"you."
Draco looked like he was not eager to hear about Arne's assessment of their particular 'root' situation.
Arne's next question had Hermione blinking. "Will you tell me how it came about then?"
"Really?" Hermione said. "You need to know that?" She hadn't expected to be asked to explain her growing feelings for Malfoy to a stranger, much less with Malfoy sitting there.
"He means the spell, woman," Draco muttered.
"Oh," she exclaimed, colouring slightly. "Er, we got a bit drunk after a party two weeks ago, and ended up at a pub, getting tattooed. The result is apparently Fida Mia, or so we're told."
Arne blew on the tip of his quill. "Where?"
"Where?" she said. Oh dear. "Well, he' s got a pair of black wings on his back. And I've got a silver dragon on my, ah, hip and upper thigharea."
There. That wasn't so bad.
"I meant where did this happen? As in, the place."
Hermione went even redder. She gave Draco a heated look. "Are you going to just sit there or will you please assist?"
He assisted without looking at her. "The Snake and Stone. I think it's about three streets down from the Inn we're staying at now. About two blocks from the main thoroughfare leading from Diagon Alley."
"I know the one," Arne nodded. "Can you describe the procedure you encountered, if you can remember?"
Draco shrugged and looked to Hermione. They weren't going to get much help from his. booze addled recollection of events.
Hermione took in a deep breath and began. "We were seated at a booth in the ground floor and we had just ordered what was probably the fourth or fifth round of drinks. To be honest, I wasn't feeling very well by then. I said I wanted to go for a bit of a walk, and he, that is Mr. Merrybones, said he would accompany me because it wasn't safe."
"I said that?" Draco asked, casually.
"You did," Hermione replied. She waited for him to say something else, and only continued when he didn't. "We saw a sign advertising a tattoo parlour on the second floor and he decided that it would be interesting to see what it looked like. But this was before he decided to buy a bottle of Ogdens at the bar."
There was a small, short moment of silence as Hermione looked a bit apprehensive.
"Please continue," Arne prodded.
"Well," she began. "And then there was a bit of an um, altercation between Mr. Merrybones and another patron who had said something rude to him. I think that was the reason, anyway. I was too far away to be sure." Her tone said the real reason for the fight was something far more trivial.
Like the other man looking at Draco the wrong way, for example.
"After Dra- I mean, Mr. Merrybones broke the man's nose-"
"I did not!"
She stared at Draco. "I thought you said you couldn't remember?"
"I can't! But that doesn't mean I'll sit idly by and be accused of breaking someone's nose," he insisted.
As far as arguments went, his was weaker than dungeon gruel.
Hermione continued. "Anyway, after that, we proceeded upstairs. I think it was just before midnight." Hermione turned to Draco for confirmation, who in turn gave her a surly stare.
"Don't ask me. I don't remember any of this, remember?"
"So you keep saying," Hermione shot back, looking resigned, "we proceeded to the tattoo parlour. There was an old woman there"
"Hang on, now her I do recall!" Draco said, leaning forward. "That old bat had a set of teeth that would have scared off a troll at ten paces."
Hermione frowned at the memory. "Yes, it was rather bad wasn't it?"
"And she smelled of mothballs. Or maybe it was embalming fluid? I mean she was old." "Had to be a hundred and twenty at least," Hermione said.
"If a day," Draco nodded.
There was a muted thumping noise from upstairs, as if someone's foot had slammed a door.
Draco stared up at water-stained ceiling. "Is there someone else here?"
Arne didn't miss a beat. "My cat. She's very senior. Probably needs to go outside for a piddle."
"Poor thing," Hermione crooned. "She must be quite feeble."
"But well loved."
Draco was finding Arne's overly charming nature irritating. Almost as irritating as Hermione's response to it, especially when you considered that she had been about to smack the man in the face with her bag just moments earlier.
"Are we finished with the interview portion?" Draco asked, tersely.
Arne put his notes down. "Very nearly. What I' d like to do now is to take a look at your tattoos."
Was