Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters.
Summary: Draco stresses over Hermione's new boyfriend.
A/N: This chapter has now been beta read by the lovely chanteur dombre.
It was guys' night out.
And what, you may ask, did it consist of? Manly bonding over poker? Perhaps a trip to Wizzie's Strip tease? Doin' shots of firewhiskey? Tales of macho derring-do? Comparing wands?
You'd think so, right? Wrong.
In actuality, "guys night out" for Draco, Ron and Harry was like a knitting circle. A very manly, wizards will be wizards, knitting circle but nevertheless, all they needed were some needles and the three were indistinguishable from a group of chatty, gossipy witches. Maybe worse.
They would get together every Thursday night-typically joined by a rotating list of "wizard guest stars" that included Fred and George (always as a pair, naturally), Neville, Crabbe, Goyle and the former Millicent Bulstrode, now known as Mitchell Bulstrode.
Because, when it came down to it, what the boys discussed were women. Oh sure, they did it while drinkin' and swearin', but still it was a regular girls slumber party-minus the painting nails and doing each other's make-up (though, to be honest, Crabbe wouldn't have complained).
On this particular Thursday evening, the boys were shooting pool, listening suspiciously as Draco went on and on about how there was "something dodgy, I tell you" about Hermione's recently acquired boyfriend, Alex Triblehorn.
"I mean the guy is just so, so..."
"Nice? Sensitive? Good looking?" offered Harry.
Draco groaned. "That's what I mean."
"You're right, he's bloody awful," said Ron sarcastically. "We'd better warn Hermione."
"What I mean, Weasley, is that he's too good to be true." It was clear from his tone that Draco was losing patience. "Did you know he's actually started a clothing drive at St. Mungo's for house elves?"
Mitchell, who was doing a shot of firewhiskey, choked on it as he cracked up. "Now if that doesn't soak Granger's knickers, I don't know what will."
"Fuck off, Millicent," Draco snapped.
"It's Mitchell, you bloody prat," he said in calm voice. "And aren't you just a little bit too concerned about who Granger is seeing? As I seem to recall, you're the one who dared her to make a go with the bloke in the first place."
"Don't remind me," he said under his breath. "Look, I know he seems like Granger's 'Mr. Perfect' on the surface. But that's why I'm concerned, as all of her friends should be." He faced Harry and Ron as he said the last bit. "Don't you think it's a little odd that he would be sooooooo interested in every single bloody thing that's important to her?"
Both looked skeptical. Draco continued, "The problem with you bloody Gryffindors is that you're too naive and trusting. You're thinking, 'well he fancies her, so of course he's going to do things to please her.' But would either of you go that far for a witch?"
"I would and I have, for Ginny," responded Harry without giving it a second thought.
Draco sighed. "Well of course you have, you're Harry Fucking Potter. What about you, Weasley? You can't honestly tell me that you'd ever become a bloody house elf activist for a witch unless you knew it would get you in her knickers."
"You know," Mitchell interrupted. "If Triblehorn is doing this to get into her knickers there's really no point, since he already has - not that it is any of your business."
Draco went pale. Okay, he went paler. "She told you that?"
"Of course," he replied. "Ladies night out."
"Bloody hell," said Ron (because frankly, nobody says 'bloody hell' like Ron). "You get to do 'ladies nightt' too?"
"Old habits die hard," Mitchell shrugged. "Anyway, Malfoy, he may be sickeningly earnest like Granger, but I don't think Triblehorn is pulling one over on her. I think he's genuinely smitten."
Draco was speechless. Since that night out with Hermione almost a month ago, he'd decided to play "good mate, big brother" to her, trying on the surface to be supportive while seething (and complaining) about Triblehorn to Harry, Ron and anyone else who would listen (including the occasional house elf, his mum, Tom at the Leaky Cauldron and random strangers on the street). It never occurred to him that she would be intimate with the wizard. He wasn't an idiot; he knew it was possible. Hermione was a grown woman. But he put it in the furthest reaches of his mind because he'd gone so long thinking of her as "just his mate" and as such she didn't *gasp* have sex. He assumed-because it had taken so long for him to realize it-that no other man would notice that she was a woman and a rather fetching one at that.
"I need another drink," he finally said, and proceeded to angrily head up to the bar, nearly knocking over Fred and George (who were just arriving) as he stormed by.
"I see Malfoy's his usual ray o' sunshine," quipped Fred.
"Aye, like a breath o' fresh air," offered George.
"Must've missed his daily dose of torturing a nice fluffy animal," said Fred.
"Or a subordinate," noted George.
"A fluffy subordinate?" pondered Fred.
The others stared dumbly at the twins for a moment, and then realized whom they were dealing with. Ron blurted out, "Hermione shagged."
"Malfoy?" asked George.
"It's about bloody time," said Fred.
"Not with Malfoy, with her boyfriend," said Harry.
"Malfoy's not her boyfriend?" questioned both at the same time, because at some point they had to say the same exact thing, at the same time.
"Not yet," observed Mitchell.
"Yep, he's done," said Harry.
"Stick a fork in him," added Ron.
"Do you think Hermione has any idea?" wondered Harry.
"Oh, Granger's a smart bird," said Mitchell with a gleam in his eye and a secret smile on his face. Then he quietly muttered to himself, "with a bit more Slytherin in her than any of you daft blokes realize."