Tempus Fugit DRARRY

Chapter 2: Work, the Curse of the Drinking Class

Playing for the high one, dicing with the devil

Going with the flow, it's all a game to me

Seven or eleven, snake eyes watchin' you

Double up or quit, double stakes or split

Ace of Spades - Motorhead

No matter how many years passed since that day. Harry would always find the memory of it perfectly clear in his mind. He would be able to replay it with remarkable ease, pinpointing the exact moment when he thought his heart had ceased to beat in his chest.

After Hermione's revelation the two boys stared at each other with similar expressions of alarm and disbelief. She sat, looking between them with a nervous expression, and another thundering silence enveloped them, ringing painfully loudly in Harry's ears.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco asked in a voice that suggested only a thin scrap of control.

"You're lovers," Hermione repeated. "You have been for two years." Harry felt light-headed,

"I don't believe you," he said, "no way would thatever happen."

"Oh really?" Hermione asked and got up. She walked over to the shelves against the wall and plucked from it a picture that had been half hidden behind a white vase of lilies. It was a wizarding photograph of Harry and Draco. They were standing, locked in an embrace, their arms tangled round each other and their lips brushing. It was quite a recent photo, judging by their appearances, and left them in little doubt that what Hermione was saying was true.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Draco said suddenly, and he did look faintly green.

"So you mean, when we woke up in the same bed earlier..." Harry said, letting the question hang unfinished. Hermione grinned at him wickedly.

"You had probably just been having some hot, gratuitous sex," she said, and Harry felt his insides squirm most unpleasantly. Draco looked utterly disturbed, and sat down heavily on the other sofa.

"Oh God," he said, "this can't be happening." He held his head in his hands, and Harry knew he was wishing he could wake up and make it all a horrible dream.

"We have got to get back to our own time," Harry said emphatically, "I think I'm scarred for life."

"I think you should look for a way to return as quickly as possible," Hermione said, suddenly businesslike, "and I don't think you should tell anyone else about you being here, not until you know for sure why you came."

"We told you," Harry said in a strained voice, "the potion we made went wrong, nothing more complicated than that."

"Maybe," Hermione said, "it might be completely innocent but you can't rule out at this stage the possibility of a sabotage."

"By whom?" Harry asked, glancing over at Draco who was lying prone on the sofa, muttering to himself.

"Voldemort," Hermione said, "just think, Harry. You're a sixteen year old in the body of a wanted adult. You have only rudimentary knowledge compared to your future self, and you are both incredibly vulnerable right now. Especially to Death Eater attacks."

"I wouldn't be," Draco said from the corner.

"Actually," Hermione replied, "you would." Draco looked up with a start.

"Why?" he asked. "I'm the son of a Death Eater-oh shut up, Potter -why would I be in danger?"

Hermione looked at him with a sympathetic expression.