Queer & There

Chapter Nine
Quick Fixes

"I think we should talk," Draco said in a quiet voice, glancing down at his feet awkwardly for a long moment before drawing his eyes up to meet the ones in front of him.

The reply that came was, "I think you're probably right," and so Draco pushed off the doorframe and followed Hermione inside to the hallway of her and Ron's home. Draco had been a bit surprised when he had reached Filmer Street and found not apartments as he had expected, but well presented two bedroom houses, most of them with neatly arranged gardens out in front.

Draco had half expected Ron Weasley would live in a decrepit hovel, but supposed this was a bit presumptuous; Hermione had a good job in the Ministry and could easily afford a nice place to live, and it seemed he was right about that much.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably now, Draco stood in the hall for a minute or two before Hermione re-emerged from the living room and cocked an eyebrow. "Are you coming in or not?" she asked, her tone snappy, and Draco took that to mean he should probably follow before she took out some sort of magical protection spray and attacked him with it.

"Yeah," he said, looking around warily for any sign of red hair or bad dress sense as he made his way inside properly and sat down on one of the chairs. "Is Weasley about then?"

"Ron?" Hermione asked, as though surprised Draco had even bothered to inquire. "No, he's at work. I don't work Fridays, so- well, I suppose you knew that."

Draco had to admit silently that he did know this; he had done a little research before coming round to see Hermione, just in case anyone else would be in when he was. He had also tried to arrange it at a time when he knew Harry was likely to be working or busy, to avoid any difficulty. However, it was still proving difficult, and so Draco just blurted out in a voice that was nervous and not terribly convincing, "I think something's happening with us-"

It wasn't that Draco liked Hermione a lot, it wasn't really even that he liked her at all. She was annoying and despite her attractive traits, she knew far too much to actually be considered a proper match for Draco, who preferred to know as little as possible to get him by.

However. There was something inside him that seemed to want to be gay, and this was the sort of behaviour that had to be stopped before it started. The best way Draco knew how to do this was to find a woman, and Hermione was certainly that if nothing else.

At the exact same time as Draco had 'bared his heart', Hermione announced, "You kissed Harry," and then looked at Draco wide eyed as she heard what he said. Her cheeks flushed, and a flash of anger crossed briefly through her expression as she said sharply, "There is nothing happening with us. And you kissed Harry. How dare you come round here and tell me there is something happening between us when you-"

Draco sighed heavily, wishing he had just turned to alcohol instead of Hermione as it at least would be forgiving in its own individual way. "Alright, Granger, calm it down. You don't have to get all hysterical about it."

"Why did you kiss Harry?"

It was a simple question, yet Draco couldn't answer it. However, he was damned if he wouldn't try and so his equally simple response was, "Moment of stupidity."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that, Draco," she said almost immediately, holding back an angry glare in favour of a disapproving one. She was looking at her feet, Draco couldn't help but note, which probably meant she was more than a little bit jealous. "Why did you do it? It wasn't stupidity, nobody who likes someone like Harry can claim to be an idiot. It was probably the most sensible thing you've ever done."

Raising his eyebrows, Draco challenged, "How so?", his gaze on Hermione still, who remained blush red around her cheeks and neck, and still refused to look up at Draco's face. "And I don't like him," he added snappily. Before Hermione could protest, he continued, "How was it sensible? I'm ready to forget the whole thing ever happened."

"Harry says you haven't been home since," Hermione started, finally looking at the blond man sat opposite her with unhidden annoyance. "Harry says he doesn't know where you are, and he doesn't know what to do. Harry says he's very confused and hurt and he thinks you like him but then again maybe you don't and for God's sake Draco, he's driving me absolutely insane. It's only been a day and he has called me at least six times."

There was a long silence in which Draco bit his lip thoughtfully, and then said, "Well... he's wrong. I don't like him."

Hermione frowned. "Don't you think you should tell him that?" she asked carefully, stepping back from Draco as though he might try something, which he probably would have given half the chance. "Instead of coming round here pretending to like me, of all people." She made an embarrassed little face that Draco thought was very cute.

"Well, I do sort of like you," Draco mumbled, although it was particularly unconvincing once again, because it wasn't that he liked her - it was just... well, she wasn't Harry bloody Potter, that was what. Once again, Draco had the distinct urge to cry. This just wasn't fair; things like this didn't happen to people like him. He was a sexy, single bachelor with all of himself to give, and giving it to Harry Potter would just be a waste. A waste, he reiterated in his mind.

There was that familiar, sad little smile on Hermione's face again, the one that Draco often found himself wanting to wipe off. "I think you should go home," she suggested in an equally irritating tone of voice. "Harry's probably waiting for you, you know."

"Oh bloody joy," Draco said very unenthusiastically as he allowed himself to be encouraged toward the door. Hermione seemed very keen to be rid of him, there was no question of that. Draco was mildly insulted, but still allowed it anyway. It couldn't be easy to be attracted to him when you were stuck with a Weasley, after all.

"And," he added as he was nudged out the door, "I don't like him, alright?"

Hermione smiled. "Oh, alright then. If you say so."

* * *

As soon as Draco walked into the flat he and Harry were now sharing (although possibly not for very long if the Boy Who Lived was going to continue jumping on him at every opportunity, Draco thought), he was welcomed by the sound of Harry's voice announcing, "I think you like me."

"Oh bloody hell," Draco mumbled, pulling off his jacket and wondering how it was possible that Harry didn't even have the decency to let him get in the living room before he started a full scale attack. When he did get further into the flat, Harry met him, standing by the door way to the small living room with his arms folded. "What, Potter?"

Harry gave him a fairly incredulous look and made a wild sort of motion around the room for absolutely no reason, as far as Draco could see. "I think you like me, and you've been avoiding me, Draco. That's not fair."

Once again, Draco said, "Bloody hell," but quite a bit louder. If he had known Harry had been so prone to histrionics, he would have stayed out of the way for another day or so, and he had to wonder how it had been that Hermione had convinced him to go back to the flat when he could have spent a good hour or two getting very, very drunk in one of the many clubs and pubs in The Alley.

"What the hell does 'bloody hell' mean?" Harry retorted in a voice that was far too shrill to be male, if you asked Draco, which Harry didn't because he was too busy going on in the same high pitched voice. "You know what, Draco? You're ridiculous; you're horrible to me and then you're nice to me, and then you kiss me, and then you run off again! It's really bloody ridiculous, Draco, and why are you laughing at me?"

True to the accusation being made, Draco was in the middle of another fit of giggles that he thought were very masculine, thank you very much. "It's just," he started with a Cheshire Cat grin, "you're very funny when you're pissed off... it's a side to you I've never seen, Potter."

Harry glared. "I swear, I'm so tempted to hit you..."

This elicited another long-winded laughter attack from Draco, who was really quite thrilled at the idea of Harry Potter trying to hit him. The day before had been a very different story, and Draco had to admit that Harry was apparently almost as much of a drama queen as him when it came to sexy men.

"Potter," he started now, still grinning broadly. "You couldn't hit me if you bloody tried, you'd probably end up trying to molest me or something." Looking very proud of himself, Draco sauntered past Harry into the living room, feeling the other man's eyes helplessly follow him.

Draco could tell that Harry was confused and very much trying to work out exactly what the best way to handle this was. It was also quite apparent that he had absolutely no idea where to start with trying to come to a conclusion as to how to do so, which pleased Draco immensely. This surely meant Harry would be out of his way for the rest of the night, and perhaps even the next day, which suited Draco down to the ground.

So ensued a long silence, in which Draco went to the kitchen area to make a sandwich of sorts with what remained in the kitchen; a single slice of white bread, a banana and some very suspicious looking spread that could have been chocolate but tasted more like Branston pickle. Harry meanwhile had taken to sitting on the couch and staring into space, something that Draco suspected he had been doing non stop for the past day.

"Look, Draco," Harry said suddenly, his voice quieter and far more bleak-sounding than it had been before; it had lost its angry edge. "I'm really-"

Draco cut him off, as he replaced the lid on the pickle/chocolate jar, "Weird? Annoying? In need of a lesson in tongue practice?" Raising his eyebrow, he took a bite of his sandwich, made a disgusted face and coughed. He then proceeded to throw the rest of it away. "Potter, there's no point talking about this kiss, if you really can call it that."

Harry sighed. "That's what I'd call it," he mumbled under his breath, having apparently given up on any sort of defence tactic and resorting to quiet insecurity. "I bet you just think I'm stupid then, don't you?" he asked now, his gaze shooting towards Draco and holding there for a long moment.

"I don't think you're stupid," Draco replied with a little tongue-in-cheek smile. "I reckon you're a bit lonely or something, that's why you jumped on me the other night and all that malarkey."

"I didn't jump on you!" Harry exclaimed, this comment apparently causing him to get to his feet, and he did so with newly regained annoyance. "You were the one who- you kissed me, not the other way around...!" He paused. "You are so fucking impossible, I don't understand you."

This was followed by a long almost silence aside from the noise caused by Draco cluttering through the shelves for something half way edible. The blond man then stood still, leaning against the work surface as though deep in thought. "Look, I'm willing to forget about this. I know you have this crazy little idea that I actually came onto you, but I still think you're an alright sort of guy. So how about we just pretend like it never happened and go back to our everyday lives?"

Harry gaped a bit. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Ever. I can't believe you just said that."

"What about that time Weasley told everyone he thought the clitoris was an estranged type of dragon that had died out in three of the continents?"

This was rewarded another gawking glare, and then Harry finally just gave a heavy sigh and said, "Oh just fuck off, Draco," before walking out of the flat hastily.

* * *

It was three hours later that Draco got an owl from his mother demanding that he make his way across to the Manor to see her. The letter stated:

Draco,

Am tired of having an awful son who I have to follow around, and so I feel it is time you came to see me for a change, don't you? I have put up some lovely chandeliers in the front lobby that I think you will find impeccable - they are made of beautifully cut diamond - and it would be a shame for you to miss seeing them. I cannot keep catering to your every whim, you know.

Mummy has also made you a lovely treacle tart.

Draco looked at the letter for a moment or two before decidedly screwing it up in the palm of one hand and throwing it into the bin, which set it on fire upon Draco's command and seemed very satisfied afterwards. Draco was starting to think the bin was a bit of a sadist; he wasn't sure if this was a good quality for a bin to have, because generally they were fairly non-responsive.

Nonetheless, it got rid of his mother's incessant carrying on in the form of a letter, and allowed Draco to push the idea of visiting to the back of his head. Life was clearly complicated enough at the moment, with the club plans and Harry having moved in and- and all that rubbish with Hermione. Yes.

It was difficult to decide what exactly Draco thought of Hermione, but he was definitely paying far more attention to her than he ever had done. In school, she was just a boring little Mudblood Gryffindor, but Draco supposed this really was a testament to just how people can change. It also spoke volumes for the application of makeup and clingier outfits, which Hermione had certainly adopted but seemed able to wear with a bit of class.

All he had ever wanted in a woman, Draco had always thought, was indeed a little class, a beautiful figure, effort made. A doting girlfriend who could hang on his right arm and look almost as gorgeous as him would be ideal, and he had thought that Verity had almost been the doting girlfriend. If only she hadn't been, well, a bit of a miserable cow, Draco could almost have seen the relationship going somewhere. The sex had certainly been very good, and this was enough to make Draco consider it relationship-worthy.

However, that hadn't panned out and Draco was now having delusions of emotion for Hermione Granger, and... and Not Harry Potter. If it hadn't been for that one incident with the barman that reassured him of how very Straight he was, Draco might start to wonder if he really were attracted to men. However, this was not a problem anymore, and Draco could safely say that the kiss the previous night was all a big tired episode. That, and Harry was quite clearly obsessed with him. This would not do, but Draco supposed it would incredibly rude to ask him to move out so soon. Yes, it would wait.

At this point of thought, the telephone rang and scared Draco. He was still having some difficulty getting used to all the Muggle technology, and the sound that the apartment phone made really was fairly atrocious. Unfortunately, Draco had a habit of just throwing it somewhere once done with it, and could never find it until it had been ringing for what seemed like a torturous hour.

Finally locating it, Draco did indeed answer it. "Malfoy residence-" He smirked a bit to himself, thoroughly impressed with his ability to be humorous even in crisis. However, he was quickly cut off by the sound of Ron's voice.

"Oh shut up," was the first thing he said, causing Draco to sneer. "Is Harry about?"

Draco looked about the apartment, and then remembered the other man's dramatic performance earlier. "Nope, he's gone out to sulk somewhere," he replied, his tone one of complete nonchalance that was only enhanced by the fact that it was Weasley he was talking to. "Couldn't tell you where, exactly. Probably throwing himself off a canal."

"You wish, Malfoy, he doesn't care about you that much," Ron shot back, and then the phone line was very quiet as both men tried to think of something to say that might perhaps make this comment go away. "Well... I mean- he doesn't like you. At all, really." Another long silence followed this admission, and Draco would rather Ron had just stopped talking, but apparently he was adamant to go on making this mess even worse. "No, he likes you. I mean, he reckons you're an alright sort, he just doesn't fancy you at all. Because you're not good looking."

Draco snorted. "I bloody well am," he replied confidently, a little smile playing on his lips. "I'm absolutely gorgeous. I don't want you to agree, so please don't. In fact, bugger off. I'm sure there's something better I could be doing than this. Licking Dumbledore's toes would be more thrilling. Licking Dumbledore's-"

"Malfoy," Ron cut him off again, "ugh, shut up. If Harry gets home..."

"I'll tell him his hair looks crap and ask him if we have any chocolate peanut butter," Draco supplied in a particularly bored tone that he tried very hard to make known, "and then I will probably forget you called, as you are an utter non entity in my life. Sound fine?"

A heavy sigh was heard. "Whatever, Malfoy."

"Absolutely lovely talking to you as well, Weasley. Hope it never happens again."

Draco hung up the phone.

* * *

DRACO MALFOY'S BOYFRIEND
Story inside The Daily Prophet! Exclusive!

Sources have told the Daily Prophet that Draco Malfoy is stepping out with gorgeous hero Harry Potter in a bright and very 'gay' statement. The son of the now-deceased Lucius Malfoy is said to have moved in with the Boy Who Lived, and their friendship has developed from cheerful bantering to late night activities. A close friend of Harry's, who shall remain unnamed for protection purposes, had this to say:

"They are so into each other. I think they'll be going public very, very soon."

The Daily Prophet has every confidence that this is the case, as our very own reporters have seen the two young 'lovebirds' out on many occasions. They were seen to be openly grooving of the dance floor of famous club, Accio, where Malfoy had to heroically see off a large homophobic oaf. We say well done, boys. Since the days of Gregory The Gay, the Wizarding World has become far more accepting of the growing gay community, as was seen upon Harry Potter's 'coming out' not long ago.

The Daily Prophet wishes Malfoy and Potter the best of luck. It is clear to see that they are thoroughly involved in each other, despite their wishes to keep it under wraps for the time being. This is a highly respectable decision, that the Prophet fully supports and feels is completely understandable. We can only speculate until we hear more...

Only time will tell! Keep reading the Daily Prophet to find out!

* * *

On Monday morning, the people of the Wizarding World woke up at separate times, in separate places, with separate agendas. Most of these people opened their copy of the Daily Prophet and were heard to exclaim, although some much more loudly and vehemently than others. One of these people being Draco, the exclamation involved a lot of swearing, and a lot of going into Harry's bedroom to throw the newspaper at him.

Following the newspaper being thrown, Draco screamed as he saw a flash of nudity, and then screamed again as he saw another flash of another man's nudity, and abruptly left the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He was followed closely by Harry, who had had the grace to put on a pair of boxers, although Draco still insisted on shielding his eyes and facing the other direction, arms folded.

Harry was holding the copy of the Prophet, and he looked to Draco with bleary eyes. "What is the matter with you?" he said, a hint of tired anger creeping through in his tone, "Why the bloody hell are you assaulting me with newspapers?!"

"Because," Draco hissed, not careful to keep his voice down or giving any consideration to whoever the other person in Harry's bed was, because he did. Not. Care. "Because I hate you. I bloody hate hate hate you and I want you to die. Right now. Go on. DIE."

A look of increasingly obvious confusion was settling on Harry's face, as he unfolded the newspaper in his hand and looked at it. The look of confusion changed into one that was first a little horrified, but then mildly amused. "Oh come on, Draco. What's the big deal? We're not going out."

Draco's mouth dropped. "I KNOW THAT."

"So... oh, you asked for this anyway, you know you did." Harry was looking far too smug for Draco's liking, as the darker haired man glanced over the article again and smirked slightly. "Look, this is full of errors anyway, for crying out loud. What are you so worried about?"

"I'M NOT GAY." Draco seemed to have lost the ability to talk quietly, and his face was very pale, his arms folded tightly across his chest and he was now turned to face Harry directly. "MY MOTHER. Is. Going. To. Think. I'm. Gay."

Harry laughed. "Well, everyone else does." This was met with a far too shrill objection from Draco, which was not so much vocal as just barely audible, any words that happened to exist being squashed together to make a simple squeak of indignation. "I can name about five people who do."

There was a pause, as Draco unfolded his arms and started to wring his hands together. "I hate you," he repeated, more to himself but obviously directing the comment at Harry in some capacity. "I really, really, really hate you and I wish I had never asked you to move in and I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack. Or an aneurysm, can men our age get aneurysms?!" This long trail of speech was followed by something that sounded very much like, "Gah," although Harry was unsure what this indicated.

"Look, nobody's going to take any notice," Harry replied now, his voice a little more sympathetic, because Draco really did look as though the vein in his temple might explode. "And if anyone asks me... I'll tell them the truth."

Draco was hopeful now. "You will?"

"Of course," Harry smiled. Draco did too. "That you kissed me two nights ago and now you're pretending it never happened." Draco stopped smiling. Harry didn't, and instead started to make his way back to his bedroom, tossing the newspaper over the side of the sofa and suddenly looking very much like Draco might have done had he carried out the action.

As Harry's bedroom door opened and closed again to let Harry inside, Draco could be heard shouting, "Why are you such a bastard?" although his tone was far whinier than actually menacing. "And who is in your room?!"

There was no response.