"Lunch, Granger?"

Trapped in a lift with Draco Malfoy on an all too slow descent toward the lobby, the safe apparition zone and freedom, I was feeling damned claustrophobic.

I suppose that's why it took so long to formulate a reply.

"Huh?"

"Lunch… you know," he grinned with half his mouth while the other half twisted wryly, "that thing that comes between breakfast and dinner… involves the consumption of food… usually takes place around noonish…" he supplied, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

I resisted the urge to hex those eyebrows off his face.

"I know what lunch is, Malfoy." I replied irritably. "I simply didn't see what it had to do with me."

"I assume you eat it." He paused now, leaning against one mirrored wall of the lift, and regarding me with that amused look I had so grown to love.

"Get to the point." I had, before his sudden mention of food, been forced to listen to him whistle tunelessly down twelve floors, and had long since passed the point of being able to tolerate his bullshit with a smile (not that I was ever able to tolerate his bullshit with a smile).

"I rather thought that you would already have worked that out for yourself."

Indeed, I had worked it out for myself, and wasn't terribly fond of what I'd come up with. I gave him a look that hoped conveyed the message 'indulge me.'

He chuckled, and shifted, pushing off from the wall to loom over me in a manner that threatened something quite different than bodily harm. "The point, Granger, is that I thought today you should eat it with me."

I took a step backward, and tried to make my laugh not sound nervous. "Oh, I think not, Mr. Malfoy."

"Mr. Malfoy?" He asked, his voice pitched high and mocking before sliding back down into his normal smooth and smoky bourbon tones. "So formal." He pursued my as I retreated until my back was pressed against the handrail on the wall.

"Come on, Granger," he said, coaxingly, "it would give us a chance to discuss any progress you've made in your investigations."

I… I really didn't think I should spend any more time with him.

"Actually, I'm expected back in London." And I prayed he couldn't tell I was lying.

And then he was so close I could feel his breath in my ear. "Liar."

I swallowed my retort, as he took a step back. It seemed more important at that moment that I breathe.

He regarded me with that air of amusement that had never failed to get under my skin before. Like he was holding all the cards, or more like I was playing the mouse to his white-haired cat.

I snorted.

"Alright, you're needed back in London," his tone clearly indicating that he believed nothing of the kind, "not a work thing, obviously, or I'd know about it." He raised one eyebrow. "It isn't a hot date, is it?"

"Wouldn't be you're business if it were."

"True… but it isn't. Not if you plan to wear those hideous things." He ran his eyes up and down me, taking in my outfit. "Are those bed linens?"

"Yes, they are," my look challenged him to make something of it… unfortunately, it seemed Malfoy liked a challenge.

It was his turn to snort now. "Figures, I thought that outfit looked particularly bad."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on Granger, you always were crap at alteration spells."

I managed an indignant 'harrumph.' It was true, but it still irked.

"Why, on earth, did you go through the trouble… there's a boutique in the lobby. Didn't I tell you to pick out something pretty and charge it to my room?"

"You may have said something to that effect."

"So… why didn't you?"

I was hoping to avoid this question. Telling your employer that you'd rather dress in a bed sheet than run the risk of seeing him couldn't do much for a working relationship.

"I didn't have time," I muttered lamely. It wasn't untrue, it just wasn't the reason.

"hm…" he replied shoving his hands into his pockets, and rocking back on his heels.

Around this time it occurred to me that it was taking an unduly long time to reach the lobby.

"Oh, surely it doesn't look that bad, Malfoy."

He tilted his head to the side. "It doesn't suit you."

"And since when do you care what suits me?" I grumbled.

He smiled enigmatically, and at that moment the doors slid open.

"12:30, Granger," he called over his shoulder, "meet me back here, in the lobby." And then he was gone, with only a "wear something presentable!" tossed back over his shoulder.

I had expected the world's foremost expert on Gremlin behavior to be frail and bookish, with wild white hair, and thick-rimmed glasses. Jaques De Carvier was none of those things.

Instead he was stern-jawed, and sharp-eyed, and had the look of a man that could still climb Kilimanjaro even if he had been retired over four years.

He regarded me now, from the other side of his cherry wood desk, squinting those eagle eyes at me as he listened to my improbable tale, at the end of which, he simply laughed.

"Impossible."

"But monsieur," I began, "I assure you-"

"What," he interrupted, looking amused, "do you know about gremlins?"

"Well," I began, a bit hesitantly, "I know they're attracted to technology. I know that they need to feed off the electricity in equipment to survive… I also know they don't usually destroy their food source completely, just… nibble on it a bit, I suppose. They must have been desperate to completely destroy my notebook."

"Yes, they would have been very very desperate, and not only from starvation." He pause to steeple his hands in front of his face. "Let me tell you a little something that you might not know about Gremlins. They are a created species. They were first developed during WWI… now surely you know that, typically, we wizards like not to get too deeply involved with muggle political struggles, but in this first great war, the wizarding community was divided.

"A group of research wizards came up with breed of gnome that went after wiring the same way that it's garden variety cousin went after roots. It had none of the usual fey weakness to iron, but it did have another weakness."

"Wood," I said "certain types… ash, and oak, for example… just like other fey creatures."

"No, not just like other fey creatures, more than other fey creatures. Any type of wood is slow poison to them. They'd die of that before starvation, and without the electricity, they'd never be able to heal themselves when they were exposed. Any gremlins on the property would flee long before now."

"But sir… I mean, couldn't they be trained? I mean, if someone were caring for them… feeding them and housing them during the day, and sending them up there at night… wouldn't that work?"

He shook his head, "you don't understand, their intelligence is not human by any stretch, but they are hardly animals as well. They are intentionally willful, and stubborn, and they are not animals to be trained."

He apparently felt quite strongly on this point, because his voice had been rising steadily for the last few minutes and by the time he was finished, he was a bit red in the face. I understood how he felt, though. Suggesting that these intelligent beings (albeit low intelligent beings) could be trained to perform like circus animal was an appalling thought. Who could do such a thing… violating a creature's rights like that. That was how I felt about house elves.

I took a different tactic.

"Suppose," I ventured, "suppose that, since they are beings capable of rational thought, however limited that thought might be, that they were given a choice. Ridgeback is located in the middle of nowhere by necessity. The nearest town is a two mile walk, and even then, it's a wizarding town. The next closest town is much, much farther. Far enough away that it might be possible for a human to convince this band of gremlins that it would be too far for them to travel… and then, if this person had something to feed them… batteries, maybe. It would be easy to keep them in line if the choice was 'do as I command or starve to death.'"

"I suppose that it would be possible… but not very likely. Their attention spans are short, they'd probably forget, and wander off before too long."

"But it is possible."

"I guess."

"Thank you Monsieur. One more question before I go."

He regarded me warily before asking, "and if I don't give the answer you like, will you browbeat me again until I give a more satisfactory one?"

I blushed, and shook my head. "It isn't that type of question, Monsieur."

"Very well, ask away."

"Rich Tourdy… what did you think of him?"

"Rich? Oh, he was a good boy… natural with magical creatures. His family, I hear, once owned a dragon ranch."

"He was a good boy?" I asked again, hopefully.

Jaques nodded, "and now he's a good man."

I smiled. That was just what I wanted to hear.

Outside of De Carvier's office, I sighed and stretched. I had confirmed a few of my suspicions, but overall, I hadn't really learned anything terribly useful. I didn't see how any of this new information was going to help me solve this before Malfoy's next stupid assignment.

I felt all too weary. I hadn't, after all, gotten very much sleep last night, and by now, I was simply exhausted. The prospect of apparating home seemed wearisome and potentially dangerous at the moment, but unfortunately, finding a public floo seemed just as daunting. Besides, I was also quite hungry.

Which made me think of lunch.

Which made me think of my 12:30 appointment with my very own agent of chaos.

I wondered briefly what he'd been doing all day in Paris, while I was out chasing leads. 'Probably making time with some local bimbo,' I thought, and savagely attacked a rock with the toe of my shoe, sending it hurtling through space. Maybe he was off with Fleur somewhere, and I wondered maliciously when she was going to just divorce Bill already, and end this stupid separation thing.

At least then Malfoy wouldn't be off with a married woman (a new low, even for him).

A growl ripped its way from my throat. My god, he was so frustrating. So base. So devoid of anything resembling restraint. So… so…

I stopped in my tracks, my fingers tracing my lips in and imitation of a feather-light caress.

Had he kissed me last night, then gone off to her?

I felt my eyes well up with tears, and shoved them down angrily. Stupid, stupid.

I didn't even like him.

But at the same time I instantly recognized that it the tears weren't for Malfoy.

'What is it about me that makes me so leavable?' the treacherous thought leapt unbidden to my mind, and once again, I felt that old familiar tightness in my chest, like someone had a hold of my heart and was slowly squeezing. It was a feeling that had been lurking in the background waiting… just waiting. It was how I'd felt when I walked in on Magnus and that other woman, and at the time I'd let myself be furious instead of let myself feel crushed, but now I couldn't help but feel that I'd nearly exhausted my supplies of anger.

And it was so much easier to be angry than it was to be in pain.

God, I feel lonely.

I shook my head, and my hair flew wildly around me.

No time for this now. I had a life to get on with, and I certainly wasn't going to let some unfounded feeling of inadequacy get in my way. I took three deep, calming breaths, and then convinced myself that what I really needed to cheer up was an expensive lunch on my boss' tab.

All I really wanted to do was to go straight home, and call up Harry and Ron for moral support.

"Well that was definitely a date."

"Ron." My voice had a warning tone, and I was immediately glad I hadn't told them about the kiss.

"Ron's right… at least if we are to believe the Daily Prophet." Harry chimed in, with a grin.

"Harry, you of all people should know what a sham the society section of the Daily Prophet is."

He just shrugged.

"There were pictures, you know, of the two of you dancing… or, I suppose of you dancing, and then when you stopped dancing." Ron supplied, with a grin.

I blushed. "It was faked!" I protested.

To which Harry mumbled (though not low enough for us not to hear him) "I'll bet it was."

"Harry, that isn't funny."

"I'm just saying," he replied with another shrug.

"Well, stop saying it. It isn't true, and frankly, I find the idea rather disturbing."

"So disturbing that you had lunch with him today?" questioned Ron.

"Yes, Ron, I had lunch with him today, and was so stressed out from the experience that I had to floo home directly, and drag my two best friends over for a game of cards and a chat to calm my nerves… for Christ's sake, you saw me, did I look like I'd enjoyed myself."

Ron chuckled, and Harry shook his head emphatically (probably hoping I wouldn't see his smirk when he moved his head like that).

And then I sighed, time to switch this to a more serious discussion… "And to make matters worse, I almost cried right there on the street."

"Hermione?" Harry asked sobering instantly.

Ron laid down his cards, and scooted his chair around to throw a consoling arm around me. "Surely he wasn't that awful to you…" he started, a bit awkwardly, "because if he was… well, Harry and I…"

I shook my head, "no, it wasn't that prat this time…it was the other one."

"Magnus?" Harry asked, between clenched teeth.

"It was nothing, guys, I think I must just be feeling over emotional… you know, getting ready to start my monthly, or something." And I tried not to snicker at their look of horror at the mention of menstruation (men were such babies), but I was trying to discuss this seriously. "It's just that, well something happened, and it… it just reminded my of how I felt when I realized Magnus was seeing that secretary behind my back."

"I don't know if seeing is the appropriate word for what he was doing." Ron said grimly.

"No, I suppose it isn't at that… anyway I just suddenly felt… I don't know…"

Harry gave me a look that I knew meant he saw right through me, "since when do you 'not know' something?"

"It's stupid." Ron squeezed my shoulder in an 'out with it gesture.' "Well… I just had one of those masochistic moments of wondering what I did wrong… you know, why do the men in my life always leave me? Question's like that."

I watched my two best friends shift uncomfortably, torn between their desire to be supportive and their desire to not talk about feelings.

"It's alright, boys, we don't need to get all mushy here," I assured them. "It isn't like I'm about to burst into tears or anything, and I don't really need to talk about it… I just wanted to be with friends after feeling like the wolves were after me today."

They visible relaxed, and Ron slid his chair back into place so we could resume our game, only just as he picked his cards back up, there was a tapping at the window.

Omen, I immediately thought and turned to the window… only it wasn't the temperamental falcon that greeted me.

"Carlise"