And I'll Tell You No Lies

Authot's Note: Remember how I said this story was a little weird?

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So, now that I've got your attention, and possible annoyed you somewhat - sorry about that - pay attention please, because this is important.

Near the end of this chapter, please read the instructions. Otherwise, you will probably be very confused within moments, and may end up reading something you really don't want to read, and you will be sad, and I will be sad too because I didn't mean to confuse anybody, and also I will say "I told you so" ;)

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Day 2

Harry waited impatiently as the Trainer for their second session rattled his files about and hemmed and hawed importantly. Bloody officious oaf. He'd fawned at Harry the entire time he'd been commenting over the reports written by the four participants of today's session. Harry's had apparently been absolutely brilliant; Ron's, slightly less so, Unspeakable trainee Joanna Varley's acceptable, and Malfoy's a total disaster, for no reason Harry could understand. Other than possibly having been written by a Malfoy. Malfoy was taking it remarkably calmly.

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was determinedly re-reading the notes from his first interview, and wished with all his heart that they'd had a chance to talk about what had happened the day before. Wished Ron hadn't left before Harry finally got the Veritaserum antidote, then spent a long and uncomfortable night getting intimately acquainted with the Auror Department's dungeon.

He scratched surreptitiously at the itchy drab grey prison uniform he now wore and wondered what Malfoy thought of his own dark brown robes. All the Suspect trainees, Auror and Unspeakable, had been confined in different cells, prevented from speaking to each other. Which had been quite a nightmare, as Harry tossed and turned in his cell and wondered what Malfoy was doing, if he was all right, and tried to comfort himself with the reminder that this was nothing but a training exercise, and that while the Ministry dungeon might be dark and unpleasantly musty, being made to sleep there was hardly cruel and unusual punishment.

It didn't help much. Especially when his mind helpfully pointed out that the Auror dungeon was harmless enough, but Malfoy was an Unspeakable, and who knew what kind of Unspeakable things happened in their cells?

It was probably a good thing the Suspect trainees were kept apart. If Malfoy had been there, Harry just might have fallen all over himself trying to reassure himself that Malfoy was all right, and embarrassed himself even more. He was having a time not doing that right now, as a matter of fact.

And Malfoy might have been worried about him, too. Wasn't that an unsettling thought. He glanced surreptitiously at Malfoy, taking in his slightly weary expression, slightly bloodshot eyes. There was a very faint resemblance to how he'd looked in Sixth Year, and Harry wondered what he'd gone through the night before.

And oh, shit, now Draco was looking at him, and Harry turned away, cursing the blush staining his cheeks, firmly telling himself to get a grip and not read anything into the fact that Draco looked almost... concerned about Harry?

Malfoy. Malfoy looked concerned. Not Draco.

Harry pushed his glasses up impatiently and glanced at Ron, across the table from him and Malfoy, and wished again that he'd been able to talk to Ron before being dosed up with Veritaserum again.

"All right, then," said Trainer Philips briskly. "Here we go, Day Two of the simulation and Part Two of your interrogation. Remember this is supposed to be about trying out interrogation techniques and practicing working with other Departments, but you are also encouraged to bring in other aspects of your training, such as your knowledge of Dark objects, or spells to counteract Dark Charms, that kind of thing. I'd also like to remind you again that although you two," he nodded at Ron and Varley, "get points for discovering facts relevant to the case, and you two," Harry and Malfoy, "get points for concealing them, your overall score will mostly reflect the way you discovered or concealed. For example, if you asked very good questions but your opponents were simply more skilled at concealing than usual, your score will not be affected much. This is very different from real life, people."

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Malfoy didn't.

"Malfoy and Varley, you will be doing your interrogation first. Weasley and Potter, you go after them. Weasley, during the first interrogation I encourage you to observe closely Varley's interrogation methods. Unspeakables are taught slightly different techniques."

He glanced down at his notes. "Now, Weasley and Varley, neither of you figured out the nature of the relationship between the Suspects in your first interrogation, but as somebody seems to have had loose lips about one of the other groups, the Training Committee decided to reveal those particular facts to all the Interrogators." He looked up and gave Harry an apologetic smile. "Sorry to break it to you two," he said to Ron and Varley, "but this pair," he nodded towards Harry and Malfoy, "is supposedly... erm, deeply in love."

Ron nodded, his face blank, and Varley snorted. "Malfoy, somehow this doesn't surprise me," she said scornfully. Malfoy remained stony-faced and focused on Philips as if Varley hadn't spoken at all. She turned to Harry. "Potter, you poor man. Must be hellishly uncomfortable for you, yeah?"

Harry shrugged uneasily. "Fairly, yeah."

Philips gave him a sympathetic smile. "Thanks for not making a fuss about it. It's all part of the 'respect for diversity' rubbish the Ministry's so keen on these days."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and Ron looked up from his notes, a frown on his face. Malfoy looked away, a small smirk playing about his lips. Philips cleared his throat. "I'm all for it, you understand. It's a good thing, really, mostly." Harry stared at him, not sure what he was supposed to say, as Malfoy covered his mouth and gave a small cough. "Making sure there's no repetition of the horrible things that happened to Muggle-borns. Erm, I have a lot of Muggle-born friends, you know," Philips said, almost babbling now.

"But you think it's being taken too far with gays?" Harry asked.

Philips tilted his head slightly, unable to deduce anything from Harry's neutral tone. "It's what the Ministry wants. Always ready to do whatever the Ministry wants."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Harry crossed his arms. "Funny, that didn't work out so well for Muggle-borns a year ago," he said, disliking Philips more with every second and forcing himself to remember that the man was his superior, and in charge of grading his performance through this part of the simulation.

Philips cleared his throat. "True enough." He cleared his throat again. "Anyway it's, erm, not that I have a problem with pooft- er, with gays."

Varley sniggered. "Dumbledore was one, according to that woman Skeeter."

Philips gave Varley a quelling stare. "As if anyone could believe what Skeeter says." Malfoy's eyes were bright with evident amusement, but Ron's face was so blank Harry's insides were knotting up. Philips shuffled his papers. "Now, erm, once again, do remember that once the clock starts to tick, you are to remain in character. Ready?" He looked at Varley, who took a quick breath and nodded. Philips waved his wand at a small clock, which obediently began ticking quietly.

Harry relaxed slightly as Varley started in on Malfoy, but quickly found himself having to suppress the urge to stop the questions, or take her to task for her hostile manner, or at least jump in and defend Malfoy. Because this wasn't a trainee interrogating a fellow student and play-acting hostility; this was vicious. This wasn't like him and Ron, who could act as opponents if need be, but respected each other deep down.

Or rather... had respected each other. Before yesterday.

"How did you get past the Shielding and Confundus Charms on the objects?"

"I used spells from Inne Fable's Law Enforcement Charms and How To Evade Them."

"Right, of course. The fact that Fable's books have been banned in England is naturally of no consequence to you."

To be fair, apparently there had been some on the Training Committee who had questioned the wisdom of allowing Ron and Harry to be paired as Suspect and Interrogator, but in the end, the Committee had simply told them to take note of any times when they let each other off easy out of sympathy. There hadn't been any yesterday; Ron had been focused and got a lot of information from Harry. But it had still felt friendly, even through the mock-hostility.

Harry glanced at him, wondering if it would be the same when he got his chance to interrogate Harry today.

"So you expect us to believe this had nothing to do with your political beliefs before coming into the Unspeakable Training programme, then?"

"Yes."

"It does have something to do with your beliefs?"

"No," said Malfoy, annoyed. "I expect you to believe it has nothing to do with my past. Because it doesn't."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Damn, Varley hated Malfoy. Really hated him. The sneer, the scorn dripping from her voice, all of it, was thoroughly heartfelt, and was giving Harry a most ungentlemanly urge to throttle her. And Malfoy wasn't exactly fond of her either, though he was answering her politely enough. Only the occasional clench of his jaw or a narrowing of his eyes betrayed him, as his voice remained steady and controlled, and more than a little distracting to Harry.

It wasn't just the bond spell; it couldn't be. There was just something about his voice. The voice that had so often been sneering and frankly snotty in school had turned calm and professional, and Harry didn't know whether the change was due to simple maturity or to the pressures Malfoy had been under since... well, since his father had gone to prison, he supposed. The many trials Malfoy'd had to endure had changed him profoundly, and the brat Harry had hated for so long had become a man worthy of admiration and respect. Not to mention worthy of ogling.

Oops, too far. Harry reminded himself to concentrate and keep in mind that a lot of what he was feeling was due to Credulaserum and a bond, and if he could fight off Imperio he could bloody well fight this off too. Never mind that so far, he'd had almost no success in doing so.

Right. The interrogation.

"What did you do then?" Varley asked.

"I took the objects I needed."

"What were they?"

Ron frowned and passed Varley the parchment he'd written on the day before, Varley pushed it away without looking at it as Malfoy listed the stolen items.

She hadn't figured it out the day before, Harry realized. He felt a completely irrational surge of pride in Malfoy - and in Ron, for having been able to get the information from him during Harry's own interrogation.

"Didn't he tell you-" Ron began, and Varley tsk'd impatiently.

"You showed me this yesterday, Weasley," she said. "But the objects weren't on his person when we arrested him."

"Where did you arrest him?"

"That's classified," she said.

Ron rolled his eyes and sat back. "So much for inter-Departmental cooperation," he muttered, then glanced at Philips sheepishly. "Erm, sorry, scratch that," he said. Philips gave him a small smile and murmured a quick spell, erasing the comment from his notes.

"Where did you put the objects?" Varley asked Malfoy, ignoring both Ron and Philips.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I designed a spell to make them Vanish to a place I didn't know," he said. "I can't tell you where they are."

Varley blinked at him. "Then how can you find them?"

"I can't. I just didn't want them to fall into the wrong hands."

"Whose hands?" Varley said.

"Aurors," Malfoy said evenly. "Or Unspeakables."

"Those objects were being held by Unspeakables," she pointed out.

"The wrong hands," Malfoy shot back, then pressed his lips together and looked distinctly annoyed with himself. Harry had the impression that he was wondering whether the intensity of his distrust of the Unspeakables was genuine, or due to Credulaserum, and was thrown off balance by his inability to tell for sure. Harry could certainly sympathize.

"Where were you trying to go when we apprehended you?"

"I don't know that either," said Malfoy.

"Nice evading, Malfoy," said Varley, giving him a thin smile. "But you can stop dancing. Potter already told us everything. We know where your meeting place was supposed to be."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Nice try, Varley. Potter couldn't have. I didn't tell him."

Varley pursed her lips, slightly annoyed. "Why not?"

Malfoy didn't look at Harry, but his lips pressed together briefly. "Because I didn't want to get him any deeper into trouble."

"So much for protecting your boyfriend, Malfoy," she said, sneering, and it was odd how Ron and Malfoy seemed to bristle in the exact same way at her tone. "He spent the night in even worse accommodations than yours."

Harry rolled his eyes. Somebody was enjoying this a little too much. And what was that about Auror cells being worse than Unspeakables? What, did the Unspeakables house their detainees in Rooms of Requirement?

"What do you think of him?"

Malfoy blinked. "Of Potter?"

"Yes."

A blush rose in Malfoy's cheeks. "I love him."

"Why?"

Malfoy shrugged helplessly. "Why does anybody love anybody else?" he said, and Harry reflected that he himself could probably answer the question pretty well. Hopefully nobody would ask him, because the answer would probably involve embarrassing observations about Malfoy's hands, his trim build, his voice... but maybe the bond spell worked differently in different people.

Varley was smirking slightly. "Is it his looks?"

"Partly," said Malfoy tightly.

"His personality?"

"That too, partly."

"Want to take him home and snuggle him?"

"Not snuggle, no," said Malfoy, and bit his lip and looked down. Philips sniggered.

All right, enough was enough. Harry glared at Varley and leaned forward. "That's not - there's no reason to ask-"

"You're both here to be questioned, Potter," Varley interrupted, though she'd startled slightly as he intruded into her personal space. "I have my reasons for going here, and I don't need to defend them to you."

"Don't give me that rubbish!" Harry turned to Philips. "Is she allowed to just-"

"The simulation got them to fall in love for a reason, right?" Varley said. "And we're supposedly interrogating them together for a reason too. Right? I'm just trying to figure out why."

Philips nodded apologetically. "I'm afraid she's right, Potter. Sorry. And please don't interrupt again. You're all supposed to stay in character until the interrogation is over."

Harry crossed his arms and set his jaw, but sat back again. Malfoy shifted in his seat, moving slightly closer to Harry.

Varley nodded, writing on her parchment. "Why didn't we find anything at The Three Broomsticks' men's room?"

"The password wasn't supposed to work for anybody but Harry."

Harry gulped. Harry. Not Potter. Malfoy's lips pressed together in evident annoyance at himself.

Varley smirked. "And what was Harry supposed to get from the parchment you left him?"

"Information about what I was doing. And what to do next to protect himself, if I'd been arrested."

"Why did you put a tracing spell on him?"

Harry blinked. "What?" he asked. Ron gave him a sharp glance and Malfoy looked away, his cheeks darkening slightly.

"He put a trace on you," said Varley. "You didn't know, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "No I-"

"You're not interrogating Potter yet," Malfoy said sharply.

Varley glanced at Philips, who nodded. She turned back to Malfoy. "You didn't tell him about the tracing spell?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Harry pressed his lips together. Damn it. Malfoy hadn't trusted him.

"I was worried that he would be compromised."

"In what way?"

"That somebody might wonder what he was doing. Try to trace where he was going. Make him do something I should know about."

"Is that all?" Varley smirked, glancing from Malfoy to Harry and back. "There wasn't any lack of trust here, was there? Keeping tabs on your boyfriend, to make sure he wasn't going to double-cross you? Did that have anything to do with it?"

There was a slight hesitation. "A bit," Malfoy said, through gritted teeth, and Harry couldn't suppress a sense of betrayal and outrage, which was ridiculous. And a sense of guilt as well, which was even more ridiculous. "Mostly it was for his own protection."

That had to be true. Harry took a deep breath.

Varley nodded briskly. "Not entirely, though. No honour among thieves, is there?" She paused and gave Harry a brief apologetic glance, then cleared her throat and continued.

Malfoy was actually pretty good at this, thought Harry as the questioning continued, but Varley was better. Harry kept his face impassive as Varley asked one question after another and Malfoy tried to sidestep them and failed over and over. And now they knew that he had intended to go to Finland to capture and ride a dragon using a magical net and harness, that he needed a dragon to get to a mountain that could only be entered on dragonback, that he'd suspected a fellow Unspeakable of wrongdoing - which Harry hadn't been sure of, himself - and-

"Where did you go after the Ministry?"

"I Flooed to Little Whinging, where Potter sent me," said Malfoy.

"And then?"

"I Apparated to Leeds."

Leeds?

Harry immediately suppressed the urge to gape at Malfoy, or look to Ron for support, or react in any way at all.

"And then?"

"And then you caught me," said Malfoy, annoyed. "At the Apparition spot in Southampton."

"Why the stop in Leeds?"

"I didn't know how quickly you'd be able to trace me," Malfoy began, but Harry was no longer listening to Varley draw out the story from him, because he couldn't take it in, because what had just happened could not have happened.

Malfoy had lied. Dosed up on a full goblet of Veritaserum just like Harry, taken at the same time as Harry had taken his - and he had flat-out lied. It was one of the few things they all knew for certain: nobody could actually beat Veritaserum. Evade it, maybe. Not beat it, not without Veritapara. And Malfoy had.

He'd lied, and Harry didn't have the first idea how he'd done it. And if he'd lied about this... what else could he have lied about? The fact that he'd kept Harry in the dark for his own good? The fact that he was trying to prevent something bad from happening? Had it all been a sham? Damn it, he should've known, Malfoy had just been using him, the manipulative bastard-

Harry abruptly reined himself in. Of course it had all been a sham. It was supposed to be a sham, that was the meaning of the word "simulation," and these feelings of betrayal he was experiencing were unpleasant but they didn't mean anything. They weren't real.

They felt bloody real, though. And it didn't just have to do with their simulation personas. If Malfoy had betrayed him because this simulation required him to, that was hard to take for simulation-induced reasons, but he also felt betrayed by the real Malfoy he thought he'd been getting to know as a fellow Ministry trainee. Malfoy had been acting a hell of a lot more decently during training than at any time in the last seven years, but now he'd possibly just callously flipped Harry to save his own skin... which might be what he was supposed to do, as a trainee and in the simulation, but damn it-

Wait. If Malfoy had been using Harry during this simulation, shouldn't Harry reveal that? He was supposed to pretend to be an Auror who had helped his lover go against the Ministry, but now he was finding out his lover had been hiding something from him. All personal feelings aside, shouldn't he, as a responsible Auror, open his mouth and tell the Interrogators that-

"And did Potter know that's where you were going?"

"Potter didn't know." Malfoy met Harry's eyes briefly. "I didn't tell him the whole truth about a lot of things."

"Why not? You didn't trust him? Your... lover?"

"I told you, it was for his own protection. I needed him to help me do some things, but I didn't want to put him in more danger than I had to."

Harry felt a glow of warmth at Malfoy's words - and then a surge of anger. Was he lying, still? How could he possibly tell?

"What about-"

"Time!" said Philips. "And over to you, Weasley."

Right. Harry deliberately didn't look at Malfoy as Ron made a few last-minute notes, despite the overwhelming urge to do... something. Anything.

He started slightly as he suddenly felt Malfoy's hand brush his under the table. The brief contact was over almost before he noticed it. He shifted slightly and brushed his leg against Malfoy's.

... and they were probably under all sorts of surveillance right now. Not exactly the time to be playing footsies under the table, was it?

Damn it. They were supposed to have their behaviour and emotions affected by this bloody bond, but knowing that so much of it was artificial made this excruciatingly confusing. He brought his attention back to Ron's interrogation as Ron went over all the facts of the case and Harry tried to ignore the very real support he felt from Malfoy sitting silently next to him.

God, this was hellish. And he was probably going to have to explain all of this tomorrow: his thoughts and feelings, all of it, in an official report. The very idea filled him with low-grade nausea.

"You knew Malfoy intended to go to Finland?" Ron began.

"No."

"Did you suspect?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I saw a Finnish dictionary in his possession, and there are dragons in Finland."

As far as he could tell, Ron's manner was almost no different towards him today. There was a certain coolness, he was looking down at his notes more than usual, but if anything, he was a bit... less sure. Yesterday there'd been no holds barred. Now...

Damn it, Ron, snap out of it, he wanted to say. I'm gay, not an alien all of a sudden. I'm your best mate.

He didn't say it.

"Did you ask Malfoy where he was going next?"

"No."

Yeah, there was a definite difference between today and yesterday. Ron sounded matter-of-fact, focused, whatever else on the surface... but he wasn't putting his heart into it. He was just going through the motions.

"You said you didn't know what Malfoy was going to do. Why did you help him?"

"I trusted him," said Harry, glancing briefly at Malfoy and seeing a warmth in his eyes that steadied him. Despite the fact that apparently, Malfoy hadn't completely trusted him. "I trusted that he was doing the right thing."

"What did he say to make you think that?"

"He was suspicious of something that was happening among the Unspeakables."

Ron glanced at Varley. "Why wouldn't he tell you what it was? No, don't look at him, look at me," Ron said sharply, "and answer the question."

"He said, 'I don't want it to be true, and I don't want you involved in case I'm wrong.'"

"Did he tell you why he was no longer an Unspeakable?"

"No."

"Did he say anything about it?"

"He said, 'I had to leave them.'"

"Did you think he quit?" asked Varley. Ron gave her a small glare, then sat back with a 'go ahead' wave of his hand and let Varley take over.

"Yes."

"He didn't, Potter. He was fired."

Harry shrugged.

"Doesn't change your opinion of his trustworthiness?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really."

"Why not?"

"Just because you're fired doesn't mean you did anything wrong." Beside him, Malfoy made a soft sound of approval.

"Do you know who fired him?"

"No."

Varley gave him a grim smile. "Do you suspect who fired him?"

"His supervisor, McAllister," he said, and gave Malfoy an apologetic glance. Malfoy shook his head slightly, but gave him a small smile.

Ron frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"Because he spoke very highly of McAllister before. Then all of a sudden he stopped." And Merlin it was bizarre, knowing that the memories about Malfoy speaking well of McAllister, then suddenly ceasing to mention him, were a complete magically-induced fabrication.

"But you didn't know what he suspected McAllister of?" asked Ron.

"No."

"And you didn't know what the parchment he'd left for you at The Three Broomsticks said?"

"No."

"He didn't discuss any of this with you?"

"No."

"So what did you think after you were arrested? That he was off doing whatever heroic thing you thought he was doing?"

"I didn't know," Harry said, impatiently. "For all I knew he was off stripping for Bowtruckles. I didn't know the Unspeakables would pick him up in Southampton ten minutes after you'd got me."

"How did - hang on," Ron turned to Varley, confused. "Did we tell him Malfoy was picked up in Southampton?"

Varley rolled her eyes. "I got Malfoy to tell us that, Weasley," she said, pointing to a line on her parchment. "Pay attention."

Ron coloured up. "Right. Right, yeah." He quickly scanned Varley's notes.

Snap out of it, Ron, Harry thought at him, despite his relief at Varley jumping in.

Ron suddenly looked up suspiciously. "Wait. How did you know it was ten minutes after you were arrested?"

Harry swore silently. "I cast a tracing spell on him."

Ron and Varley gaped at him. As did Malfoy.

"On Malfoy? You put a trace on Malfoy?"

"Yes."

Damn it. Malfoy was staring at him, looking betrayed, and wasn't that a nice bit of hypocrisy?

"Because you didn't trust him?"

"Yes. Partly." He swallowed and met Malfoy's eyes. "I did trust him, mostly. But I also wanted to know what he was doing. He hadn't told me."

"Because he didn't trust you."

"I did," said Malfoy, then pressed his lips together and looked away.

"I know. I did too," said Harry, and there was no reason to say it, other than the fact that he hated to see that look on Malfoy's face, his eyes shuttered to hide his sense of betrayal, and he knew exactly how Malfoy felt right now. "You said what you were doing was important. I trusted you."

"So," Ron broke in. "You knew he Apparated to Leeds right after we picked you up?"

"No," said Harry, his heart sinking again.

"When did you know?" asked Ron.

"Right after you picked me up."

"You just said you-" began Varley, and Ron leaned forward with excitement.

"You knew something right after we picked you up, but it wasn't that he went to Leeds, then Southampton, was it?"

"No," said Harry.

"What was it?"

"That he went to Wiltshire. Not Leeds."

"But he said..." Ron trailed off, frowning at Malfoy, who was now looking amused for some reason.

Varley's mouth had dropped open.

Ron looked at Philips, whose face was a perfect neutral blank, and the silence stretched.

"He's not under Veritaserum!" Ron said abruptly.

"Time!" said Philips, grinning widely.

"Was he - was, wait, how could-"

"Malfoy's not under Veritaserum?" said Varley, flabbergasted.

"No indeed," said Philips. "Well done, Weasley."

"But... how..." said Varley.

"But we watched them both drink the potion right in front of us!" said Ron.

Yes, we did, thought Harry, and one of us nearly got hard at the sight of Draco's head tilted slightly back and his throat working as he swallowed down the contents of the goblet. For a brief, horrified moment, he wondered if he'd said it out loud.

"Yes, you watched them," said Philips. "But I gave Malfoy enough Veritapara to counteract the Veritaserum before that, when I brought him up from the dungeon. This simulation is supposed to test your ability to act under unexpected, and sometimes fairly improbable, circumstances."

"Oh well that's just unfair!" said Varley disgustedly, sitting back.

"Life's unfair, Varley," chuckled Philips.

"But-"

Philips raised a hand and looked at his watch. "Now, I'd love to discuss this further, but you four have only ten more minutes before we end the simulation session. You can consider yourself out of character as of now, obviously, and I'd like you to write your first impressions of the exercise in the next couple of minutes. Then we'll have a short debrief before breaking for dinner, after which time the Suspects will get their regular clothes back and be sent on their way and the Interrogators will get to do some very exciting filing. Or rather, the Auror ones will... don't know what you Unspeakables will be doing. You probably can't tell me."

There was a busy silence, while they all wrote out their observations and Harry tried very hard to focus on his report and not on a replay of everything Malfoy or Ron had said, and how they'd looked, and everything that hadn't been necessarily true - and everything that had probably been embarrassing for Malfoy to say, but that he'd said anyway, to hide the fact that he wasn't under the influence of Veritaserum...

"All right, then," Philips asked the room at large once they were done. "Observations? Malfoy?"

"I've observed that Weasley's a bit of a twit," he said dryly, and Harry's outrage on Ron's behalf felt like a dousing of cold water. "I've also observed that Varley doesn't know her arse from her elbow."

"Thanks, Malfoy," said Varley.

"And your co-conspirator?"

Malfoy shook his head and took a deep breath, obviously reluctant to speak. "That was a terrible interrogation, Potter," he said. "You gave up everything."

"Thanks, Malfoy," said Harry, stung, the memory of the slight brush of Malfoy's comforting hand on his making him angry. "I was a little off-balance, what with you showing you were fighting off Veritaserum."

"That part was very good, though," said Philips unctuously. "You didn't give that away to the Interrogators at all."

Varley narrowed her eyes. "His own interrogation didn't go well, though. He's the one who let it slip that he knew Malfoy had been picked up ten minutes after him." She looked at Weasley. "In fact, you weren't very good at yours either. You didn't get much more information than I did. Other than the tracing spell Potter cast on Malfoy, you got nothing new that mattered."

"Other than figuring out that Malfoy was lying, you mean," Ron said pointedly.

"Still. The famous team of Potter and Weasley didn't exactly shine," Malfoy said, and Ron glared at him.

"They're friends, though," said Varley. "That was the problem."

"You're supposed to be able to shake that off," said Malfoy. "Otherwise what's the point of the exercise?"

"Fair enough," said Ron quietly, to Harry's mild shock. "I didn't do that bit so well. Don't blame Harry for that."

He met Ron's eyes, a rush of relief going through him at the apology in them.

"Very well," said Philips. "Your reports are due tomorrow, including all the observations about the bonding, the dungeons, the interrogations, your reactions to Veritaserum, all of it. Interrogators should focus especially on the observations you made of the Suspects under Veritaserum. You can use a Pensieve to examine your memories, now that you know Malfoy was faking it, and see if you can detect differences between him and Potter during this interrogation. Oh and before I forget, Potter, you need Veritapara." He waved a wand at the small briefcase he'd brought into the room, enlarged it, and stuck his hand into it.

"Yeah, thanks."

"When do we get the bonding spell taken off?" asked Malfoy.

"The counter-charm specialists will be available at six," said Philips, apparently having a bit of trouble finding the Veritapara, judging from the clanking of various objects in the briefcase. He frowned and stuck his head into the briefcase.

"A little eager, are we, Malfoy?" said Varley, and now Harry's heart was doing a weird jittery dance of mingled relief and anger. This whole thing would be over soon... but part of him didn't want it to be over. He didn't want the feelings to go away. The excitement, the curiosity, focussed so strongly on Malfoy... they weren't all bad feelings.

Why was Malfoy so eager to have the bonding gone, then? Was Harry really that objectionable to him?

Malfoy wasn't dignifying Varley's comment with a response, and Varley smirked. "I'd almost think you were really a poof, the way you've been acting." Ron's eyes narrowed but he remained silent.

"It's part of why we put trainees through this," said Philips, surfacing from the briefcase with a small vial in his hand and giving Harry another apologetic smile. "You lot are going to be Aurors and Unspeakables. You need to know what it feels like when your own will is compromised, and what it looks like when one of your colleagues is under some sort of outside influence. It's the only hope you have to fight it."

"Dunno, I don't think it's quite right, 'respect for diversity' aside," said Varley. "The Powers That Be could've done this to somebody other than Potter. Nasty thing, being forced to feel all sorts of unnatural things towards all sorts of unnatural people."

Harry clenched his fist and reflected that if Veritaserum was as good as eliciting honest emotional responses as it was verbal responses, both Varley and Philips would have a very different opinion of how this interrogation had gone than they probably did right now.

"How do they make it work, anyway?" Varley asked Philips curiously. "Wouldn't it be a little tricky to get the bonding spell to work against someone's normal orientation?"

Philips uncorked the vial and poured its contents into a small goblet. "No, not really, though apparently people feel dizzy if it changes them. Dizzier the more... disorientation the user feels."

Varley groaned at the pun. "So, were both of you suitably disorientated?" she asked, smirking at Malfoy.

"Yes," said Malfoy.

"No," said Harry.

Oh. Shit.

There was a long, frozen silence.

"Erm." Philips glanced down at his watch. "It's five o'clock. The next group will be needing this room, I suppose. Although they may be late. We still should go. Out of the room." He was babbling, again, and Harry's stomach felt like lead. "Oh - here's the... the Veritapara."

Harry took it and drank it down, noting his hands were shaking slightly and trying to force them to stop, trying to ignore the blank shock on Philips and Varley's faces.

"Thanks," he said, and handed the goblet back to Philips, who hesitated a moment before taking it from him.

"I'll, we have to, the Trainers are to meet after this, we're going to - you should all go to dinner," Philips said, then hastily stood up and nearly ran from the room.

"Nice working with you, Weasley," mumbled Varley. "And Potter. Malfoy, you're due in Wandless tonight," she said, before she too bolted.

Malfoy picked up his notes and stood up. He gave Harry a long stare, and Harry was suddenly aware that there wasn't any of the derision or disdain he would have expected. At last Malfoy gave him a small nod and left the room as well.

Harry closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

Fuck.

Bad enough Ron had found out. He'd thought about this endlessly, wondering how to bring up the topic and how to explain and how to word everything and had finally decided his best bet would be to somehow figure out how to tell Hermione and then ask her for help, because for the life of him he had no clue at all how to tell his best mate. Granted, part of the problem involved the fact that he was supposedly dating said best mate's sister, but still, the idea of breaking this to Ron had been a huge dilemma... and now in less than two days he'd also ended up telling one of his supervisors, an Unspeakable trainee who was almost a perfect stranger to him, and Draco Malfoy.

He put his head in his hands and just let the silence wash over him.

Finally Ron cleared his throat. "Why did you agree to it, then?"

"What?" Harry raised his head.

"Being given Credulaserum and forced to be in love with some bloke?"

Harry looked away. "Because I didn't want special treatment. And because... because it would be a little hypocritical, don't you think, to refuse it when I actually could be in love with some bloke anyway?"

Ron rolled up his parchment and left the room, his expression blank, leaving Harry staring after him for the second time in two days.

0000000

You have nothing to feel ashamed of.

You are who you are. If other people don't like it, that's their problem, not yours.

Anybody who can't accept you for who you are is a prejudiced idiot, and you don't want them in your life anyway.

Ron is not one of those people. He's just having trouble accepting this right now. You hope.

Harry repeated the words over and over to himself as he silently ate his dinner and tried to ignore the growing buzz of gossip in the canteen. He'd arrived a few minutes after Ron, and found the room filled to capacity. Seamus had cheerfully waved him over to the trainees' table, the only empty space among them next to Ron, who didn't look up from his soup as Harry sat down. Harry tucked in to his food listlessly and glanced over at where Philips was sitting with a group of Trainers, catching him staring before he turned away.

The next time he looked up, the Trainers around Philips were all shooting Harry incredulous stares, and looking utterly gobsmacked.

Like flash photography, every time he glanced up he could measure just how far the news had spread. A group of heads huddled together, then there would be a startled frisson, glances at Harry, and then quick turning away.

Harry sat, eating his dinner without tasting a single bite and feeling more and more exposed, and more and more... angry. Resentful. At Philips, at Varley, who was sitting by herself and didn't look like she'd spoken to anyone but who had asked the question in the first place, at Ron, whose lack of clear response was turning Harry's insides into painful knots... even at Malfoy, silently eating his dinner at the edge of a group of Unspeakable trainees, meeting Harry's gaze every time Harry looked in his direction, something undecipherable in his eyes.

Bloody Malfoy, no Veritaserum making him say whatever daft thing was going through his head during their session. Sod him, thought Harry resentfully. Sod them all, every last one of them.

There was a certain relief mixed in with the discomfort and anger, though. He'd been afraid of what people would think for so long, afraid he'd never have the courage to live honestly, and now that the decision had been made for him part of him wanted to grab the nearest bloke and kiss him, just to end any lingering doubts. Except that the bloke nearest to him was Ron, so that was pretty much right out.

"Mate, you won't believe what they're saying about you," said McLaggen, dropping into the seat next to Harry. And since when had he been 'mate' to McLaggen?

Ron's mouth opened and Harry knew that he was about to stand up for him and deny the rumours, and he suddenly had enough.

"If what they're saying about me is that I'm queer," Harry said evenly. "Then it's all true."

And now his appetite was effectively gone. He pushed his tray back and walked away, leaving a tableful of his classmates gaping after him.

0000000

Home. He was going to go home. Where he didn't have to deal with smirks and sneers, or the unsettling presence of Draco Malfoy, or all the tensions and uncertainties. Where he didn't have to do anything other than prepare for tomorrow's class and the memorial.

Bloody hell, the fucking memorial. He groaned inwardly. That was tomorrow afternoon, with a charity Quidditch game scheduled for the evening, where he would be expected to play for the public along with other well-known people, and Malfoy was one of them and once upon a time that would've been insufferable because Malfoy himself was insufferable, but now it was because Malfoy was rather fit and Harry was getting good and tired of pushing away the effects of this stupid, stupid bond. Even the aftereffects would no doubt play merry hell with his game performance. Especially combined with the fact that he'd be up there, wondering how many of the people watching him were thinking nasty things about him, and Malfoy - wait, he'd thought about Malfoy already. Now he was sort of obsessing. Bugger all this for a lark.

"Good night, Mr. Potter!" simpered an eager young secretary from the fourth floor as he made his way to the locker room, and Harry couldn't help wondering if she'd still be simpering at him after the gossip train finally reached her.

He stalked into the locker room, eager to get his cloak and his things and go home-

Fuck. He still had to get the Credulaserum antidote, and get the bonding spell taken off.

Or he could do that tomorrow. It wasn't like he was going to be anywhere near Malfoy again today... but the assistant in charge of the bonding spells would be sure to tell the others that Harry hadn't gone in, and the last thing he wanted was more rumours about him, maybe linking him to Malfoy even more. He closed his eyes miserably. He and Malfoy had been getting along fairly well, that was the hell of it, before this stupid simulation and now that was probably completely royally scuppered and who the hell thought it would be a good idea to use a romantic bonding spell in a simulation, anyway? Whose brainwave had that been?

He heaved a sigh, pulled himself together. He would change, go and get the counter-spell, and then go home. He opened his locker door.

"Harry!" Ron called after him.

Harry turned, startled. Ron strode up to him, his jaw set.

"So you broke up with Ginny, then," he said.

Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Last time we went to Hogwarts."

Ron frowned. "I thought you'd just had a fight."

"No."

Ron shook his head. "You're... you're seriously blowing off my sister, who's been in love with you for ages, over some... confusion, or something?"

"It's not confusion!" Harry said angrily. "Look, I love her, all right? I really do. And I wanted things to work. They just don't. Nothing happens when we're together."

Ron abruptly turned a little greenish, and Harry blew out his breath in frustration. "No, I don't mean... not just that kind of 'nothing happens'. I just... you know when you left us? Me and Hermione?"

Ron's lips pressed together and Harry winced. Genius move, bringing that up. "I spent a lot more time watching for you than watching her dot move around-"

"Her what?"

"Her dot, on the Marauder's Map. I would look at her, but mostly I was looking for you. Erm, seeing if you'd gone back to school."

Ron blinked.

"What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing," said Ron hurriedly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Don't you think, if I was really in love with her, that I would've paid more attention to her? Even if I wasn't... if I wasn't gay," he said, the word heavy on his tongue.

"But how can you know for sure? A year ago you were happy and straight and-"

"A year ago I'd just spent the last seven years thinking I'd probably never live to be eighteen," Harry pointed out. "It wasn't like I'd had a lot of time to ponder greater questions of sexuality and all that. I wanted to live happily ever after, and that meant a family, and... and I didn't see the point in thinking about it in more detail, because I thought it might never happen."

Ron crossed his arms. "What changed?"

"Life changed," Harry said. "I changed. I don't want what you want, Ron. I don't look at girls and hope their skirts ride up so I can see their knickers. I don't..." and that was probably enough. There was no point in saying more. Saying that he thought about blokes, and touching them, and kissing them, and how being near Draco Malfoy had become more than a little uncomfortable, all artificial-bonding issues aside.

"So is there anybody you do fancy? The way you don't fancy Ginny any more?" Harry bit his lip and Ron nodded, his expression stony. "There is, isn't there?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. I - look, the bloke I'm interested in..." He swallowed. "He wouldn't be interested; I'm pretty sure he's not gay."

"Who is it?"

"Ron, don't."

"Come on." Ron was angry now, really angry. "You've ditched my little sister, who waited for you for a whole bloody year, and you want me to say that's just fine, when I know she's probably crushed. You don't think I deserve to at least know that much?"

Harry looked away.

"Who is it?" Ron said coldly. "It's not Malfoy, is it?"

Choice One:

Harry pushed up his glasses wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then settled the glasses back down.

"Yeah. OK? As a matter of fact, it is."

Choice Two:

"I wish," said Harry, pushing up his glasses and wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I should be so lucky."

"What? Who is it, then?"

Harry settled his glasses back down. Oh, to hell with it. He took a deep breath. "It's you. OK? You."

00000000000000

On to Day 3, Choice One: choose the chapter called "Day 3, Draco."

On to Day 3, Choice Two: choose the chapter called "Day 3, Ron."