wasn't sure whether she was disappointed or relieved that Ron had been abroad and unable to attend but had left a ten galleon book token and a humorous card about toads for her. She had suspected that he had arranged to be away on purpose but Harry seemed to think he was doing something terribly important in Spain so she couldn't be sure.

Similarly, she wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that Draco didn't send her anything. She'd dashed him off a quick owl after her appointment at the Ministry to tell him that everything was ok but had avoided him so as not to have to tell him she was going to have to marry Ron. So the day after her birthday, when she received a note from him telling her that he'd pick her up at 10 pm that night, and to dress up, her heart leapt to her mouth.

She chose a midnight blue gown that she had worn to collect her Order of Merlin, First Class and dragged out getting dressed as long as she could but by half past eight she was ready, unused to such a late start time to her dates. Where could he be taking her? She was beginning to regret the neutral gift that she had given him for his birthday, of a solid silver crucible for potion making. She added a few overnight items to her small clutch bag that had been treated in the same way as the beaded bag, just in case. Not that she thought it was a good idea to spend the night with Draco. Since her being betrothed to Ron she had managed to hang on to her heart and her principles, just about.

She was almost nodding off over a book when he arrived, looking as handsome as she had ever seen him, in his black and white dress robes. Her resolve to keep things chaste between them until after the law was overturned almost crumbled there and then. Luckily Draco seemed to be on a tight schedule and whisked them immediately back out of the house.

Hermione's curiosity became unbearable when Draco took her to the international apparition point in the Ministry.

"Where are we going?" she whispered insistently, as they stood in the queue, awaiting their turn.

"Just wait and see, nosey," Draco smiled, but his eyes were tight – a security wizard had just met his eye and begun whispering to his colleague. A prickle of unease ran up Hermione's back as she saw the men staring at them. Friend or foe? Fan or danger? she wondered to herself, the muscles in her legs tightening in the familiar preparation for flight.

"Could you step this way for a moment please Sir?" one of the guards appeared at Draco's elbow and gently steered him away from the line. Hermione hurried after them, her hand reaching for her wand, until they were in the privacy of a small alcove.

"Apologies for the inconvenience, Sir," said the other security wizard, looking anything but, "However, the International Apparition Security Act 1999 prevents Death Eaters from crossing international borders," Draco looked coldly down at the dumpy man in his ill fitting robes.

"That's not right!" Hermione exclaimed, "You have to have proof that he's a Death Eater. And the law can be waived if the wizard or witch has reformed,"

"You familiar with the International Apparition Security Act?" the taller of the two guards scratched his head with his wand, eyeing her suspiciously. Hermione couldn't decide if he knew who she was and was wondering what she was doing with a Death Eater, or he recognised her but just couldn't quite place her.

"I know a bit about it," Hermione admitted. Draco snorted beside her

"Why does that not surprise me? Bit of bed time reading was it?" he teased.

"If you could just show us your arms Sir, you can be on your way," the short one butted in, seeming to be relishing the chance to have a little power over a dark wizard.

Hermione felt Draco stiffen beside her "Why should I –" he started

"Just show them," she sighed, her hands on her hips, "I'm sure they've seen a splinching wound before – they do work at an apparition point after all," she rolled her eyes at the pair, "it hasn't healed very well and he's so vain about it. You're ok with seeing wounds aren't you? The weeping sores have all gone now," she asked them nonchalantly, biting back a smile as they both looked a bit uncertain.

Huffing and puffing, Draco pulled back both of his sleeves, turning his arms slowly enough that they could see there was no dark mark, but not letting them look long enough that they would question the livid scar and whether it was a simple case of splinching.

"Sorry for wasting your time Sir, you can't be too careful," the taller one, who Hermione suspected was the 'good cop' led them back to their place in the queue. Draco said nothing but Hermione could see a muscle moving in his jaw. A few moments later they took their turn on the raised platform and Hermione gripped his arm tightly as he threw them into the pressured darkness of apparition.

The twinkling lights of a city spread out before her but for the moment all that she knew was that she was up high somewhere and it was early evening.

"You look beautiful," Draco murmured into her ear as he stepped close behind her, handing her a glass of champagne as the surveyed the view together out of the vast glass window, "Sorry I didn't tell you before but I wanted to get us here. I was worried that border control would be a pain," his lips pressed together disapprovingly.

"New York?" Hermione asked wondrously, picking out a few buildings in the familiar Manhattan skyline.

"Is it ok?" Draco asked, seeming unsure for once.

"It's better than ok! But where are we?" Hermione peered downwards, trying to get her bearings, "Are we…are we in the Statue of Liberty?"

Draco's confidence seemed to return, "The Torch. It's quite exclusive but with any luck, no one will mistake you for waiting staff," he smirked.

"But the torch has been closed for years to the public. Is the statue even open any more?" her eyes drifted over the scar in the skyline.

"The Torch was bought by the Wizarding Community back in 1916. It's been one of the world's most exclusive Wizarding restaurants ever since,"

"Wow," breathed Hermione, her usual eloquence leaving her momentarily.

"Granger, you're not…speechless are you?" Draco feigned concern, "Do you need me to call a healer?"

"It's just –" she trailed off again.

"I know, I know, the sight of me all dressed up like this can be a bit overwhelming. Let's start with a simple 'you look gorgeous Draco', then we can move on to complimenting more specific parts of my physique later."

Hermione just snorted and turned to look over the restaurant. The high burnished copper ceiling was clearly the interior of the torch, from which crystal chandeliers hung. The circular room was painted in muted dark colours, and there were only five tables, each with an excellent view out of the panoramic windows.

"Your table's ready Sir," a wizard in liveried robes padded over the thick carpet to lead them to it. Hermione allowed Draco to pull her chair out for her before he slid in opposite. She could tell he was having a hard time hiding his delight at the place and her enjoyment of it.

"Oh," exclaimed Hermione, surprised, as she looked over the menu "The food's magical."

"Witches and wizards eating magical creatures isn't as popular as it used to be, but a lot of older folk still don't trust any of that muggle muck," Draco grinned.

"Yes, well," Hermione said, disapprovingly, "That's why the Golden Snidget is nearly extinct. That and using them for Quidditch."

"I wouldn't bother with one of them anyway, horrible bony things. Have the Bicorn, it's the best steak you'll ever have. And they're basically just cows with funny shaped horns so if you're going to grumble about the sentience of magical creatures, you can save yourself the breath," he flipped his menu closed decisively.

Hermione, who had been just about to mention that very thing just huffed lightly and took another sip of the creamy champagne.

"I learned that from our excellent Care of Magical Creatures lessons," Draco grinned, obviously trying to get a rise out of her. Aside from teasing her about her love of learning, it was rare for him to talk about school. Hermione often wondered if it was because he was ashamed of what he had been like then but she had never felt able to ask.

"Hagrid was a very….passionate teacher," was her dignified response, "and is a very dear friend of mine, so please be careful what you say."

"You know, I was always a bit jealous of him, in a funny sort of way," Draco mused after the waiter had been to take their order. It was all Hermione could do to not spit her champagne across the table as she dissolved into giggles.

"Yes, you seemed to really admire him at school! What was it, the fact he got to spend all day looking after Hippogriffs?"

"Oh ha ha, well if you must know, in a way, yes. Not the Hippogriffs as such, but he always seemed so happy, getting to do what he loved every day. I think that's why I used to try and spoil it for him."

Hermione felt the dangerous undercurrent of the things they didn't discuss ripple darkly closer to the surface. It was best to steer the conversation on to safer grounds, "So what did you want to be when you grew up? I'm sure there could have been a gamekeeping apprenticeship."

"I thought I wanted to play Quidditch professionally but I was never really good enough. Even that I think was only because I wanted to rub Potter's nose in it. Mostly I just wanted to be happy," he stared morosely at the table for a moment, "How about you? What did you want to be? Don't tell me you weren't jealous of Madam Pince?"

"I wanted to do some good in the world," Hermione announced grandly, laughing at herself a little.

"Well you're certainly doing that," Draco smiled at her, a curious look in his eye.

The waiter brought over their starter: bowls of a clear broth that flowers bloomed over the surface of as they watched. Hermione took a deep breath of the summery scent drifting up from the bowl. She looked up at Draco to see if they should start but he was still just smiling. He raised his glass to her.

"To you, and all the good you do in the world," he chuckled, but completely without malice or sarcasm.

Hermione tipped her own glass to him, "To you, and being happy," she smiled back.

The food was the best that Hermione had ever eaten in her life and the conversation was as free flowing as the champagne.

"Got room for dessert?" Draco challenged, as their dinner plates were vanished away.

Hermione groaned, "maybe something light," she admitted, hoping that the puddings were not as stodgy as at Hogwarts.

"I know just the thing," Draco beamed at her, "It was my favourite when I was younger. I haven't felt able to order it for a while," he beckoned the waiter over and murmured in his ear.

Draco seemed a little too pleased with himself – it irritated and amused Hermione in equal measures. He kept drumming the table and looking towards the kitchen eagerly every few seconds. After a few minutes, the waiter returned bearing an inordinately large cloche which he placed on the table between them

"What on earth – it looks massive Draco," Hermione protested, earning her a lewd wink that made her face heat up and her tingle. However, before she could say any more, the waiter removed the cover flamboyantly and Hermione pealed out a laugh of childish delight. Small pink spheres of something fluffy were levitating about a foot above the table.

"You said you wanted something light," Draco grinned, "You can't get much lighter than that,"

"But there's no spoons," Hermione scanned the table before trying to meet the eye of a member of serving staff.

Draco just rolled his eyes, "are you a witch or not?" he teased, pulling out his wand. He directed one of the spheres towards her mouth, "open," he instructed, and expertly directed it into her mouth. Hermione almost moaned out loud with pleasure at the small sweet. It was somewhere between mousse and candy floss in texture and tasted somehow of strawberries, and something floral, all at once.

"My turn," she grinned, edging one towards Draco. He stared directly into her eyes as he opened his mouth. Distracted, she twisted her wand slightly at the end, causing the sphere to graze his lip before bouncing off. His indignant expression, coupled with the dash of powdered sugar across his chin was enough to send her into hopeless giggles.

"It was an accident!" she laughed weakly, wiping the tears from her eyes as he brandished his wand "I didn't mean – oh!" one of the sweets hit her squarely on the nose. He laughed too then, not a smirk or a snigger or something controlled for propriety's sake but a proper hoot of laughter.

"You've got a little something on your nose," he joked as she wiped her face with her napkin. He didn't seem to care that some of the other diners were glancing over at them, curious as to what was causing the amusement.

"Yes well, you've got something...there," she waved towards his lips.

He reached over and grabbed her hand and used the pad of her index finger to rub the sugar from his mouth, before popping her finger into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

It was as though he had pulled a rip cord – hot desire bloomed in her belly. She blushed but refused to look away first. Suddenly, he flicked his wand and one of the spheres hit her on the cheek and bounced onto the table where he snatched it up and ate it, then used his wand to levitate another one into his mouth.

"Hey! What about me?" Hermione asked.

"You're sweet enough."

Hermione humphed and tried to hide the smile on her face.

Eventually the plates were cleared away and the firewhisky that Draco insisted upon 'for the road' was drunk. The waiter hovered nearby and Draco handed him a small black token with the Malfoy crest on it. He examined it cursorily and returned it to him. The food in Hermione's stomach turned over. She had forgotten, of course, carried along on champagne bubbles and flirting, that the meal would be funded from Malfoy coffers. Lucius's money.

"I'll pay half," she insisted, trying to work out how many of her collection of rare books she would have to sell to fund it.

"It doesn't really work like that," Draco sighed, as though he had been expecting the protest, "Not just anyone can come and book a table here and buy a meal. You have to pay for membership, then you can come whenever you like. If it helps, my membership was bought for me by my mother's parents when I was born,"

"That's ridiculous!" laughed Hermione, astonished. But it did help, somehow, knowing that Lucius had no hand in it.

"I've also got membership to the hotel hidden behind Niagara Falls," Draco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. If he had expected her to laugh again, he was disappointed.

Hermione pleated the thick damask napkin in her lap, knowing that she had to burst the happy bubble that Draco had created, "I'm getting married, Draco. Ron and I, we're getting married. That was the Ministry's condition, why they didn't kick up a fuss about those photos of us."

Draco just looked at her aghast, "They can't –"

"It's the law," she smiled sadly, "and no amount of exclusive memberships, or secret handshakes, or generous donations is going to change that. Not for me anyway, They want to make examples of us."

"You have no idea of how generous a donation I could make," Draco managed to make it sound somehow suggestive and Hermione smiled in spite of herself.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For not being cross," she reached over the table and held his hand.

"We're not all like your idiot future husband, losing our rag over every little thing. So when is the happy event then?"

"Ugh, I don't know. We've barely spoken about it – I think he's avoiding me so we don't have to tell anyone. Next year some time I guess."

"Plenty of time for you to overturn the law," Draco smiled confidently at her, as though that was the end of the matter.

"He's a lot better now though, Ron I mean," Hermione felt the need to defend him, after all, although he hadn't exactly been falling over himself to repair their friendship, he had agreed to get betrothed to her, and then married, almost without batting an eyelid. And he had come to the Memorial Day because Harry had told him that she wanted him there, albeit with the added encouragement of quidditch tickets. It rankled with Hermione slightly that Draco hadn't once offered to help her with her research to overturn the law, let alone made any real effort at any more practical help, "Besides," she added, feeling mean spirited, "Actions speak louder than words."

"Meaning what exactly?" Draco asked in a tone that was too casual to be genuine.

"Well I mean that Ron would never bring me to a place like this, he'd never flirt with me outrageously over dessert –"

"But I wouldn't marry you, to get you out of a hole, is that it?" he met her eyes challengingly.

"If that's how you want to put it," Hermione refused to look away, although her insides were crawling in mortification, the longer he stared impassively at her.

"And that's what's been pissing you off all this time isn't it. You think it's that easy for me? That I can forget all my obligations, my family name? Who I am?" he placed his palms flat on the table, grounding himself.

"Oh so it's about blood status after all is it?" she hissed.

"No!" Draco uncharacteristically raised his voice, earning several curious glances from neighbouring diners, "I mean who I am – what I am! What I was. You saw how those idiots were at the apparition point – do you think that's a one off? You know who my family associates with. I just – I wouldn't be able to make it safe for you,"

"I don't need you to save me," Hermione crossed her arms sullenly.

"No, you've your pet Weasel to do that, haven't you," he smirked coldly, all trace of lighthearted amusement now gone.

"Malfoy – Draco. Just please….stop. I don't want to do this. I don't want to take this lovely thing you've done for me and spoil it. I want us to still be friends," Hermione blinked back the tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes. He nodded slowly but neither one of them seemed to be able to start up a conversation on safer ground.

"Time we were going then, perhaps," Draco smiled sadly, and stood to pull her chair out again.

They travelled back as they had arrived, in silence, but without the happy anticipation to buoy them along. The apparition point back in London was deserted due to the late hour. They walked together to the floos, Draco with his hand on Hermione's elbow, stiffly formal.

"Do you need me to…..?" he asked, nodding his head towards the fireplace.

Hermione painted on a smile, "No thanks, I'm quite capable of flooing myself home."

"Course you are," Draco murmured with aching sadness, smoothing a curl away from her cheek with his fingertips. He leant down and kissed her softly on the forehead before turning and walking away from her. He didn't look back. Neither of them seemed able to say the word that they both felt heavy in their hearts.

Hermione's first tears fell onto the ashes in her own hearth. She didn't let herself cry for long, just a few bitter tears for the goodbyes neither of them had been able to say, as the first pink tendrils of the new morning edged themselves in through the window.

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