Title: A Flaw in My Heart's Design (4/4)

Author: icicle33

Rating: T

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Harry/OCs

Word Count: ~2500 in this part

Warnings/Content: Auror Partners, EWE, Pining Draco, Jealous Draco, Bisexual Harry, Playboy Harry, Humour, Angst with a Happy Ending

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. It means so much to me that so many people have enjoyed my first Harry/Draco in years. It makes me motivated to continue writing. I hope you enjoy this final chapter and please read the note at then end.

x o x o

Draco swirled the rich, amber liquid in his wide-lipped glass, sloshing it in circles as he watched the caramel spindles slide down the sides. He raised the glass to his nose and inhaled, breathing in the spicy, sweet aroma of the aged Firewhisky before taking a large gulp. Technically, he was supposed to sniff the whisky for a much longer period of time and take small sips. His father had taught him how to properly savour a glass of aged Firewhisky by the age of fourteen. Malfoys needed to know how to behave in proper company. It was expected, but given that he was now on his fourth glass, Draco figured it was okay to cheat.

Merlin knew that he wanted to get drunk tonight, not savour the taste of the alcohol like his father had taught him. Besides, Potter didn't seem to know the difference. The speccy git sat across from him grinning like a loon as he sloshed the whisky around in his glass violently, spilling half of it in the process. Apparently, Potter couldn't handle his liquor. He'd been throwing drinks back quite rapidly since they first arrived.

"Potter, the Firewhisky is supposed to go in your mouth not all over the table."

"Not my fault." He chuckled as if he'd said something funny. He was doing that a lot tonight. Draco did not find it endearing. Not at all. "I was trying to drink it in the poncey way that you do."

He rolled his eyes. "That Firewhisky costs 50 Galleons a bottle, so stop wasting it. Or I'll make you pay the bill."

Potter choked, sputtering whisky and saliva all over the table and right in Draco's face.

Wiping the spittle away, Draco drawled, "Lovely. I prided myself on being the last person in London you hadn't swapped spit with yet. And—it's not like you don't have the Galleons…"

Potter blushed and lowered his head, staring down into his glass as if it were suddenly interesting. Draco regarded him curiously. Usually, he never blinked when someone insulted his debaucherous love life. "It was a joke," Draco explained. "I wasn't judging."

"I know." Potter sighed and then met his gaze again. "It's just...I don't know. It's always been fun. I never wanted to be tied down. There are so many pretty witches out there and fit blokes. But—"

"But what? Don't tell me Harry Potter has finally fallen for someone? Who's the lucky girl?" As soon the words left his mouth, Draco cringed. He hated watching Potter jump from partner to partner. The jealousy was slowly driving him mad, but he couldn't imagine how painful it would be to see Potter in an actual relationship. That might actually break him. Still, he had to know. Damn, his masochistic tendencies.

Potter bit his lip and looked uncertain. "No, it's not that. I haven't met anyone new. It's just—" Potter sighed again, and this time, he ran his fingers through his hair. Draco noticed his hands were shaking. "I don't know what I want anymore. I-I…I slept with Tracey last week."

Draco bit his tongue, hard. He drew blood and tried not to grimace as the coppery liquid filled his mouth. He swallowed with as much poise as he could manage and then forced a smile on his face. Under no circumstances could he allow Potter to see how much he wanted to hit something. Or strangle a certain fake, blonde wench.

"That's great, Harry," Draco said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "You've been after her for ages. I didn't think you'd actually manage it. Slytherin girls are notoriously difficult to impress."

Harry shot him a confused look. "Did you just call me, Harry?"

"Did I?" Draco let out a high-pitched chuckle. "That is your name, isn't?" He tried his best to recover from his disastrous slip of the tongue.

"Yes, but you never call me, Harry."

"Sure, I do," Draco lied, "we've been partners for three years now, Harry." Draco savoured how foreign the name felt on his tongue. Surprisingly, it was not altogether unpleasant. "You're the one who insists on calling me, Malfoy. Using surnames is so Hogwarts, don't you think?"

"Right." Potter didn't look convinced, but then he said, "So does that mean you want me to call you, Draco?"

"Sure," Draco replied much too quickly, "I mean…if you want to."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe." He squirmed in his seat and looked rather uncomfortable. "But I dunno. You have to admit Draco is a weird name. No offense."

Draco laughed, a real laugh this time, shaking his entire chest. "It's an old family name, you uncultured prat." He smirked, but there were no malice behind his words. The irony of the moment was not lost on him. Wow, how things had changed! Ten years ago, he'd promoted Weasley to the number 2 spot on his enemy list for a similar crack about his name and Potter to the number 1 spot for laughing at him and rebuking his friendship. Now, Potter's teasing amused him.

"Sorry we can't all have dreadfully common names like Harry?"

"Harry's not a common name." Harry huffed. "It's royalty. I'm sure Prince Harry would beg to differ."

"I have no idea what you're talking about—"

"Muggle Royalty—"

"As if I care about Muggle Royalty—"

"Why are you always so impossible?"

Potter crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted. He actually pouted. Draco could barely contain his amusement. The idiot looked adorable and the fact that Draco used the words Potter and adorable in the same sentence meant that he was either much more intoxicated than he realised or he'd finally succumbed to the Black family madness. Either way, he was much too drunk to deal with it now. Instead, Draco grinned again and rewarded Potter with his brightest smile.

"You can keep calling me, Malfoy…if you'd like. Just lose that constipated look. You're putting me off my drink."

Potter shook his head and laughed. "You're something else, Malfoy."

Draco waggled an eyebrow and smirked. "Something good, you mean."

Still grinning, Potter agreed. "Yeah. You are."

Now, it was Draco's turn to blush. He felt his face grow hot, warmth spreading down his entire body. Damn, that Firewhisky. He usually had a higher tolerance than this. At least Potter looked like he was about as sloshed as he was if not more so. His cheeks held a rosy tint, and he was still gawking at him with that soppy grin. He really needed to stop that. It made him think inappropriate thoughts, like wondering how those full lips would feel, all plump and swollen, tucked between his teeth. He needed to change the subject. Desperately.

"So…"

"So…"

"About Tracey?"

"What about Tracey?"

Exasperated, Draco reached for the almost empty Firewhisky bottle and refilled both their glasses. "Will you see her again?" Draco asked. "She's from a wealthy family. She'll probably expect you to court her if you're really interested. I can ask around if you'd like."

"Court her?" Potter mouthed, as if hearing the words for the first time and despising the taste of them. "Absolutely not." He shuddered. "I know she's your friend and all, Malfoy, but Merlin how did you put up with her for all those years in Slytherin?"

Draco was well aware of Tracey's annoying qualities. During school, she'd been a shrill, annoying gossip among other things, but he had to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to offend Potter just in case he really did care for Davis. Gryffindors believed in chivalry and defending a lady's honour. And all that rubbish. He finally settled for saying, "You'll have to be more specific."

"Well, she's quite fit. But—" Potter fiddled with his glass, absently running his finger over the rim, "she never stops talking. I don't know how I never noticed it before. It's just non-stop chatter. About absolutely nothing. I couldn't even spend the night she gave me such a headache. Luckily, I had a Puking Pastille in my jacket pocket."

"Oh, I think you were too busy focusing on Davis' other assets to notice how often her lips move." Draco smirked. "And out-scheming a Slytherin, Potter. I'm impressed."

Harry snorted before downing the rest of his drink. "I'm such an idiot—"

"Your words not mine."

Harry scowled, glaring at his empty glass as if it had offended him. "You didn't let me finish, Malfoy. Sometimes...I'm such an idiot sometimes."

"Uh-huh."

"Merlin, Malfoy, what are you five-years-old? I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you—and you keep interrupting."

"Someone is in a mood, tonight." Draco pursed his lips and huffed. "Fine, continue. You have my undivided attention."

"I-I've just…I don't know, Malfoy, these last few weeks when we haven't talked. It was hard," Potter said, struggling with every word. "Harder than I thought. And—"

"Aww, Potter, I didn't know you cared."

Potter banged his fist on the table. "Will you shut up and fucking listen for a minute? I'm trying to share something important here."

"Okay. Okay. There's no need to make a scene."

Shaking his head, Potter said, "Do you mind if I drink the last of that?" He motioned towards the almost empty bottle of Firewhisky. "I need it more than you do."

"It's all yours," Draco replied. His head felt fuzzy from the alcohol. He'd lost track of how many drinks he'd had. Five? Six? Seven? He didn't know why Potter turned grumpy all of a sudden, but it was killing his buzz. Hopefully, giving him the last glass would brighten his mood.

"I realised something this last week," Potter said, after taking another sip of his drink. "All the girls, even the few blokes I've slept with, I never cared for any of them. I never wanted to spend time with them outside of the bedroom. I never missed them when they weren't around. But now I—" He paused, averting his eyes to the table. "Why is this so hard? I'm rubbish with all this feelings talk. I should have asked Hermione to help me come up with a better speech. I'm royally bollixing this up."

Smiling, he shook his head and then locked eyes with Draco, making the table feel small. "I realised that there's someone that I do care about. More than I ever knew. But I have no idea how to tell them. Or if they're even interested—"

Draco sighed. His head was still spinning from the alcohol and Potter was acting much too melancholy. If he wanted to wallow in self-pity, he would have spent the evening at home in the dark, empty Manor alone with only the barmy house-elves for company. He wanted to salvage what was left of the evening. It was almost closing time. "Potter, you're a bloody Auror and the so-called Saviour of the wizarding world. What witch in her right mind, wouldn't be interested in you? Just send her flowers or some other token of affection. Women love that. Or so I hear."

Potter placed his glass on the table and then dropped his head in his arms. He ran his hands through his hair again, pulling it violently. "It's not a—" he mumbled into his arm, muffling his voice and not allowing Draco to make out the rest of his speech. After several seconds, he lifted his head. "Forget it," Potter said, "I'm not being clear." He picked up his glass and downed the last of the Firewhisky. "I've never been good with words anyway. I'm more of doer."

Draco opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Potter reached across the table and pulled him by the collar of his robes. As he leaned over, Draco started to panic. "Come here." He grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him towards the other side of the table, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair besides him, but never relinquishing his grip on Draco's robes. What was Harry playing at? He didn't like having his personal space invaded, especially not by Potter. Harry had pulled their chairs together, arranging them so the backs touched. They were close enough now that Draco could make out all the faint lines on Harry's face, a shadow of dark stubble dusting his lower jaw, those impossibly green eyes. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his tongue against that faint trail of hair, but he knew it wouldn't be welcomed.

"Potter," he said, once he regained his senses, "Harry…what are you doing?"

"It's you…you, impossible prat. That's what I've been trying to tell you all night."

"Wha—" The words barely left Draco's mouth before another pair of lips slammed against his. Harry's mouth felt hungry against his, hot lips and tongue demanding entrance into his mouth, which he granted eagerly. After several moments, Draco deepened the kiss. He felt himself press against Harry's warm body, tangling one hand in his hair and slipping the other inside his shirt, finally touching those tantalising muscles he'd been ogling all night. Harry moaned into his mouth in response, causing Draco to gasp as he realised his cock was now hard, digging uncomfortably into his tight trousers and pressing into Harry's muscular thigh. As much as he was enjoying this impromptu snog session, they needed to stop before they got carried away. They were in the middle of a pub after all.

"Harry," he breathed, once they pulled apart. "Why?"

Harry stared at him, all wide-eyed and earnest, in that annoying way only Gryffindors seemed to manage. "Because I like you. Isn't it obvious?"

Draco pondered for a moment, trying to understand what had just occurred between them before responding. "I suppose."

"Do you have problem with this?" Harry gestured between the two of them with his index finger.

"Clearly, I don't, Potter. But I don't understand—"

Shaking his head, Harry interrupted him. "Look, we'll talk about this later. I promise. Can't we just get out of here?"

Draco gulped. He still couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd fantasised about hearing those exact words from Harry for ages, but he'd never imagined it would happen—that Potter wanted him back and supposedly even cared about him if the confusing drivel he sprouted earlier could be trusted. Perhaps it was the Firewhisky clouding his judgment, but he couldn't think of a single reason to say no. Maybe in the morning he would realise that he'd made a colossal mistake and regret it immediately. But he was too far gone to care. Even if it was only for one night, he wanted Harry to be his, needed to see this through, to see where it may lead. Draco no longer ran away from his problems. Most of the time.

Mustering all the courage he could, he responded, "Absolutely." He gave Potter what he hoped was a seductive smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

~FIN

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story, which I had a great time writing. I'd love to hear what you thought good or bad. Originally, I hadn't planned on there being any smut in this story, but I'm considering either adding an epilogue or short sequel of what happens after Harry and Draco leave the bar. Perhaps from Harry's POV instead? Please let me know if this is something you'd like to read and also if you'd prefer it to be from Harry or Draco's POV.

Be on the lookout for more Drarry fics from me. I have plans to finish Everybody Lies next and then work on some new things.

Have a great week everyone!

Comments are love,

Icicle