Title: The Best Policy?

Author: Dark Phoenix

Summary: The students of Hogwarts find out if honesty really is the best policy when they wake up one morning to find themselves compelled to tell the truth. Harry and Draco are about to discover how they really feel about each other. Takes place in eighth year.

Pairings: Harry/Draco

Warnings: Language, mild dirty talk

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this.

Notes: This turned out quite a bit angstier than I originally imagined it, but I just can't picture post-war Draco any other way. Besides, who doesn't love angsty Draco?

~ The Best Policy? ~

Even with the drapes drawn, it was still bright enough inside Harry's four-poster to prevent him from falling back to sleep. Lying on his back, he let out a deep sigh. Might as well get up, he thought.

On the bed beside his, Ron was yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Morning, Harry," he mumbled.

Harry greeted him before heading to the bathroom. No one else was awake yet. He got dressed and ready for the day, then he and Ron sleepily made their way down to the common room, not speaking much.

Hermione was already there, her nose buried in a book, as usual. She looked up when they entered the room.

"Morning, 'Mione," Ron said with a yawn. "Let's eat."

She rolled her eyes. "You really think about nothing else, don't you?"

Ron looked affronted. "Sure I do. I think about Quidditch."

"Food and Quidditch," she said. "What a life."

Ron shrugged. "Beats being stuck in the library all the time."

"Well, let's go before you start to bore me with the details of every Quidditch player in the league. I'll never understand how you can care so much about a bunch of dumb jocks on brooms. At least studying is useful," Hermione said as she stood up. Her eyes widened. "Merlin, that was rude. I'm sorry, Ron. I don't know what got into me."

"It's okay, Hermione," Ron said, looking a little taken aback. "Though I don't know how useful it is to know every detail of the Goblin Wars. I mean, who cares what year it started? It's over now. Move on."

Hermione looked up sharply, and it was Ron's turn to looked chagrined.

"Now I'm the one being rude," he said with an embarrassed chuckle. "Maybe we should just talk about something else."

Harry sighed with relief. "Good. I really didn't feel like playing referee for you two."

They managed to make their way to the Great Hall, but there was an awkwardness in the air, and for some reason, everyone seemed to keep blurting out odd things. The Great Hall was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, and the meal was oddly tense. Ron and Hermione kept bickering the whole time, sniping at each other and then looking surprised at their own words. Towards the end of breakfast, Harry grew fed up and snapped at them to get a room because they weren't fooling anyone, and the three of them spent the rest of the meal in relative silence.

The strangeness didn't end at breakfast. When the trio returned to Gryffindor Tower, they found the other students sitting quietly around the common room, most of them busier with homework than usual. It almost seemed as though everyone was trying to avoid everyone else.

"Merlin, this is weird," Harry couldn't help commenting. "What do you suppose is going on?"

It was Lavender Brown who answered him, looking on the verge of tears. "I don't know," she said. "It almost seems like everyone's been given Veritaserum. Earlier this morning, I told Parvati that I borrowed her new sweater without asking, and now she won't speak to me. I wasn't planning to tell her about it, it just came out, like I couldn't help myself." Her eyes started to well up, and Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"Well, this is awkward," he heard himself saying. "I mean, I want to feel bad for you, but I don't know you that well, or care that much, and I really just wanted to get back to the dorm." He clapped his hands over his mouth, and Lavender looked outraged.

Ron gave a nervous laugh. "Well, I'm getting out of here before this gets any more uncomfortable," he said, and practically flew from the room.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go flying for a bit. Seems safer than hanging around in here, anyway," Harry said to Hermione, and he hurried back out through the portrait hole before he could open his mouth again.

He didn't pass too many people on his way out to the Quidditch pitch, much to his relief. Right now, he didn't want to deal with any more awkwardness.

Saturday mornings — or was it afternoon now? — were always Draco's favorite part of the week. He woke up late and made his way down to the common room. It seemed quieter than usual, but he didn't think much of it. The other Slytherins knew better than to bother him in the mornings. Checking the time, he saw that lunch was nearly over, so he shuffled off to the kitchens instead of the Great Hall.

The hallways seemed strangely deserted, but he was still half asleep and didn't bother questioning his luck. It was an unfortunate fact that only the other Slytherins had the sense to leave him alone; the rest of the school didn't seem to have gotten this message.

Several house-elves flocked around him when he arrived at the kitchen, eager to please.

"What can Izzy get for Master Draco today?" one of them asked as he leaned against a counter and looked around the room.

"Harry Potter naked on a silver platter," he said with a yawn. He gave a start when he realized what he'd just said, and the elves simply stared at him in confusion.

Draco shrugged it off. Obviously, his brain wasn't fully awake yet. It was fortunate he'd come here instead of the Great Hall; he certainly didn't need one of his housemates to hear him say a thing like that.

"Surprise me," he said to Izzy, and she scampered off to do his bidding.

Draco hopped up on the counter, rubbing his face sleepily. If he could just get the rest of the school to behave like the house elves, who were content to do what he wanted without asking questions, everything would be perfect. He leaned back against a cupboard and closed his eyes, feeling like he could easily fall back asleep right then. Yes, lazy Saturdays were definitely the best.

A small, squeaky voice roused him just before he could doze off.

"Izzy is wanting to know, would Master Draco prefer coffee or tea with his lunch?"

"Tea is fine, Izzy, thank you," he mumbled without opening his eyes, and he heard her scurry away again.

He sipped his tea as he waited for the rest of his meal, feeling slightly more awake. Part of him was glad that the year was coming to an end. Soon he would graduate and put all this behind him. He tried not to think about what would come after graduation, not wanting to ruin his good mood. If he was being honest with himself, he had no idea what would happen to him then, and the thought terrified him. He wished he had someone to talk to about it, but there was no one but Pansy, and she worried about him too much as it was. Draco wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but this last year of school had been the loneliest of his life. The rest of the school seemed to be treating Slytherin as if they were all contagious — that is, when they weren't whispering snide comments as he walked by — and his old friends had enough problems of their own.

Draco sighed as he felt the last of his good mood evaporate. Just a few more months, he said to himself, trying to cheer himself up again. It was no use. When Izzy came back with his lunch, he found he no longer had much of an appetite, absently picking at his food without really tasting it before he finally gave up and went back down to the dungeons.

Harry stepped out of the changing room, feeling pleasantly exhausted. He didn't know how long he'd been flying and didn't really care. The weather had been perfect for it, and it had felt good to get out in the fresh air. Winter tended to make him feel like a caged animal after awhile. The halls were as empty as they had been before, but he wasn't thinking much about the odd spell of honesty that had fallen over Hogwarts earlier.

His stomach gave a low rumble as he headed for Gryffindor Tower, letting him know he'd been ignoring it a little too long, and he changed direction and headed for the kitchens instead. Lunch had to be over by now, he figured.

He turned around a corner and his heart sank. Of all people, he would have to pass by Draco Malfoy. He stiffened slightly and clenched his jaw firmly shut. There was no reason for them to speak to each other, he reassured himself.

"Potter," Malfoy said with a slight nod as they approached each other.

"Malfoy." He started to breathe a sigh of relief just before he passed the other boy.

"You're looking particularly scrumptious today," said Malfoy. Then he froze, clapping his hands over his mouth in shock as his face turned crimson. "What — I didn't mean to say that!"

Harry stopped as well, staring dumbfounded at his rival.

Malfoy stared back at him, his face working as though he was trying to figure out what he was going to do now. "Potter—"

"Forget about it," Harry said. Ordinarily, he might have laughed at Malfoy for what he'd said, but the whole day had just been too weird. "Besides, you're even more adorable when you blush," he added.

He immediately cringed at his carelessness, his own face burning as Malfoy frowned at him in confusion. "I didn't mean to say that," he said, berating himself for having opened his mouth.

Malfoy was starting to look suspicious. "I really didn't mean thhh . . . to say that," he said, and Harry had the distinct impression he'd intended to say something else and the words had gotten twisted on the way out. "What I meant is . . . I've been lusting after you for years."

A look of mingled frustration and panic crossed his face. "What the hell is going on? Did someone give me Veritaserum? I wasn't trying to say any of those things!"

Harry frowned slightly. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? What did you do, Potter? Is this someone's idea of a joke?" He looked like he was about to run away.

"It wasn't me," Harry said. For some reason, he didn't want Malfoy to leave just yet. What he'd just said — could it possibly be true? It had to be, he realized. His heart started to speed up at the implication. "Everybody's been forced to tell the truth all morning. You didn't notice it before?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I just woke up." He was still frowning suspiciously at Harry.

"Look, I'll prove it," said Harry. He took a deep breath. "Ask me something you think I'd lie about."

"Why should I trust you?" Malfoy demanded. "I think this is just some elaborate scheme of yours. You want to make a fool out of me, that's all. Well, I'm not going to—"

"I don't want to make a fool out of you," Harry insisted. He paused for a moment, then decided to let himself say whatever he was going to say. "What I want to do is cover you from head to toe in whipped cream and lick it off so slowly you won't be able to stand it."

His face burned again as he spoke, but the words and the feeling behind them didn't come as much of a surprise to him. It had been a strange year. There had been very little animosity between them, and with that out of the way, certain other feelings had started to come to the surface that he suspected had been there for a long time.

Malfoy blinked at him. His face was unreadable as he stared back at Harry.

"That's not what I was going to ask," he said finally.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

They continued to stare at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Harry had no idea who moved first, and it hardly seemed to matter. One moment, they were staring at each other, then, suddenly, they were on each other, kissing as frantically as lovers who had been separated for years. Malfoy's lips on his were like a drug, sweet and intoxicating, burning him with their intensity, and he felt as if he could never get enough. The kiss went on and on, fueled by years of sexual tension, and when they finally broke apart, Harry felt so lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, he thought he might pass out.

Standing just inches away from him, Malfoy looked much the same as Harry felt. He had one hand on the wall as if he might fall over otherwise, and for a few minutes, both of them just stood there, trying to catch their breath.

"I think," Malfoy said when he was finally able to speak, "there might actually be something to this honesty thing."

Harry simply smiled back at him. For once, he agreed with Malfoy wholeheartedly.

Draco didn't know how he'd managed to end up like this, standing so close to Harry Potter in an empty hallway and telling him things he wouldn't have told his best friends, even if it was unintentional. Despite the attraction he'd felt for his supposed enemy for the past few years, he was surprised to find that he was actually enjoying himself.

"So what exactly is going on today?" he asked Potter.

"I don't know," Potter replied. "All I know is that everyone's been acting really weird and just blurting out random stuff, then looking horrified."

Draco shook his head, still unable to believe everything that had just happened. "Who would've thought we'd end up here like this?" he mused.

"Not me," said Potter. "I've pretty much been trying to avoid everyone since breakfast."

"And you ran into me."

Potter snorted. "Yeah. If someone had told me an hour ago that I'd be happy to have run into you, I'd have thought they were crazy."

"I wouldn't," Draco said before he could stop himself. "I'd be happy just to have anyone speak civilly to me at this point." The loneliness that had been steadily growing inside him all year came crashing down on him with a vengeance at the words. He felt a sudden ache in his chest, and pressed his lips together hard before he could say any more. Honesty curse or no honesty curse, he wasn't about to unload on Potter like that. The last thing he wanted was pity.

"What?" Potter was looking at him in surprise. Draco just shook his head and looked away, biting down on his lips to keep them closed. He could almost feel the words wanting to escape, and was determined to keep them in.

"I'm sorry," Potter said. "This year has been pretty hard for you, hasn't it?"

"Don't feel sorry for me, Potter, you know I deserve it," Draco spat vehemently. Biting his lips so hard he could taste blood now, he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to compose himself. He wasn't about to cry in front of Harry fucking Potter. He wasn't.

He felt Potter's arms wrap around his body. "I don't really know what you deserve," Potter said honestly. "But I've seen what you've gone through the past few years, and I can tell that you feel remorse for the things you've done. All I know is, I've forgiven you. Maybe it's time for you to forgive yourself."

Draco still didn't trust himself to speak. But he didn't want Potter to let go, either. It felt wonderful in his arms. "Besides, it's not like it was completely one-sided. I always gave as good as I got. I'm sure you know that by now," Potter went on.

"Yeah," Draco murmured against Potter's chest. Being in Potter's arms made him feel incredibly safe. He inhaled deeply, and Potter's scent and the feeling of his body against Draco's were beginning to lead his thoughts in another direction. For a moment, he stood there, wrapped in Potter's arms, letting the other boy's calm wash over him. Then he pulled back and gave Potter an impish look.

"Tell me something, Potter," he said. "How long have you had this little whipped cream fetish?"

"I don't have a fetish," Potter protested. "I just want to know what you taste like. I want to run my tongue over every inch of your body . . . The whipped cream is simply a means to an end. It could just as easily be chocolate syrup, if you like."

A delicious tingling sensation went through Draco at Potter's words, and a soft little whimper escaped him before he could stop it. "So," he said, unsuccessfully attempting to steady his voice, "you want to make a sundae out of me, is that it?"

Potter let out a strangled little sound of his own as Draco moved closer to him. "That's pretty much it, yeah," he said, his own voice uneven.

"Will there be a cherry on top?" Draco reached up a hand and casually started stroking Potter's hair.

Potter swallowed hard. "I could get a cherry if you want."

"Well, it's your sundae, Potter," Draco said playfully. "It's whatever you want that matters."

A sly smile appeared on Potter's face. "Oh, it's whatever I want? Be careful, Draco, I just might take you up on that."

Draco was surprised to find that this didn't bother him in the slightest. "I'm not afraid of you, Harry," he said.

Potter looked confused for a moment, then seemed to realize they'd both used each other's first names. He slid his hands around Draco's waist, pulling him closer as that sly expression returned. Draco smirked. He thought that expression suited Potter far better than he realized.

"Now, you tell me something," Potter was saying, looking positively mischievous now. He raised one hand and ran it over Draco's hair. "Is this really your natural color?"

Draco rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Yes, Potter, my hair is natural," he said smugly. "Now, why don't you go tell all your friends that so everyone can stop asking me about it."

To Draco's delight, Potter looked disappointed. "Oh," was all he said.

"That's right," Draco smirked, rubbing it in. "I don't dye my hair. The only thing that I dye is my eyebrows; otherwise they'd be nearly invisible." His eyes widened in shock as he realized what he'd just said, and Potter laughed gleefully.

"Oh, shut up," Draco muttered, burying his face in Potter's chest.

"Relax, Draco," Potter said, sliding a hand under Draco's chin and raising his face. "I won't tell anyone. And don't hide your face — you really are adorable when you blush." Smiling, he leaned forward and gave Draco a gentle kiss.

Draco sighed softly and allowed it, running his hands through Potter's hair as he kissed him back. This kiss was soft and blissful, much calmer than the first one. Draco let himself relax into it, and for one moment, everything seemed perfect.

Then Potter's stomach gave a loud rumble, and he jerked his head up in surprise. Draco couldn't help laughing at the look of mortification crossing his face.

"Maybe we should get something to eat first," he suggested, thinking of his own meager lunch with a pang of hunger. He took Potter's hand and turned back towards the kitchens.

"Good idea," Potter agreed. "And then afterward, we can go to the Room of Requirement and pick up where we left off."

"Sounds like a date," said Draco, holding the kitchen door open for Potter. "Just don't forget the whipped cream!"

~ fin ~

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