Queer & There

Chapter Six
Multiple Losses

"Have you seen my sock?"

"...why would I have seen your sock?"

"Because, I can't find it."

"Have you tried your foot?"

"Yes, you twat, I've tried my foot. It's not there."

Having lost his sock might not seem like such a huge trauma to Draco on any other day, but today it seemed to be the tip of the iceberg. Harry was waiting for him to leave his apartment so that they could go to Accio, but when he had got there at quarter past eight, Draco had been in the middle of a dramatic search for his left sock.

Currently, the pair could be found standing in the middle of Draco's bedroom, amongst a mess of clothing that was strewn across the floor. Draco was frowning deeply, and Harry was fighting off a smirk as he broke the silence. "Well, where did you last see it?"

Giving Harry a scathing look, Draco folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. "I was having a shower, and my socks were on the floor in the bathroom. I picked them both up and put them on my bed-" As though demonstrating, Draco shot the bed an equally nasty glare, "-and when I went to put them on, there was only one there."

"You know," Harry mused, "I'm starting to think this is hardly going to get any awards for being the worst thing that could happen to a person. Why don't you just get another pair of socks and put them on?" He returned Draco's scowl with a roll of his eyes and added, "Accio is going to be packed if we don't get a move on."

Draco shrugged. "I wanted to wear those socks. They're my lucky socks, I won't pull without them."

"Draco, if you rely on a pair of socks to get laid, I would imagine you wouldn't pull very often anyway." Harry couldn't help but smirk this time, causing Draco to reach across with his lone sock and bat him on the arm with it. "Okay, there was no need for violence." Harry rubbed his arm with a little smile and rolled his eyes again, to which even Draco cracked a slight smile and retracted his arm.

Harry was, however, quickly rewarded with a sulky expression from Draco, who muttered, "I do too pull very often." However, he seemed to have found his ability to move again, because he sat down on the bed and rooted through his drawers for another pair of socks, which he put on carefully. "These will have to do," he announced a little more loudly, to which Harry nodded approvingly.

"Very nice. I'm sure the girls will be very impressed."

"Of course they will."

Harry laughed. "Well, I know I am," he replied, his voice cracking a little as he tried to fight off some impending laughter that he was sure Draco would not be particularly flattered by. "Socks are my number one concern when looking for a decent man."

Rolling his eyes a bit, Draco put on his shoes and stood up. "Were Dom's socks very nice?"

"They were great." Despite the joking tone that was hinted in this comment, Harry looked a bit miffed now, and he glanced off at the door. "Uh, can we make a move then?"

Draco nodded and took the moment to push Harry forward in the right direction, offering a half grin to the other man as he guided him out of the door. "Come on, Potter. He was a twat anyway. He must have something stuck incredibly far up his-" He paused. "Yeah, I'm going to end that sentence right there."

Harry smirked. "Please do."

* * *

By the time Harry and Draco had reached the club, there was a very long queue formed by a large number of young looking wizards and witches. Looking inside revealed that the club was already busy, as Harry had predicted it would be, and Draco had to wonder if it was really worth going in rather than finding a slightly more secluded spot.

Going out with Harry Potter was rather like wandering around in broad daylight with a member of royalty, which Draco supposed was fitting because Harry was far more well known than most wizards his age. However, Draco was sure it wouldn't have been such a big deal if it wasn't him going out clubbing with The Boy Who Lived, being that they were still well known for being enemies and nobody had ever really considered the idea that they might not be, after all.

It was a cold night, and Draco almost regretted wearing such a sheer top. He would have given it more thought, but knew that it made him look fantastic and so didn't spend much time dwelling on it, having assumed that it was going to be a warm evening like all the others had been. He shivered now, however, and felt Harry's eyes on him in a way that he was certain was disapproving.

"What?" he asked with a frown as the two wizards joined the long line of people and fell into a position so that they were far away enough from each other to not look like they were Together (something Draco was certain he was more conscious of than Harry), and close enough so that they still stayed warm.

Harry shrugged. "You're such a big baby." His expression was serious when he said it, and Draco shot him a glare and folded his arms.

"I am not-"

"You are, look at you. You're sulking." Harry nodded pointedly and Draco could see the beginnings of a smirk on his face. If Draco didn't know better, he might have thought that Harry was flirting a bit. Fortunately for Draco, he did know better and was sure he had nothing to worry about.

Despite himself, however, he unfolded his arms and let them drop to his sides instead. Returning Harry's smirk a bit more obviously than the other boy was, Draco looked at his watch impatiently. "How long do you think we'll be out here? I'm really cold."

"It's only been open a few weeks, it's still really popular," Harry explained, but Draco clearly wasn't very impressed with this explanation and craned his neck to see the front of the line, which was a fair few feet away. He folded his arms again without even realising, and resisted the urge to hiss when Harry poked him in the side. "You're sulking again."

"Well, what do you expect?" Draco retorted. "I'm a sulky person." Harry didn't reply to this, only laughed, and Draco made a 'hmph' noise and returned to shooting the people nearer the entrance looks of disapproval.

It was ten minutes before they reached the front of the queue, much to Draco's annoyance, although he had stopped whining and had eventually fallen silent with an indifferent expression on his face despite the fact that he was quite prepared to sulk and complain about it later to Harry. Draco decided he definitely would do that later, and made a mental note of it.

The one particularly good thing that Draco found about going out with Harry to Accio was that they got in for free, purely because Harry was Harry. Draco also suspected it was because the bouncer was female and was eyeing him up quite blatantly, for which he was silently flattered but for some reason not in the slightest bit interested. He could not work out exactly why, but he wasn't really in the mood to play tonsil hockey with a bouncer tonight. She wasn't unattractive, but... he just didn't really know.

Accio was decorated with a theme of silver, chromes and black, and was definitely one of the more classy establishments in The Alley. Draco felt very at home as he slid onto a black leather sofa and stretched himself out. When Harry stood around and shifted in front of him, Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's the problem? It's not one of those biting seats..."

This caused Harry to give a half frown that Draco thought was particularly pointless, and he nodded his head to the dance floor. "Don't you want to go and dance?"

"Potter," Draco started with a dubious expression, "do I look even remotely pissed yet?"

Harry's half frown expanded so that it was marginally less pathetic but distinctly more annoying, and he retorted, " ...but what's the point in coming to a club if you won't dance? I can't really go by myself, can I?"

"Yes, you can." Draco didn't look fazed in the slightest when Harry's frown deepened yet again, and he settled further back on the sofa. "Are you going to buy me a drink?"

Looking a little happier now, Harry sat down next to him and caught his eye, then smirked. "Only if you dance."

"But- look Potter, I can buy my own drink," Draco said finally, a hint of irritation to his tone that gave away his growing annoyance. He had never liked having to do things that he didn't want to, particularly when he could just as well say no, and this case was no exception. However, Harry was clearly affronted by the other man's reaction, and so he gave a deep sigh. "One song. Two drinks. That's my offer, take it or leave it."

Harry grinned and stood up, grabbing Draco's hand as he did and leading him away from the sofa towards the dance floor. It was a few moments before Draco had realised what had happened, and he freed his hand from Harry's before following him to a spot that was barely free enough for two people to fit.

One of the reasons Draco generally didn't dance until drunk was because of the crowds, and the people that these crowds tended to be made up of. Everyone always seemed to be sweaty and invasive and intent on grabbing Draco in places that were better left ungrabbed. Of course, if it happened to be a nice looking young lady then it wasn't such a problem, but there was always bound to be some drunk forty year old man about who was reliving his childhood by sleeping with other men. These were the men Draco tried very hard to avoid.

Much to Draco's surprise, Harry wasn't a bad dancer, and was clearly very comfortable being there on the dance floor. This was much the opposite of Draco, who was quite certain he could dance when drunk but felt much less confident about his abilities when he hadn't had so much as a shot of tequila. This shot of tequila was currently very, very appealing.

It was when Harry put his hands to Draco's hips that Draco jumped back and nearly knocked over the scarily huge man behind him, who in turn bumped into the girl he was trying to pull, and then promptly threw a fist in Draco's direction. The man was apparently an accurate shot, or so thought the quickly swelling bruise that now adorned Draco's cheek, and Draco hit the floor quite immediately.

Five minutes later, bouncers were everywhere, and five minutes after that, Draco and Harry were kicked out of Accio.

* * *

"Draco, slow down a bit-"

Without looking back, Draco called, "I cannot express how much the answer to that is no." He continued walking down through The Alley, which was tonight decorated with magical fairy lights that fluttered down occasionally to smile at Draco. Normally he might have smiled back and given them the knuts they were always after, but tonight he was not in the mood.

Harry was about five feet behind him, struggling to keep up. They had been walking this way for the past ten minutes or so, ever since they had left Accio and Draco had refused to stand alongside the other man. "Draco- for fuck's sake, why are you pissed off?"

This made Draco stop, which Harry might have been happy about if he hadn't looked so very annoyed. "Why do you think I'm pissed off, Potter? First you try to take advantage of me in a very public-"

"I did not!" Harry interrupted, only to be cut off very quickly.

"-in a very public place," Draco repeated with some emphasis, "and then I get hit in the face by a fat, ugly biker sort who looks like he should be on a Wanted poster. Now I have a fat, ugly bruise as some sort of testament to that, and I'm never, ever going to get a job! And and and I'm going to have to stop hanging around with you, because you quite clearly have some strange obsession with me. Which has to stop. Obviously."

Harry folded his arms, and heaved a heavy sigh. "Are you quite finished?"

"Now that you mention it, no I'm not. I never got those drinks either." Draco looked further insulted and for a moment like he might throw a punch of his own. "Now I'm finished."

"Okay, well first of all," Harry said, and Draco rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Harry was about to launch into a huge speech that Draco didn't really care to hear, but rather than stop him, he just looked off and sighed again. "I didn't try to take advantage of you- I was trying to help you!"

"Help me?" Draco spat. "You were feeling me up, more like."

"I was trying to make you more at ease with the dancing, you looked really uncomfortable. Like I said, I was trying to help." Harry nodded pointedly, as though having firmly made his point and to accent that it was not an excuse either, which it wasn't. "It's not my fault you're- well, I dunno. You're something, though."

This hadn't seemed to ease Draco's mind anymore; it had definitely aggravated him though, particularly the last comment, to which he retorted now, "Well, I'm so sorry, Potter. Pardon me for not being terribly fond of other men trying to make me more 'comfortable'. That's not the kind of comfortable I'm into, remember? I'm not gay."

Harry raised his eyebrows at this, and after a moment of silence, he muttered in a tone that Draco was certain was not particularly convinced, "Yeah, whatever you say."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not going to sit and spell it out for you, Malfoy," Harry said finally, and Draco could safely say this was the most annoyed he'd ever seen the other boy before. "I'm just starting to think this friendship was a dead loss from day one, that's all." With that, he turned to walk in the opposite direction.

Draco frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Home." This was all Harry said, and then he continued to walk. Draco watched him until he was out of sight, and then turned and left The Alley. This hadn't gone as he had thought it might.

* * *

Examining his bruise - which was purpling and swelling even as he looked at it - in the mirror in his blue and green bathroom, Draco considered owling Harry. He then considered going round Harry's house to see him, before realising he didn't actually know where Harry lived. He then thought about sending Hermione an owl to ask where Harry lived, and remembered that this probably wasn't a very good idea either.

Draco had never really had arguments with proper friends, had never felt at a loss like he was now, and so he really didn't know what he was supposed to do about it. He had got home and changed into something less restrictive, and had asked the apartment very kindly to get him some aspirin, which it had, and then he had sat down on his sofa and contemplated what to do. An hour and a half later, his headache felt ten times the worse and he was still as confused as anything.

He wasn't mad at Harry anymore; there seemed no point. After all, it was hardly as though the other boy had pounced him in broad daylight, and his explanation seemed to make sense. Maybe Harry had just been trying to loosen him up.

But still, Draco considered, there were other ways of loosening people up. Draco wasn't a toy to be adjusted whenever Harry wanted, and he was sure Harry would have understood this. Apparently not, though, and now everything seemed a bit out of place and strange and Draco couldn't think of a single thing to cheer himself up, particularly when staring at his face in the mirror.

He had probably looked worse, but the bruise was just so- obvious. There was no denying it, and Draco dreaded seeing his mother the next time she stopped by. He couldn't even be bothered to go and get it fixed by a cosmetic witch - they were easy to find in Diagon Alley, many had small shops where you could pay a small amount to rid yourself of a graze or cut or bruise. Sometimes you could even get scars removed, if the price was right. Draco had wondered why Harry didn't do that to his scar, but had always corrected himself that it was really fairly obvious why he didn't do it if you really thought about it.

The phone rang then, and Draco had a short fit whilst looking for it, getting further irritated by the novelty tone he had picked on a strange and fleeting whim whilst in Dom's office. Finally, he uncovered it among a pile of his underwear, to find it surrounded by letters spelling out the name 'Potter!' as a forewarning to who was on the other end.

Draco answered immediately. "Hello?"

"Do you have any idea where Harry is?" It wasn't Harry after all; it was Hermione, presumably at Harry's home for what reason Draco didn't know and didn't really care. Sighing a bit and taking a fair amount of time to attempt to reply, he wasn't surprised when Hermione snapped, "Is he with you?"

"Calm down, Granger," Draco said dryly after another beat. "He's not here, I don't know where he is. He told me he was going home."

Hermione sighed loudly, causing Draco to roll his eyes on his end of the phone. "Well, he's not here. What if he got murdered or raped or something?"

"Since when were you his bloody mother? Who cares where he is? He's probably just shagging the arse off of some strange bloke in a hotel somewhere." Draco turned his nose up a bit at this mental image, but Hermione obviously didn't notice and she just seemed more worried and, if possible, more wound up.

Her voice was strained and shrill when she announced, "I suppose you find this funny, do you?"

"Not particularly," Draco said honestly; he was more tired than anything else, and also still a bit disappointed that it hadn't been Harry calling to apologise profusely, after all. "I am a bit bored, though."

Draco could almost see the offended look on Hermione's face. "Oh, so I'm boring, now?"

A smirk crossed over his features as he replied, leaning against his wall, "You know I don't find you in the slightest bit boring, Granger. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Oh shut up, Draco, you're disgusting." Draco could only assume Hermione had slammed down the phone, because the dial tone sounded, and a high pitched voice told him his call had lasted a minute and a half and that he'd had no other calls during that time. It also told him that his tone had been on Scale Four of the Wizard's Individual Politeness Scale (W.I.P.S., of course), the worst score possible being a five. Draco rolled his eyes, decidedly not caring.

* * *

For the next two days, Draco heard nothing from Harry, or Hermione, the latter of which suited him just fine but the former bothering him more than he cared to admit. He was actually worried about Harry, because the boy was hardly streetwise as far as Draco could see, and the fact that he hadn't actually gone home the night they'd had the argument didn't come across as promising at all.

Of course, Hermione hadn't called again, which could be perceived as a positive thing but could also just be more about the way their conversation had ended. Draco reasoned that he probably shouldn't have been quite so- obvious about his ever growing attraction to the girl who had always frustrated him so much, but it had been fun at the time, and had seemed a very good idea.

He had gone looking down The Alley the night after, just in case he caught sight of Harry, but there had been no luck; Harry had not been there, and he had had the utter displeasure of seeing the wizard that had hit him hanging around outside Accio. Draco wasn't sure if he had been spotted, as he had been too busy making a quick and swift exit down the next side street.

After that, Draco had gone for a lonely drink in the newly revamped Leaky Cauldron (although it still had much of the old charm that lured the professors from Hogwarts in on a regular basis during summer months) and considered his options. They were fairly simple - he could give up looking for Harry and be lonely and friendless all over again, and this time without the enjoyment of sleeping with Verity, or he could continue to owl him and wait for a reply.

The latter was far more appealing, obviously enough, and Draco could only now appreciate that he actually liked Harry. It was a strange revelation at first, to think that he really did want to remain friends with the boy who he had so happily hated back in school. However, Draco supposed you couldn't help who you were friends with, and the argument had definitely set him back.

He had also met an obstacle every time he recalled what Harry had said to him down in The Alley - their friendship had been a dead loss from the start. Draco didn't think was strictly true; he had enjoyed the time they'd spent together, and couldn't really understand where Harry was coming from at all. Draco had been sure things had been going along quite smoothly, and it was off putting to realise that perhaps Harry didn't feel the same way.

The Leaky Cauldron had ended up seeming far too busy for Draco's liking, and he was still suffering from his headache. So he left after only one or two bottles of butterbeer (which reminded him almost too much of school, once again bringing it to the forefront of his mind) and took a slow walk back home. Home now was a bit further away from Diagon Alley, but Draco didn't really mind. Sometimes a walk was refreshing, and Draco very much needed to be refreshed.

Walking was something that wasn't hugely popular with wizards when they could travel by broomstick or Floo or Knight Bus, among the many, far easier methods of transport, but Draco had found that walking reminded him of when he was younger and had spent hours just circling the acres of Malfoy Manor with his owl, training it up to move faster than the others, more swiftly and fluently. Draco had found walking had helped with the training, and so had forced himself to put up with it, despite his inner self screaming that it was too much like hard work.

Now he walked when bored, having changed very much from the teenager he had once been not so long ago, and when the weather was nice enough - which it very much was on this particular evening. It was warm again, even at ten o'clock in the evening, a great contrast from when he and Harry had gone to Accio (when Draco was sure the weather had been a bit of a fluke to annoy him). Draco almost felt sad when he reached home and got inside.

However, there was something to distract him when he got back, and so he didn't think much on it after all.

* * *

"I've lost Harry," Hermione was saying now, sat on Draco's sofa and frowning in such a way that Draco inwardly thought made her look very sweet, which was unusual because Hermione Granger never really looked sweet. Irritated yes, and irritating definitely, but sweet was not an adjective Draco would ever pick out specifically for her. "I've lost him! The Daily Prophet are going to label me a total failure!"

Draco sighed; this was the fifth or sixth time he and Hermione had had this conversation in the past hour. "Look, Granger, you haven't lost him. He's lost himself, alright? He obviously doesn't want to be found, so why don't you stop trying to bloody find him?"

Hermione looked at him, her eyes shining with fear and only serving to remind Draco just why he found her irritating. "What if he's dead?"

"Haven't we been over this?" Draco sighed and put his hands on his hips. "He's not dead and, more importantly, how the fuck did you find out where I live?"

Clearly caught out, Hermione looked down at her hands before glancing back up to face Draco. "I looked in Harry's address book. I had to, I thought you might have seen him again and I'm just- I'm worried, Draco."

"I don't see why; he's a big boy, Hermione," Draco said before rolling his eyes at Hermione's patented shocked expression that seemed to assume Draco was talking about something different altogether. "I don't mean that. Why does everybody seem to think I'm gay?"

Hermione shrugged. "You have a quality."

"Oh, fuck off."

There was a silence for a short period of time - Hermione sitting on the sofa shifting awkwardly as she tried to think of where Harry could have possibly gone that she hadn't checked, Draco trying to think of ways to get Hermione out of his apartment in swift time.

Finally, after what seemed an age, Hermione stood up with a sigh. "I suppose I should just go back to Ron's. Harry might have phoned there."

"Yes, because from what you've told me, he's making a habit of calling today." Draco rolled his eyes at Hermione's Look, and then smirked as he gently led her to the front door. "Come on, I'm only pissing about. Go home and sleep, and stop fucking worrying about Potter and his disappearing act. He'll be back before you know it, I'm sure. Nobody's lucky enough to lose the strife in their life, and this is no exception."

Hermione sighed a little bit again, stood still as they got to the front door and then, without seeming to think on it at all, she tilted her head up and kissed Draco on the cheek. Draco jumped back for the second time that week and gave her a scathing look. "What are you doing? Jesus Christ, is everyone insane this week?"

"I was saying thank you," Hermione said shrilly, clearly not happy at the way this had been perceived. Draco couldn't be sure if this was because he was misunderstood, or because he wasn't. "Not everything is about sex, Draco."

Draco swallowed, then sighed and opened the door. "Alright, Granger. Just- go home and remember, your taste is ugly men like Weasley. I'm far too attractive for your liking-"

Nodding, Hermione hung in the doorway for a moment before stepping out into the corridor. "Thank you, anyway. You're much better at calming me down than Ron."

"Well, apparently he's there to excite you," Draco barely managed to say, with obvious distaste. "And yes- I will call if I hear from Potter. And yes, I would like a call if you hear from him. Now go before I push you down the stairs and bruise up those lovely slim legs of yours."

A few minutes passed after Draco had closed the door, and sat back down before-

"Do you think she knew I was here?"

Draco shook his head and glanced back at Harry. "Nah, I doubt it."