“Malfoy, don’t drink that, it’s got cinnamon in it.” Harry hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t even know he was going to say anything at all until the words had already left his lips. By then, it was too late to censor himself.
Malfoy paused, the bottle at his lips, and regarded Harry with a curious expression. The rest of the circle watched on, their game of truth or dare, hardly begun, and already interrupted.
“So?” Ron broke the silence. “What does it matter if it’s got cinnamon?”
Malfoy’s eyes never left Harry. “How did you know?” He asked.
Harry thought quickly. “It’s spiced firewhisky. Seamus and I found– ”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Malfoy interrupted. He spoke to Harry as if there was no one else in the room. In reality, they were surrounded by eighth years from every house, all squeezed together on the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room for a game Hermione had initiated. And to Harry’s surprise – she had secretly invited the Slytherins.
“Can someone please explain what’s going on here?” Ron asked loudly.
“Draco has a cinnamon allergy,” explained Pansy, clapping her hands together excitedly.
“How did you know?” Malfoy asked Harry again, ignoring their audience.
“I don’t know. I just do.” The same way he knew the exact gel Malfoy used on his hair every morning (Merlin’s Magic), the same way he knew how Malfoy liked his eggs (poached), and the same way he knew Malfoy’s favourite colour (red).
Ron, although slow on the uptake, came to Harry’s rescue as usual. “Malfoy must have mentioned it before.”
Of course, Pansy wasn’t about let Harry off the hook so easily. “When would Draco have ever told– ”
Malfoy stood up abruptly, the spiced firewhisky discarded on the floor. Everyone turned to him and Harry was grateful for the reprieve from probing eyes. “I’m not staying sober while the rest of you get plastered. I’ll grab some regular firewhisky from my dorm.”
“Do you need someone to come with you?” Pansy asked sweetly.
Harry saw the trap before Malfoy did, but he had no way of warning him. “Yeah,” Malfoy said, “that’d be– ”
“Excellent,” Pansy interrupted. She turned to Harry. “Potter, you should go with him.”
Malfoy realised his mistake too late. “Wait, I thought– ”
This time it was Hermione who interrupted. “It’s Harry’s fault for only bringing spiced firewhisky anyway. He should help,” she said, sharing a smile with Pansy.
Harry looked back up at Malfoy, waiting for his reaction. Sure, they’d been tricked into it but Malfoy could always storm off without him. It’s not as if their show of being civil to each other throughout the year had fooled anyone.
“Fine,” Malfoy huffed, crossing his arms impatiently. He addressed Harry without looking at him. “Potter, you coming?”
Harry stood up, avoiding the eyes that returned to him once more. “Um, yeah, sure.”