#supportive ron

At first, it was only drinking. Harry stood with Ron by the drinks table chatting casually but fully conscious of Malfoy behind Ron’s shoulder, still sitting by the fire. Daphne Greengrass had brought a full bottle of firewhisky over for him and had one shoe resting on the footrest of his stool.

“You’re staring.”

“What?”

“You’re staring,” Ron repeated. “It’s not subtle.”

“I don’t– ”

“Know what I’m talking about,” Ron interrupted. “Sure.” He shoved a cup in Harry’s hand. “You need a drink.”

Harry looked down at the firewhisky swirling in the cup. The last time he drank, he’d been very tempted to kiss Malfoy. He’d stared at Malfoy’s lips all night, and when he’d finally walked over to give in to it, Malfoy had made an offhand remark and Harry had ended up shouting at him instead.

You should see your face right now. It looks like you’re about to kiss me. Just how drunk are you, Potter?

Harry took a large gulp of firewhisky, wincing at the burn in his throat.

“Feel better?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded, but he couldn’t help but look past Ron again. Malfoy was still talking to Greengrass.

He knew it was coming, but Harry still groaned when Pansy Parkinson announced it was time for truth or dare. “What are we? Twelve?” He muttered to Ron.

Ron only laughed. “You just wait. It’s brilliant.”

Harry wasn’t convinced.

The room converged into a circle with Parkinson at the centre, some on the couches, some cross-legged on the floor. Malfoy hadn’t moved from his stool, but Zabini now sat between him and Greengrass. Harry tried not to be so pleased by that small detail.

“Let’s talk rules,” Parkinson called out seriously.

“We all know the rules!” Dean Thomas said.

“No, you don’t,” Parkinson said, “because you all keep cheating. I know you were lying about McGonagall last week, Dean.”

“Was not!” Dean argued, his face bright red. “Seamus made up that rumour.”

“No more cheating,” Parkison announced. “This time, we play properly.” Then she pulled a small vial from her pocket.

Harry’s stomach dropped.

“What the fuck, Pans?”

Malfoy stood up and strode to the centre of the circle. He whispered something in Parkinson’s ear. She laughed and brushed him away.

“Every player must take a drop of Veritaserum,” She said to the group. “Those are the rules. If you don’t like it– ” she turned her head to Malfoy– “you don’t have to play.”

Malfoy’s lip twitched but he didn’t say anything else, just turned and sat back down on his stool.

Pansy Parkinson made her way around the circle, making sure a drop of the truth potion landed on everyone’s tongue. No one opted out of playing, not even Malfoy.

“Got any secrets, Potter?” Parkinson whispered as she held out the vial to Harry.

“No,” Harry lied just before the Veritaserum hit his tongue.

Parkinson smiled wickedly and moved onto the next person. Harry felt sick. He should have walked away, but he was curious about Malfoy. Ron rubbed his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Yes, Harry tried to say but the word stuck in his throat. “No,” he admitted.

“If you want to go, say the word and we go,” Ron said, and Harry would’ve known he meant it even without the Veritaserum.

“I don’t want– let’s stay.”

Harry had already decided he wasn’t going to choose truth. There were too many questions he didn’t want to answer and right now his mouth would readily betray him. Dares would be easy. He wasn’t too fussed about stripping to his underwear or skinning dipping in the Great Lake. Obviously, they weren’t his favourite 1am Sunday morning activities but if it was that or telling the truth, the choice was simple.

Except nobody was daring anyone to skinny dip in the Great Lake.

Zabini went first, daring Daphne Greengrass to kiss Parvati Patil. Greengrass rolled her eyes and led Parvati into one of the dormitories off the common room.

“What are you doing?” Zabini asked.

Greengrass looked back at him with an innocent smile. “You never specified we had to do it in front of you.”

They returned five minutes later, Parvati’s lipstick significantly lighter than it had been when they entered and Greengrass’s lips bright red.

“New rule,” Parkinson announced. “All dares, unless specified otherwise, must be completed in this room.”

Zabini looked pleased with the update until Greengrass dared him to kiss Neville Longbottom on her turn. Then Justin Finch-Fletchley dared Seamus Finnigan to kiss Dean Thomas. Then Dean chose truth and was asked if he had a crush on Professor McGonagall.

“No,” he said quietly, his face pained. Then his eyes lit up and he started to smile until the Veritaserum made him add, “But I used to.”

After that, it was back to dares again, which were almost always some variation of kissing someone else in the room, as if there was no other possible dare.

Parkinson had shuffled her way into the circle a few spots to the right of Harry – although Harry had never seen her take Veritaserum herself. When it was her turn to ask someone, she leaned around Hermione to stare at Harry.

“Truth or dare?”

He watched her eyes flicker to Malfoy and back to him and panicked. He knew exactly what her dare would be. He changed his answer at the last second.

“Truth.”

Parkinson’s face dropped but only for a second. She tilted her head and smiled at Harry in that way Professors do right before they tell you you’ve earned a T for Troll on your essay. “Why aren’t you choosing dare?”

Harry didn’t have any time to consider his answer before the Veritaserum was speaking for him. “Because I’m worried you’ll dare me to kiss Malfoy.”

Harry took a relieved breath. It wasn’t as bad as he thought. He hadn’t really revealed anything. Of course he wouldn’t want to kiss Malfoy. That would be ridiculous.

“So, that’s the worst dare you could think of?” Malfoy drawled in a voice that wasn’t quite as bored as it was probably intended. “Grow up, Potter.”

“Get fucked, Malfoy,” Harry muttered back automatically. 

Malfoy held up the bottle of firewhisky he’d been nursing all night. “Working on it.”

Harry had no idea what to do on his turn. It seemed like everyone had already kissed everybody in the room and he couldn’t think of any other interesting dares. He looked around the room trying to find someone who wouldn’t mind him daring them something boring. His eyes passed quickly over Malfoy.

“Just pick someone, already,” Justin Finch-Fletchley called out. Hermione shushed him.

“Come on, Harry. Who do you want to pick?” Ernie asked and then threw a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean– ”

But it was too late. “Malfoy,” Harry’s mouth said. Veritaserum was a bitch.

The room buzzed. Harry took a long sip of his firewhisky. His face felt warm. He hoped to Merlin it wasn’t red.

“Go on then, Potter. Ask me.”

Harry looked up at Malfoy and almost dribbled the firewhisky back into his cup. Malfoy had crossed his legs over and perched his head on his arms, staring down at Harry intently across the circle. Harry quickly composed himself and swallowed.

“Truth or dare,” he said, placing his cup back down. It wobbled but Ron’s hand shot out and grabbed it just in time.

“Malfoy only ever picks truth,” Ron whispered in Harry’s ear. “He always lies, though.”

“Dare,” Malfoy said clearly.

Pansy Parkinson gasped in excitement.

The room seemed to be on edge, everyone leaning forward in the circle waiting for Malfoy’s first dare. Malfoy was staring at Harry with uncomfortable intensity.

“I dare you– ” to kiss me. Harry wasn’t brave enough to say it, but it’s all he could think of. His mind had been wiped clean of every possible dare under Malfoy’s gaze.

“I dare you– ” he started again. The room was getting impatient now, but Malfoy’s intensity held. What could he possibly ask?

Harry cleared his throat. “I dare you– ” his eyes flickered to Malfoy’s tight sleeves– “to show us your Dark Mark.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry wanted to take them back. He heard Ron’s sharp intake of breath beside him. For once, Parkinson was silent. It was a terrible thing to ask of Malfoy, even more horrible to dare him.

Malfoy looked down at his left arm through the fabric of his robes.

“Wait,” Harry called out, meaning to take the dare back. But Malfoy held up a hand to silence him.

“The sleeves don’t roll up,” Malfoy said. He looked up at Parkinson who shook her head. He stood up, placed his firewhisky bottle carefully on the stool and started on the buttons at his neck.

Harry watched on, horrified. Not only was he forcing Malfoy to show his Dark Mark, something he had kept hidden so well no one had ever seen it, but he was also forcing him to strip to his underwear in front of the entire eighth year.

The room was silent as Malfoy worked his way down the buttons that spanned from his neck to where his robes brushed against the floor. Harry hated himself for noticing how delicately Malfoy’s long fingers handled the buttons. But he kept focusing on the hands so he wouldn’t look at the rest of Malfoy’s skin as it was slowly revealed. It was bad enough that Harry caused this humiliation, it wouldn’t be fair for him to take any enjoyment from it.

Malfoy unhooked the last button and stood up, shrugging the robe from his shoulders. There was too much skin to avoid now. Malfoy didn’t even seem concerned about his near-nudity. All he wore under the robe were black boxer briefs that clung tight to his thighs–

Harry snapped his head up, away from Malfoy’s underwear. Malfoy peeled the robe back from his arms. Harry caught a flash of black ink before Malfoy turned and placed the robe carefully on his stool. Harry resolutely did not look down at Malfoy’s briefs when he bent slightly forward. And he certainly did not let his eyes linger there until Malfoy turned back around.

Malfoy held out his left arm to the room, his face blank, eyes empty. The Dark Mark wasn’t how Harry expected. He had seen it before – he knew Voldemort’s style well. But Malfoy didn’t just have ink on his arm. At the head of the skull was a huge gaping sore, scabbing at the edges. And where the snake coiled out, Malfoy’s skin was grey and bruised. Harry looked up and met Malfoy’s eyes.

“Happy now?”

“No,” Harry answered honestly.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, Harry held completely by Malfoy’s eyes, until Malfoy turned away and the spell was broken.

Ron nudged Harry with his elbow. “You alright?” He asked again.

“No. But I don’t want to go.”

Malfoy pulled his robe back on but he didn’t bother with the buttons. He perched himself back on his stool, one leg up on the footrest, letting the robe fly out beside him. Harry averted his eyes.

It was Ron’s turn next and when he announced it the whole room groaned and the mood lightened immediately.

“Please pick someone else this time, Weasley,” Parkinson said. “You can’t keep doing the same dare every week.”

“That wasn’t a rule,” Ron said. He turned to Hermione. “Truth or dare?”

“Say truth,” Neville called out and the room followed in a chant. “Truth, truth, truth.”

Hermione ignored them. “Dare.”

“I dare you– ” more groans– “to kiss the most handsome man in the room.”

Hermione stood up, making a show of assessing each member of the circle.

“Just do it, already,” someone heckled.

Hermione made a beeline for Malfoy.

“Why does everyone have the hots for Malfoy?” Ron called out, pretending to be hurt.

Malfoy’s head snapped up, looking past Hermione to Ron. Harry’s stomach felt tight.

Ron gestured to Padma and Parvati beside him. “I heard these two whispering just now,” he quickly covered (to Harry’s relief).

Malfoy looked away, immediately disinterested and Hermione stopped the pretence and ran to Ron, settling into his lap before finally kissing him. The room groaned again.

The game continued with more dares – mostly kissing – and a couple of truths – mostly related to kissing. Harry would’ve regretted not walking away earlier if it weren’t for Malfoy sitting casually, half-naked on his stool, rolling his firewhisky bottle from hand to hand.

Then it was Malfoy’s turn, and his eyes landed on Harry.

Harry gulped.

“Truth or dare?”

Malfoy had to be planning revenge for Harry’s dare. He couldn’t risk it.

“Truth.”

Malfoy’s lips twitched. He looked around the room and then returned his eyes to Harry. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

Oh fuck. The words were already forming in Harry’s mouth. He should have chosen dare.

“I want to kiss you more than anything,” he blurted out. He felt heat creeping up his neck. “But I didn’t want you to know that,” the Veritaserum compelled him to add, although it felt like a silly thing to say. It was too late now. Not only Malfoy but the entire eighth year knew. The whole school would probably find out by Monday.

“You want to kiss me?” Malfoy asked, his voice soft and – despite the half-empty firewhisky bottle in his hands – very, very sober.

“You heard him,” Ron said. He stood up, blocking Harry (and his embarrassingly red face) from the rest of the room.  “Don’t be a prick and make him repeat it.” Ron turned to Parkinson. “Let’s call it a night– ”

“Wait,” Malfoy said. “ I need one more turn.”

“You’ve just had your turn,” Ron reminded him. “You can’t– ”

“But I have to dare Potter– ”

“Harry’s already answered your truth. I think that’s enough, don’t you, Malfoy?”

“No, it’s not, I– ”

Harry stood up beside Ron. “Dare,” he said, against his better judgement.

Ron turned to him. “Harry, it’s fine, you don’t have to– ”

“I accept your dare, Malfoy,” Harry said loudly, his voice more confident than he really felt. “Go on.”

Malfoy stood up, passing his firewhisky to Zabini. He walked across the circle to Harry, his robe moving with him, the skin of each leg revealed and hidden again with each step like an endless striptease. He stopped in front of Harry, leaning on one leg so their eyes were at the same height.

“Potter,” he said seriously, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Malfoy’s voice was quiet but it was pretty clear everyone heard anyway from the chorus of gasps and excited whispers that followed. Harry easily blocked them out – Malfoy held his full attention now. He realised it was quite silly to worry about this dare, that he had wanted it all along regardless. Even if nothing further eventuated from it. He really wanted to kiss Malfoy.

So he did.

It started all wrong. They both tilted their heads the same way and  Harry’s mouth landed on far more chin than necessary. It didn’t help that everyone was watching. When they finally got their mouths right, the taste was awful – the Veritaserum left a sharp tang like liquorice – and Malfoy’s mouth was dry from the firewhisky. Harry wasn’t sure if he should be including his tongue yet or if that was too far for a first kiss. He wasn’t sure what he was doing at all.

Then Malfoy’s hands found Harry’s hips and pulled him forward, just as Malfoy’s tongue decided to make the first move. And the kiss didn’t feel so wrong anymore. Now, Harry didn’t hesitate when he felt the urge to run his hands through Malfoy’s hair – he just did it, and enjoyed when Malfoy made a soft sound of approval.

Harry could hear Ron herding people out around them and he felt relief in knowing he wouldn’t have to stop doing this any time soon.

“Come on, hurry up,” Ron was saying to the room. “Anybody who’s still here in the next five seconds will be bat-bogey hexed by my sister.”

“Ginny’s not even here– ”

“Out!”

“But this is our common– ”

“OUT!”

Harry opened his eyes for a second. The room was clear except for Ron who was scooping up the belongings people had left behind. Their eyes met and Harry tried to smile – which probably didn’t come across all that clearly with Malfoy’s mouth still covering most of his. Ron mouthed “HOLY FUCK” and gave Harry the thumbs up before running out the door. Harry would have to thank him later.

Just as Harry was about to close his eyes, Malfoy opened his and pulled back slightly. He laughed when Harry’s face dropped.

“Kiss me again,” Malfoy said. “If you want.”

Harry realised what Malfoy was doing. He wasn’t daring anymore. He was simply asking. 

“Do you want?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” the Veritaserum answered for Malfoy. He rolled his eyes and added: “Obviously.”

So with no dares and no audience, Harry kissed him again.