"Hermioneeeeee!"
Hermione winced and turned around slowly in the muggle department store. She tried to ignore the glaring eyes all around her.
"Yes, Draco, dear?" she plastered on the most fake, simpering smile she could.
"You can't leave without zipping me up."
Hermione sighed exasperatedly at the drawn curtain on the fitting room. Really? She thought to herself. I really have to enter there and zip him up? What did I do to deserve this?
"Well, there was that time you asked me to listen to that God awful music while we picked a record for Ronald, then that time you had me lie to Ginevra for you about why you couldn't come to her match, and then—" Hermione winced as she realized she'd griped aloud.
"Alright, alright!" Hermione snapped. "You know, I've paid you back tenfold for bailing on Ginny."
Draco turned to her incredulously. "My dear woman—have you ever crossed Ginevra Weasley? You'll be paying me back for that one till our grandkids graduate from Hogwarts."
Hermione planted her feet and glared at him. But Draco had already swiveled back around and was preening in the mirror. All the while still haughtily waiting for her to zip the back of his dress up.
"You know, I could just leave you unzipped and continue my own shopping. I came to look for dress robes for my event too, you know."
"I'd just follow you around in the store half-dressed," Draco threatened.
Hermione choked. It was bad enough taking one's best mate's husband on a date night shopping spree, but quite another to have the world see them prancing about the store like extremely exhibitionist lesbians!
Lesbians?
Yes. Lesbians. Because Draco fucking Malfoy was nothing if not incredibly careful with his exploits. He might still need Hermione's hand-holding support while he accessorized and flattered his body, but despite her complaints, he was hardly coming out to make a scene with her.
No, Draco had perfected the art of transfiguring his already androgynous self into someone that wouldn't get a second glance at a department store women's section. He wasn't a woman per say (Draco's shrugged response when Hermione tried to wheedle his gender identity out of him was, eloquently, "nah" and when Ron asked, it was "only in the bedroom, Ronald," accompanied by some eyelash batting directed at turning Ron a flattering shade of puce). Nevertheless, Draco Malfoy was… something.
Currently, he'd transfigured his platinum hair into a slightly longer length, which curved inwards instead of outward. The effect was a feminine bob, instead of the usual boy band aesthetic. He'd added some subtle curves in the right places (nothing that would make anyone stare, of course, but just enough that their presence could be noted). And he'd turned on that… that thing.
Now Hermione wasn't exactly convinced that that thing wasn't also a magical enhancement. Draco had perfected the walk through aisles, and the flirting with attendants, and hair toss better than Hermione ever had in her whole life of womanhood. He smiled coyly at men who might otherwise double take. He scoffed at the rubbernecking mothers shopping, making them turn away self consciously.
Hermione harrumphed at herself. It wasn't that she was jealous. Definitely not. But seeing Draco this way always reminded her of the extra effort she could be putting in. Not that she begrudged him. Seeing Draco bloom as this character, away from the strict masculinity of his upbringing, was part of the reason she began trusting him as they became adults.
And a slippery slope that was, she thought wryly. Look where that got me.
"How about this one, 'Mione?" Draco turned.
Hermione's breath caught. Draco was wearing a standard little black dress that every woman kept in the back of her closet. And yet… he was wearing it.
"Draco, it looks—it looks fantastic. It's perfectfor Harry's birthday dinner."
Draco beamed and twirled in front of the mirror.
"Really? You think so? I'm not sold on the cut around my chest—"
"That's what bras are for. Or, in your case, fraudulent magical enhancement," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"They can't be disproportional, Hermione." Draco said, rolling his eyes back at her, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Andro-enhancements are an art, Granger. Else every 2-knut bimbo would be walking around like a Barbie doll."
Hermione sighed. Still the same old Draco Malfoy, after all.
"Will you hurry up Draco? The dress is perfect, but now we still have to get the shoes and accessories. Not to mention my dress for the dinner."
"You'll buy the first thing you try on, I'm sure we'll make time for that," he retorted, flipping the curtains shut before she could hex him.
"I think that's everything on the list," Hermione said, waving her wand to cross off the final item on the parchment in her handbag. Always satisfying, even if it was an archaic habit these days.
"Mm, yes I suppose so. Gifts are bought, outfits are ready. I think we'll be ok, even if Ginny does bring the little terrors around."
"The little—Draco those are your godchildren."
"That's hardly my fault, is it? Just because Blaise and Ginny have the foresight of two first-years and named the four of us a mix and match set up of godparents…"
Hermione sighed. What Harry saw in these one, she'd never understand.
"My fantastic legs, I'm sure. You know, you're really going to have to work on that thinking aloud thing, Hermione. I have no idea how Gryffindors could tolerate you when you studied."
"I think they realized that if any one of them listened close enough, they'd learn something. A foreign concept in the Slytherin rooms, I presume?"
"Now, now, Granger. House rivalries are behind us. Just because I beat you in nearly ever subject is no reason to hold a grudge against all Slytherins." This time, Draco did actually have to duck to avoid the stinging hex Hermione sent at him. He laughed carelessly and dodged ahead to where they'd parked the car.
What? You didn't think they flooed or apparated to the muggle mall, did you?
They piled their belongings in the expanded trunk before climbing in. It was Draco's turn to drive (they both secretly hated it but were too prideful to admit defeat at the hand of a stupid mobile junkyard, so they simply took turns when they went out without Harry or Ron. Ron, of course, immediately learned to drive stick when they'd all decided to pick the skill up.) He looked behind him, sighed impatiently, and reversed. The shopping cart behind him rolled away in the nick of time, and Hermione looked away innocently. This is why this friendship works, Draco thought. A pair of matched egos know how to protect one another.
"We're storing it all at your place until the dinner, right?"
"Yes, it's hardly a surprise for Ronald that I bought a dress for Harry's dinner."
"Is it a surprise for him that I bought one?"
"Honestly? I don't think anything about you and Harry can surprise him anymore after the initial shock."
Draco let out a bark of laughter at that.
"Weasel came around quicker than I expected, in his defense," he mused. "Anyways, I'll be over at 5 on Friday. I'll tell Harry I need some last minute supplies for hosting, and then apparate to your place. Will you be ready?"
"Draco, it's me. Of course I'll be ready."
"Perfect. Hermione, I can hardly wait till Saturday."