Title: Strictly Business part 1/4 Pairings: Harry/Draco, past Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13 (I know, boring)

Spoilers: I'm not sure, but I'd go with the whole series just in case

Warnings: Post-Hogwarts

Summary: Harry's partner at Weasley and Granger Investigations, Seamus Finnigan, has transferred to Dublin to be closer to his family. You'll never guess who they get to replace him. Oh wait, you probably will... Note: Almost entirely written around this quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer: "It's Cordelia! Remember? The, the 'We Hate Cordelia' club, of which you are the treasurer."

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of any of the characters herein. They belong to JK Rowling, et al, and it's probably better that way.

Harry Potter landed rather awkwardly in his fireplace and shot a hand out to steady himself. He took a tentative step forward and grimaced when he felt pain shoot up his ankle. Limping and scowling, he dusted the soot off his robes and slowly made his way to the couch.

Giving a faint grunt of pain, Harry cautiously removed his boot and sock. He pointed his wand at the hurt ankle, muttered a quick healing spell, and flexed his foot to check the spell's effectiveness. When he was satisfied that there was no more pain, he pushed himself up and shuffled into his bedroom.

He had changed into his warm, well-worn flannel pajamas and headed towards the bathroom to wash up when a motherly voice stopped him.

"Oh, tut tut," the mirror hanging above his dresser said as he past, "Come here, dear. Let me have a look at you."

Obediently, Harry backtracked until his reflection looked back at him in his modestly sized mirror. His face was pale and drawn, and behind his glasses his green eyes were surrounded by shadows. Since his former partner Seamus Finnigan had left his job at Weasley and Granger Investigations last month in favor of a position closer to his home in Dublin, Harry had been working overtime trying to do the work of two people until they found a replacement. He'd been so tired after work that night that he'd opted to use the Floo network to get home because he feared splinching himself if he tried to Apparate.

"Oh, Harry, look at you. You're a right mess, son," the mirror fretted.

Harry saw his eyes roll in response. "Been a bit busy at work."

"A *bit* busy? I didn't even see you yesterday. Just fell into bed without so much as turning on a light, you did. I wouldn't have even known it was you if it wasn't for the moonlight coming in through the window. You need to tell that slave driver of a boss to give you a day off."

Harry remembered Hermione practically kicking him out of his office earlier and couldn't help the ironic grin that worked its way across his lips. "I rather like the long hours myself," he admitted as he attempted to pat down his wayward ebony hair, "Gives me something to do with my time."

That was true enough. Loading his mind with surveillance pictures and wrongdoings of the stray Death Eater left over from Voldemort's reign was as good a way as any to avoid being in his flat alone any longer than necessary.

"You have to go out and have fun, lad! Look at you, if you're a day over twenty-four, I'll gladly put a crack right down the middle of my glass. You're a young man! Too young to be falling into bed alone at 3AM." There was a pause, and then, "Now there's a thought! What happened to that dishy redhead you always had 'round? Didn't sound as if you two had to look for things to keep you occupied." If it was possible for a mirror to leer, Harry was sure she would have done it.

Inwardly he sighed. It had been nearly nine months since he and Ron and broken it off, but apparently his mirror, which was called Gladys, didn't have the same concept of time as people did. Whenever she spoke with him, she'd bring up Ron as if he'd just been 'round the night before. It got a bit tedious, and there were only so many times he could tell the mirror he'd been dumped while being forced to watch the reflection of his mouth forming the words at the same time.

"Gladys, I've never had a mother, and I assure you I don't need one," he answered instead of responding to her question.

"If not a mother then someone to look after you," Gladys replied, "You've gone and put yourself in something of a state, dear."

"Well, it will make you happy to know that I've been kicked out of the office all day tomorrow. I'm not to go back until Monday," Harry said.

He remembered the way Percy had waved away his objections about his forced respite with the mumbled excuse that Harry was no use to him if he couldn't even stop himself from falling asleep during one of Hermione's briefings, and drooling all over his notes. While he didn't doubt Percy was worried about his well being, the anal retentive former Ministry lackey was hardly one to talk about over-exerting oneself; half the time Harry left the office at the end of the day, Percy was still there.

No, it rang false to Harry. Something was happening that they weren't telling him about, and he would bet every Galleon in his pocket that it had to do with the as-of-yet unfilled position of his new partner. When he confronted Hermione about that as she was forcibly removing him from the building that night, she had only smiled guiltily, kissed him on the cheek and shoved him towards the fireplace.

The only other person that would have any idea about what they were doing was Ron, and though the two of them were still friendly, it had been quite some time since they had spoken more than pleasantries to one another regarding anything other than business. Harry wasn't particularly pleased with the current stagnation in their relationship, but while he really was over Ron, seeing him smile or hearing him laugh brought up a sort of painful, bitter nostalgia that he was working very hard to overcome. And seeing Ron smile or laugh with Byron, Hermione's assistant, brought up something different in Harry that was just as painful and bitter. No, he wasn't going to be going out of his way to talk to Ron any time soon.

"You could certainly use the rest," Gladys responded, pulling Harry out of his reverie and causing him to start.

"Yes, well. Better get on that then," he agreed and strode into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

*****

On Monday morning when Harry walked into work, he felt, if not refreshed, then at least functional. The bags under his eyes had faded away with the twelve hours of sleep he'd gotten on Sunday, and the chicken curry he'd eaten for dinner helped make him feel more alive than he'd felt in weeks. The day off had been a good idea, though they would have to bring back the rack in order to get Harry to admit it to anyone other than himself.

He was also ready to face whatever terrible scheme Percy and Hermione had cooked up behind his back. Hermione had owled him Sunday night and told him to be in her office at 8AM on Monday. Harry had come an hour early to attempt to shuffle through all the paperwork that had no doubt accumulated on his desk over the day he was away.

The receptionist Gerald, a tall, lanky man with overlarge hands, very small ears and a nose easily twice the size of a normal person's-honestly the sheer, disproportionate lopsidedness of the man dumbfounded Harry more with each viewing-saw him walk in the building and stood up in greeting, much to Harry's confusion.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Gerald."

Gerald looked twitchy and nervous, and this was confirmed when he wiped his hands on the material of his black robes. "You look.good," Harry's eyebrow rose ever higher and the receptionist rushed to explain, "I mean, considering. I mean, not that I really.but I've heard stories. That is to say everyone's.but you look.I thought that you'd come in spitting nails, it's good to see that you're more professional than that."

When Harry continued to look at him with a completely uncomprehending expression on his face, Gerald slowly sunk back down to his seat.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" He asked.

"Well, perhaps if you'd finish a sentence," Harry suggested.

"Yes, right," Gerald rifled through some papers on his desk and seemed to pick a few at random, "I really need to get these to Percy. I must be off now. Bye, Harry!"

Harry watched in bemusement as the man scurried away from him. With a shake of his head, he made his way down the hall, stopping abruptly outside of the doorway to the waiting room. The thing that caught his attention was the clothing on the man whose back was facing him. Instead of the traditional, professional black robes worn in the building, this man was wearing what looked to Harry to be a snug, emerald colored riding jacket over well-fitting black trousers and heavy black leather boots. Harry took in an unsteady breath. It was not normal for a wizard to wear clothing that did so little to conceal his body, at least in public. And that man certainly wore his trousers well.

Harry was about to tear his gaze away and keep going down the hall to his office when the man suddenly turned around. Guiltily, Harry quickly pulled his eyes up to look directly into the face of Draco Malfoy.

*****

He felt all the breath leave him at once. There in front of him was the person Harry had used all his ingenuity to successfully avoid running into for the past six years. It was hard considering Malfoy worked as an Auror, and Harry, as a part of an independent investigation firm, routinely ran into many Ministry employees. He managed to avoid Malfoy with some amount of ruthless determination, but now there he was, in Harry's own place of business, just as casual as you please.

If gossip (read: *The Daily Prophet*) was to be believed, the great transformation of Draco Malfoy was something akin to that of the ever- changing singer, Madonna (and now Harry had Aunt Petunia's magazines to thank for the disturbing image of Malfoy wearing a cone-shaped brassiere). It was deemed to be a total personality overhaul, complete with shifting loyalties and a healthy dose of patricide to clear up any confusion as to where Malfoy stood.

However, he didn't look any different to Harry. Same unnaturally white hair; even if it wasn't slicked back like it was in school, but instead barely brushed his shoulders and dramatically framed his face. And speaking of his face, it looked as it always did: sharp, angular and dangerous, even if his gray eyes weren't as cold as Harry remembered, and his mouth wasn't twisted into a sneer. In fact, his lips were turned upwards in a faint half smile that didn't convey malicious amusement like all the other grins Harry had seen aimed in his direction.

It was at that moment that Harry realized he had spent far too much time studying his old adversary's face.

Malfoy's smile grew wider as if the same thought had crossed his mind at exactly the same moment, and Harry cleared his throat and willed his ears not to turn red.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy said, and his voice wasn't friendly, but it was surprisingly soft and carried none of the acid he laced it with when they were kids.

Malfoy didn't seem surprised to see Harry. Though, Harry thought, why should he be? After all, everyone knew Harry worked at Weasley and Granger.

He prepared himself to say something biting, something like: *What Malfoy, get time off from your busy baby-eating schedule and decide to pay me a visit?* Or: *Funny, I could have sworn we had wards up against Death Eaters in this building*. Or possibly: *What in the bloody hell are you doing here?* However, he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, what would come out would be: *Your hair looks so soft, can I touch it?* And Harry would rather have played "Uncle" with the Cruciatus curse before saying that.

Consequently, he was left staring dumbfounded, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

Malfoy's smirk was more amused than malicious when he declared, "Just as articulate as ever, I see."

That tore it. Harry pulled himself together and felt the familiar sting of hatred wash over him. He took three long strides into the waiting room until he stood toe to toe with Malfoy.

"What do you think."

Right then, a disheveled looking Hermione Apparated into the room, shocking them both.

"Oh, Harry!" She exclaimed upon seeing him, "Gerald told me you were in. What are you doing here?"

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "I *work here*, Hermione! I think the question you should be asking is what *he's* doing here!" He gestured emphatically to Malfoy whose face had crumbled in on itself in confusion.

"What, you mean you haven't told him?"

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "I was going to today, honestly," she turned to look at Harry who was gaping unattractively back at her. "Why are you *early*? You're never early!"

"I wanted to get some work done since I had been banished from my office yesterday. What is going on? Have we started some sort of ex-Death Eater outreach program?" He asked scathingly.

"He's your new partner."

Percy's voice caused Harry to whirl around and face the door where his boss had entered. When the meaning of his words sunk in, he visibly blanched, feeling his whole face go white.

"*Excuse me?*" He shrieked. Gerald, who had been walking past the room, "eeked!" loudly and in his haste to get away from the scene nearly dropped the newspaper he'd been carrying.

"Why don't we all go into my office and discuss this in private?" Percy suggested in that tone of voice he had that allowed for no argument.

Hermione, Harry and Malfoy followed Percy down the hall and into his office, a posh space with an elaborate oak desk and giant floor to ceiling windows. The walls were practically suffocating from all the awards and plaques Percy had hung, some of them dating back to his Hogwarts days. Percy went to stand behind his desk and continued their conversation.

"He's quit working for the Ministry and he's going to work with us," Percy elaborated. "With you."

"Draco Malfoy? *Draco Malfoy*? Are you kidding me? Hermione, how could you even consider this? Hiring the man who tormented you for seven years? The man who gleefully called you a Mudblood and smeared rumors about you all over *The Daily Prophet*? And you, Percy! He insulted your family more than anyone else. This is mad!"

"I know it sounds crazy," Hermione began, her hands touching Harry's shoulders in a placating fashion. "Of course we thought about all that. We called him in for a real interview yesterday to get our questions answered and decide for ourselves if he could be trusted. Percy has been working with him for a while now. It's not as though we're fumbling about with our eyes closed on this."

"But he's EVIL!" Harry shouted accusingly.

"He is NOT," Hermione replied, her tone beginning to become flustered, "He was an Auror, Harry. He double-crossed Voldemort and his father. He pledged loyalty to the light."

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. You know him, 'Mione. Dark Mark or not, he'll always be a slimy, two-faced prat that only looks out for himself. That's not exactly my idea of the perfect partner. The person I have to trust not to get me *killed*."

Hermione sighed. "This is why I wanted to meet with you this morning and calmly explain it. Harry, he was the best Auror at the Ministry. He single- handedly removed the biggest Death Eater threat in Britain."

Harry scoffed. "It doesn't count as 'single-handed removal' when all he had to do was go home for Sunday dinner."

"I *am* standing right here," Malfoy interrupted, and gave a derisive wave in their direction, "I can *hear* you."

Harry's mind flickered away from the argument a moment to note that the angry sneer he remembered had returned to Malfoy's face.

"Shut up, this is none of your business," he shot back.

"Is that a joke, Potter?" Malfoy questioned, causing Harry to redden slightly when he realized what he said.

"Oh. Right," he responded weakly.

"Harry." Hermione tried again.

"Draco Malfoy, Hermione! Do you remember sixth year when you were recording secretary for the Society to Remove Malfoy From Hogwarts? You kept the *minutes*."

Draco's eyebrows rose up to his unfortunately un-receding hairline.

"You were the vice-president!" Hermione replied as she momentarily lost her calm.

"Yes, but it's already clearly established that *I* hate him!"

"If you'd just."

"Granger's right," Malfoy said, smoothly cutting in, his drawl making Harry want to punch him. "I'm reformed now. I play for the good guys. I fight for the light-to protect our children and rainbows and." he seemed unable to come up with anything else, ".chocolate frogs."

"Chocolate frogs?" Harry asked sardonically.

Malfoy shrugged. "I like chocolate frogs."

Harry had to try very hard not to notice the way Malfoy's coat stretched across his chest when he moved his shoulders.

"Why would you come *here*?" Harry questioned.

"The same reason you created this place. The Ministry is full of power hungry megalomaniacs who would stab you in the back as soon as smile at you. I've spent my whole life looking behind me, and I'm tired of it. So I thought, 'Where can I go that would utilize my skills, and not make me afraid to leave my office door unlocked?' Then I remembered this place: Bloody noble and brave Gryffindors as far as the eye can see. At least I can trust that you would try to stab me in the front." Draco looked straight in Harry's eyes, talked directly to him, his gray stare making Harry uncomfortable.

"This is non-negotiable," Percy chimed in, finally speaking up. "This company belongs to Hermione and me, and this is our decision."

"But." Harry began.

"If you don't like it, you could find employment elsewhere," Percy said.

Harry was frozen in shock, an honestly hurt expression on his face. Draco looked back and forth between the two men with obvious discomfort.

"Weasley." he said tentatively.

"I don't like my authority being questioned," Percy continued, ignoring Malfoy completely. "We're all friends here, Harry, but Hermione and I can't run this place by giving everyone a say."

Harry tried again, his desperation becoming more obvious. "Percy."

"No."

He looked on his other side. "Hermione, please."

She gave him a helpless look.

"This is like a nightmare. You've ambushed me! You met in secret and were going to spring this on me when I couldn't."

"Harry, you're overreacting. You're both the best at what you do, I'm sure you'll make it." Hermione tried to interject.

"I'm not *overreacting*. If anything, I'm not reacting enough! I walk into work this morning only to get." Harry trailed off when he remembered why it was he even noticed Malfoy in the first place.

Hermione was too caught up to notice his sudden uneasiness. "If you'd only *try*," she urged.

Harry's ire was rising. "I'm *trying* to understand how either of you could."

"Harry."

"At least make him dress normally, for Godric's sake! He looks indecent!"

Everyone stopped talking and Harry wanted to die. Malfoy was giving him a critical, if vastly amused, look. He studied him for a moment before responding.

"It didn't seem to bother you a few minutes ago."

".I don't know what you're."

"Please, Potter. I'm an Auror, you don't think I know when someone's standing behind me?" Malfoy reasoned, talking to Harry as if he were a small child.

Before Harry could think of a suitable reply to Malfoy's comment and the questioning stares Hermione and Percy were giving him, the door burst unceremoniously open, the wood slamming deafeningly against the wall.

Ron Weasley stood in the doorway, breathing hard and looking absolutely furious.

"*What in the bloody fuck is going on?*" He bellowed, his eyes locked on Malfoy's composed form.

"Oh God," Harry heard Hermione mutter beside him and he agreed with the sentiment.

Percy looked unruffled by the interruption. "Close the door, Ron," he said calmly.

"I want to know what Draco Malfoy is doing here NOW!"

"And I'll tell you as soon as you close the door," Percy responded reasonably.

Harry watched as Ron grabbed the door handle and flung it closed with a resounding bang. "Are you happy?" He sneered. "Now could someone kindly tell me about this secret meeting between you three and the evil Death Eater?"

"I don't need to ask who the president of your little schoolchild secret society was then," Malfoy commented, suddenly standing directly behind him. His voice was a whisper uttered lightly into Harry's ear.

Harry shut his eyes against the fluttery, ticklish feeling caused by Malfoy's soft breath skittering past the shell of his ear. He didn't bother responding to the comment-though it was accurate-and instead took a step forward to distance himself from Malfoy and focus his attention on Ron, willing his friend not to attack.

"HIS PARTNER?"

Harry flinched. He must not have done a very good job paying attention, because he had no idea which of his two superiors explained the situation to Ron. As incredibly unhappy as he was about this surreal new development in his otherwise monotonous life, he knew Ron had to be twice as angry. The man was known for his ability to hold a grudge, and the deep, festering hatred he had for Malfoy put all his other petty grievances to shame. At least with Malfoy every morsel of resentment was well deserved.

"I refuse to let this arrogant, untrustworthy prig work with Harry!" Ron declared.

Percy leveled him with an even stare. "You don't have any say in who I hire for this firm or where I choose to place them."

"The hell I don't!" He replied. "HARRY'S MY BO.!"

Ron trailed off, and the whole room went silent. Harry's green eyes were wide behind his glasses and he expelled a loud breath. Hermione looked terribly uncomfortable, and even the usually unflappable Percy was flustered. Malfoy looked intrigued.

"Harry's my friend," Ron continued lamely, all his righteous indignation gone.

There was a pause before Harry answered, his voice low but firm. "Leave, Ron. This has nothing to do with you."

Ron looked at Harry a moment. "Fine," he answered, tension practically screaming from his body. His hand held his wand so tightly that the knuckles had turned white.

With a final look around the room and a glare at Malfoy, he stomped out. Percy's sigh aroused the his attention, and Harry watched as he took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He looked back at them wearily.

"Draco stays," he stated tersely, "Now can you all get out of my office, please?"

They filed out, Harry glowering at Malfoy's back. As soon as the door had shut lightly behind Hermione, she reached out and touched a hand to Harry's shoulder.

"Are you ok?" She asked cautiously.

Harry snorted. "I think that answer is glaringly obvious."

"No, not that. I mean, about Ron."

Harry glanced sideways to see Malfoy watching their conversation with obvious interest.

"I'm fine," Harry dismissed quickly with a wave of his hand, eager to drop the subject.

"I know you're still upset."

"I said I'm *fine*," he asserted.

She looked unconvinced. "Is there anything I can."

"No. Stop being a busybody, Hermione."

She gave a quick shrug, unabashed. "You forget I'm doubly invested. I'm your friend AND I sign your paycheques." Stretching up on her tiptoes, she gave him a maternal kiss on the cheek and headed into her office next to Percy's.

Harry ran a hand through his chaotic hair and sighed. The sound of Malfoy clearing his throat made him wince. Abruptly, he straightened his back and gave his nemesis a look infused with as much disgust as he could muster.

"I'm going," he grit out and started down the hall.

He was almost at the staircase that led down to his office when Malfoy's voice stopped him.

"Potter?"

Tiredly, Harry turned back around. "What?"

Malfoy had a small, secret smile on his face. "I look forward to working with you."

*****