Hi! Remember this fic? Have an update! This is long and took me a solid month to write. I hope you like it. And before you get mad at its content, let me remind you that this story is going to burn sloooowwwwwww. But it'll be worth it.

I hope.

Enjoy!

(Shoutout to adenei, smjl, accio-broom, and cheesyficwriter for their beta magic)

x Hermione x

It's been weeks since Hermione has thought of Cormac. At this point, she's pretty much over him. It seems to have happened so fast.

She has this realization at the breakfast bar one weekend morning. She's perched atop a stool with her elbows on the table, pushing unappetizing oatmeal around her bowl. Ron's there too, standing at the stove frying an egg. He's wearing his night shorts which come pretty high on his thigh. When she first moved in, Hermione thought he was intentionally showing off his pale and freckly yet toned legs, but now that she knows him better, she realizes he's just unwilling to purchase clothing that fits him.

Harry and Seamus joke about it all the time — sometimes it's a quick jab, a 'you forgot your fishnets' to more specific observations, Seamus lamenting that, like Ron, he also wished he had the body image of an old, disgruntled cat. Almost always, Ron retorts right back, expressing his own wish that clothes would fit his tall frame properly, plus, who is going to see him? 'It's just the loft. We're all roommates. We might as well get comfortable.'

Sometimes, Ron's nonchalant attitude toward his clothing bothers Hermione, because she couldn't waltz around the loft in a bra and underwear without giving the boys an aneurysm. It's a bold assumption that a few more inches of thigh doesn't affect anyone.

Other times, it doesn't bother her at all. Not in the slightest.

Her mind flashes back to that night, his bright eyes and casual grin when she lifted up her shirt in his bedroom. She probably wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been drinking, but not because she wouldn't have wanted to. She just wouldn't have had the courage otherwise. Seeing his ears redden and that little, satisfied sparkle in his blue eyes was exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for, and she would love to see it again, but unfortunately, it's looking to be a one-time thing. There has been no talk about the incident since, and she almost wonders if she imagined his positive reaction.

In fact, Ron has been so casual about the whole ordeal that Hermione wonders if he even remembers. Other than the elation that she thought she saw on his face when she pulled up her shirt, there has since been no indication that he is interested in seeing it again. Is he internally overanalyzing the whole situation, just like she is?

Either way, it's probably for the best. She can't date her roommate; it's a recipe for disaster. Plus, one good thing came out of the whole situation — she no longer misses her ex. Maybe seeing another penis was all it took to truly get over Cormac.

Speaking of penises, she must be staring because when Ron turns around, she can see his swinging underneath the loose fabric of his shorts. She's tempted to zero in on the front of his shorts to scan the bulge of his pants and let her mind fill in the rest. If only she had gotten a better look at it the other day. She had been so shocked at his nakedness that she didn't even think to snap a mental picture. Reluctantly, she averts her gaze — she doesn't want to be caught gawking at him.

Hermione's so distracted by her thoughts that she completely misses Ron's question.

"Earth to Hermione."

"Sorry, what?" She shakes her head as if to focus, an attempt to convince Ron she wasn't staring at his shorts, but into the vast void between her eyes and his pants.

"Do you want me to make you an egg?"

Hermione looks down at her bowl — her oatmeal has begun to harden. She pushes a chunk of it sideways, and it presses against the wall of her dish with a squish. "Yes, I'd love for you to make me an egg."

"Cool. Over-easy?"

"Yes."

As Ron turns back to the stove, Hermione pushes the bowl away, and the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile. There's something so intimate about Ron knowing how she likes her eggs.

She groans internally as Ron bends over to turn on another stove burner. His shorts look even shorter from this angle. How did freckles get there? She runs a hand through her knotted hair, and it comes out slightly damp. Is their air conditioning working properly? Maybe she should check on that. She glances down at her body. Like Ron, she's still in her pajamas, but unlike his, hers provide full coverage. She'd delegated her more suggestive night clothes to the back of her closet, considering she was moving in with a bunch of boys. Maybe that was a mistake, and a deeper v-neck or some sheer lace would elicit that smug, lopsided grin again.

"Morning Ronnie!" chirps Seamus as he glides into the kitchen, his bedroom door slamming behind him. "What's for breakfast? Nice thighs, by the way."

"Eggs," says Ron. "Would you like me to make you some?"

"Sure!" Seamus slides in next to Hermione, and her heart sinks at the interaction. Hopefully, Ron doesn't know how Seamus likes his eggs.

"Scrambled, right?" asks Ron.

"You got it."

Ron turns toward Hermione to slide a plate of over-easy eggs in her direction just in time to catch the frown forming on her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, clearing her throat.

"Oh, okay. You looked upset."

"Nope. I'm fine." Her voice sounds a bit chirpier than usual, but Ron shrugs it off and resumes scrambling Seamus' eggs.

"She needs to get laid."

Hermione almost drops her fork at Seamus' abrupt comment. "Excuse me?" she asks, rounding on him.

"What?" he says, shrugging in defense. "Do you disagree?"

She opens her mouth to retort, but something stops her. As crass as he is, Seamus has a point. It would be nice to get laid. "What makes you think that?"

"It just seems like you have dick on your mind."

Hermione can't help but laugh at the little mind-reader, hoping her reaction comes off as more of a scoff at the preposterous statement. "I just got out of a relationship a few months ago. And I've already been on a date since then."

"With Dragon-Claw," laughs Seamus. "I'm guessing that didn't exactly satisfy the need for the D."

"Does he always talk like this?" Hermione turns to Ron, who nods in affirmation.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Hermione turns back to Seamus. "My date with Dragon Claw was a disaster and confirmed that no, I really don't need casual sex. It's not worth the stress. But thanks for your concern, Seamus."

"The only way to get over a dude is to get under a different one."

Ron rolls his eyes when he slides his plate of scrambled eggs across the counter to Seamus.

"On that note, what are you up to tonight, Ronnie?" continues Seamus, already stabbing at his eggs with his fork.

Ron's face turns even paler than its natural state as he glances between Seamus and Hermione. "What? Why? I have a bar shift. I'm working!"

"Perfect!" says Seamus. "Hermione, meet at the bar at seven, and Ron and I will be your wingmen. We're going to get you laid."

Hermione looks to Ron, who meets her eye contact. He's so hard to read. The color is draining from his ears and neck, and he appears to be watching, waiting for her reaction. "Sounds good," she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

He narrows his eyes right back. "Should be fun."

It might be Hermione's imagination, but Ron's voice seems to lack enthusiasm. Maybe the thought of her getting some action doesn't sit well with him. That could mean a variety of things.

Even if it means something, as her roommate, Ron's off-limits. And Seamus might be right about one thing. Maybe, the best way to get over a man is to get under a different one. After all, If seeing Ron's dick got her to stop thinking of Cormac, maybe seeing someone else's will help her stop thinking of Ron.

x

"See that guy? Alone at the booth?"

From her seat at the bar, Hermione follows Seamus' pointed finger toward a dimly lit corner of the room, where a tall, thin man with dark hair occupies a family-sized booth. Despite the dark ambiance, he's wearing a thick pair of sunglasses which gives him the appearance of a celebrity trying not to be recognized.

"Yeah. I see him." The man looks like he's out of his comfort zone, much like Hermione. Aside from his hidden face and paranoid demeanor, he's quite attractive, and there's something familiar about him. Hermione can't help but wonder if they've met. Maybe she's run into him at the grocery store or seen him at a sporting event.

"Well, go talk to him!" encourages Seamus.

A wave of ice-cold liquid crashes over Hermione's hand. With a yelp, she pulls it away and whips around to face Ron, who's topping off their drinks.

"Sorry," he says. "I missed."

Hermione follows Ron's scowl to the booth. "Do you know him or something?"

"How would I know when he's wearing those dumb sunglasses." Ron turns his back to Hermione and Seamus to grab a dish towel, which he then tosses onto the countertop, to swipe away the spilled liquid.

Seamus and Hermione share a look of confusion.

"What'd he ever do to you?" asks Seamus.

"Nothing," says Ron in a tone that's more defensive than necessary, at least in Hermione's opinion. "I just said his sunglasses are stupid."

Hermione studies Ron's unreadable expression. His face appears neutral but forced — his jaw is clenched, and his shoulders are tense and stiff. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he's jealous.

Could he be jealous?

"Are you okay, Ron?"

With a loud shatter, the pint glass that Ron's drying with a dish towel falls to the floor and breaks. "Fuck!" he says as he bends over to pick it up. "I'm fine. You two are just distracting me."

"If you'd rather—"

"No! Just go talk to the dude with the dumb sunglasses and let me work."

Hermione sends Seamus a questioning look, and he shrugs in response. Her heart plummets. If Ron is jealous in any way, this would have been an excellent opportunity to tell her. With a glance back at Ron, who's turned his back to sweep up broken glass, a pit forms in her stomach. Who is she kidding? He's not jealous. She's just projecting, seeing what she wants to see. After all, there'd been no response whatsoever to her little showcase the other night, and if he'd found her attractive, they'd have discussed it since, instead of acting like it never happened.

"What are you waiting for, Hermione?" asks Seamus. "Go talk to him!"

"Yeah. Okay." Hermione rises to her feet and makes her way across the bar. Knowing that Ron's watching her fills her with self-consciousness, but she ignores the lump in her throat as she continues toward the mysterious man.

"Hello sir, is this seat taken?" Hermione immediately regrets her formal choice of words when the man smirks. It's been forever since she flirted with someone, and it would be so embarrassing to get rejected and have to head back to the bar like a sad puppy. That would only validate Ron's lack of attraction to her.

"It's taken by you, ma'am," says the smiling man as he slides over to allow her space on the curved bench. Not that he needs to since he's at an extra-large booth by himself, but Hermione appreciates the invitation.

She slithers in next to him and immediately feels awkward. "Well, thank you."

"I was getting nervous. Thought you weren't going to show up," says the man as he removes his sunglasses. His eyes are like rich, dark chocolate, and he's even more attractive in person. "It's Kate, right?"

Oh shit. He's expecting someone.

Hermione glances over to the bar where Seamus and Ron casually watch on, then back to the man with dark chocolate eyes and sculpted biceps. He's awaiting a response — a confirmation — but she can't lie and steal someone else's blind date. She imagines what it would be like to tell him no, apologize for the inconvenience, then get up and face laughter from Seamus and even worse, Ron. She can't do that.

Maybe she could be Kate. Just for tonight. Kate's not here, and from the looks of it, she was going to stand him up. Would it really be that bad?

"Yes, I'm Kate!" The words slip from her mouth before she even makes the decision to lie, and suddenly, there's no turning back. "And remind me of your name?"

"Viktor!" he says, sitting up and smiling. "Damn, you're even more beautiful than Fleur's description. I love what you've done with your hair."

Hermione's stomach twists with guilt. So it was a friend that set up Kate and Viktor. What's going to happen when they piece it together?

Doesn't matter now.

"Thank you," says Hermione, touching her hair. "I decided it was a little too… you know." She lands on the vague description because she's not quite sure what Viktor thinks she's done with her hair—lightened it? Darkened? Gotten a perm? It's best just to move on. "So tell me about yourself, Viktor!"

"Most people call me by my last name, Krum," he says. Hermione can detect a subtle accent in his voice. Maybe Eastern European? "I don't know what Fleur told you, but I'm a professional soccer player. I just moved here a few months ago from Bulgaria. Fleur and I met back at boarding school."

Hermione nods. She has no idea who this "Fleur" is, but hopefully, her confusion isn't too obvious. "How do you like the city so far?"

"It's been great! Hard to make friends, though. I'm grateful for this setup!"

"Me too!"

Thankfully, the conversation begins to flow with ease. Hermione learns quite a bit about "Kate" and even more about Krum. Evidently, Kate is a professional dancer and has attended fourteen Taylor Swift concerts — a little obsessive if you ask Hermione. But it's not too many for Krum, who has been to seventeen. A match made in heaven. It's too bad Kate never showed up.

The lies start adding up, and with each one, Hermione's stomach twists with guilt. How is she going to keep track of it all? Apparently, she has two brothers, her parents are doctors, and she plays the violin and was in her college orchestra. Her favorite type of wine is a Cabernet, and she used to travel to London with her family every Christmas. She's awful at lying and will surely slip up soon.

This is a mistake.

But boy does Kate have an excellent life. Maybe she can just become Kate.

Luckily, there's one thing Hermione isn't faking — the warmth that settles deep in her belly when Krum reaches across the table and the bottom of his shirt pulls up, revealing rock-hard, sculpted abs and a soccer ball tattoo that dips below his waistband. Then he settles back down even closer to her and loops an arm around her shoulders, suggesting that he's feeling it too.

"Is this okay?"

"It's perfect," she says as her hand settles against his thigh, her fingers dancing along the fabric of his jeans. "Is this?"

"Perfect."

Their faces are close now. She wonders what her breath smells like and if she should have taken a mint.

Krum licks his lips before speaking, his eyes glued to her mouth. He's definitely going to kiss her. "Fleur mentioned you are also new in town?"

"Yeah, I'm still making friends," she says. "Cheers to Fleur!"

"Cheers to Fleur," says Krum, and they clink glasses and take a large sip.

When Hermione sets her glass back down, she finds that Krum's face has moved even closer, and the air between them is thick with tension.

"You have a little bit of foam," he motions toward his face, then trails off. "You know what, I'll get it."

Hermione's heart rate peaks as he closes in, and his warm lips meet the corner of her mouth. It's only for a brief moment until his practiced tongue swipes along her lips, effectively removing any foam, and when he backs up, she immediately wants more.

They only part for a split second before Hermione crashes her lips back into his, and then multiple things happen at once. His strong arm loops around her back, her leg swings across his lap, and in her transition, she bumps the table so that both of their drinks topple over and spill. As his fingers grip her thighs just under the hemline of her skirt and he buries his face into her neck, she runs her fingers through his thick, dark hair. She doesn't know which sensation grabs her attention more — the feeling of his hot breath on the sensitive skin of her neck, the bulge of his jeans pressing into her center, or the growing warmth deep within her lower belly, a blatant reminder of how long it's been since she's been intimate with anyone.

Oh my god.

She can't resist the urge to look over her shoulder to see if Ron is still here. Her heart sinks to see the bar deserted. She wills herself not to worry about him — this night is going perfectly. The only thing that would make it more perfect is if it were Ron burying his face in her hair, but some things just aren't possible.

"Should we take this somewhere else?" asks Krum, his voice muffled by her bushy curls.

If she wasn't trying to make a point, she'd probably slow things down. But frankly, after breaking up with Cormac and constantly wondering whether or not her roommate finds her attractive, she needs a pick me up. And this could be it.

"I live in a loft right upstairs," she whispers into Krum's ear.

He squeezes her thigh in affirmation. "Lead the way."

x

When Hermione wakes up the next morning, it's in a tangle of limbs and blankets. For a moment, she forgets where she is. That's until she recognizes the closet door that won't quite close all the way, the periwinkle blue bed sheets, and her broadway posters on the far wall. She's in her room with a man she hardly knows.

She glances over to the man beside her. Viktor, right? Krum? His shirt is off, revealing chiseled abs and the same soccer ball tattoo that made Hermione blush the night before. The sight of it brings the memory of the previous night flooding back. Making out in the bar, then in the elevator. Stumbling through the doors of the empty loft, dropping clothing items, one by one, in pursuit of the bedroom.

Before she knew it, they were naked in bed together. It all happened so fast, yet at the same time, so respectfully, with him asking consent every step of the way. His arm drapes across the bedcovers as if he were holding her the night before. She looks over at the man next to her with a new appreciation. She should be happy it's him she woke up next to, right?

His eyes blink open, and he smiles at her. "Morning, Kate."

With his greeting comes the final puzzle piece of the night before. She's pretending to be someone else. Kate.

"Morning, Krum," she says, hoping the guilt that's twisting her stomach into knots doesn't shine through her tone.

Krum sits up to stretch, and the bedcovers fall from his waist to his lap, revealing the rest of his soccer ball tattoo, chiseled hip bones, and a trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. Hermione averts her eyes when he stands up, revealing his perfectly sculpted backside. It's nothing she hasn't seen before, of course, it's just a different experience in the morning light. Her blushing cheeks settle back down as he steps into his pants and pulls them on. "I had a great time last night. We should do it again."

He ventures toward the window, and Hermione takes it as an opportunity to stand up and pull her robe on. "I did too," she says. "I'd love to do it again."

The knots in her stomach tighten. She probably won't see him again because there's no way she'll be able to keep up this new persona. He'll find out soon enough when he reports to Fleur about how their date went.

"It sounds like your roommates are home," says Krum, turning around to face her. "I'd love to meet them, if that's okay? I heard so much about them last night."

Hermione glances toward the door, from where she can hear Ron, Neville, Harry, and Seamus chattering. She had planned on sneaking him out unseen, not introducing him. "Yes, that's fine," she says. "Can you wait here for a second?"

"Sure!"

Tightening her robe, Hermione leaves a still-shirtless Krum in her bedroom and rushes into the living area. The boys fall silent when she appears.

"Morning."

"Morning, tiger!" says Seamus. "How was your night?"

Hermione can't miss the suggestive tone of his voice. "It was a nice evening, actually."

"Nice isn't what I heard through the walls last night," says Harry.

She shoots a glare at Harry, hoping it masks her embarrassment. Were they really that loud?

"Oh shut up, Harry," says Neville. "They didn't make too much noise. We're happy for you, Hermione!"

All but one of her roommates beam at her and nod in agreement. Ron is notably straight-faced and quiet.

"On that topic," she starts, wondering exactly how to phrase her odd request. "He's still in my room, and he wants to meet you all."

"Send him out!" says Harry.

"Here's the thing," she says, bringing her voice down to a whisper. "He thinks my name is Kate."

She winces as the boys gape at her.

"Well, I hope you don't like him too much," says Ron, finally breaking his silence. "Because you're not coming back from 'actually, my name is Hermione'."

There's a hint of venom in his voice that makes her stomach lurch. She's tempted to argue but holds back because she has another request. "Also, I might have told him some things about you all last night, but they were probably lies. Just go with it!"

Before the boys can protest, she turns back toward her bedroom and opens the door. Krum has donned his shirt but left it unbuttoned, so his firm abs are still on display. Although it looks like a blatant attempt to size up Hermione's four male roommates, she's not about to complain.

"Hi, I'm Viktor, but you guys can just call me Krum."

"Can I call you Vicky?" asks Ron. He grins smugly as an awkward silence befalls the room.

"Uh, I guess," says Krum. "If that makes you happy."

"It does," says Ron.

"Okay, great then." With a swift subject change, Krum continues, "Well, Kate tells me you are all dancers too! That's pretty cool!"

All four boys pointedly look at Hermione, standing behind Krum. She sends them a quick nod, hoping to encourage a white lie.

"Yep," says Harry. "If that's what Kate said, it must be true!"

Hermione scowls at the emphasis on her fake name.

"Who's the best dancer?"

"Definitely Ron," says Seamus. "See his long legs? He's like a grasshopper. That's why we call him the leaper."

Ron's face fills with color as Harry continues, "Oh yes, I wish I were that graceful."

"Hey, we're all great leapers," says Neville. "Give yourselves some credit."

"How do you leap?" asks Krum. "Can you show me?"

Krum turns to Ron, whose face is bright scarlet. They stare each other down for a few seconds before Ron stands up. "Sure. I can teach you how to leap."

Sniggering, Harry, Neville, and Seamus watch as Ron leads Krum to the open space behind the sofa. Hermione's cheeks warm at the sight of Krum, chiseled and toned, and Ron, tall and handsome in his own gangly way, eyeing each other like competitors. She almost feels like the prize in some weird, immature dick-measuring contest, and frankly, it's kind of thrilling.

Dick-measuring contest. Ron would be so proud if he could hear Hermione's inner dialogue.

There are no words to describe what happens next. Under Krum's scrutiny, Ron bends his knees and launches into the air, his arms flailing wildly overhead. Then he does it again. And again. And again.

Hermione suppresses a laugh as Ron pirouettes his way around the living room with no concern for how ridiculous he looks. His display reminds her of watching a nature documentary featuring exotic birds that choreograph elaborate dance numbers in order to attract their mates.

Eventually, an out-of-breath Ron completes a circle around the loft and lands next to Krum. "Your turn," he pants.

"No," says Krum. "I'm not going to do that."

"Why not? You wanted to learn how to leap, so go ahead. Leap."

"You look like an idiot," says Krum.

"I think he looks fantastic," says Harry, his face red from laughing. "I've never seen a man who could leap so beautifully."

"Seriously, take the opportunity to learn from the best!" says Seamus, rising to Ron's defense.

Krum turns to look at Hermione, an eyebrow raised. "They're not dancers, are they?"

His question brings an awkward silence as Harry, Seamus, and Neville muffle their laughter to glance between Hermione and Krum as if watching a tennis match.

"No, they're not," admits Hermione.

"Are you a dancer?" asks Krum. "Or did you lie about that too?"

It's the worst time for him to ask questions. All she wanted was a casual one-night-stand, and now she has to face the shame of her fabrication in front of everyone. Hermione looks at the floor, and her eyes sting, threatening to cry.

"No, I'm not a dancer." She tries to steady her wavering voice. "I'm sorry I lied."

Krum narrows his eyes, and Hermione can't tell if it's out of anger or concern. "Why would you lie about that?

"I— I don't know," starts Hermione, unsure if there's anything she could say to disentangle herself from the web of lies that she's built. For some reason, her first instinct is to glance at Ron, and when she does, he offers her a small but genuine smile. His sympathy is a brief reprieve from the guilt brought on by Krum's accusatory eyes.

"Look, Krum," he says. "I know it looks bad, but trust me, you're lucky to have met Hermione. Despite the lies, she's one of the coolest people we know."

There's a few grunts of affirmation from the boys, and Hermione's heart swells at the unexpected compliment. Then, Krum snaps his head back to her, his eyes narrowed so that his brows form a single, angry line. "What did he just call you? Hermoninny?"

"Oops." Ron claps a hand over his mouth and takes a step back. Hermione glares at him, and when he meets her gaze, there's something knowing in his expression. As though he let her real name slip on purpose. Her fists clench, and she instantly regrets taking his earlier compliment to heart.

"Your name's not Kate?"

Hermione glances back to Krum, her cheeks filling with color at not just her embarrassment but her anger toward Ron. "No," she says, forcing the words out. "My name's not Kate. I lied about that too."

"Why the hell would you lie?" asks Krum, looking more confused than hurt. "Please enlighten me."

"Because you were so excited to meet Kate!" she says. "I didn't want you to be sad that she stood you up!"

It's a lame excuse, and Hermione knows it when Krum rolls his eyes. "I would rather be stood up than lied to!"

"I'm sorry! But you have to admit that we had a lot of fun!"

"Yeah, had," he says, emphasizing the past tense. "I need time to think." Krum makes his way toward the door, opens it and steps outside. Before it closes, his head pops back into the loft. "And you should also take time to think. You know, about why you felt the need to lie."

The door slamming behind him seems to echo in Hermione's hollow stomach. She doesn't need to think about why she lied. She couldn't bear to face rejection in front of her roommates. Well, one roommate, in particular.

A moment later, Hermione rounds on said roommate, turning toward his scarlet face and apprehensive eyes. "How could you?"

"It was an accident, I swear!"

"Why don't I believe that?"

"Oh, I don't know," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you're desperate to blame someone else for that shitshow."

Hermione opens her mouth to reply but snaps it shut when she realizes she has nothing to say. Somehow, Ron hit the nail on the head, and she finds herself suddenly questioning the knowing glint she swore was in Ron's eye when he said her real name. Had she imagined that?

Against her better judgement, she doubles down on her attack. "Admit it, Ron. You let my name slip on purpose."

The color of Ron's face deepens, and his fists clench. Hermione resists the urge to bite her lip. There's something thrilling about riling Ron up. "Why would I do that?"

"To sabotage it, of course!" she says, feeling emboldened by Ron's narrowed eyes and the heat that seems to emanate from his body.

The living room is empty now, save for Ron and Hermione. Seamus, Neville, and Harry retreated back to their rooms as soon as the pair started arguing.

"Right," says Ron. "Maybe I was jealous and couldn't stand seeing you with someone else." The corners of his mouth turn up in a grin. "Or maybe you're delusional."

"Ugh, you're infuriating!"

Ron laughs. "As are you."

Hermione scoffs and averts her eyes, hoping Ron doesn't catch her pinkening cheeks.

"Whatever, Hermione," says Ron as he turns toward his bedroom door. "Or Kate."

She watches the now-empty space in front of Ron's bedroom door for a few extra seconds, waiting for her body to cool down. When did it get so warm in here?

There's no point in standing in an empty loft, so just like her roommates, Hermione retreats back to her room. The door almost slams behind her, and she collapses onto her bed, caught somewhere between wishing the fight never happened, and wondering what she could do to piss him off even more. Funny how the mind works.

Being on her bed makes her realize how exhausted she is. It's not like she got much sleep last night. If she can calm herself down, she could use a lie-in.

Before crawling underneath the covers, she straightens out the second side of her bed to make it look like no one slept there. If she doesn't, she knows her brain would just conjure up images of the wrong man in her bed.

x

After catching up on sleep, Hermione manages to avoid Ron until later that night. She escapes the loft for a bit to run some errands, and he's not around upon her return. It's not until after dinner, when she's readying herself for bed, when she enters the kitchen to find him seated at the counter, sipping a glass of copper liquid.

In the brief moment before he notices her standing there, she considers retreating back to her room and avoiding contact altogether. She stiffens when she sees him, prickling with anger, but doesn't have the energy to argue with him anymore. Hopefully, he won't start anything.

Despite her annoyance, something pulls her to approach him, even though she has no idea what to say.

So she doesn't say anything, instead taking a silent seat beside him. Immediately, he stands up, and her heart sinks. She watches him make his way toward the alcohol cabinet, pull out a second glass, and fill it with the same copper liquid.

"I'm not sure if you are a bourbon drinker, but," he slides the glass across the counter to her and sits back down, "here."

"Thank you." Hermione puts the glass to her lips for a cautious sip. It tastes sweeter than anticipated, with hints of oak, caramel, and vanilla. "Pretty good. I could be a bourbon drinker."

"Eggs over-easy. Likes bourbon," says Ron. "Slowly adding to my list about Hemione Granger."

Hermione smiles, and feels her cheeks blush as Ron clinks his glass against hers. "You can add 'lies about her identity' to the list."

Ron laughs, then seeing Hermione's solemn expression, he straightens his face. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"For what?"

"Acting like a prat."

Hermione shrugs. "You have the right to be angry. I asked you to lie for me."

"I wasn't angry, Hermione. I was jealous."

Ron looks straight ahead when he admits it, but Hermione can tell he's watching for her reaction out of the corner of his eye. "You were jealous?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Hermione's heart skips a beat. "Honestly, I'm single and haven't… you know… in a while."

Is that really the reason?

"Perfectly understandable."

"So why did you lie?"

Hermione takes another sweet sip of her bourbon. It's strong enough to make the truth seem like a good idea. "I didn't want to get rejected."

"And you thought 'Kate' had a better chance of not getting rejected?"

"Well, I was right, wasn't I?"

Ron rolls his eyes. "You know he didn't reject you for being yourself, he rejected you because you lied."

Hermione shrugs. "Yeah, well. Kate, whoever she is, seems pretty great. I'm just boring Hermione."

Surprisingly, her self-deprecation makes Ron chuckle. "You really don't know, don't you?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Know what?"

Ron opens his mouth to answer, but for some reason, he hesitates. She can see his wheels turning in his bright blue eyes, thinking of what to say.

"Ron, what?" Their conversation is interrupted by a knock on the loft door. "Are you expecting someone?" asks Hermione.

"Nope."

"Okay then, I'll get it."

Putting their conversation on hold, Hermione rises to her feet and makes her way to the door, opening it to find the same tall, lean, handsome man from her bed this morning.

"Oh, Krum. Hi."

"Hi, Hermione. Did I say that right?"

"Yes. It's a little more complicated than Kate." Krum peers over Hermione's head and into the loft as if silently asking permission to enter. "Oh, sorry. Come on in."

She opens the door to allow him in, and his eyes wander to Ron. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey, Vicky."

The two boys continue to stare at each other as if sizing each other up, and for a second, Hermione's convinced they're about to fight. Then Krum offers him a soft smile. "I should apologize to you, Ron. I'm sorry I said you looked like an idiot earlier today. Your leaping was actually quite impressive. You're very graceful for such a tall man."

"Oh, erm, thanks." Ron's ears flood with color at the odd, maybe even backhanded compliment. Then he shakes his head and turns back toward the counter to continue sipping his drink.

"So, Hermione," says Krum. "I've had some time to think today—"

Not sure if she wants to hear Krum drag out his rejection, Hermione's quick to interrupt him. "If you never want to talk to me again, I would understand. I don't know why you would, after all of that."

"Can you let me finish?"

"Oh, sorry."

Krum clears his throat. "I don't care that you lied. I also said things that aren't true. I don't 'open up the more you get to know me,' and I haven't been to seventeen Taylor Swift concerts. I was trying to get you to like me."

"You were?"

"Yeah, I was. Which is stupid. I'm not looking for a serious relationship right now, or any relationship at all."

Hermione braces herself for the oncoming rejection. "So what you're saying is—"

"We don't have to know everything about each other, and we can still tear each other apart. What do you say?" He glances at Ron as though to check that he's not listening, or maybe to check that he is. Who knows?

"So, you want to keep having sex?"

Krum nods and extends a hand. "Friends with benefits?"

Hermione glances at his hand and contemplates his offer. She's never had such a casual relationship before, and the whole idea is both nerve-racking and thrilling. It's definitely out of character for her. But, what's the point of her twenties if she doesn't try new things?

With a shrug, Hermione reaches for his hand and shakes. Krum beams at her and tugs on her hand to pull her close to him. As he moves in for a kiss, Hermione catches a glimpse of Ron shifting uncomfortably on his barstool.

She doesn't have time to dwell on Ron, though, because before she knows it, Krum's lips are on hers, and she's returning his kiss with enthusiasm.

He smiles when he breaks away. "Damn, you're so fucking beautiful." His face is flushed to a dull pink but not quite as vibrant as the color of Ron's cheeks—

Stop thinking about Ron.

"Well, uh, I will text you," says Krum. "Bye, Hermione."

"Yes, do that. Bye, Krum."

"See ya, Ron," says Krum before turning for the door and winking at Hermione on the way out.

As soon as the door closes, silence fills the room. Hermione turns back to Ron, who is just rising up to rinse out his now-empty glass. She hasn't finished hers yet, so she takes her seat at the counter.

"Well, he still likes you," says Ron when he turns around to face her. He leans his back against the stove and crosses his arms. His mouth turns up into a smirk that doesn't reflect in his eyes. "I'm happy for you."

His words don't hit the way she wants them to, but Hermione can't explain why. She should be relieved that the whole debacle didn't make him angry. "You are?"

"Of course. You deserve a good dicking."

"Oh shut up," she says, and Ron laughs in response.

Hermione scans his body. It seems like forever ago that he was making eggs at that same stove, but instead of jeans, he was wearing those tiny shorts. She can clearly imagine them now. In fact, she can clearly imagine what's behind them, even after the night she had with Krum. How many times would she need to see another dick to stop remembering Ron's?

"What's that face for?"

HIs question pulls her back to the moment, and she realizes she's biting her lip. Hopefully, it doesn't look too suggestive. "Nothing."

"Sure." He places his clean cup back into the cupboard and motions toward his room. "I'm off to bed."

"Wait, Ron."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

She's not sure why she asks the question, but it slips out of her mouth unplanned. "What were you about to say? Before Krum interrupted."

When he doesn't respond right away, she assumes he can't remember, and it must be unimportant. Then, his evasive response suggests otherwise.

"Nothing," he says, his tone perfectly matching hers from moments before.

"Yeah, you were about to say something—"

"Hermione," he interrupts, turning to face her. His tone isn't impatient at all. If she didn't know better, she'd think it was a bit flirtatious. "I can't tell you now, so It was nothing."

Are they on the same page?

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Ron's gaze bores into hers, and Hermione sets down her glass to prevent it from dropping out of her sweaty hand.

"I will tell you something else, though. Krum's right about one thing."

"What?"

"You're beautiful."

Hermione's really glad she set her glass down; if she hadn't, it would have slipped out of her hand and shattered. If only Ron had said something like that much, much earlier. Does he know how bad his timing is? "Ron—"

"Night, Hermione," he says. And just like Krum, he winks at her before his bedroom door closes. But unlike before, her heart rate spikes, and her stomach erupts with butterflies when he does.

When the door closes, she chugs back the remaining sip of bourbon, letting it carve its trail down her throat. She's attracted to her roommate, and somehow, it's mutual.

If she's not careful, this could go very wrong.