AUTHOR'S NOTE: This little fic was inspired by the Wattpad Open Novella Contest 2019 prompt, "It started out as a dare — a kiss that didn't quite go as planned. Only you and the other person are witness to the truth behind a rumour that gets out of hand."

Obviously, I don't own any content from the Harry Potter series and franchise. However, the rest of this work is my original writing and ideas, so please do not use or redistribute it in any way. You can find my works on AO3 and Wattpad under the same username (alexanderavery998). If you find my works somewhere other than these three websites, please let me know, because that means that they have been stolen and reposted without my permission.

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~ CHAPTER ONE ~

Harry looked sceptically from an eager Hermione, holding hands with Ron, to a smirking Pansy Parkinson, who was leaning against Blaise Zabini.

"A game of Truth or Dare with the eighth years," he said slowly, hoping that he had misheard. Unfortunately, from the way Parkinson's eyes flashed, it seemed as though he hadn't.

"That's right," she purred. "McGonagall put me and Granger in charge of improving inter-House relations, and what better way than to start with the eighth years?"

"With a game of Truth or Dare," he repeated, raising an eyebrow. He caught Ron's eye, but his friend just shrugged goodnaturedly, jerking his head in Hermione's direction. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, he mouthed. Harry turned back to Parkinson. She was still focused on him, head tipped back against Zabini's chest, eyes narrowed, a smirk stretched across her flattened face.

"What, is the Saviour of the Wizarding World afraid of a little game?" Parkinson's smirk widened even more, if such a thing were possible. Harry had the fleeting feeling that she was a cat — and he was a canary about to be breakfast.

"No," he said finally, albeit reluctantly.

"Good!" She stood up straight, clapping her hands together. "Then we're on for tonight. I've already placed the notice on the eighth years' bulletin board, so we'll see you then." She turned on her heel, taking Zabini's hand in hers as she walked away.

"So McGonagall approved it?" Harry said in surprise, before he could stop himself.

Parkinson stopped and turned around. Her smirk was definitely wider than it had been before. "What McGonagall doesn't know won't hurt her, Potter."

— — — — — — —

Harry couldn't quell the feeling of dread in his chest as he mounted the stairs to the eighth years' tower. It was nearing curfew, so the castle was quiet and dark. Flames from the mounted torches flickered against the stone walls. The eighth years had a common room and dorms to themselves, both to encourage them to move past House divisions after the war, and because the castle didn't have room for the seventh and eighth years to live together. Instead, the castle sported a new tower for them. Its entrance was guarded by none other than Sir Cadogan, the blustering knight with a fat pony and a sword far too large for him to wield. None of the Gryffindors were too happy about it, but the Hufflepuffs found him amusing, the Ravenclaws enjoyed his convoluted passwords, and the Slytherins enjoyed egging him on to fight them.

As Harry approached the entrance, Sir Cadogan peered out of the gloom.

"Halt, who goes there? Show yourself, you lily-livered knave!"

"Carpe diem," Harry said tiredly. The portrait swung open and Harry stepped into the common room, relieved when it closed behind him and Sir Cadogan's voice was no longer audible.

The common room fireplace was already roaring. A beautiful crystal chandelier full of candles hung over the middle of the room, where most of the eighth years were already settled, sitting in a loose circle. It seemed as though they were already getting used to intermingling, although there was still unspoken tension and awkwardness in the air. The Patil twins sat with Neville, Ernie, and Justin. Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and Leanne Chen were holding hands, while Daphne Greengrass was chatting with a few Ravenclaws.

Predictably so, the Gryffindors and Slytherins were having the most difficulty mingling with each other. Parkinson was sprawled in Zabini's lap, holding a bottle of firewhisky. Theodore Nott sat on one side of them, while Draco Malfoy sat on the other. There was a wide space between them and the Gryffindors, where Hermione's head rested on Ron's shoulder and Dean and Seamus were sitting close enough that their knees brushed.

Parkinson looked up as Harry approached.

"Oh, good, you're here," she said lazily. "That means we can start."

Harry looked awkwardly around the circle, but besides the gap between Malfoy and Hermione and Ron, there was nowhere else to sit. He came around and sat down in the space. Malfoy shifted away ever so slightly, and Harry clenched his jaw.

Parkinson stood up and brandished the bottle of firewhisky. "Welcome, everyone! I'm glad you all decided to show up." Her eyes lingered a little too long on Harry before she continued. "Before we begin, I'm going to pass around the firewhisky, and everyone needs to take at least one sip from it. I'll start." She tipped her head back and took a quick swig out of the bottle before passing it to Zabini. As the bottle moved around the circle, Padma narrowed her eyes at Parkinson.

"What did you spike it with?"

Parkinson smiled. "Relax, Patil, it's just a bit of Veritaserum to loosen people's tongues," she said smoothly. "Gotta make sure people are telling the truth, hmm?"

There was a bout of coughing as Ernie took too large of a swig and smoke poured out of his ears. Justin laughed and took the bottle from him gently. Padma still looked suspicious, her eyes trained on Parkinson as she accepted the bottle from Justin and took a sip. Harry didn't blame her; he wasn't feeling much like spilling all of his secrets tonight. Just another reason why he was wishing that he'd skipped it to go up to the Astronomy Tower or the Owlery for the evening.

The other Gryffindors looked much more relaxed than Harry felt. Dean's fingers lingered against Seamus's as he passed him the bottle, and Ron smiled at Hermione before taking a swig. Hermione took her gulp with more ease than Harry was expecting. Next thing he knew, the bottle was in his hands. It was large and nearly empty, made of smooth black glass. A thin stream of smoke wafted from the opening of the bottleneck. Here goes nothing, he thought. He closed his eyes and took a swig from the bottle, resisting the urge to cough as the liquid burned his throat. He had a feeling he was going to seriously regret this in the morning.