Expiry Date

Chapter Two:

Pairing etc: See previous

Notes: Thanks to all reviewers so far - you're great guys! Here be part the second, yet more plot setting up. I know there isn't so much Draco in this at the mo, but be patient and wait for chapter three! I would like to offer a warning, I know it's kind of a spoiler, but I think on balance you should know - HARRY IS ACTING OOC! THIS IS INTENTIONAL AND ALL WILL BE REVEALED LATER! Sorry, but I was afraid people might just think it was bad writing and stop reading…which would be sad * g*

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'He'll see you in a minute, Mr Weasley'

There is a finite amount of time for which we can delude ourselves. I should know that by now.

Guess I really don't have clue.

His concern - like that would be anything other than selfish.

And me! Like * I * was ever the centre of attention.

You were today

I've been around Harry so much I sometimes forget to check what people are really looking at. Today, after days of analysis and confusion and trying to get through the nights with slightly less mess than the days, I finally figured it out.

Draco wants Harry.

I think that phrase to make it calm, to place it in brute fact. But each time I think it the word 'want' just spirals into my stomach.

What the hell do either of * them * know about want? About need? The two richest students in the year…

And really, y'know, I'm relieved, because it was getting all too confusing. Not really my problem, now. If Draco's plan goes as he intends (and like Harry would really turn him down), then all my problems disappear.

Hello? You're sitting here waiting? I think your problems just began…

I just can't figure out at what point my dreams mutated into the two of them…together. Fighting and then…and then…and now * I * walk in and turn everything to coldness.

And I wake up warm. Wet. Alone.

In the small hours of the night I half wish Harry would wake up and see, and ask. Then I could tell him.

But what? I don't think I know what truth or whose truth to tell anymore. And he's been…distant, lately.

I like Harry. I hate Malfoy. That's how it's always been.

And then I woke up one day on the other side of adolescence and friends and enemies aren't all there is any more.

And he is * still * stalking me.

Was. He's not going anywhere just now…You have to think about it, you're being questioned in a minute…you have to remember, remember the Quidditch match

Come emotional turmoil, snow or invasion by the minions of the dark there is one force more powerful than any other: House Quidditch finals.

I would _ never _ tell the guys this, but Quidditch is more like, well, aerial ballet, than anything else. The skill and grace required of a good player is of the highest order - and when you've watched Harry for as many years as I have you can appreciate real talent.

I was wrong to say what I did to Draco Malfoy - he can play Quidditch. He's not as good as Harry, in that he doesn't have the same natural talent for riding a broomstick, but he's certainly earned his place on the team, and he works hard enough.

He was covered in sweat by the end.

His hair was almost brown in the moisture and he face was reddened. Harry wasn't much better and they stared, fixedly, holding each other's gaze in the minutes before the whistle blew and they set off after each goal. I couldn't see a damn thing - Hermione had the Omnioculars - I mean, it's ridiculous, it's played so far away that you can't even read the expression on the player's faces for godssakes.

Couldn't tell if they're in angry silence, or if they're talking…

I felt hot and cold all over, and red, and as sweaty as them and deep inside my stomach something was tripping out and pulling my insides into a knot.

That was when it first came to you 'Draco wants Harry'

They were so far away from me up there, so removed from anything in my world. Nice metaphor really.

And then…

They fell. Straight down and falling, fell right through all that cold air and down.

Sickening crunch as the Firebolt snapped in two.

Scream from either, or both, or someone in crowd, possibly me.

From, what? Fuck-hundred feet up and down to the ground.

Holding my best friend's hand and ignoring the blood and Draco * writhing * in pain and grabbing at my sweater blindly, the two of them twisted onto the parched grass.

But why are you * here *, waiting to see Dumbledore? Why aren't you in the Infirmary with Hermione?

I felt a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look round, Snape arrived, with Colin Creevey and Parvati Patel. I didn't even think how odd it was before Colin pointed at me and I tore my attention away just long enough to hear what he said:

'He did it! Ron Weasley! I saw it! He made them fall!'

And Harry looked up through green eyes struck-through with pain, took a shaky breath and choked

'Yes…I saw him…it was Ron!'

Draco pulled incessantly at my sleeve but I ignored him, gazing in bewilderment at the last vestiges of order in my world as Hermione helped Harry to the stretcher and a crowd of outraged teachers dragged me off here…

There is a finite time for which we can pretend our lives are stable.

And two minutes before three people tell Dumbledore I tried to kill my best friend….

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t.b.c……soon, very soon!