"I'm going to run St. Mungo's." That was her dream. It hadn't always been her dream when she was Five she was going to be a princess, and at seven had decided on professional quidditch player as her future occupation. After realizing that you had to marry a prince to become a princess and everyone knows princes are spoiled brats and getting sick, her goal had changed. Every day since then the first thing on her mind was running St. Mungo's. Sure, getting married would be nice. Maybe adopting a couple kids, because she couldn't have any herself. But those were far, far off to the side and in the incredibly distant future. "I mean I know I won't start out there, but some day."

She chewed on the rim of her butterbeer for a moment before continuing. "I mean, I'll probably start out working with kids. I don't really like kids, but I have a theory. See the trouble is that people who like kids always work with kids, and then when it gets serious they're torn between the emotion of liking the kid and the knowledge of the medicine." She would never have that problem. She didn't like kids. They were wild and crazy and excited and reminded her of all the things she could never have. Maybe it was a little bitter, but she was a girl, at one point she'd wanted a family. Since she couldn't have that, she supposed she took it out on the kids a little hard. "That'll be one of the first things I fix when I'm in charge."

Taking a drink, she switched the conversation off of herself. "But what about you? I mean, did you always want to be a work in maintenance?" Sure it was an unglamorous job, but she didn't know that much about Davy. Maybe it was a family profession. There had to be some reason for him to choose that profession. It certainly wasn't because it seemed like a fun thing to do. Because it didn't. Ever. To anyone. Unless he was deranged… which he might be. She went back to chewing on her butterbeer, tugging on her sleeves nervously.