Title: A Flaw in My Heart's Design (1/4)

Author: icicle33

Rating: T

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Harry/OCs

Word Count: ~1500 in this part 8K in all

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

Summary: Several years after the war, Harry Potter is an Auror and a bit of playboy, much to everyone's surprise. Draco has the unfortunate luck of being his Auror partner. He still hates Potter. And he most definitely does not have a crush on his partner. Not even a little bit.

Author's Note: This story is complete and I will post two parts this weekend and the rest next week. I'd love to hear your thoughts. It's been awhile since I've written from my favourite neurotic blond's pov.= D

x o x o

You've haunted me all my life

You're always out of reach when I'm in pursuit

Long winded then suddenly mute

And there's a flaw in my heart's design

For I keep trying to make you mine

[1]

x o x o

"And then Malfoy actually wore the bloody nightgown right in the middle of a crowded Muggle supermarket. Everyone was ogling his scrawny arse and possibly quite scarred from those pale chicken legs. I could barely keep a straight face—"

Potter leaned over and patted Tracey on the back, who was choking on her laughter. He flashed her one of his annoyingly devastating smiles before continuing. "Don't die on me yet. It gets better." His eyes sparkled with amusement. "An old lady comes up to us next to the produce aisle. She pats Malfoy on the arm and tells him she likes his frilly nightgown and bunny slippers! And that she has the same one in pink."

The small group surrounding Potter erupted into undignified cackles or at least it sounded that way to Draco, whose anger started bubbling in his stomach. Theo Nott even had the audacity to catcall at him when he noticed Draco stalking towards them. Draco crushed the coffee cup he'd been cradling and then slammed it down on the closest table, frightening the group and breaking up the laughter. He'd been gone for all of five sodding minutes and Potter was already mocking him—as if he didn't get enough torture from the other Aurors and Ministry employees. Fucking Potter, some partner he was.

As Draco approached, Potter had a smug look on his face. He was lounging like a lazy cat on a small love seat with Tracey Davis draped over him like some harpy, her head in his lap, arms entwined with his. What a tart! He'd been holding court like he owned the place, sitting in the best seat with the rest of the group crammed around him, hanging on his every word. Draco shook his head and tried to make sense of the situation. This was surreal like a twisted alternate reality where Potter had been sorted into Slytherin and had usurped Draco's rightful place in the Slytherin hierarchy. This was just too much. He might have lost the respect of most of the wizarding world, but his fellow Slytherins too? Bloody buggering hell! He needed to put a stop to this immediately. He was still a Malfoy for Salazar's sake.

After composing himself, he cast a nonverbal Stinging Hex at Potter, who winced noticeably and rubbed his arse. Then he turned his anger on Nott, hexing him with a nasty Tongue-tying Jinx. Within seconds, he foamed at the mouth and started gagging. Draco felt no sympathy as he watched Potter's face turn pale and Nott struggle with a coughing fit. It served the tossers right for mocking him.

Satisfied, he plopped down into an armchair straight across from his Auror partner, which had been left empty. Well, at least the group had the good sense to save him a seat. He crossed his arms against his chest and gave the group the iciest look he could manage.

Once Nott and Potter recovered he said, "Making up stories again to impress pretty girls you have no chance with Potter?"

Of course, Potter — the utter prat that he was — didn't back down even if his ears did flush the slightest bit pink. "They're not stories, Malfoy. I actually convinced you to wear that ladies nightgown."

"These are confidential case files that you shouldn't be discussing with civilians."

Harry rolled his eyes and then gave Draco a challenging look, which looked much too close to a smirk. His amused, green eyes taunted him with a "you can do better than that Malfoy" expression. He hated that Potter did that now, turned his own signature smirk against him.

"And I do not have chicken legs." He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to keep his composure. "They're strong and shapely. And masculine." He glared at Harry, who let out a high pitched cackle. "I'd like to see you try and pull off that dress!"

Potter snorted and rolled his eyes again. "Whatever you say, Malfoy. That would never happen. I'm not thick enough to believe old ladies nightgowns are typical Muggle attire."

The group started laughing again: Tracey, Nott, one of the unbearable Patil sisters, and a young blonde girl, whose name Draco couldn't quite remember, but he knew her as a former Slytherin as well. His cheeks grew warm. This is ridiculous, he thought, Malfoys don't blush. Potter will pay for this.

"We were on a case!" Draco shouted, his hands shaking at his side. "And undercover. You lied to me, Potter." Draco cringed at the squeaky pitch of his voice. "Took advantage of my pure-blood sensibilities and complete lack of knowledge of the Muggle world. What happened to Gryffindor righteousness or moral fibre? Some inane notion like that—" He gestured with his hands, which continued shaking.

"That's Hufflepuffs, Malfoy. I'm fresh out of moral fibre today. Plus—" He arched an eyebrow at him, the sheer nerve of him. "It was my first undercover case in the Muggle world too."

"Well that's hardly the same thing. You're a—"

"Draco—" Tracey hissed.

"I'm a what, Malfoy? A filthy half-blood? A Muggle lover?" The playful tone dropped from Harry's voice, his eyes darkened and Draco winced. He glared at Draco in the same way he regarded their suspects during an interrogation.

"That's not what I was going to say! Why does everyone always think so poorly of me? That was years ago, Potter. Get over it."

"I am over it, Malfoy."

Since Potter's face almost matched the colour of Weasley's horrid hair as it always did when he was angry, Draco didn't quite believe him. Instead, he returned Potter's glare, his jaw clenched and wand squeezed in a death grip.

After several seconds, Potter sighed, his entire body relaxed and his demeanour changed. "Fine. What were you going to say?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. He hated how everyone, including his Auror partner, automatically thought the worst of him. Hogwarts was ten bloody years ago. He hadn't been that person for a long time. How long would he have to prove himself before he was truly forgiven?

"You grew up with Muggle relatives," he finally said, trying to keep his voice calm. "And your best friends with Granger. Even if you haven't had contact with Muggles in years, it makes sense you'd know more about the Muggle world than a pure-blood."

Harry gave him a strange look, as if he were appraising him but was confused at what he found. "I suppose that's true, Malfoy," he agreed. "But it was still bloody hilarious." A smug grin spread on his lips again and the rest of the group broke into laughter.

Draco threw his arms up in mock defeat. "I give up. You're incorrigible, Potter."

He stood from his chair and grabbed his forgotten beverage from the nearby end table while shooting the group a sneer with much more venom than he had intended. "I don't have to put up with this. Come find me when you're done embarrassing yourself by flirting with Tracey. She's never going to date you, you speccy git."

Feeling proud of himself as he noticed Harry's neck start to turn a lovely shade of scarlet, he pointed at Tracey, Nott, and the sheepish looking blonde girl, whose name he'd learn one of these days. "And you lot—" He glared at them. "You're supposed to be Slytherins. We stick together. If we turn on each other, who else will defend us? Some mates you are."

He huffed and then stomped out of the room, his Auror robes rippling behind him in a manner that he hoped was reminiscent of the late Professor Snape. He knew he was being petulant and perhaps even a touch over dramatic. But Potter always found a way to get under his skin, even after all these years.

Besides, every chance he got Potter flirted shamelessly with that silly bint Tracey Davis or that utter cow Padma, at least he thought she was Padma. What's so great about them anyway? Potter can do better. He's a bloody Auror and the sodding Vanquisher of Voldemort. There's no accounting for taste.

TBC...

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! How did you like Harry trying to usurp Draco's place among Slytherins?

I will post part two tomorrow. Have a great weekend!

Comments are love

~Icicle

[1] The title of this fic as well as the quote at the beginning comes from the Death Cab For Cutie Song, "You've Haunted Me All My Life". The lyrics and song definitely do not belong to me, nor am I trying to take credit. I listened to this song several times when writing this fic, so you can listen to it if you're interested. Sorry ff dot net won't let me share a link.