All the Answers - Chapter 2

Disclaimer - It's not mine. Really. J.K. Rowling's the brilliant mind behind HP.

Notes - Post-HBP 7th year fic, not Deathly Hallows compliant at all. Eventually it will be Harry/Draco, thus the M rating. Beta'd by the wonderful Smutella and Nymph!

Harry scoured the kitchen for food while Malfoy was in the shower. He was relieved the Dursleys were out at the moment. He had no idea where they were or what time they'd be back, but then he didn't particularly care, either. There wasn't much food around, though, so he hoped they were out grocery shopping. Dudley wasn't on a diet nowadays, so that was always a likely option.

Still, Harry managed to slap together some sandwiches and grab a half-empty bag of chips before he made his way back upstairs. The water was still running in the bathroom, so he took the time to straighten up his room a little bit more. He tossed the books Hermione had lent him onto his bed, and was just contemplating whether or not he should grab the spare mattress from Dudley's room when Malfoy strode through the door and dropped his old clothes into a sodden pile on the floor.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Feel better?"

"A little," Malfoy replied, shrugging. He was clad in a pair of Harry's old sweatpants, which actually meant they were Dudley's old sweatpants and therefore far too big for either of them, and they hung low on Malfoy's hips. Harry's gaze moved up to the boy's naked chest – he was holding his shirt in his hand – and his eyes went wide.

"Is – is that…?"

"What?" Malfoy glanced down, and Harry saw his grip on the shirt tighten. "Oh. That. I never did properly thank you for that, did I? I mean, I always wanted to have a matching scar like yours. No, really," Malfoy held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to talk, "Thanks. Thanks ever so. It's fantastic," he said flatly. "Really."

Harry swallowed and felt like he might be sick. "I didn't mean to…" he said faintly, pushing a hand through his hair. He tried to look away, but his eyes were glued to the slightly silvery scar on Malfoy's chest. It started to the left of his neck and ran diagonally down his chest, before jutting back up again until just beneath his left nipple, where it changed direction once more and then finished down to the right of his navel.

It looked disturbingly like a lightning bolt.

"I suppose having the Dark Lord mark me wasn't enough; you had to have a brand of your own," Malfoy blathered on, either oblivious to Harry's distress or just outright ignoring it.

"I'm sorry, alright!" Harry burst out, rubbing his own chest distractedly. "I didn't know what that spell was going to do, I was just trying to stop you–"

"Stop me?" Malfoy repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Clearly I was in no state of mind to do much of anything to you! I was just trying to get you to leave me alone–"

"You tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me!" Harry cried. Malfoy blinked.

"I did not–"

"Yes you did," Harry interrupted. "You started to say Crucio and have you ever been under that curse before? I have, and I wasn't too eager for it to happen again, so you'll have to excuse me if I tried to defend myself!"

Malfoy stared at him for a moment. "It's not like it would have worked, anyway," he muttered eventually. "I've never really been able to master that one…"

"Well you're pretty good at Imperius, aren't you?" Harry snapped. Malfoy shrugged, and Harry's brow furrowed. "…And the other one?" he asked quietly. "Avada Kedavra, can you do that one?"

There was silence, and then Malfoy whispered, "Yes. On – on small things. Animals. Never really had a chance to use it on a human before. Use it properly, I mean…" They stared at each other again, the silence thick and somehow deafening around them. Harry was the first to drop his eyes.

"Let me see your side," he said softly, and Malfoy turned, lifting his arm so that Harry could get a better look at it. "Christ, Malfoy. You really should've tried to wrap this or something. Not much I can do now, but I'll put some disinfectant on it anyway."

"Disin-what?"

"Disinfectant. Muggle medicine."

Malfoy dropped his arm abruptly, backing away. "Muggle medicine? I think not, Potter."

"It's nothing bad," Harry said exasperatedly. "Well, I mean it might sting a little, but you'll be fine. Come on, I've been tending to my own injuries this way since I was five, I think I know what I'm doing."

Malfoy still looked doubtful, but he stepped back toward Harry anyway, lifting his arm warily. "Make it quick, then."

The corner of Harry's mouth tugged up and he dropped to his knees so that he could reach under the bed for his first-aid kit. He pulled it out and busied himself with getting a cotton ball ready while Malfoy cast bored looks about the room.

"Are those sandwiches?" he asked when he noticed the platter resting on Harry's bed. His stomach grumbled and Harry looked up, grinning as Malfoy's cheeks went pink.

"Yep. But you can't have any until I've finished this."

"Well get on with it then!"

Harry grinned again and moved forward, dabbing at the gashes. Malfoy hissed, the muscles in his shoulders tensing and his belly going taut.

"Sorry," Harry murmured absently, blowing on the other boy's skin. "There. That should be good. I haven't really got any bandages we can put on it, so it'll have to do anyway. We can check it again later."

"Can I eat now?"

Harry nodded, and Malfoy all but dove for the sandwiches. He paused for only a moment to pull his shirt on over his head, and then he ate three of the sandwiches so quickly Harry thought he might have just swallowed them whole.

"My cousin has an extra mattress is his room," Harry said as he sat down on the opposite side of the bed. "I was thinking I could just bring it in here and you could sleep on that.

"Yeah, alright," Malfoy said absently, licking the crumbs off his fingers. "Did you want one of these?"

"No, you can finish them." He didn't add that it was probably the last bit of decent food he'd have until they could get out of here. Uncle Vernon put up enough of a fuss with only Harry to feed; Harry couldn't imagine what he'd do once he found out there was another wizard staying under his roof.

Speaking of…

"Oh, great, I think they're home," Harry muttered. He stood and crossed to the window, watching as the car he'd just heard pull into the driveway parked and three of its doors opened.

"Who's home?"

Harry swallowed. "My relatives."

xXxXx

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S ANOTHER – ANOTHER WEIRDO STAYING HERE?" Uncle Vernon roared, his face going blotchy purple and his mustache twitching.

"Vernon! Vernon, the neighbors!" Aunt Petunia said nervously as she cast apprehensive looks out the window. Dudley was sitting at the kitchen table, watching eagerly.

"I WON'T HAVE IT! I WON'T, I TELL YOU! I'VE PUT UP WITH YOU LONG ENOUGH; I WON'T PUT UP WITH ANOTHER ONE!"

"Vernon!" said Aunt Petunia shrilly.

"Uncle Vernon, please," Harry asked tiredly, not really giving a damn what the man's answer would be, because as far as he was concerned Malfoy was going to be staying there no matter what. "It's only going to be for about two weeks. You've already said Ron and Hermione could come–"

"Who? Who did I say could come? THERE'S GOING TO BE MORE OF YOU?"

"You agreed to this already!" Harry said in exasperation. "They're coming for my birthday, and then I'll be out of your lives forever! It's just for a few days!"

"Vernon, perhaps we should just let the boy do as he wants," Aunt Petunia cut in, laying a hand on Uncle Vernon's shaking arm. The man was literally trembling, he was so angry. Aunt Petunia looked about anxiously. Harry thought she might be afraid that Dumbledore was going to pop up suddenly. She'd been like that for much of the summer, usually caving to whatever Harry needed in fear of being reprimanded again. If she only knew, Harry thought bitterly. He would have given anything for Dumbledore to suddenly appear like that.

"It's only for two weeks," Harry repeated.

"Dad!" Dudley cried suddenly. Harry looked at him, blinking at his pale face. He was pointing at something behind all of them, and Harry whipped around. Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, his wand dangling precariously from his fingertips.

Uncle Vernon spluttered. "What's that?" he asked quickly. "Why's he got his – that – that thing out? You can't use it! I know you can't! Not outside of that freaky school of yours!"

Draco arched an eyebrow, and Harry silently begged him to go back up to his room, where he'd told him to stay. It didn't work. "Potter there might not be able to," Malfoy said snidely. "But I'm of age, so I can." He raised his wand a bit, and Harry's eyes went wide. Draco met his gaze. Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Draco rolled his eyes before dropping his wand again. Everyone in the kitchen seemed to let out a collective breath. Draco sneered at them all.

"Is that him, then?" Uncle Vernon asked, turning back to Harry and ignoring Malfoy completely. "This is the boy you want to stay here? Even after he threatened us?"

"I didn't threaten you!" Malfoy snapped, crossing his arms.

"Malfoy!" Harry said sharply.

"He's got a tattoo!" Dudley spoke up again. "Dad, I saw it, he's got a tattoo!"

"Aha! So being a weirdo wasn't enough, was it?" Uncle Vernon exclaimed. "You had to go and be a freak, too!"

"What, you mean this?" Malfoy asked innocently. He held out his arm, and as if it knew it was being watched, the Dark Mark wavered a bit, the snake swaying first in one direction, and then the other. Uncle Vernon and Dudley gasped; Aunt Petunia screeched.

Harry moved hastily toward Malfoy and shoved him out into the hall. "We'll stay in my room!" he called back to his stunned relatives. "You won't even know we're here!" He herded the other boy back up to his room, Malfoy snickering the entire way.

"I told you to stay in here, Malfoy!" Harry growled, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. "Is it really that hard to listen to me?"

"I don't have to do anything you tell me to, Potter. That's one thing you'd best understand straight away."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and before Malfoy noticed anything amiss Harry had stomped over and snatched the boy's wand away.

"Where did you get this, anyway? I thought I–"

"You left your robe out," Draco interrupted, looking sourly at Harry. "I don't suppose you'll let me have it, will you?"

"No!" Harry blurted. "Of course not! I don't trust you by a long-shot, Malfoy, you really think I'm going to let you wander around with your wand?"

"It was worth a shot," Malfoy mumbled. Harry knelt in front of his chest and after tossing Malfoy's wand inside, made sure it was shut tight and locked. Draco rolled his eyes. "So, Potter, your relatives. Are you sure you're even related to them? I wasn't aware you were part whale."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wish I wasn't," he said, standing again so that he could plop down onto his bed instead of the floor. "I think I'd rather be related to you than them. Well, maybe not…"

"Ha ha," Malfoy said flatly. He moved to sit behind Harry, further up on the bed against the pillows. "Now what?"

Harry laughed, completely without humor, and fell backwards so that he was lying on his back. "Malfoy, welcome to summer with the Dursleys. The next two weeks will probably consist either of this–" He gestured vaguely at the bed. "–or this." Reaching to the side, he grabbed one of the books Hermione had lent him and propped it open on his chest. The rest of the books he shoved off the bed and onto the floor, grinning to himself as he imagined the horrified look on Hermione's face if she knew how he was treating her precious reading material.

"Reading, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

"Fun."

"Yep."

Harry rifled through the pages until he found where he thought he might have last left off – he wasn't really entirely sure if this was even the right book – and began the endlessly boring task of research. He heard Malfoy shuffle about a bit, but ignored him.

It wasn't until several hours later – he wasn't sure exactly how many – that Harry finally closed the book with a sigh. He honestly didn't know what good all this reading would do, especially when he wasn't even sure what he was looking for in the first place, but Hermione had insisted he might come across something. And truthfully, he had nothing better to do. It helped the time pass, in any case.

But there was only so much Harry could read about Hogwarts' ancient past in one sitting, and it was by far time for a break.

Harry sat up, yawning widely and stretching his arms out. He twisted around, grimacing as he heard his spine pop, and then nearly fell off the bed when he saw Malfoy still lying there.

"Christ, Malfoy," he muttered. "Completely forgot you were here." Malfoy didn't reply, and when Harry leaned closer it was easy to see why. The other boy was fast asleep across Harry's pillows, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. He looked different, more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him. It was a far different picture than the memory of Malfoy up on the tower, wand out and shaking in front of him.

Harry sighed. There was no point in moving Malfoy when he was obviously exhausted. It was only just beginning to grow dark outside, and Draco showed absolutely no signs of waking up anytime soon. Harry's mouth quirked upward and he slid off the bed, going to get the spare mattress from Dudley's room.

He could sleep on it tonight.

xXxXx

Three days later, Harry was in a horrible mood. He'd woken up on the mattress again, which, he'd discovered, was incredibly lumpy and really uncomfortable. Having a sore back was almost inevitable now, seeing as how Malfoy had refused to give up the bed. Not that Harry couldn't force him out of it, but he really couldn't be arsed to. He still had the boy's wand, and Draco hadn't really tried too hard to get it back, so he could let the bed issue slide.

But just because he wasn't being annoying about getting his wand back didn't mean he wasn't an unbelievable git about everything else. They were constantly bickering over things Harry didn't even think about most of the time, they were so insignificant. He thought Malfoy might just be trying to make his life as difficult as possible, what with him being miserable about being stuck inside a Muggle household and all. He clearly didn't appreciate that Harry had brought him here, and Harry was pretty sure that if he did have his wand, he'd leave.

Which made it all the more curious that he wasn't trying to get it back.

"God, Malfoy, would you bloody shut up!" Harry snapped, interrupting an ongoing rant of Malfoy's about the substandard way that Muggles prepared their food. "You're fucking lucky my aunt's even bothering to cook for you. Usually I'm on my own." Ever the proper hostess, even if Malfoy was a wizard, Aunt Petunia had made sure they got at least one meal a day. Which still wasn't all that great, but it was something at least. As long as they didn't bother the rest of the family with their presence at suppertime, she made sure there was something leftover for them afterwards.

"At the manor we had house elves to cook dinner for us," Malfoy said snidely, completely ignoring Harry. "You know, house elves? You have one, don't you? I know you stole one of ours, and then there was this really old, decrepit looking one that was skulking about the manor last year – fifth year, I mean – didn't you inherit him? I think that's what my mum told me. Why couldn't they cook for us?"

"I'm not bringing a house elf here just for the two of us," Harry said in a tight voice. He thought Hermione might kill him if he did, anyway. "And especially not that one."

Malfoy 'hmphed' and then went quiet for a few glorious seconds. Of course he ruined it by opening his mouth again.

"Why did you bring me here, Potter?"

It was an unexpected question, and Harry actually had to blink at Malfoy a few times before it registered. "What do you mean?"

"Well… I thought you were going to try and question me or something," Malfoy admitted, idly tracing the pattern of the quilt on the bed where he was sitting. "But you haven't tried to do anything yet, and it doesn't really make much sense for me to just be here…"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Do you want me to interrogate you?"

"Of course not," Malfoy said, his nose wrinkling. "But there has to be some reason I'm here."

"You're here because I brought you here," Harry said, glancing away. To be honest, he hadn't exactly figured it out himself. He doubted Malfoy had any useful information anyway, and the boy seemed to believe that Voldemort would kill him on sight if he ever found him, so Harry felt vaguely guilty about forcing him back out into the world again without…without some sort of…protection…

Oh.

In his mind's eye he could replay that entire night almost perfectly clearly, if he really wanted to. He had revisited the tower several times in his dreams at the beginning of the summer, and it seemed like every specific detail was still there. From Dumbledore growing steadily weaker, to Malfoy's wand wavering and then eventually lowering that slight bit, to Snape bursting through the doors, and then even to Dumbledore begging Snape not to kill him.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he very much doubted that Dumbledore had ever begged for anything before, and it seemed unlikely that he would have resorted to doing so, even for his own life. It just wasn't his style…

Harry's brow furrowed, and then Malfoy snapped, "Potter!" and effectively broke him out of his musings. Why had he been thinking about that night in the first place?

Oh, right, Dumbledore offering Draco protection. Could Harry really do the same? Malfoy hadn't gone back to Voldemort, at least. That had to count for something…

"Potter!"

"What, Malfoy? For God's sake…"

"I want to know why I'm here! 'Because you brought me here' is not an explanation."

"It's all I've got for you at the moment." Harry didn't think Malfoy would really appreciate Harry offering to protect him right now, and he didn't exactly know how he'd manage to do so anyway. "Do you not want to be here or something? Do you want to leave? Because I can give you your wand and kick you out the door if there's somewhere else you'd really rather be." As tempting as the thought was, Harry doubted he'd ever actually do it.

Malfoy looked slightly chagrined and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a "no." Harry grinned to himself, and went back to his reading.

xXxXx

About a week after that, Harry woke up to something scratching on the window early in the morning. Groaning a bit, he rolled over, peering blurrily as he tried to make out what it was.

"Bloody owls," Malfoy muttered from somewhere above him. Harry yawned and pushed himself to his feet. He gave the bed where Malfoy was sleeping an annoyed look before trudging over to the window and opening it.

"Hey, Pig," he murmured, recognizing Ron's owl immediately, even without his glasses on. "What've you got for me?"

"Close the damn window, Potter, you're letting all the cold air in," Malfoy said, sounding as if he was still half asleep. Draco Malfoy was not a morning person, Harry had discovered. Not in the least.

"Shut up, Malfoy, you've got plenty of covers," Harry said absently. He walked over and sat down heavily on the bed, causing it to bounce beneath him. A blond head poked out from under the bundle of covers, hair tousled and eyes glaring.

"Stop it," he snapped halfheartedly, before burrowing back into his cocoon of blankets.

Harry leaned back against the bedpost and kicked at what he thought might have been Malfoy's shin. "Wake up, you lazy arse."

Malfoy grumbled indistinctly, and Harry unfurled the letter Ron had sent him and slid his glasses on. There wasn't much to it, just basically a confirmation that he and Hermione were definitely going to be flooing in tomorrow, and to have the fireplace ready this time around. And there was a footnote, written in Ginny's neat handwriting, saying that she missed him and couldn't wait to see him in a few days time. Harry frowned, immensely grateful that she wasn't coming with the other two.

"Alright, Pig. There you go." He shooed the owl off in the direction of Hedwig's cage and folded up the letter again.

"What the fuck type of name is Pig for an owl?" Malfoy asked grumpily, poking his head back out again.

"It's short for Pigwidgeon."

"…That's even more idiotic."

"Yeah, well... Get up, would you?"

"Why? All I'm going to do is sit around and watch you read some more," Malfoy groused. "This is so boring. I was having more fun in the Forbidden Forest."

"This isn't exactly supposed to be a holiday getaway for you, you know," Harry pointed out. "That's not why I brought you here. And I've already said you could leave if you wanted to."

"You still have my wand," Malfoy muttered, which they both knew was a lousy excuse because Harry had told him several times that he would give it back if he really wanted to go. This was mainly when Malfoy was annoying the piss out of him, which had been so often that they'd somehow managed to turn I'll give you your wand back! into a threat. "Potter, why am I here?"

Harry sighed. This again. They'd had this conversation almost every day since Malfoy had first brought it up. "Why is it such a big deal?" he snapped, annoyed. "Why can't you just accept that I brought you with me? Would you really rather I'd let Hagrid take you to McGonagall? You'd probably be in Azkaban right now."

"At least then I'd be with my father!"

"I don't think they have family holding cells. Though you might be able to hear him screaming and moaning from down the hall, I suppose."

Malfoy sat up and whipped his head around so quickly that Harry was sure he must have given himself whiplash. He could see the other boy's hands closing into fists, and they glared at each other for only a brief moment before they both turned away, Malfoy breathing harshly through his nose.

Harry had discovered over the past week or so that the best way to deal with Malfoy was to simply forget about certain things. Malfoy had figured this out, too, and somehow they'd formed an unspoken agreement that some things were just never to be mentioned between them. Like Lucius Malfoy being in prison, Sirius and Dumbledore being dead… Snape was a rather taboo subject on both of their parts, as well. In fact, most of sixth year was.

Generally, if they could just forget about each other's pasts and avoid talking too much about the future, they managed to get along alright. Most days. Which was kind of necessary, seeing as how there wasn't much to do in the house and they rarely ventured outside of it. Thus they were holed up together, and being next to someone you were supposed to hate left a lot of room for pent-up anger. So they'd become good at ignoring what they didn't like about each other to avoid that.

"You know," Harry said eventually, "you could always go to the Order for help. If you explained to them – and I'm sure it wouldn't hurt that you've been with me – you could explain what happened and…"

"And what?" Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "And hope they'll take mercy on me and only torture me for two hours instead of five?

"They wouldn't torture you," Harry snapped. "That your side's style, not mine."

"My side's style," Malfoy repeated. He glanced away. "My side…"

Harry sighed, pressing the heel of his hand against his eye. He could feel a headache coming on. "Never mind." he said. "Come on, let's go get breakfast."

"There's nothing decent to eat in the house," Malfoy reminded him, sliding out from under the covers and rubbing the back of his neck.

"There's a café not too far from here. We can go there."