Expiry Date: Chapter Five

By Green

Warnings, Disclaimer etc: Please see first chapter

Notes: Thank-you to all lovely reviewers so far, and sorry again for the long gap before the last instalment. I'm back in business now and provided ff.n plays no more tricks I should be updating regularly now! This, I have to say, has been my favourite chapter so far (…mmmmmm..angst), although frankly it's been a bugger to write (I've re-written the damn thing five times now) hope y'all read and enjoy, and even if you don't please leave a review and help me improve * g *

~~***~~

When I awake I instantly realise that I should not have done.

My head feels like a sore pile of worn metal. It isn't helped by the fact that the morning sun is streaming daggers into my eyes…No, wait, that can't be right - both the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower and my bedroom at home are west-facing…

Green. I slowly become aware of green everywhere. Too much green, sickly green. I look down almost expecting it to have rubbed off onto my body, because I'm not wearing any clothes, which is because…

Oh no, please, please no….

With one hand shielding my eyes I twist round and find Draco still asleep, stretched out and soft and taking up about two-thirds of the space and all the covers, which should be so much less annoying given that it is the least of my problems right now.

Nausea hits me like a tidal wave.

Draco. No, no, oh god…

He looks bizarrely calm, asleep - when those calculating, experienced eyes are closed he seems almost vulnerable. Both of his hands grip the sheets tightly, like he's prepared to fight even in sleep, or he's afraid of having them taken.

Angry red marks on his back and neck. Where did they?

Oh.

Shit

His spine makes such a tempting trail up his back, knobbly and shadowed and…

The covers are all twisted around him like a swirl of smooth green cream…

I put my head in my hands and groan. This is * Draco * - what had had I thought? This is the person I had feared for so long, the person who had destroyed my ego over and over again, the person who I always prayed would never have anything to hold over me and now…this.

What the hell can I do?

Random thoughts spin through my head, nothing making any sense. It's like losing depth perception - all the prearranged ideas that I usually wake up with have just turned around, inside out and put themselves through a blender for good measure.

I can't seem to remember anything about it after we…after he kissed me…apart from looking up at some boy in the ceiling…

Mirror.

…but the sheets I lie on have enough evidence to show that we hadn't simply passed out, no damage done. We were stupid. Monumentally stupid. Stupid to the power of ten…When I think of what must have happened…

I'm so bloody * scared *…

But just now I need to get back to Hogwarts, I can't, mustn't think of any of this. I can see from the clock on the mantle-piece that it's 7:32 am. Breakfast is 7:45 to 8:30, so if I get back * now * I could still act like I'd gone for an early-morning stroll or something and no one would know…

But I would. That's bad enough.

Depression sinks thick and cold into my stomach, as into my minds eyes comes visions of him after this, now that he has the power to destroy me…

'Well, we all know about Weasley, don't we? What he does. What he likes. I wouldn't be surprised if he instructs half the year… Maybe we should get out the 'Weasley is our King' song again… What do you mean 'What are you talking about?' Potter? Don't you know? Hasn't he told you his little secret yet?'

Breathe. Breathe.

I take a deep steadying breath, then I cautiously reach out a hand as if he's red-hot and shake Draco by the shoulder.

'Mmmmmm. Hey…' He turns over and sort of rolls into my arm so that I'm hugging him, pressing us together so that I gather he's quite definitely pleased to see me. Our bodies fit right into each other as easily as if this was normality.

Mmmmmm back atcha…

Like: * Spark *, deep and painful and fast and all down my body so my toes curl.

He gives a little breathy sight in response and starts to nibble at my neck, just under my ear, one hand in my hair, and I manage a full-body shiver before I dig my fingers into his shoulder, feeling a bolt like ice, speeding into a dark vortex of sheer blinding fear, and push him away so hard and so fast I make him bounce as he hits the bed.

He raises his hands in mock defeat 'You're ticklish, yeah, I know, I'm sorry, you liked it enough last...'

No, no, no, no, no, no….

'Shu..Shut up!' I yell at him, one hand in my hair pulling at it the way you do when you are completely * lost * and I climb out of the bed and start frantically searching for my clothes because I can't look at Draco, at Malfoy stretched out on the stupid, mussed black and green bed and * eager * and confused and because there is no fucking * way * that he's going to hurt me again.

'Get the portkey' I continue, 'I have to get back to Hogwarts.'

'Oh'

He sounds relieved?

'Don't worry, Ron. I have it right here. We can easily get back before anyone misses us, and my parents won't get back for a few days - they're not about to walk in!'

Don't look, don't talk, don't give him anything else…

I start to pull on my pyjamas and look around in horror as I see the full extent of the damage to the room. This'll take months to repair! The Malfoys are going to be furious!

'The House Elves will clear up, Ron, it's cool.'

I have to look at him. I thought that this was his statement, his rebellion. He seems to understand:

'There's no point in letting them know I know about all that business. I need their money, Ron; I need my Father's power. Besides, what do they care about antiques? All the decent stuff's in the vault anyway.'

He looks sad, then shrugs his shoulders and smiles, this weird new genuine smile thing that he's suddenly started:

'Now come back here, we've got time. We don't have to leave just yet, there's time for one more.' He rests his chin on his hands, lying on his stomach and kicking his legs in the air, unashamedly naked.

And smiling, which I had never seen, which tugs at my chest and makes the bridge of my nose shoot in pain because it feels so nice. This is wrong. This won't last. He could never be forever smiling at me…This isn't my fault. None of this…the hell I've been going through the past few days, none of it's my fault and now this…

I spit the anger out at him:

'No! No more of…this - there is no * this *, there is no * we *. Just put on your fucking clothes and get me out of here.' I throw his T-shirt in his face and turn away.

Don't let your voice shake like that.

I know how he looks without having to see; he's confused. He's angry, but there's nothing he can do about it. I've been as mean as I possibly can, because now whatever he says or does there's no way he can come off looking like the bastard in this situation.

He can't hurt me again. Not this time.

There's no response he can make that won't make it look like what I said bothered him. Like he cares what I said. And Draco Malfoy doesn't care about anything, does he?

So he says nothing. He gets dressed efficiently, expressionlessly, with no attempt at false modesty over his body, picks up the brush from the bedside table and holds it out to me at arm's length. He won't meet my eyes, and I'm glad of it.

I half-expect him to cast a spell on me or something. I don't know him. I was stupid to forget I fear him.

And now I fear myself around him.

As I touch the brush the bedroom dissolves and my feet feel the hard shock of Hogwart's flagstones. Less than twelve hours ago we stood here and my entire world had been different. It had been one I wanted to live in.

Draco and I stand like statues, clutching this stupid hairbrush.

He's put on his T-shirt back-to-front.

I can hear his breathing and see the white smoky vapour it makes in the chill of the cellars and we both shake slightly in the cold. He appears to be in shock.

Of course he is, think what he's done for you these past days. He's been the only vaguely kind person in my world

If it was anyone else, well, I would feel pretty guilty…

But it's * Draco Malfoy *. That just keeps blaring like a klaxon in my head, my head that's still fuzzy and dim and full of pain.

Which is why I drop the brush and make for the door. When I reach it I turn around:

He has to know you're strong…

'Listen, Malfoy, this never happened.'

If he notices his surname, he doesn't show it. He opens his mouth to speak, but is stopped by the chiming of the school clock, which doesn't seem to bother him but cuts through my head like a knife.

No…wrong…mustn't…no…wrong…wrong…wrong…

It all suddenly overpowers me and I double over and vomit on the floor, then collapse in a heap.

He walks up to me, steps over my prone form and through the door. He leaves.

I expect him to kick me in the head, to punish me, to teach me a lesson. But I simply tense for a blow that never came and it makes me retch again.

And that makes me cry.

~~***~~

When I returned to Hogwarts the morning after the night before nobody commented on my absence. Well, partly, I suppose because so many of them still weren't talking to me.

All that seemed so distant and far away, old problems.

I had changed, and showered about ten times, and got through until lunch with my lessons before I even knew it. Sometimes life's like that when it sucks.

To this day I have never been able to remember anything of what we did that night, beyond when he first put his deep, velvety-warm mouth on me. I don't know who did what, or how, or how good it was.

Obviously, I had an idea. I thought I probably would have been able to feel it if he'd….* that *…that thing you do with another guy. That reassured me, but I didn't want to delve any further, I didn't want to think or hypothesise. I didn't want to know.

I didn't want to know. Precisely.

But my body wouldn't let me forget.

There were two occasions that really got me. I mean, a few times when I saw Draco I would react, even though I didn't want to, even though I was trying my hardest not to see him or think about any of it. But that I figured was just because, well, he was attractive. It wasn't anything special.

But there was these times that I couldn't understand, which made no sense, until I finally figured out that they must be triggering a memory my mind couldn't recall, but my body could…

Botany: /All of the class in one big huddle around the Teacher's desk watching a demonstration and him and me about as far apart as possible, and it was a really hot day and a stupid one to be inside a greenhouse it and we all looked frankly disgusting and flushed and he had this one drop of sweat balanced on the tip of his nose and it fell to his upper lip and he reached up an unconscious hand and drew the back across his mouth to clean it and SNAP! I could barely stand, my knees shook, my neck flushed even redder and every cell in my body just * wanted * like thirst./

In the Corridor: /Everyone running to lessons and he passed me and I didn't realise who it was and in the rush both of us fell slightly and he grasped hold of my robe to stop falling over and that hand just reflexively * clutching * because it had to because the moment was just that fast and intense and as soon as he realised it was me he practically ran away, but I was frozen again…/

And now I absolutely know that no matter what I try I can't escape him. Bloody Draco Malfoy in every hour and every minute and why me? Why did he have to pick on me? Why would he want to?

~~***~~

I know one thing I had to do. I know I can't live with the false accusations and the fake Harry any longer, even if it is for Harry's safety - I'm not that good an actor.

Which, they explain to me when I take Hermione with me and confront Dumbledore one week and two days after 'the night', was precisely why I wasn't in on the scheme.

I didn't tell them how I knew, and they didn't ask, I just said I'd found out from an anonymous source. I kind of hinted that the disguise was pretty useless now, and Dumbledore agreed that maybe it was time for Harry Potter to return. He'd been staying with Remus Lupin in a secret location.

Lots of secrets seemed to be underlying what I'd thought was still my simple life.

'I hope, Mr Weasley, that you can forgive our deception. We have known for some time that an attack of a new kind was planned on Mr Potter. It was the only course we could take without causing a panic amongst the students for their own safety.'

'I understand, really I do, but why couldn't you tell me after they fell? You could have at least told Oliver to act like he trusted me.'

'You have to understand, Mr Weasley, that even then we were not sure that you were what you said you were - oh, I don't mean that you yourself would ever do such a thing,' he continued seeing the look of horror on my face, 'But you could have been replaced by an agent of the Dark Lord in disguise all too easily. We couldn't know.'

Hermione, who was still looking a little sheepish and embarrassed over the deception, then spoke up:

'We couldn't figure out why those people thought you'd done it. But it came to me suddenly that maybe you _ were _ an illusion, for just that few seconds.'

She's good; there's no denying it.

'And so,' she continued, 'We checked and double-checked and finally we found a residual spell and guess what? * Draco Malfoy * put it on you before the match! It definitely had been around him. I think he must have cast the original spell…'

I tried to show all due shock, horror, amazement etc. But all her words did were remind me of how hurt he'd been, and what that had led to.

Make me feel once more that wave of sympathy and warmth that had pushed me into his arms…That had made me forget that he was Draco Malfoy…

She was still talking, saying how they were wondering whether to question Draco directly, or gather more evidence and then more or less arrest him. She and Dumbledore gladly acknowledged that he might have simply been his Father's pawn - and we could be sure that no evidence incriminating Lucius would ever be found - but would anything positively clearing Draco of the crime ever turn up?

They doubted it.

I left in a daze, feeling everything and more and wishing that I could blame it all on a hangover again.

I force myself to look at Draco that night at supper. He looks…well how can I possibly judge? He'll never look the same to me. I know I feel something horrible and squirmy and dark whenever I think of him, like touching a fresh wound with hot water…

Every time I think of him the fear returns, horribly mixed in with a kind of lonely longing. And shame. Horrible, stupid shame that if I'd ever been that way with someone…with a boy…that it had been him.

That's it, isn't it? If I was with anyone it should have been Harry or Dean or Seamus or even Neville - but * Draco *! I'm ashamed of myself, but maybe, on some level, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm ashamed of him…

Can you just let him be accused of a crime that not only he hasn't committed, but is a crime against him?

Well there isn't an alternative, was there? There was no way I'm letting myself anywhere near him again. No way I'll ever talk to him.

Even if I could instead of just getting a dry throat and beating heart and losing my thoughts every time I see him…

~~***~~

When Harry comes back to the dorm he looks more or less the same, but he's tanned slightly. I'm so pleased to see him, but I still can't believe he didn't tell me. I want to get it out, to talk about it, to give him a chance if he feels embarrassed.

'Harry, about the whole doubles thing…'

'Ron, it's fine!' He smiles at me, looking up from rearranging his sock-drawer, and as I look back in confusion, he continues: 'I get that you were a bit angry but I understand, it's only natural that you should feel that way - I'm not offended.'

My voice is far too steady: 'I was going to give you a chance to apologise to * me *, Harry.'

He looks genuinely surprised, and rather put out. Harry's a good person, but everyone always acting like his needs are the most important in the world cannot help but skew his views.

He betrayed me, I trusted him and he wilfully misunderstood me. He used me.

I feel…There's something there I know I mustn't think about. Something I have to stop considering, some truth that lurks and could catch my indignation and make me ashamed.

I storm out of the dorm and out of Gryffindor Tower altogether.

Smiles…frowns…fists…lips…friends…enemies…fear…Houses…blazing eyes…

In the corridor are these horrible garish posters for the Spring Ball…dancing couples, roses, hearts. They only make me feel worse.

He runs after me and tries to talk to me in the corridor. Which is to say he shouts at me:

'Ron, what's your big problem? I had to do this! I could have died! Are you telling me I should have risked my life?'

'I get it, Harry! I get that your life was in danger, what I don't get is why I have to apologise to * you * about it! You keep something like this from me, you disappear, you return as and whenever you please and you fucking well expect me to apologise for any damage to our friendship? This is too far, Harry.'

Quite a crowd gathers around us. I don't care. I'm flipping furious.

He laughs. It's not a pleasant laugh. 'Look, Ron, what could have happened, what possibly could have happened to you while I wasn't here?' Like he was the cause, meaning and centre of everything. Yes, I think that sometimes, he does too, but we don't say it. We never say it.

'You don't know me at all, do you?' I feel the skin burn under my freckles in anger. Hermione's arrived now, and she's talking to Harry, trying to calm him down. I feel at that moment almost as angry with her - what, she couldn't at least have given me some more assurance? Some more support?

'You don't have a fucking clue about my life!' I shout, not caring who heard, and point accusingly at the two of them. 'Well, that's fine, but you'd better be prepared to take the surprises!'

And I turn around to the large audience, find the face I knew I had spotted out of the corner of my eye. The one I could rely on to be there, if nothing else.

I walk straight up to Draco Malfoy and press my lips to his, catching one hand in his hair to stop him struggling in surprise. I put my lips next to his ear and whisper 'Play along or you'll regret it.' He raises his eyebrow a tiny amount, and I find I have to kiss him again.

Hot thick and moving. I remember this. I remember this. This is…I want this…I remember I want this…How can someone so cold be this damn hot?

He lets me lead the way out of the corridor full of gaping spectators, Harry and Hermione too shocked to speak, and into the grounds. I don't stop walking, or look at him, until we're almost at the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest.

Then he grabs my arm, none too gently:

'This had better be a fucking good threat, Weasley, because if not I'm going to kill you for what you did in there!'

His hand is clenched around my arm. I remember, that's how big his fist is. Just too small to go around my forearm and just right to…

'They're going to accuse you of putting that spell on Harry.' When I say it I realise how absurd that sounds to me now. I realise I wouldn't believe it any more.

He widens his eyes, and before he can speak I continue: 'I'll tell them what I heard Marcus say - that you didn't know about it - if you'll do something for me.'

What are you doing? What are you doing?

But I've started now. In my head plays a weird re-mix of Harry's face when I kissed Draco and Draco's face when I kissed Draco…like a sugar rush but twice as high. As I speak I move closer to him almost unconsciously:

'Do what we did…kiss me in the corridors, make like we're dating. Then we'll break up in public. At the Ball. If you agree I'll tell Dumbledore about the spell, but go back on the deal and I'll tell him you forced me to speak up for you.'

I feel disgusting, acting like this, saying these things. All I can think of is him coming to me all those days ago, unprompted and with no agenda, to tell me I hadn't hurt Harry and thus saving me from total breakdown. He'd reached out a hand; I'm offering a cold deal. But I reach deep into my dislike: ' Think about it, you can tell everyone you had me and dumped me, got one over the little Gryffindor.'

He looks at me…I can honestly say I've never seen him look shocked before, not shocked like that, like disappointed shocked. There's something else under his eyes too, something that flares for a brief second before he hides it, something that I can't identify.

I expect him to storm off.

But he nods.

~~***~~