Draco stared daggers at Hermione; he wasn’t finding anything at all funny about their situation. Luna simply nodded approvingly, thinking Hermione had had an excellent idea. “Staying in London would be best,” said Luna seriously. “Your flat’s not too far from St. Mungo’s, Draco. I think you both should stay there. In fact,” she said with finality, “as your Healer, I am demanding it.” Hermione was speechless, now regretting her moment of levity. How could Luna have taken her joking suggestion so seriously? Draco simply looked appalled. It hadn’t been a good day, and it clearly wasn’t getting any better. Both started to protest loudly. “How” ?” “But” !” Luna was uncharacteristically business-like. Cutting off their shouts of dismay, she said, “It’s no good to fuss about it now. You’ve poked a dragon in the eye, and now you’ll just to hope that he’s a forgiving sort. In any case,” she went on in a gentler tone, “there’s no need for you to stay here any longer. I’ve done as much as I can for you both for the moment.” After making them promise to keep in touch, Luna left them to sort out their living arrangements, and now, it seemed, their life arrangements. With a swish, Hermione pulled the striped curtain around to enclose her bed space, and started to get dressed while Draco sat and sulked. She attempted to make conversation. “So,” she began awkwardly, “I guess you’re an Auror, now.” Draco grunted by way of reply. She tried again, while she searched for her shoes. “That must be very interesting. I’m working for the Committee for Experimental Charms, myself, inspecting and testing new charms. But I’m training to be an Obliviator, as well.” There was a snorting noise from the other side of the curtain. She pulled it aside as she finished tying her laces. “OK, I’m ready,” said Hermione, as she retrieved her cloak. Draco moved toward the door, and Hermione followed. “That’s why I was taking the Legilimency training,” she continued, walking into the corridor. “Why did you sign up?” she asked curiously as he walked ahead of her. “The same reason you did,” he replied blandly, “As Professor Marchbanks said, we can’t help someone if we don’t know what’s wrong.” She had nearly caught up to him. “But how would you use it to catch dark wizards?” she pursued. “I mean, they’re not just going to stand there waiting for you to interrogate them --” Draco whirled suddenly to face her. He saw his cold and angry expression reflected in her wide startled eyes. “I find that, as an Auror, my quarry will always lie to me. With good reason, I suppose, as one of the foremost goals of a criminal is to evade capture. However,” said Draco acidly, “as a Malfoy, I am also lied to, despite the fact that I am a colleague among the Ministry wizards. I greatly dislike being lied to,” he growled, “but it seems to be the lot of those associated with Death Eaters, deserved or not.” The blond Auror spun on his heel, and strode quickly down the hall, leaving a chastened Hermione staring at his rapidly retreating back. He was nearly at the end of the long hallway, when he felt the first faint pangs of nausea returning. Briefly, he considered moving even further away for spite, but he didn’t feel up to another fit of vomiting. Draco was furious with himself for reacting so badly to Hermione’s question. This was exactly the sort of outburst that everyone expected from Lucius Malfoy’s son, his supposed protégé. Fiercely, he tamped down that line of thought. Even idle thoughts of Lucius tended to goad him into a mental rant. He stopped at the elevator and waited for her to catch up, forcing himself to appear calm. As she reached him, she reddened in embarrassment. “I “ I’m really sorry, Malfoy”, she began tentatively. He made a dismissive gesture. “Never mind, Granger, you weren’t to know,” he said, only a little awkwardly. Regaining his composure, he attempted a pleasant tone, and said, “If you’re to be a permanent houseguest, we ought to be on a first-name basis, I suppose. Please call me ‘Draco’.” “Ah “ All right, then,” said Hermione, slightly flustered, casting about for a safe topic of conversation. “Where is your flat, Ma “ I mean, Draco?” she said, as they stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button for the lobby. “Not far, but I think we should floo, just the same. No need to tempt fate into adding a splinch to our list of ailments,” he added lightly, as the doors opened on to the hospital lobby. Truthfully, though, Draco was a bit wary of Apparition just at the moment, since his most recent attempt had ended so badly. There were few people about, and no one at all in line to use a fireplace. Draco stepped up to a nearby fireplace of pale marble. “Together, then?” he asked. “I don’t think I could possibly bear to be separated from you again,” he added sardonically. Hermione, nettled, narrowed her eyes, but upon seeing a slight twinkle in Draco’s, decided to let it pass. She nodded in reply, so he tossed a pinch of floo powder into the flames. “42 Newtown Road, London!” he spoke loudly; the flames blazed up to the top of the fireplace, glowing emerald green. As they stepped together into the glittering fire, Draco unexpected wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione’s body. Before she could protest, they were spinning rapidly past the fireplaces of the Floo Network. The sight made her queasy, so she closed her eyes, and abjectly buried her face in Draco’s cloak, angry that Draco was taking such liberties, and livid that she felt too ill to do anything about it. She didn’t open them again until she felt herself being released. They had arrived, she thought sarcastically, at the dragon’s lair.