Sir & His Little Lion

Harry stood in front of a small non threatening cottage in East London.  He looked at the consultant that the ministry had brought in for this case.  Draco Malfoy stood tall and well muscled, in designer clothes, deep in scanning the perimeter for any signs of curses or dark magic.  

“I’m not detecting anything in the perimeter, so it’s not a curse on the house,”  Draco stated confidently.  Harry nodded.  He’d had the muggles' corrective eye surgery and had freed himself of the glasses that had encumbered his youth.  

“Let’s proceed with caution then,”  Harry said and moved towards the house.  The ridiculously fit blonde nodded and followed.  

The two looked cautiously around the room.  No sooner had they stepped inside that the door slammed shut behind them and disappeared.  Harry’s wand was wrenched out of his hand and Draco knew from personal experience just how hard that was to do.  He started to cross the room to get to Harry’s side when his own wand was bested from his grip.  

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”  Draco cursed heartily.  He wasn’t used to being bested by anyone.  He’d worked hard on his focus and duelling skills.  “Harry do you see anyone?”  Draco asked, getting to his feet.  

“No.  I don’t see anyone and I don’t sense anyone.  I’m not picking up anything at all,"  Harry muttered.  Just then, an envelope appeared in front of the two men.  

“It doesn’t feel malevolent.”  Draco shrugged and opened the envelope.  

“Welcome to the cursed cottage of truth," he read as the words lit up on the paper.  Harry and Draco exchanged looks.  

“What in the name of Merlin is going on here?  The cursed cottage of truth?  What the fuck does that even mean?”  Harry frowned, running his hand through his somewhat more manageable but still unruly hair.  

“The Cursed Cottage requires you to play a simple game of truth or dare.  If you complete the game successfully without tricks, then your wands will be returned.  Only the truth will set you truly free.  We know when you’re lying and trying to trick us.”  Draco read.  

“Sounds as though there’s someone here.  I can’t see or sense anyone, though,"  Harry said, looking around the room angrily.  

“Yes, and without our wands there’s not much either of us can do to sense them out either,"  the slightly taller blonde man pointed out.  Harry nodded.  

“Excellent choice, Gentlemen.  Truth or Dare?”  Draco read from the paper.  Harry shrugged.  

“Truth," he chose.  

“I’ll take the truth as well,"  Draco shrugged.  

"Harry, your question is this:  What are your feelings for the man beside you?"  Harry read from the parchment.  

“Fuck,"  Harry sighed.  He ran his hand over his face in an effort to stall.  “I don’t really know.  I hated you in school. You were arrogant, but handsome.  You had loving parents while mine were dead.  You had everything I wanted.  After school and everything, I don’t know.  I don’t know you now.”  The words tumbled out of his mouth almost of their own accord.  He took a seat on the flowered couch.  Draco regarded him with curious eyes.  He glanced at the parchment, waiting for his own question.  

‘Draco your question is this: How do you honestly feel about the man you came here with?’  The blonde sighed, went to lean elegantly  next to the mantlepiece, and glanced into the cozy fire.  

“I like Harry.  I’ve always liked him.  I thought he was impulsive and lazy, but he was more coordinated than me, just a bit faster, and he understood feelings and emotions, whereas I didn’t," he finished without looking at the brunette behind him.  He could feel the other’s eyes on his back but didn’t look at him.