Rose/Michael
"Man, number one rule after always wear protection is, keep your drinks where you can see 'em, all the time," Michael said, shaking his head. He just assumed Rose was really that naïve; after all, hadn't she said this was her first time at a club? Or maybe that was only Muggle clubs. God knew that half their conversations tended to involve him explaining Muggle pop culture references, though he always thought it evened out because she had to tell him about wizarding things or the intestinal complaints of horses -- a hazard of being friends with Steve. "Rule number two is obviously that Hufflepuff vets, they hug puppies. Baskets full of puppies. That's after the kitten-scritching and the baby sheep petting." Teasing? Maybe just a little. Heckling people he was friendly with was automatic.
A good drink, in Michael's opinion, was... nowhere to be found in this kind of club; he thought for a second and then ordered Rose a Cosmo; that seemed colorful and girly enough. Despite all the warning signals his brain was giving him, he tilted his head to give her an exaggerated once-over. "Rule number three is I always notice short skirts if they're there. It looks good on you. See? Now there's awkward. Probably I got to ask you to dance after this just to top it off. Unless you came with someone? Do I gotta worry about some jealous bloke out there?" If possible, he sounded even more amused.