Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

I wrote this for Nano - and didn't get anywhere near 50k with it - but whatever. I still like it. There are 22 chapters including prologue and epilogue, and it's all done and ready for posting. I'll be adding a chapter daily on the run up to Christmas... and finishing a few days early, but hey ho, it'll be fun anyway. I hope y'all enjoy the thing :)

Thank you to Dash for betaing the whole thing for me. You're an absolute superstar and I love you.

Words: 1200

~ Prologue ~

"You want me to go where with who?" Harry asked, aghast.

Kingsley snorted. "A safe house, Harry. The threats against you are getting more frequent, and we have reason to believe that they're not idle. Draco Malfoy is already there."

"And you think it's a good idea to just… leave us alone together? Have you lost your mind?"

"I think some company is better for you than no company, and given he's already there… it makes more sense than you think it does."

"It really doesn't," Harry argued, shaking his head. "It makes absolutely no sense at all. We won't be in danger from the Death Eaters, because we'll kill each other."

Kingsley frowned. "I didn't believe it would be this much of an issue, I'll admit. You spoke up at his trial, Harry; you're practically the whole reason he wasn't sent to Azkaban."

Harry shuffled his foot against the floor, looking away. "It was the right thing to do. Just because I don't like him, doesn't mean I want to see him in that hell hole."

"It won't be for too long, Harry, perhaps a month, six weeks at the most. You've been through worse, right?"

"I guess so. For the record, this is an absolutely terrible idea, and I hate it."

Kingsley nodded. "Duly noted. I'll send an Auror home with you while you pack, just in case, and then you'll be taken to the safe house by a series of Apparition jumps."

"Today just keeps getting better and better," Harry groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair. He really, really hated Apparition. "Can I at least let Ron and Hermione know what's going on? If they don't hear from me, they're likely to try and take over the Ministry to find out what happened to me."

Laughing, Kingsley nodded. "It's probably for the best that you tell them, yes. I have no doubt that they could do it, if they tried hard enough."

Harry nodded. "You and me both, Pal. I guess I'll see you in a month to six weeks."

…

"I can't believe I'm stuck here with you," Malfoy muttered, glaring at Harry from his seat at the far end of the kitchen table.

Harry rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored Malfoy, concentrating on the food he was cooking. Spaghetti bolognese was one of his favourite things to cook, and the smell was permeating the room wonderfully.

It was nice and simple, but with the right spices, tasted amazing.

He was almost peevish enough to not make enough for two, but he decided that would probably set the wrong precedent for the next month, and he really didn't want to spend the entire time sniping back and forth with the blond.

Part of Harry was even grateful for the reprieve, although the setting left a lot to be desired, as did the company. Still, it was nice to have a few weeks to just relax and not have to answer long reaching questions about what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

Why anyone thought he knew was beyond him. He'd spent the last seven years expecting to die before he made it out of his twenties, and now faced with a long future in front of him, he was floundering a little.

He didn't notice that Malfoy had left the kitchen until he turned to ask him if he wanted garlic bread or not. Frowning when he heard a thud upstairs, Harry tossed his tea towel over his shoulder and left the kitchen, intent on investigating what the Slytherin was up to.

…

He'd like to say that he was surprised to see Malfoy in his room, but he really wasn't. It was just like the blond to go rooting somewhere he shouldn't be, and Harry cursed himself for not thinking to ward his suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking for weapons," Malfoy replied flatly. "And poison. If you're offering me food, I don't trust it not to be laced by something."

Harry snorted. "Nobody said you have to eat it. Can you get out of my suitcase?"

Malfoy stood up, tossing the removed things back in carelessly. A piece of paper slid out onto the floor as he threw the last handful of clothes in, and he bent to pick it up. Harry frowned, he didn't recognise it.

"What's that?" he asked, taking a step closer.

"It was in your stuff, shouldn't you know?" Malfoy asked, smirking. "20 questions to make you fall in love. Maybe the Weaslette is hinting that she wants to get back together."

Harry pulled the paper from Malfoy's hand and glanced over it, eyes widening slightly. It looked like it had been torn from a magazine. Harry ran a hand through his hair and made to crumple the paper up, but it was tugged from his hand before he could.

"We should do it," Malfoy suggested.

Harry blinked. "Eh?"

"We can prove it doesn't work and then write a scathing letter to the editor of Witch Weekly about publishing ridiculous drivel."

"That… sounds like a lot of effort."

"I'm bored," Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes. "Bored out of my mind, and if I don't have something to focus on, I'm going to focus on irritating you and you don't need that, Potter."

"And answering questions honestly to you isn't going to irritate me? Really? What on earth makes you think I'd trust you enough to do that?"

"I'll swear on my magic to never tell anyone else what you tell me," Malfoy offered, his eyes oddly bright. "As long as you do the same, of course."

Harry stared at him for a long moment and then turned away. "Dinner is ready if you think it's safe enough to eat. And stay out of my stuff, alright?"

…

"Potter."

Harry looked up from the book he'd been reading as Malfoy sat down in the armchair across from him. He had the paper from earlier in his hand.

"We're not doing it."

"Why?"

Harry huffed. "Because I don't want to, and honestly, I don't know why you want to either. You don't like me, Malfoy, there's no conceivable reason for you to want to do this."

"I… I want to prove to you that you did the right thing saving me from Azkaban," Malfoy said quietly, after a pause. "And I want to… I want to know who you are, beyond the thorn in my side that you've been since we met."

"I don't regret what I said to the Wizangamot."

"Not regretting it isn't the same thing as believing what you said though, is it?"

Sighing, Harry looked at the paper in Malfoy's hands and then looked up to meet Malfoy's grey eyes. He couldn't help but see the hope shining from him and he twisted his lips.

"Fine. But you can go first, and if you try and use any of my answers against me, I'll end you. Understand?"

Malfoy nodded, his lips tilting up just slightly. Harry put his book down and shifted so his legs were underneath him. He waved his hand for Malfoy to get on with it.

"Alright. Question one."