Less Thinking, More Kissing

Part 4: Truth Tea

I set my tea down on the table in front of me. What's Malfoy up to?

"Don't like the tea, Potter?" Malfoy raises an eyebrow and takes another slow sip from his steaming cup.

"I do. I just - What you think you're playing at, putting a truth potion in the tea?" I look him straight in the eye; he gulps.

"We're going to play a little game. I like to call it 'Spill your guts'. Haven't had anyone interesting to play it with before now," Malfoy smiles and sips his tea. If he's still drinking the tainted tea, he must not be very scared of the truth. That makes one of us.

"How do we play?" I know there's no point in trying to avoid his little game, so might as well get it over with.

"Eager, are we?" he finally sets down his teacup and meets my stare with the same intensity. "Well, we're going to play a game of magical chess - I assume you know how to play? - If one of your pieces gets destroyed, you Spill Your Guts. Simple," Malfoy snaps again and our tea cups are moved aside to make room for a chess board. The only problem with this is that I'm terrible at chess, magical or otherwise. Ron has been more than welcome to this fact since we met in first year.

"I'm not good at chess," I blurt. Malfoy only nods and the corner of his mouth twitches. Did he almost smile?

"Your move." He says, sounding anxious to start. Malfoy and I take turns moving in silence, the tension and focus growing with every move. Neither of us want to be the first to spill, but eventually I make a stupid move and Malfoy immediately snatches up my pawn.

"Ha!" Malfoy says, forgetting to keep his composure while caught up in the game. He clears his throat, "Uh- I mean..."

"What's your question?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from showing any signs of fear. I'm Harry Potter, slayer of dragons and sworn enemy of Lord Voldemort. Why does one little question potentially asked by Draco Malfoy seem so terrifying?

"What is it like to be related to such terrible Muggles?" he asks, with no hint of malice in his voice. He seemed genuinely curious, although he could have asked in a less Malfoy way.

"The Dursleys? Oh, completely awful," I slightly laugh as I answer, relieved that he didn't ask a more brooding question. It seems funny that of all things he could ask, he wonders about my Muggle relatives? I go to make my next move, but Malfoy makes a grab for my hand and pipes up.

"That's all you have to say? That they're awful?" his grip on my hand doesn't seem to loosen, and it takes even fiber in me to pull my hand back into my lap. This is going to be a long game of chess.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you already asked a question and I did answer it," I point out.

"No, Potter. You didn't answer. You gave a vague response-"

"But, a response is an answer. Is it not?" I say and wait for an objection that never comes. I make my next move and, unsurprisingly, it seems to have been the wrong one. His pawn smashes my knight to smithereens, and he focuses back on me, looking very pleased with himself, right where we left off before.

"Why exactly are they so terrible?"

"Well, there are millions of reasons. How many would you like?" I say and my mind immediately starts sifting through a library of reasons stored away for a time like this.

"As many as you see fit," he sits back, ready to listen. Why does he even care about how terrible my muggle life is?

"Well, for starters I slept under the stairs for a bit- well, more than a bit, I guess. It was more like 11 years or something - but I recently got moved to a room upstairs. It's not much better though, they usually lock me in there for days at a time and give me scraps of food through a pet door they had to install," the Veritaserum seems to have given my mouth a mind of it's own because I tell my mouth to stop, but it keeps going. "And my cousin, Dudley," Malfoy stiffens when I mention my pig cousin. "He's bullied me for as long as I've been without magic. From punching me to calling my names li-" I cover my mouth in an attempt to muffle it.