Of all the things Malfoy could possibly have done after the war, he had to choose auroring. Really, where was the fairness in that? Harry already had to rival with him in quidditch, and now he had to compete with him at his job too? He often wondered if Malfoy had joined just to make him miserable. It wasn't even that he was a bad auror-he was actually one of their best-it was just that Harry didn't see how somebody could make such a complete turnabout in their lives and still manage to be a complete git. Wouldn't fighting in a war change his attitude even a little? He wasn't a racist bigot anymore, sure, but he was still as rude and obnoxious as he had ever been, and that didn't seem fair to Harry in the least.

He groaned. Malfoy was currently writing up a report for a misdemeanor charge in Knockturn and, though he wasn't actually doing anything wrong, Harry couldn't help glaring at his back across the office. He had insulted Harry's hair in the lift already, and pointed out a mustard stain on his uniform that he had tried and failed to hide that morning. Harry resented Malfoy more than ever when he did things like that, since he always blew through the office doors looking completely put together and professional, while Harry was often stopped by a senior auror to do something about his unruly hair.

"Stupid prick." Harry muttered under his breath, and shut the drawer to his desk a little too sharply, jamming his thumb.

"Malfoy again?" Ron asked with a heavy sigh as he frowned across the desk at his partner, watching him slip his injured finger into his mouth with a scowl.

"He's a bloody git." Harry confirmed around the appendage, raising his voice just loud enough that Malfoy could hear him. A few aurors around the room looked up from their work as well, startled, and Harry noticed with a smirk that a short witch had seen him looking at Malfoy and had nodded her agreement as subtly as she could. Harry winked at her in camaraderie.

Malfoy made a rude gesture over his shoulder, and didn't look up from his work, but said sarcastically, "Yeah, a massive git. I hear he isn't even a real blond."

A smile actually twitched on a few aurors lips, and Harry's glare hardened on Malfoy's back. Ron rolled his eyes and began shuffling parchment on his desk, telling Harry with a sigh, "Ignore him. We got illegal potion dealing again. I swear, if it's not Xavier Mollet on the third hill, it's Gregor Hart in Knockturn. How many times can you charge a guy before he gets his brewing license suspended?"

"Don't get me started on Hart." Harry groaned, forcing himself to turn back to his desk and help Ron divide the paperwork between them.

Ron sighed and nodded his agreement, complaining, "He nearly took my ear off the last time we went in to apprehend him."

"Shame that he didn't." Malfoy pretended to sulk, sitting up to pout at them as they shrugged on their coats and got up from their desks. "You could have matched your brother."

"See, I thought about that," Ron sneered, pushing his hand through his sleeve, "but then I remembered that it's your family that likes to match, not mine; what with yours and your daddies matching tattoo's."

Malfoy flushed in embarrassment, and reached to scratch at his left forearm instinctively, but stopped himself midway there and pretended to dust invisible dirt off his trouser leg. Ron shot him an innocent smirk, and Harry hid a triumphant smile by turning to grab his wand off the desktop.

"Try not to get blown up." Malfoy spat when they passed, his neck red and his arms crossed bitterly. "I don't feel like scraping savior bits off the walls today."

"Well, if you do think of something you'd like to do with the saviors 'bits', you can owl and let us know." Harry told him innocently.

"Oh, fuck you!" Malfoy shouted, and launched his paperweight across the room at them just as they ducked into the lifts, laughing to themselves when it clanged against the grate and rolled back across the floor. Ron made a point of waving with as flirty a gesture as he could manage as the office disappeared from sight.

XXXXXXXXX

"Least it wasn't a blasting curse." Ron said as they staggered back in through the ministry doors, their suspect being supported between them.

"Yeah, because a concussion charm is so much better." Harry scoffed, his ears still ringing.

"Well, it's not like it hit you. By the way, when I told you to duck, I didn't mean for you to dive headlong into a shelf of cauldrons."

"I lost my glasses, I couldn't tell what I was going for." Harry scoffed, "All I knew was that I had a bump like a dragon egg on my head, and the room was ringing like a church bell."

They hardly noticed when another pair of aurors scurried over and took their prisoner, heading for an interrogation room. A mediwitch that they kept on staff approached worriedly, but Ron waved her off, looping an arm over Harry's shoulder to proclaim, "He's already died once, nothing a potions dealer can do to do him in."

Harry took the offered headache potion wordlessly anyways, and elbowed his partner sharply in the ribs, making him laugh. He helped Harry into the lift as he took a swig of vile-tasting potion, and as soon as Harry's head cleared, he tried on a smile and said, "Least we made it back before lunch."

"That's the spirit!" Ron crowed, and they stepped quickly from the lift, suddenly aware of the emptiness in their stomachs.

"Damn." Malfoy said when they approached, his face pinched with disappointment, "Just when I thought I was through with you for the day, you come limping back in. That eager to see me?"

"Hardly." Ron snorted, and he and Harry both took their places at their desks, well away from Malfoy's.

Miraculously, they were able to work in relative silence, besides the scratching of quills on paper, until Malfoy spoke up again ten minutes later to say, lacking his usual malice, "Oh, Weasley, your brother stopped by. He's talking to Shacklebolt in his office."

"Well, why didn't you say something before?" Ron asked, setting his quill aside to frown critically at the blond. "Which one is it, then? Fred or George?"

"Like I can tell them apart?" Malfoy scoffed, then, spotting Harrys raised eyebrow, he admitted, "It was George, I think. He's brought one of his ridiculous Weasley products to try and sell to the department. As if we're that desperate for new material."

Ron was too busy studying the blond to be offended, and he asked with a frown, gesturing awkwardly at the other auror, "Did you change clothes while we were gone?"

"Well, you're about as observant as a hat rack." Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Weasley, there is one standard uniform for aurors and I've been wearing it all day. What-quit staring at me like that. What are you looking at?"

"You look different, is all." Ron said, tilting his head sideways to study him. "You're sitting up straighter."

"It's called having good posture, Weasley. It's a Malfoy trait."

Now that Ron mentioned it, there was something different about Malfoy since they had left, only he wasn't sure what it was. Malfoy definitely seemed annoyed that they had noticed it, though, if the dark color rising in his face was any indication, which meant that now they absolutely HAD to find out what he had changed about himself since they had gone.

Harry caught it first, surprised at how obvious it actually was, and asked, "Did you style your hair differently?"

"No." Malfoy said, a little too quickly, and spun around in his chair so that his back faced them. "I look exactly the same as I did this morning. Now, I'm trying work over here, if you don't mind."

"You did!" Ron crowed, grinning broadly, "Ooh, who'd you do it for, Malfoy? Is it Jane down in accounting?"

"Bet it's that Emily girl from records. She's always looking for an excuse to flirt with Malfoy. Did you go down to collect a file from her, then? Is that why you've done your hair all different?" Harry asked, enjoying himself far too much. His head always hurt much less when he was taunting Malfoy.

"That's definitely it!" Ron agreed, laughing heartily, "Well, don't you worry, Malfoy, we'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

"Git is a good word." Harry suggested, tapping the end of his quill against his chin thoughtfully.

"Arsehole has a rather nice sound to it, too." Ron nodded, and looked up to smile as George walked out of Kingsleys office, a roll of parchment under his arm and a wide smile on his face.

"Are we describing Malfoy? I heard the word 'arsehole'."

Harry threw his head back in a laugh when Malfoy flushed and glared darkly at the three of them. George came up to stop at Harry and Ron's desks, leaning against them, and Ron explained, "Malfoy here has got a massive crush on Emily from records, and we're deciding exactly what sort of words we should use to talk him up to her."

Malfoys eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms petulantly, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the group. "I hope you know that I don't give a damn about Emily from records, and you can tell her that I drink from the ministry toilets for all I care."

"Drinking from the ministry toilets?Well, that would explain why you're so full of shit, wouldn't it?" Ron smirked, and continued to study the blond, who sneered nastily at him.

"No, he clearly doesn't care about her at all," Harry grinned, "that's why he used a spell to make his cheekbones look sharper, and why he did his hair all nice just to impress her."

Malfoys hand went up to his cheek immediately, a surprised look on his face, and when the trio laughed, enjoying the guilty look on his face, he spun around and showed them his back again, determined to ignore them. George chuckled, amusement shining in his eyes, and he asked Ron in a feigned whisper, "What do you think about Bertha down in the cafeteria being his leading lady? She's a bit out of his league, but I don't want to break his heart by telling him so. He probably thinks she'll be the only witch willing to spare a glance at him just because she's eighty and has cataracts."

Harry snorted and suggested, "Maybe its Anita. You know, batty Anita who likes to make bird calls at potential suitors?"

Malfoy wasn't reacting to them, and they tried four more names of people they knew Malfoy hated before Ron pushed the blond too far, asking loudly, "Don't tell me it's Hermione?"

Without warning, a stapler was being hurled across the room at his head. Malfoys aim was better than it had been that morning, even if it didn't hit its original target, and instead cracked against Harrys knee with enough force to make his eyes water. Malfoy smiled maliciously, and wiped invisible dirt off of his hands, satisfied with his work. George was still laughing when he helped Harry to the floo network, limping and grumbling about how Malfoy deserved more than just a 'stern talk' from Kingsley when Harry was missing a half day of work to nurse his now-swollen knee. He hadn't even gotten a taco from the cafeteria yet and he had waited all week for one of those! Ron had promised to find out who Malfoy had done his hair for in consolation for the injury and missing lunch. Harry looked forward to finding out who it was, but privately worried his friend would come away with an injury from thrown office supplies as well. Somebody ought to chain Malfoy's things down to his desk if he couldn't keep his temper in check.

XXXXX

Authors Note: So this is a new pairing for me, since I usually tend to write Drarry fics. I thought it would be interesting to try one with George and Draco together to play with the dynamics of their relationship and their personalities. If you want this fic to continue or if you have any corrections or questions, please feel free to comment! Even criticism is welcome. Anyways, welcome to the fic, thank you for reading, I hope you manage to find some aspect of this story likeable even if the pairing isn't something you particularily like. :)

Also, this is reuploaded with changes because the first time I posted it there were some errors and I ended up changing the end of the chapter so if you're reading this again sorry for that! And thanks for coming back!