A/N: Talk of fashion? Must be time for... A PINTEREST BOARD: ashelleardalewrites/not-another-roommate-story/hermione/.
Draco slipped into the chair next to her, leaning back and sipping his firewhiskey. "Alright there, Hermione?"
She waved away the question and looked away from where Lavender and Ron were playing Wizarding Billiards (which, for what it's worth, Hermione noticed was a whole lot like regular billiards. She kept expecting the Eight Ball to have a mind of its own but it never did.) The last thing she wanted to talk about was how while Lavender kept her promise, Ron had no problem flirting with her, or anyone else for that matter, right in front of his ex-fiancée.
"Can I ask you something?" She said it casually, but his eyebrow raised as he nodded. "What's wrong with my shoes?"
There was a pause as Draco comprehended what she had said. Then he burst out laughing. "Oh god, no no, there's nothing wrong with your shoes"
"Sounded like there was. C'mon, don't hold back now."
"I...okay, I just mean, they look very comfortable."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"They look really comfortable. Very practical. No nonsense. It's sort of your thing. The skirt suits and the wide-legged pants."
"Oh, now it's my whole wardrobe?"
"You asked! But yes, it's well," he gestured and Hermione looked down at her grey tweed blazer dress and the mock turtleneck jumper underneath, her brown Oxfords, "practical."
"I'll have you know Diana Princess of Whales wore skirt suits and blazer dresses and she was the most fashionable woman to ever walk this earth!"
"Who?" He gave her a deadpan look.
Hermione gasped, "Princess Diana? Do purebloods really learn nothing about the muggle world at all? You must be joking!"
A grin appeared on his face, "I am, I am joking." He laughed as a blush started to rise in her cheeks. "We're not oblivious to everything the muggles do. My mum cried when Diana died."
"Okay, now you're seriously kidding."
Draco shook his head, "most fashionable woman to ever walk the earth right? Even we can respect that."
Hermione huffed, still unsure if he was messing with her. "Well...I like how I dress."
"I like how you dress too."
"Doesn't matter to me if you don't."
"I know." He gave her a sort of sly smile and held her gaze. "Hey, have you noticed, ever since I sat down here, Weasley hasn't stopped glancing over?"
"Wha-" she turned her head back but her attention was quickly redirected by Draco grabbing her arm and tugging her towards him gently.
"Oi! Don't be obvious!" He grinned and let her arm go, though she was still too close for comfort, and he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Focus on me. Laugh at something I said."
Without thinking about it, or maybe because of the sheer ridiculousness of it all, she did laugh. His eyes flickered up to hers and then down to her lips.
"Malfoy, you're mad."
"And Weasley is jealous, just go with it. You know, we could really give him a show, if you were up for it."
With that, he removed his hand from next to hers, snaking it under the table to rest on her knee and squeezed it gently. Despite herself, she felt a blush spreading across her face.
"Perfect. Good work, Granger."
"Get your hand off of me before I remove it from your body," she tried to say it in her best librarian voice, but it came out with an air of flirtation.
Even as he pulled his hand back to his own lap, his eyes gave away a bit of excitement. "Whatever you say, love."
Now that left her stumbling for a retort. Between the heat in his eyes and all of the wine, the edges of her tightly-wound control were fraying.
Luckily, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke her out of it. Ron stood above their table with a glass of white wine in his hand. He held it out to her with an awkward smile.
"Got you another drink. Sorry, was I interrupting something?"
"Not at all," Draco stood and offered his spot to Ron, "just giving Hermione a hard time."
"Hey Draco," she glanced over to where Lavender was dancing with Hannah Abbott. "You should bring the birthday girl a drink."
He followed her gaze, "you think so? Alright, I trust your judgment. See you both later."
As Draco floated off to the bar, she felt Ron tense next to her.
"I know I know," she took another big sip, "I'm not one to play matchmaker. Lav asked me specifically."
"When did you start using each other's first names?"
"What?" She said with a laugh, "well we've worked together for years, so I suppose we've gotten used to it."
"And you've forgiven him? For everything?"
"You testified for him, too," she reminded him.
"Because you asked me to."
Hermione shook her head, unaware of how she had ended up in a fight with him yet again. "That's not how I remember it. We all agreed, it was the truth."
He shrugged, sipping his fire whiskey, "whatever. I just meant, you seem... friendly."
"We're friends, sure. What about you and Lav?"
"What about us?"
She gave him the same half-hearted shrug, "you tell me."
"There's nothing, Hermione. You know that."
"Okay."
"Right! Okay! What are we fighting about?"
"I have no idea, Ronald. I really don't."
He opened his mouth, closed it again, and said "sorry. Let's just, forget it okay?"
"Consider it forgotten."
"You want me to walk you home?"
"I don't need-"
Ron put his hand on her knee, just like Draco had. She felt the heat rising in her chest. "Of course you don't. Just trying to be gentlemanly."
Gentlemanly, sure. She relented, his fingers on her tights blurring any sense she had left when it came to him. Ron closed out his tab and they took the local transit floo to a fireplace about a block from her flat.
When they got to her door, she played with her keys and he waited. She gave in, inviting him in for a nightcap. They never made it to the wine in her cold box, his lips hit hers as soon as they crossed the threshold and she pulled him up the stairs.
Closing the door of her room behind him, he paused for a moment.
"Uh Ginny…."
"Has been at Harry's since the engagement."
He shook his head before kissing her again, "gross. I hate you living with my sister."
"She's marrying your best friend," she managed in between kisses.
Ron gave her a soft look, "don't be silly Hemione. You're my best friend."
He didn't give her another moment to respond, pulling her into a deep kiss and letting her push him towards the bed.
***
In the morning, she woke to the rise and fall of Ron's chest under her head. His familiar snore echoed through the room, and she couldn't deny there was something comfortable about him here. As the light brightened and her clock ticked past her usual wake-up time, she sighed and slipped out of bed.
By the time she made it to her dresser, he had stirred and noticed her absence. Sitting up in bed, her soft cotton sheets fell from his chest.
"Hey."
"Morning, Ronald," she sent him a half-hearted smile over her shoulder as she pulled her bra on. "Sleep well?"
"I always sleep well next to you. Come back to bed."
She rolled her eyes and moved over to the closet. Selecting a jumper and pencil skirt set, she said, "I'll be late."
"Malfoy can hold it down for an hour."
"We just share an office," she smoothed her hair down after the jumper frizzed it out, "we don't have all the same patients."
"C'mon…"
"Ron," she warned, and he closed his mouth. In an attempt to change the subject, she pulled two of her cocktail dresses out and held them up. "Blue or black? For the party tonight?"
"What about the white one? I love that one."
"Ronald. You can't wear white to an engagement party." She put back the blue dress, accepting that he was going to be no help whatsoever, and carefully attached it to the hook in her expanding bag.
"I thought that was the wedding?"
"You can't wear white to anything around a wedding. Are you getting dressed? You can stay as long as you'd like, but if you run into Ginny, don't complain to me."
"Hermione…" he slipped out from under the covers and approached her in nothing but his boxer briefs, "last night…"
"Was a one-time thing."
His face twitched, though he swallowed it quickly, "that's not what I was going to say."
"I know," she turned away from him and applied her lip balm in the mirror just to break eye contact. He crowded her closer to the dresser, his breath hot on her neck.
"Hermione, we're good together."
She looked up in the mirror to where he was watching her. "No Ron," she said quietly, "we're really not."