A/N: I've been following the dmhgchallenge on LiveJournal for a while now (dmhgchallenge dot livejournal dot com). A prompt is put up once a month and there's a strict 100-word exactly limit. Only participated in February and August of this year, but I've written some which I didn't enter because I wrote them too late. Figured I might as well post them up here now. Occasionally I prepare more than one entry.

February 2011: Veritaserum. Grey Truth was the one I actually entered, and it won third place.


Grey Truth

He looked down into his glass, then up at her, eyes blazing cold as steel.

"You did, didn't you?"

"Answer me, Malfoy," she said tightly.

"You do know that it's not always reliable? That certain people can resist its influence – particularly those gifted at lying?"

He saw her eyes flicker.

"So you did know. Too desperate not to try? Or-"

"Answer me."

"You want an answer?" He laughed. "Yes. I love you."

Then he threw his remaining wine in her face.

"Now spend the rest of your life working out if that was the truth, Granger." He sneered and left.


Because Magic Isn't Magical

"Please, Granger. I'm begging you. Hermione, please."

A tiny shock ran through her as he said her name for the first time.

"No," she said.

"What will it take for you to believe me?" He sounded desperate. "I'll drink Veritaserum. You'll know whatever I say is true."

"Magic isn't the solution to everything." She took a step back. "Why don't you Obliviate me then? Or I'll Imperio you and it'll definitely never happen again?"

"Don't give up," he whispered. "Don't give up on me."

"I'm going," she said. "I've had enough."

His outstretched hand dropped to his side. She left.


Stripped

Draco knew what was coming when the door burst open and Potter slammed into the kitchen, Weasley and Granger behind.

"Drink," said Potter. A cup thudded down on the table.

He loathed this. See, when lies had saved your life countless times, you felt so naked without them.

"Harry, maybe-"

"Tonks is dead, Hermione!" Potter exploded. "Somebody betrayed us!"

"I don't need your pity, Granger," said Draco.

But he did; he wished so badly that she would stop it, just stop it, please, Granger…

"I don't need anyone's pity," he said again, one last lie before he drained the cup.


I couldn't help but expand Stripped, so here you go.

Draco knew what was coming when the door burst open and Potter slammed into the kitchen, Weasley and Granger following.

"Drink," said Potter. A cup thudded down on the table.

"Harry-"

"Not now, Hermione. Drink, Malfoy."

He hated this. He absolutely loathed this. Not the patent distrust, he was used to that, but…

…see, when lies had saved your life again and again, you felt so naked without their cold protection. And when they had become the only defence you had, living with the good guys amongst whom you didn't belong – vulnerable didn't even begin to cover it.

"Harry, maybe-"

"Tonks is dead, Hermione." Potter's voice rose. "Didn't you see it? Or didn't you care?"

"You're off your rocker to be saying things like that," snapped Weasley, pale and drawn.

Potter shook off his restraining arm. "Tonks is dead. She's dead, dead! I killed her. I killed her. My dad's best friend's wife, and I killed her. I killed my godson's mother – " His voice cracked and he turned away, pounding an impotent fist into the unyielding wall.

Hours and hours, he knew it would be, the three of them and the one of him crowded into the tiny, dingy kitchen, hours and hours of questions after questions, what did he hear, what did he say, what did he know, did he communicate in any way with someone outside the house, what were his feelings towards the Order, towards Tonks, how did he feel about his mother's death, did it make him more pro-Order or pro-Voldemort? On and on till he was exhausted and drained, every bit of his deepest feelings laid bare for them to poke around in, and no lies to hide in, no lies to help him draw a protective veil over the wounds not yet healed…no choice

"Technically, you didn't kill her," observed Draco dispassionately. "You got her killed."

Granger was wiping away her tears, but Potter and Weasley whipped around to pin him with identical glares.

"Which brings us to the point, then," said Potter, ice-cold. "Someone betrayed us. Someone who knew practically every aspect of our plan."

Draco met his gaze coolly. "I wonder who you suspect, Potter."

Potter's lip curled. "Drink up, Malfoy."

"Harry, it can't have been him."

"Then who do you want me to suspect, Hermione? You?" shouted Potter. "Or should I suspect Lupin? Kingsley? Or Ron, or Ginny? Tell me, who do you want me to suspect? How about myself? Maybe I've been talking to Voldemort in my sleep, maybe he's been possessing me without my knowledge, maybe I ought to off myself as soon as possible so I won't ever have to try to look Lupin in the eye again and I won't have to keep going on, on and on with the fear and the pain and the burden of all the hopes riding on me, making decisions that get people killed!"

"I don't need your pity, Granger," said Draco, watching more tears run down her face, watching Weasley wrap her in his arms.

But he did, he did, he wished so badly that she would stop it, just stop it, please, Granger…

"I don't need anyone's pity," he said again, one last lie before he drained the cup.


As you can tell, I found the prompt irresistable :)