Draco adjusted his hair with a critical eye. When they'd started dating, Hermione had told him she was busy the first Tuesday of every month and, being the gentleman that he was, he didn't ask for details. But today she'd asked him to join the mysterious monthly engagement. The problem was, apparently that meant he was going to Game Night with Potter and Weasley. The younger Weasley was also in town and Hermione had insisted that Draco should join and be officially introduced to her friends as her boyfriend, which he hardly felt was necessary.
"Come off it, Draco, it'll be fine, I promise. They're all excited for you to join."
"I'm sure…" He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. While he'd developed an understanding with Potter, there was no chance that Ron fucking Weasley was excited about his attendance tonight.
It was bad enough that he was about to spend an entire night surrounded by Gryffindors — even if one of them was someone he might be falling in love with — but they had to add "games" to the evening's torment. He didn't think anyone had ever accused him of being a "playful" person. Even as a child, he'd been quite serious. When he'd asked Hermione which version of poker they played, she'd told him they didn't play poker. He'd been too stunned to ask for clarification. What else would they even play? Wizard's Chess? The Game of Potions? Oh Merlin, please don't say Castles & Chimeras.
"So what exactly will we be doing tonight, love?"
"I've already told you: snacks, beer that you're going to complain about the whole time, and games! It'll be great. You're going to love it," she gushed.
"Alright," he sighed. "Let's get this over with."
They arrived at Grimmauld Place to find Potter and both Weasleys in the sitting room, along with Cho Chang, who he knew from playing against her in Quidditch. Ginny Weasley was sitting on Cho's lap, but hopped up as they stepped through the Floo.
"Hermione!" She shoulder-checked Draco out of the way and launched herself into her arms, trapping her in a hug. She took Hermione's hand and dragged her over to a plush chair near a low table, leaving Draco to make his way into the room on his own. Hermione looked back at him apologetically.
Draco gave a perfunctory greeting and accepted the glass of beer that Ron handed him, sniffing it suspiciously. Hermione patted a chair next to her and he sat down stiffly. Be nice, he reminded himself. She cares about these people. You just get through the next few hours.
"We rotate who gets to pick the game, and this time it's Ginny's turn," Harry explained. "So, what's it going to be, Ginny?"
"You're going to love this game. George has been working on this prototype and asked for my help since I'm clearly the funniest Weasley." Ron snorted and Ginny ignored him. "It's called Wizards Against Humanity. George said you told him about some Muggle version, Hermione. Well, George liked it so much he started making his own version and I have to say… it is ace."
"I love this game!" Hermione whispered to him excitedly. Some of the tension eased from him at seeing her delight. He wanted her to have a good time; seeing her eyes light up was worth putting up with a few hours of boredom.
Ginny dealt them all ten white cards and placed a black card in the middle of the table. "Okay, so the way it's played is that we will all take turns playing a black card, which has an incomplete phrase on it. Everyone else will pick one card from their hand with the phrase that they think best completes the sentence on the black card, and place them face down on the table. The player with the black card then gets to pick their favourite, and that person gets a point. We'll play to five. Got it?"
Yep, this is idiotic. Draco sulked silently.
"Okay, Hermione, you go first since you know how to play." Ginny flipped a black card which read I got an "O" on my N.E.W.T.s in: _.
Draco picked up his cards and flipped through them. Most were utter nonsense: a terrible godmother, Hagrid's hut, swish and flick, blueberry scones, a cursed skull that won't stop hitting on you. He kept reading, forehead furrowing, until he reached The are-you-compensating-for-something Sword of Gryffindor and snorted despite himself. He caught Hermione smirking at him and schooled his features. His eyebrow arched when he saw riding a Slytherin's broomstick.
"Does this mean what I think it means, love?" he whispered to Hermione. The look she gave him in return was lascivious and playful.
"It means whatever you want it to mean, that's the fun of it! Now stop showing me your cards; it's cheating!"
Everyone else had already selected a card and placed it face down in front of Hermione. He chose the card labelled poor life choices as he wasn't sure how the game should be played, thinking it made the most sense (though they were all rubbish).
"Alright, I got an "O" on my N.E.W.T.s in…" Hermione flipped through the cards, smiling. "Splinched puppies — okay, that is fucked up; vomiting an endless stream of confetti; poor life choices; liberating all your house elves; and" —she turned red, shooting a glance at Draco out of the corner of her eyes— "getting railed by a Slytherin's snake." Harry choked on the beer he'd been drinking and Ginny cackled. "Umm…" Hermione flipped through the cards again, continuing to glance nervously at Draco who was working hard to keep himself very still; he wondered if he'd had a stroke or if the Weasel had slipped something into his drink. What is this game?
"Oh go on Hermione, you know you want to. You're not usually so shy," Ron said, as he patted Harry's back. "But you have to read it out loud!"
"Fuck, fine!" She laughed, flushing an even deeper shade of red. "I got an "O" on my N.E.W.T.s in getting railed by a Slytherin's snake!" She shrieked and buried her face in her hands. It was impossible to keep his lips from twitching and he only barely managed it because everyone else was looking at him, waiting for his reaction.
Ginny swept up the card gleefully, claiming her point. "Dammit, Ginny… Why?!" Harry complained.
"Take notes Potter, I play to win. You're next anyway, so stop bitching." She flipped another black card, revealing: "When I cast a Patronus, I think of..."
Draco flicked through his cards again, his lips curving up slightly when he made his selection.
Potter picked up the cards and read through them: "Beauxbaton's nipple hats, a Howler sext, giving lip service to the Quidditch captain's wand, Rowena Ravenclaw's tits, and Snape masturbating in an old broom closet." Ron mimed gagging, and Harry rubbed his forehead in mock exasperation, but he was smiling. "Okay, someone remind me to never let Ginny pick the game again."
"What's a 'sext'?" Cho whispered to Ginny. Draco snorted.
"You like it, Potter, stop pretending." Ron elbowed him. "Now, pick one."
Harry narrowed his choices down to two: lip service and Snape. "Okay, whoever played Snape, that is seriously fucked up… and I love it." Draco used all of his poker skills and years of practice at society dinners to keep his face from giving anything away.
"Was there ever really any other choice?" Harry, a look of mock severity on his face, held up the Snape card. "Alright, which of you sick sons of bitches did this?"
No one spoke as Draco casually leaned forward, mask firmly in place. "I'll take that Potter," he drawled. Harry's jaw dropped to the floor, and Ron put a hand to his heart.
"Sweet Circe, does the snake princeling have a sense of humour?" Ron teased.
"I'm fucking hilarious," Draco deadpanned, causing both Weasleys and Cho to burst out laughing. Hermione was smiling as she looked around the room. When he caught her eye and arched an eyebrow, she laughed with joy. He wanted to drag her back through the Floo and snog her senseless, immediately. She was truly radiant when she was happy: eyes sparkling, her cheeks pink with mirth, and her expression unguarded.
The next card was for Ron: The Boy who Lived? More like the boy with _. Ron grinned maliciously and Harry groaned.
"Ah, don't worry Harry. I'm sure everyone will be nice." Hermione couldn't even keep a straight face, dissolving into laughter by the end. Harry dropped his head to the table mumbling something that sounded like "hate you all."
Harry took the longest to select a card, claiming he was planning to abstain on principle but eventually caving under Hermione's cajoling.
Ron read the cards aloud. "A troll in the sex dungeon, a limp wand, a herd of crazed centaurs, actual enchanted dragon dildos, a super unethical wizard dating app." He looked up. "Centaurs, Harry? Could you at least try to win?" Harry shrugged, as good as admitting that the card was his. Ron shuffled through the stack. "As tempted as I was to pick centaurs" —he rolled his eyes— "I'm most assuredly going with: The Boy who Lived? More like the boy with the troll in the sex dungeon." He laughed wickedly — Draco hadn't actually known Weasley to be capable of such a sound.
This time, as Draco plucked the card from Ron's hand, he allowed a grin to spread across his face. Ron burst out laughing again — Gryffindors did that a lot he was finding. "You know what Malfoy… you're alright," he declared, raising his beer in a toast. Draco surprised himself by lifting his own glass in response — clearly his manners were a deeply ingrained habit.
The rounds only got more absurd and increasingly vulgar as the night went on and they were all absolutely hammered.
At one point, Ron actually spat his beer, spraying Harry in the face when Hermione played having to explain why you used Engorgio on your dick, as a response to I violated the statute of secrecy by _. His ribs hurt from laughing at that point, and he wondered if a more perfect woman could possibly exist. There seemed to be an infinite number of sides to Hermione Granger and he wanted to see them all.
Draco (and his aching ribs) begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was enjoying this; perhaps the Gryffindors were alright.
Draco pulled what must be his fourth card with a reference (direct or indirect) to "Slytherin wands," and wasn't sure if he should be proud or offended. "You Gryffindors sure are interested in Slytherin cock, aren't you? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he drawled, organising his cards. "It's probably a good thing house rivalries ran so deep, or you Gryffindors would never have gotten shagged. There wouldn't have been any girls left in your common room." Ron turned (more) red and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Shut up, Malfoy…" Ginny slurred. "You're practically a virgin, anyway."
Draco froze his expression as he tried to figure out if Ginny knew or was just joking around. Hermione punched Ginny hard in the arm, nearly knocking her to the floor. Luckily Cho (the least fermented of the lot) caught her before she fell.
"I told you that in confidence, Gin!" Hermione screeched, trying not to spill her drink as she over-corrected, unbalanced after her punch and quite pissed herself.
"Oh, shit!" she whispered too loudly. "I forgot about that! Don't worry Malfoy," she said, much too loudly. "Hermione is very satisfied. I'm sure the sex is fine. I mean, sure, she's slept with more women than you, but—"
"Okay," Cho said, drawing out the "o" as she stood up, grabbing Ginny by the arm. "Time to get you home before you yak in the Floo."
"I'm fine," Ginny protested, staggering, as Cho pulled her away.
"Have a lovely night, everyone. Draco, I'm sorry about this one. I really can't take her anywhere. Besides," she gave him a saccharine smile, "you look like you probably do just fine in the bedroom, but pro tip: don't use Engorgio on your dick. Literally, no woman wants that."
Draco felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He wasn't a prude, but he wasn't used to casually discussing or joking about his intimate life with people he hardly knew. He stared at Hermione, jaw twitching, totally at a loss for what to say. Hermione was looking back at him, her eyes wide with shock.
Harry broke the silence. "Well, this is awkward… I'd make an excuse to leave, but this is my house, so…"
"Right..." Draco stood, Hermione shadowing him. "We'll be off then. Thanks Potter, I hated this much less than I expected to." The corner of his lip twitched as his shock wore off. "And… it was surprisingly enlightening." Hermione, who'd drunk almost as much as he had, recovered less quickly and just stood there, blinking at him. He grabbed her hand and led her towards the Floo.
"Welcome to the Gryffindor pride, Malfoy!" he heard Ron yell behind him. "I'll tell Mum to make sure she knits you a maroon jumper for Christmas!"
He rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, Weasley!" he called back over his shoulder.
When they arrived home, Draco practically carried Hermione to her room. The tiny appetisers they'd been snacking on all night apparently hadn't done much to help with the amount of alcohol she'd drunk, and it was catching up to her. She'd immediately stammered apologies to him.
Once in her room, he helped her out of her clothes, tucked her into bed, and placed a Hangover Potion for each of them on her nightstand. The room spun a bit, and he crawled in next to her, tugging her against his chest.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she slurred.
"Tell me what, love?" he asked, deciding she probably wouldn't stop mumbling about this until she said what she wanted to.
"That I like girls, too."
"Oh… And why would you think I care about that?" he asked, confused.
"There was this look on your face and…" she trailed off, also sounding confused through the drunken haze.
"Yes, because you told Ginny how many people I've fucked. I was just surprised. Although honestly, I don't know why I wouldn't have expected…" He rubbed his head. "Pansy was always much too open about our sex life."
"So… you're not mad that I didn't tell you?"
"Of course not, love, I don't care about that. Although now I'm concerned that you're probably measuring me against a much higher bar." He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her tighter. "My masculinity isn't that fragile." He huffed a laugh, and she chuckled. "The sex is good though, right?" No one was 100% confident all the time.
Hermione laughed and placed a sloppy, drunk kiss on his mouth. "Yes, Draco. It's very good." He felt quite smug after that, ego bolstered. He was also a little turned on, since the question made him think about the way he made her scream for him. Very good, indeed.
He held her like that until she started snoring — she always snored when she was drunk. He felt warmth, unrelated to the alcohol, suffuse him as he realised how right it felt to know something so mundanely intimate about her.