Draco Malfoy smiled as Hermione Granger met him a minute beforetimes, at the Unity Statue in Diagon Alley (Apparently Potter had made enough of a stink that he'd managed to prevent everyone from simply calling it the Potter Statue. Lad had a head hard as rocks, and twice as stubborn. Still, Draco would have despised having a Scarhead Statue as a landmark. It would just be weird, even if he had done enough service to the Land that he deserved the marble.) He grandly extended his arm to her, and she laced her hand through. Draco appreciated her slightness, that steered well clear of fragility.

And, of course, the looks on passersby were worth the price of admission.

Draco Malfoy escorted Hermione to the Mystic's Touch, smiling as he did so. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" The maitre 'd said with a smile, "Your table is right this way."

Completely comfortable in the heels and white tie environment, Draco strolled over to the booth where his friends waited. He stole a quick glance at them - Pansy and Daphne were laughing, apparently about something completely devilish that they had managed to pull on Hortensia, who really hadn't the wit to dally with them and their schemes. Blaise, on the other hand, looked grim. Draco Malfoy had known him for long enough to know what that meant. Blaise wasn't here remotely willingly, and that always spelled trouble. Bless his dear heart, but Blaise lived to meddle in his friends' lives, and he had been quite vocal about how stupid he thought Draco's current scheme was. This was a Blaise hell bent on "I told you so."

And Draco hated I told you so.

About the only good thing Draco could say was that Blaise would generally stick around to help pick up the pieces. Theo was the opposite. He'd tell you repeatedly, over and over, how idiotic you were being, but when everything fell apart, he would be conveniently not there.

Lack of Theo at this engagement didn't mean anything special, though. Draco hadn't invited him, so he was unlikely to have spontaneously decided to emerge from the Muggle World. Of all of them, he was the one most antisocial, prone to bouts of "don't talk to me" that had driven an eleven year old Draco crazy.

Hermione, with a smile on her face, turned to Draco Malfoy and said pleasantly through gritted teeth, "You didn't tell me that your friends were going to be here."

Draco Malfoy smiled his sterling smile, cockily responding, "You didn't ask."

[a/n: I like reviews, will you write me one?

Up Next: Potter's arrival.]