Draco took a long, slow drink of his beer and watched his Veela.  Her dress swirled around her like smoke, and the eyes she'd shaded with dark paints flashed whenever she looked at him.  Blaise kept her spinning, heedless of the resentful glances cast her way.  A woman who'd been a few years ahead of him at school made a point of pulling herself out of Hermione’s way as though her touch would contaminate, and Draco memorized her face.  She'd find herself unemployed by Monday.  By Wednesday her landlord would apologize profusely as he gave her an eviction notice.  