I don't own Harry Potter. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

AN: This date is a two parter, I think.

I'd just finished putting the finishing touches on my make-up when Ron flooed over. I'd called him ten minutes before and told him I was nearly ready, so I'd been expecting him.

"Hermione?" he called down the hall and I stuck my head out of the bathroom.

"I'm in here!"

I heard his treads coming closer and he appeared in the doorway- he filled the frame, he was so tall; and he was far more muscular these days than he'd ever been at Hogwarts. I'd assumed it was his quidditch training that had forced him to fill out, but now I knew it was being an Auror that had really made the difference. Even Tonks, for as girly as she'd been at times, had been in excellent shape, physically. I put down my lipstick and turned to him, placing my hands on his wide chest and smiling up at him.

He smiled back down at me brightly and there was a soft look in his eyes as they swept over me. He covered my hands with one of his and put his other arm about me, drawing me closer.

"Merlin, you look good, Hermione," he murmured.

I blushed. I always did when he complimented me, I couldn't help it. "Thanks." My nerves about Daphne and Draco melted away while Ron continued to stare at me, as if he could devour me with a single look. I rather felt he might, at that moment. I was wearing a lilac colored robe that buttoned clear up the front and cinched in an empire waist. It boasted a scooped neckline that the creamy lace camisole I'd worn underneath peeked from beneath. I'd added its matching underwear and garterbelt, but Ron didn't need to know that...yet.

I cleared my throat. "You…look good, too," I said, because he did. His hair was recently brushed and swept away from his face except for a few wayward locks that fell over one eye; and he was wearing pressed slacks and a patterned sweater- not of his mum's design- over a button down shirt. He'd added his dressy, charcoal grey robes over top and they fell in clean lines and folds along his wide shoulders. He smelled, good, too. I willingly stepped further into his embrace and buried my nose in his sweater, inhaling deeply. Merlin, did he smell good.

I felt his chest rumble and his arm about me tightened. "Are you alright?" he asked.

I rested my head against his chest and sighed. "You smell good. Can I- can we just stand here, for a minute? I feel…safe, in your arms," I admitted shyly.

His hand left mine and he wrapped his other long arm about me. "Of course," he replied, his voice quiet. I shivered and he pulled the edges of his robe about my shoulders, burying me next to his warmth.

After a few minutes he pulled a hand back and tilted my head upward so he could look at me.

"Tell me what happened today," he said. It wasn't a question, or a command, it was just a request for my confidence in him and I nodded.

"Okay."

He led me of the bathroom and down the hall to my bedroom. There were a couple of plush chairs settled in a sort of sitting area of the room and I was glad he'd chosen that spot. Before we'd switched our status to casual, we'd had a good many talks on those two chairs. We'd also done a few other things on them, but the thought didn't bother me now.

"Well," I began once we'd sat down, "I found out today from a couple of people that Malfoy apparently has some sort of…crush on me." I stared at my hands and waited for Ron to respond.

"And what does that mean?"

"It means…that when I- well-" I floundered for words for a minute, not wanting to say it out loud.

"Pulled him?" Ron supplied and I flushed.

"Yes," I said in a small voice. "When that happened, he- well- he wasn't drunk. I was, but he apparently knew exactly what he was doing. In fact, he wanted it to happen." I was barely whispering when I finished, but I knew Ron had heard every word because when I looked up he was frowning very, very hard. His face smoothed out again when he noticed me watching him.

"I'm not mad at you, Hermione," he said quickly. "I'd just like to kill that bastard. Him taking advantage of your advances because he's drunk as well is one thing. Him knowing that you're drunk and him being sober the entire time…that puts it in a new light, doesn't it?"

"What- Ron, it was as much my fault-"

"The sober party is obligated to put an end to something like that," he said adamantly. "What sort of self-respecting bloke lets a drunk woman he's not seeing put the moves on him and doesn't stop it? In fact, goes along with it? It's disgusting! Especially when he's seeing someone else!"

I could see Ron was getting more and more upset about the situation and I stood up. "Well, that's what happened today. Apparently Astoria isn't taking the breakup as well as she thought she would, too, and Daphne came by to ask me about the situation. The whole thing has escalated and all because I was stupid enough to think you were actually avoiding me when you'd been in the hospital the entire time-"

Ron stood up as well. "Don't blame yourself, Hermione. Please. It's over with. Whatever is going on between Greengrass and Malfoy is their business. They're adults, they can figure this out on their own. Look," he said, putting his arms about me again, "I'm glad you told me. Thank you. I promise I'll try not to kill the bastard the next time I see him."

I laughed a little and snuggled into Ron's embrace more. "You're welcome. Thanks for listening. I hadn't thought of it that way before."

"Of course you hadn't," he murmured against my hair. "You think everything is your fault. Well, this just shows it's as much his fault. I still can't believe he took advantage of you like that- the bastard-"

I shivered again and he ran a hand down my back. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll stop going on about it. Look, we have reservations at The Elven Chef for eight. We'd better get going."

My face lit up, I knew it. "The restaurant started by-"

"Some of the refugee house elves from dark wizarding families, freed by your efforts?" Ron grinned down at me. "I know you haven't been there as a customer yet, so I contacted the head chef, Gimpy. I made special reservations. They're looking forward to serving you."

"Oh, Ron," I sighed. "You're wonderful."

It was his turn to blush.

The restaurant was everything I remembered. I'd helped the elves establish it a year ago and had gone in from time to time to chat with them and monitor their progress. My day job was my work in the documents department of the ministry. My real job was the work I did as founder and acting president of ALE, the Association of Liberated Elves. The name selection had been unfortunate, but LEA had already been taken by the Lupine Eradication Army, a group that performed research to discover a cure for werewolves. I personally thought their name choice was also unfortunate, but what could one do?

The Elven Chef sat nestled between shops in Knockturn Alley, which had undergone a radical transformation after the war. Instead of the dark, menacing spot it had once been, it was now one of the more upscale areas of wizarding London, at least for magical creatures. There was a security consulting business begun by some goblins; a divination and fortune telling shop was run part time by Firenze and some of his fellow centaurs; and an assortment of other businesses run by magical creatures and wizards alike. And in the midst of all this was my heart's delight- the elves' restaurant. It had two large bay windows on the front on the first floor; a richly colored, tiled roof; white washed stone walls interspersed with supporting wood beams; and a little wooden sign hung above the door, declaring it proudly as the first free-elven enterprise of its kind. It had been Harry's idea to have plaques commemorating all the elves who'd died in defense of freedom against Voldemort; and their portraits and titles lined the walls. There was a tapestry hanging in the stairwell to the second level that had been very hard to come by, but which we'd finally procured after much haggling. It was one of the last remaining tapestries depicting the history of house elves, from a time when they'd not been forced to a life of servitude. When they were taller, prouder and solely independent. In fact, in my work with them and my research I'd speculated the with each passing generation of new elves, they would return more and more to their original selves. We'd already noticed a height difference in some of the newest additions. I had the feeling there was a lot to be said for freedom and good nutrition.

All the tables and booths had a brightly colored, patterned tablecloth and sported dishes of floating flowers and candles. The elves, since they were free to use their magic now, had enchanted the ceiling with orbs of light and blooming vines and their scent and effect was delightful. Enchanted harp music floated out of the restaurant, sealing the charming and bewitching image of the place. The moment Ron and I entered, an elderly elf appeared before us and bowed low.

I curtsied in return and he smiled up at me affectionately. "Miss Hermione is welcome to our establishment once again. We are so pleased she will finally be dining properly, instead of snacking in the kitchen."

I blushed. "I'm happy to be here."

Gimpy smiled up at Ron as well. "Please, follow me, Sir Ron," he said and Ron stifled a laugh. The elves had finally stopped calling us all "master" and "mistress," but they couldn't drop the formal addresses entirely.

I glanced about the main room curiously while we moved towards the stairs. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to be having a good time and enjoying their food and to my delight I saw not just wizards and witches, but also a squib or two, a vampire (who was enjoying a rare steak), a pair of goblins who were clearly off duty from Gringotts, and even a few Veela. All around their tables elves winked in and out of existence, carrying trays full of food and drink. It was truly a joy to watch them and I was in a very good mood by the time Gimpy sat us in our private room upstairs.

I reached across the table for Ron's hand. "This was a brilliant idea," I said. "Thank you."

He tried to shrug it off, but I saw the corners of his mouth curving up in pleasure. "I know you're always here on business, but that you've never experienced it properly. I thought you might enjoy getting to see them in action this way. Besides, you deserve a break. You'd never think to do this on your own, unless I dragged you here."

I laughed. "That's probably true."

Another elf appeared- Blinky, I thought- and gave us some mint waters and a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

"Compliments of Chef Muffy," he squeaked out and then winked away. Ron and I looked at one another and the tray and I smiled.

"Oh, go ahead," I said. "This is why we're here."

He dug in gratefully and I even tried one or two of the appetizers: dried figs with herbed cream cheese and steamed peppers paired with freshly boiled lobster claw on squares of stone ground wheat toast. I was just licking my lips and taking another delicate sip of my refreshing drink when Blinky reappeared with a second tray: steaming bowls of chowder.

"Compliments of Chef Creeper," he squeaked again, then was gone.

"I have a feeling this may continue the rest of the meal," I murmured. Ron smiled.

"Do you mind? They're just trying to impress you, I think. You're as much a hero to them as Harry was to Dobby."

"No, I don't mind," I said. "It's nice to get my mind off work for once, to be surrounded by something that's not giving me any trouble at all."

"You mentioned once you might give up work at the ministry to run ALE fulltime," Ron said around a spoonful of cream and potato.

I looked at him in surprise. "I did say that. I might, still, someday. But with the baby on the way now it's more important than ever I have a steady job. In fact, it's more likely I'll have to give up my work with ALE."

Ron looked shocked. "There's no need for you to do that," he said. "You have plenty of money now- you could quit work and still be set for life. Besides," he added, "I have my job, too. I think between the two of us we'd manage quite nicely."

I smiled at him and let the conversation drop. I really didn't want to bring up Draco and the possibility of him suing for custody again; or the fact that I wasn't letting myself think like Ron would stick around once the baby was born- at least, not if Draco was the father. I would enjoy my time with him now, of course, and hope desperately he'd be true to his word, but I'd given him an out for a reason. I didn't want him to feel obligated to stick with me just because of my mistakes.

But again, I had no desire to bring any of that up now, and ruin a perfectly lovely evening. So instead I reached over and squeezed his hand again and smiled.

"I know, Ron. You're right," I said and hoped it was the truth.

To Unexpectedrevelations: I tried to respond to your review, but your pming is disabled. So here is my response: you should be proud of yourself. :) Thanks for reviewing!