Work Text:
“Whoa, Hermione, where did you get that?”
Hermione spun away from the mirror where she had been critically examining herself.
“Ginny let me borrow it,” Hermione explained causing Ron to pull a face.
“Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to picture my sister wearing anything so…” his eyes roamed over her again, landing on her chest.
“Slutty?” Hermione provided and he snapped out of it, cheeks glowing red.
“Low cut,” Ron said firmly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror. It really was too much.
“What’s the occasion?” Ron asked, going over to the bag brimming with candidates and peering inside.
“For Hannah’s bachelorette,” Hermione answered. “Ginny seemed to think that I might not have the right clothes to go clubbing in.”
Hermione frowned over at her wardrobe which, admittedly was lacking in variety. As they so rarely went out and their last vacation had been well over two years ago, it was brimming with work-appropriate skirts, jumpers, and the pairs of muggle jeans she wore on the weekends.
“Well she might be right about that,” Ron said plucking a particularly shimmery top and holding it up to himself. “This doesn’t look very much like it belongs in your wash.”
He’d managed to find what Hermione could only pray was the least conservative option. She was further dismayed when he tossed it to her.
“Go on then, try it on,” he urged.
After only one eye roll Hermione removed the skin-tight halter top and obediently shimmied into the even tighter selection of Ron’s.
It did fit her quite nicely even if it wasn’t long enough to graze the waist of her jeans. And then there was the matter of the neckline that plunged so low she could see most of her bra. She turned to Ron, expecting solidarity only to find him nodding in approval.
“You can’t be serious,” Hermione said, crossing her arms self consciously. “You can see half my bra!”
“Then take it off then,” Ron suggested practically. Before she could say that in no uncertain terms would she be going out bra-less, he had the nerve to shout out, “Oi, Harry! Come tell Hermione how nice her top is!”
At once Harry came thundering up the stairs, “What’s going on? I’ve almost got dinner ready and- whoa, Hermione.”
He stopped in the doorway, eyes taking her in first in shock and then hungrily.
“Trying on outfits for the weekend,” Ron provided when Harry didn’t say anything more, merely staring at her, mouth hanging open.
“It’s quite nice,” Harry told her.
“I’m not wearing this,” Hermione replied, turning again to the mirror to try and understand what Harry and Ron found so charming about this particular look. When she faced Ron and Harry again they hadn't moved.
“I’m not going out without my bra on,” Hermione stated firmly.
“I should think not,” Ron agreed. “But you could take your bra off for us.”
Harry nodded along with him.
Shaking her head she turned away from them, undoing the clasp from under her shirt, and pulled the bra off. She hid for a moment longer, adjusting herself and giving herself an appraising look before turning back around. They were both staring at her, stupidly.
“Well?” she asked of them.
“Oh,” Ron said after a long moment, his mouth hanging open.
She could feel her cheeks growing red under their positively predatory looks.
“Oh?” she echoed.
“Oh,” Harry repeated, and when at last he met her eyes his cheeks adopted a hue.
Ron’s eyes darkened and he sat up a little straighter. “Oh, you’re definitely not going out looking like that.”
“Should I take it off then?” she questioned.
Harry licked his lips. “Perhaps after dinner.”
And for some reason, Hermione didn’t think that meal would take very long.