Truth or Dare
“Marcell?” Draco whisper-shouted in the Owlery. He always felt the need to be quiet there.
A familiar bird hooted behind him. “Right then. Take this to whoever you’re taking it to.”
The bird flew off immediately. Draco watched it fly in circles for a while, until he worked out that the bird had probably been trained to not show Draco where it went.
Draco made his way back to the common room, which had gotten much louder since he had left.
“Ah, Draco, just the man we were looking for,” said Theodore Nott, alcohol obvious in his breath. “Come in, sit down, have a drink.”
Draco did just that. The firewhiskey burned his throat.
“Now,” Pansy said. “Since everyone has had Veritaserum to drink, it’s time we play…Truth or Dare.”
Draco wasn’t sure if there was actually Veritaserum in the drink, but he didn’t like the sound of it. He tried to get up and leave, but Pansy grabbed his arm. “Ah ah ah…don’t leave now, we haven’t even started yet.”
“Right, so. We’ll go around in a circle. You spin the bottle. Whoever it lands on, you ask them Truth or Dare. You must tell the truth, and if you refuse the dare, then you have to take a shot,” Pansy explained. “Sound good?”
Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.
“Excellent. I’ll start, and we’ll move to the right.” She summoned a bottle and flicked her wand. The bottle spun faster than it naturally should’ve. Finally, it landed on the Hufflepuff girl who screamed the other night.
“Hannah Abbott,” the bottle said, in a high pitched voice. Everyone jumped when they heard it.
“Alright Hannah. Truth or dare?”
Abbott looked positively terrified. “Er…truth?”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
Draco expected her to say something about the girl she let die, as that was who she was sobbing about the other night. She hadn’t. “During the battle of Hogwarts, I accidentally kicked…a dead person’s head. I couldn’t tell who it was. It…It came off. And not cleanly. I didn’t even check who it was.”
“Well that’s morbid,” Pansy said cheerfully.
The room had gotten much quieter. “My turn,” Theodore Nott said, spinning the bottle. It landed on Granger. “Hermione Granger!” it exclaimed.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
Theodore grinned wickedly. “What do you find sexiest about Weasley?”
Granger’s eyes widened and both her and the Weasel turned bright red. She covered her mouth with her hand, mumbling something incoherent.
“What was that?” He asked, feigning innocence.
“When he pulls my hair,” Granger said, quiet as she could. The circle roared in laughter, all the tenseness from Abbott’s answer gone. Granger and the Weasel turned an even darker shade of red. Potter looked at them with pity, but Draco could tell he was trying to muffle his laughter.
“Charming.”
A Hufflepuff boy grabbed the bottle next. The bottle spun.
“Blaise Zabini,” it cried out.
“Truth or dare?”
“Well, since everyone so far has been a coward…dare.”
The Hufflepuff thought for a minute. “I dare you to…strip down to your boxers.”
“Want a show, do you?”
The Hufflepuff, who Draco now recognized as Zacharias Smith, snorted.
***
“Harry Potter,” the bottle said, after Terry Boot spun it.
It was the 2nd go around. Hannah was sitting in Justin's lap, both of them bright red, half the people barely had any clothes on, and Ernie Macmillian had just finished making out with Daphne Greengrass.
Harry had eyeliner and lipgloss put on him by Susan Bones, who giggled the whole time while putting it on him.
Terry had dared Malfoy to down a bottle of firewhisky and perform a dance routine for them…one that included taking off his clothes.
(“Couldn’t I just refuse to do the dare and take a shot instead?”
“Sure, but you’d be a coward.”
“You’re a real bastard, Boot”)
And while Harry would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed the show, he didn’t want to suffer a similar fate. Besides, he could more or less control what he said under the influence of Veritaserum.
“Truth.”
Terry had looked disappointed at this, but shrugged. “Which way do you swing?”
“What?”
“Y’know. Chicks or dicks or whatever.”
“Oh.” Harry had glanced at Malfoy for a split second before returning his sights back to Terry. “Both, I guess.”
A couple of people began to whisper, as if Harry being into dudes was the most interesting piece of gossip ever. Harry Potter, the boy who bi-ed.
Padma spun the bottle next. “Draco Malfoy.”
Harry glanced up and looked at him. He was scowling and shivering.
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to spin the bottle, and you have to sit in the lap of whoever it lands on…for the rest of the game.”
Harry thought Malfoy would just take the shot, but he had already had a whole bottle, and probably wasn’t thinking right. So, he spun the bottle.
“Harry Potter.” the bottle shrieked. His heart skipped a beat, then bu-bumped faster. Malfoy staggered over to him, tripping and falling into Harry. He caught Malfoy before he landed fully on his face, and pulled him into his lap.
“Fuuuuck you, Potter,” he said.
“If you really want,” Harry said, just quiet enough for Draco to hear. And while he couldn’t see his face, Harry was sure that Malfoy was blushing. The only reason Harry was being so…obvious was because he was sure both he and Malfoy were both drunk enough to forget what happened in the morning.
***
It was the third, and supposedly final round. Susan Bones and Daphne had left the circle, making out in the corner. Macmillan and Longbottom passed out. Potter had tried to move to go help them, but Draco grabbed him. Just because Potter was warm, and Draco was freezing. No other reason. Finnegan and Thomas went upstairs. Milicent had revealed that she used to have a crush on Snape, and Pansy seemed to be enjoying herself far too much. Especially whenever she looked over at him. He was too drunk and comfortable to care though.
It was another hour before Draco retreated upstairs. He considered just falling asleep right there, but decided he needed to try to sleep.
“G’night, Potter.”
“Mm..night Draco.”
Draco stopped when he said that, but Potter didn't seem to notice it. His heart thumped very loudly as he walked up the stairs. Terry Boot was lying in his bed when he arrived and asked, “Harry’s your lover then?”
Draco didn’t even have the energy to glare at him. “Shut it, Boot. I told you it wasn’t a love letter, and it’s not like I sat with Potter willingly.”
“Right. Though you didn’t really seem that opposed.”
“Boot, I am so drunk right now, but I swear, I’m going to strangle you,” Draco tried to throw a pillow at him, but missed.
***
Harry felt like absolute garbage. His head felt like it was exploding, and it had nothing to do with his scar. He hadn’t really remembered much from last night, besides a lot of drinking. He rubbed his eyes and felt…something. Merlin, his head hurt so bad.
Thankfully, it was the weekend, and Harry could lay in bed all day. Except, he couldn’t. Because Marcell had returned, was hooting loudly, and shoving his foot into Harry’s face.
“God- bird. I- Get off.”
Harry scrambled to find his glasses, his heart racing. After a week, he had given up on expecting a reply. But he still tried to drown himself in his pillows everytime he thought about it. He grabbed Marcell’s leg and untied the letter.
“Thanks mate.”
Marcell hooted proudly and pranced around the bed. Harry unrolled the letter. There were tear stains at the end, which Harry found surprising.
“Dear You,
I just want to say, for the record, I think this is dumb. Shockingly, you were right, and I don’t really have anyone to complain to. I mean, I can complain to Pansy or Blaise about school, but not about (There was an ink blot here, as if he had paused while writing.) other stuff. It’d be weird talking to either of them about how, even though he was a huge prick, I still miss my father sometimes.
I visited him in Azkaban right before school started. Security is much more intense now. I thought he’d be happy to see me, first visitor he’s had in 2 months, but no. He acted like I was some sort of traitor for wanting to return to Hogwarts (tear stain). Suppose 2 months of isolation in a soul sucking prison would make you a bit…irritable.
Today kinda just sucked, which is why I’m really writing this. Sprained my wrist yesterday, but I didn’t want a repeat of 3rd year, Pansy and such still haven’t let me forget the hippogriff incident. And since it hurt so bad to write, I couldn’t take notes or anything, and the professors kept commenting on that. I was late to History of Magic, mostly because Potter decided it was a good idea to run me over. Landed on my wrist, which was just delightful. Potter did fix my wrist which was (ink blot) nice of him.
(ink blot) There’s the nightmares too. But (tear stain) I’m not willing to share that with a stranger. Not now.
If you tell a single soul any of this, I will find you and kill you in an excruciatingly painful way. (tear stain here too.)
-Draco”
Harry read over it again. And then he read it again. He found the tear stains interesting, like Malfoy had bottled up so much and he was…spilling out. Which sounded super gross. But that was his first thought.
Harry looked under his bed for his emergency Hangover Healing potion.
“Geminio,” he muttered. Now he had loads more, and put some near Ron’s bed. He’d give the rest to the others in a moment. He felt the pain in his head receding, and the daylight didn’t feel like absolute murder anymore.
Marcell hooted again, startling Harry. He had forgotten he was still here.
“Turn that bloody owl off,” Ron grumbled.
“Take the potion I’ve left by your bed.”
He did. “Thanks.” Ron rolled back over and fell asleep again.
Harry stroked the top of Marcell’s head. He cooed and stuck out his leg for Harry. “Oh, right.” He grabbed the paper he’d spent the past two weeks enchanting. He’d gotten the idea from the marauders map, and muggle texting.
When someone tapped the paper and said “Message me,” you would be able to write on it. The words you wrote would then appear on the twin of the parchment in real time. Saying “Message managed,” would make the messages disappear on your paper.
Harry thought it was pretty impressive, if he did say so himself.
He tied the parchment, a note explaining how it worked, and his response to Marcell's leg and sent him off. He knew Marcell wouldn’t go straight to Malfoy, instead just flying around for a few hours.
***
Draco woke up at around 3 p.m., mid-nightmare. Terry Boot was shaking him awake. Draco muttered something about Boot being a horrible person.
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed. “Drink this. Someone dropped it off this morning, it helps with your hangover.”
Draco took the bottle, and downed it gratefully. He nearly instantly felt his headache retreat, and more energised. “Who brought it?”
“Dunno. Been dead asleep.”
“Why’d you wake me up?”
“Cus you looked like hell. Shaking and sweating and whatnot. Also your owl is back. He’s been demanding attention for like, an hour.”
Draco shot up. “My owl?”
“Yeah the one who brought you the love letter-”
“Not a love letter.”
“Sure. Anyways. He’s back.”
And there he was, the very same tawny owl he had received 2 weeks ago, and sent last night. “Hey, Marcell,” he said, as the owl hopped towards him. He must’ve been smiling or something, because Terry Boot raised his eyebrow questioningly.
“Definitely a lover then?”
“Shut. Up. Give me Veritaserum if you really want to know, there’s probably still some left.”
“Nah, it’s more fun to annoy you.”
Draco waited for Terry and the rest of his roommates to leave until he opened the letter. There were 3 pieces of paper, and one of them was blank.
He looked at the smaller note first.
“I’ve attached an enchanted piece of parchment to Marcell. Tap it with your wand and say ‘Message Me’ and you, and you only, will be able to see and write on it. I’ve got the other one, and it sends messages out in real time. Saying “Message Managed” will hide the messages again.”
Draco took out the enchanted paper. “Message Me,” he said. Suddenly, letters appeared in green ink. 'Hi,' was all it said.
He wrote hello back, and hid the messages again. Then he turned his sights to the longer letter.
“Dear Draco,
I get that you’re apprehensive to the idea of this, but I’m glad you responded. I know how it feels to lose a father figure (and while yours isn’t dead, it’s not like he’s able to be active in your life.) and it really sucks. Like real bad.
I’m sorry that your day was awful. Days like that happen sometimes. I usually walk around the grounds or take my broom and do a few laps whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed. Skipping a class that you're ahead in can give you a free period (basically) to catch up on other work.
As for the nightmares, I’ve heard having chocolate on hand helps, and that you can get a dreamless sleep potion if you know who to ask.
I don’t plan on telling anyone anything, and if I did, you’d know. The enchanted parchment can tell you where I am if I did say something.
-Me”
Draco turned back to the enchanted parchment, grudgingly impressed. “Message me,” he said, tapping it with his wand.
Impressive magic you’ve managed.
Sooner than he thought, the paper began showing new words.
I had help. But thank you.
He didn’t really know what to say to that. What’s your name?
That would ruin the secrecy.
Draco figured that would be the response, but he was still annoyed.
I could give you a fake name?
Draco thought that was the best he was going to get. Alright.
The paper didn’t show any new words for a while, just the ink blots of someone who didn’t know what to say.
Henry.
Henry?
Yeah. It was the best I could think of.
Tragic.
Right. Anyways. I’m off to breakfast.
You mean lunch?
It’ll be breakfast for me.
Draco rushed downstairs to see if anyone was leaving, but all he saw were some passed out classmates and people doing homework.
Dammit. he thought.
He decided that he should also probably go get food, so he made his way down to the Great Hall. Stealing a glance at where usually Potter sits, he saw that Harry didn't have his glasses on... and was wearing eyeliner.
He nearly died right there.