https://archiveofourown.org/works/75634451/chapters/198021681#workskin
Today was the day. Harry had a knot in his stomach since last night.
Hermione was intently focused on an abnormally large pile of books and papers.
Harry winced. He sat beside her and didn't bother with pleasantries.
Neither did Hermione.
Harry felt weight in his pocket.
"Is that the—?"
Hermione sighed. "Be careful."
Harry fidgeted with the bottle. "If I get some Mead or Firewhiskey, I can slip him the truth serum."
Hermione raised her brows and closed her books pushing them away. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"No," Harry said flatly. "Do you think I've gone insane?"
"Yes." Hermione said.
The library doors opened and they both stared at the flash of red hair.
"You have to tell him eventually," Hermione whispered.
"Let's see if Malfoy and I last a year." Harry shushed her. "Otherwise it won't be worth it."
Hermione nodded like that made sense to her.
"Hey!" Ron pecked her lips and sat at the table.
"Oi, mate!" Ron peered over Hermione's books, only visible nose-up. "We get to see you at dinner twice this week? To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"It's none of our business! Quit being a tosser!" Hermione snapped.
"Right..." Ron's face went red. "Sorry."
---
It would be easiest to just make it look like a sad date night attempt.
Harry picked up the most expensive Mead he could find and food he'd seen rich people eat before.
He worked on a cover story harder than he tried to talk himself out of it.
Just play dumb. The Mead was a gift. Harry would've believed it.
And now locked himself in the dormitory bathrooms. He dumped the entire vial in.
It bubbled, the liquid shone blue and settled back to normal.
Harry swished the bottle—a tiny bubble floated up and rested against the glass.
His hand fought him—but he managed to stick it in the satchel with his stupid picnic.
If he was wrong—he wouldn't have any right to expect Malfoy to forgive him.
He'd been right before and something was going on with Death Eaters.
Harry had the right to know about that.
If Malfoy was getting hurt—Harry wanted to do something.
If he was seeing someone—Harry wanted to know as well, but he had to remind himself it wasn't priority.
The walk to the third floor felt like a death march.
Harry was having a hard time convincing himself this was the right call.
Every hall he passed through felt like it should have been the dorm portrait.
He was moving through the corridors far too quickly.
Portraits snickered at him on the third floor.
A painted man wearing lionskin whistled. "Oi! He got pretty for you today, mate!"
Harry rolled his eyes.
He just wanted to find out where Malfoy got those fucking spells, and then he could go back to normal...ish.
Malfoy was sitting on the edge of the tub, feeling the water, playing with the different soapy potions that poured from the mislabeled taps.
Harry cleared his throat. Malfoy looked up and smiled.
"Hey, you—" he stood.
Harry held his arms out and let Malfoy walk into them.
"I missed you yesterday." Harry moved to Malfoy's ear.
He licked it the way he knew made Malfoy weak.
Malfoy's eyes rolled back.
"You saw me after breakfast..."
Harry moved his lips down Malfoy's neck.
"We only got to fuck once," Harry murmured.
Malfoy laughed, light and fond.
Harry pulled away and opened his bag.
"I brought us something."
"Oh?"
Harry pulled out some crackers and caviar.
Malfoy made a face. Then he turned the jar to the price-tag Harry forgot to remove and snorted.
"Potter..." He ran his hand down his face.
"You don't need to put on cologne and change how you eat."
"Does that mean I don't have to try it?" Harry kissed him. "I hate fish."
"Me too." Malfoy tossed the jar in the bin, and kissed Harry back harder.
"I brought Mead." Harry pulled back.
His hand was shaking, the weight of the bottle steadied it.
Malfoy snatched it from Harry.
"That I can do."
Harry tapped the bottle with his wand. Frost bloomed at the bottom, melting condescension on the neck.
"I don't have glasses."
"S'alright. I'm not—" Malfoy rolled his eyes. "All that stuff was... I was different. Everything was different."
Every thought Harry suppressed this week screamed in his head at once.
What if all this did was fuck it up? What if Malfoy never trusted him again and Harry lost this? What if—
Malfoy took a long gulp and passed it back.
Harry barely wet his lips but made sure the bottle sloshed loudly.
His stomach did flips. It felt so wrong now that it was done.
What the hell did he do?
"I was so maudlin through the war, coming back to school sober felt like a different reality."
Malfoy lamented, swirling the bottle and observing the liquid.
Harry pressed his lips tightly together.
The pool roared like a waterfall barely filled with a cloudy, floral-scented puddle.
Malfoy's jaw clenched like the sound hurt him.
He cut off the taps—hands trembling violently.
He shifted side to side, knocking the bottle to the floor with a hard thunk, it spilled without breaking.
"You alright?" Harry stroked the side of his face with the back of his hand.
Draco nodded, bewildered. "I think so."
"I cramp easily." He waved it off.
Harry blinked. Did he pull it off?
Something Harry couldn't read flashed on Malfoy's face.
Malfoy quickly turned back into a kitten and draped his wrists over Harry's shoulders.
"You want to learn the rest of those spells?"
"Hey..." Harry started carefully. "Can I ask... where you learned those?"
Malfoy opened his mouth to talk but he coughed instead.
"You okay?" Harry asked.
Malfoy shook his head, his coughs sounded wet.
He blinked his eyes hard, and reopened them dazed.
"I can't tell you."
He inhaled sharply and slapped his hand over his mouth.
Harry's brows pulled together.
Malfoy turned to Harry slowly, eyes impossibly wide.
"Potter." He whispered grimly. "What did you do?"
Harry's chest clenched. He had no idea.
Malfoy stumbled back—Harry caught him.
"What was in that Mead...?"
"I was worried," Harry said quietly. "What's wrong?"
Malfoy's eyes glazed over again.
"It's my—"
He paused. Bags sank under his eyes.
Something black and slick ran out of the corner of his mouth. Malfoy shuddered, gagging.
It slipped out of his eyes like tears of ink.
Harry let go of him—he backed up, startled.
Malfoy fell forward—crackling with dark mist.
It had a smell—peppery, acrid.
Wrong.
Malfoy's jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut.
"Do you need to see Pomphrey?" Harry stepped forward.
Malfoy coughed harder instead of answering—his skin turned red.
"Malfoy?" Harry panicked. "What's happening?!"
Thin white layers frayed off—leaving angry raw patches.
Harry blinked.
Veritaserum doesn't do that.
Harry picked up the Mead and read the label.
6% ABV
The bottle slipped out of his hand and smashed onto the floor.
Malfoy looked like someone dipped him in a jar of ink.
He grabbed the front of Harry's cloak in his fists.
"Did you give me a fucking truth potion?!"
Harry's eyes watered. "...Why? What's it doing to you? I've seen loads of people on it—"
He started coughing, too. Pain. The black stuff smelled like pain.
Malfoy's skin sizzled like static.
"YOU FUCKING IDIOT, POTTER!"
Oil streamed down Malfoy's face like Wizarding-Catholic statues.
Drops of oil sizzled on the floor.
Harry's robes burned off in Malfoy's hands.
The air felt like breathing razors.
Malfoy took in a nasty wet breath—as if blood was a sound.
"I trusted you..." His voice faded in and out like a bad radio signal.
"NO!" Harry's face crumpled. "FUCK!"
The smoke crawled all the way up Malfoy's body until he became a silhouette.
Like a person-shaped hole burned into the universe.
Harry blinked hard—tears fell.
"I didn't want to hurt you!" His voice cracked. "I thought you needed help!"
Harry stood there, wand useless in his hand.
Fucking do something!
Harry didn't move. His legs hadn't caught up with all the questions jamming his brain.
DO SOMETHING!
"Draco?!" Harry didn't realize he was shouting.
"Can you hear me?! I don't know how to help!"
Malfoy was choking out sounds Harry had never heard a person make.
His joints bent the wrong way.
The bright lights and modern toilet stalls contrasted harshly with the ancient smoke.
Harry threw his cloak over Malfoy and lifted him up, ignoring the sting.
Why? Why can't anything go right just once?
Because this always happens when Harry gets involved.
And the ugliest part of him had only wanted to know if Malfoy was fucking someone else.
The sickness that poisoned every single person he cared about had come for Malfoy.
Everyone Harry loved was going to die.
