Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the HP fandom. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from this story. At all.

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Title: The Secret Life of Draco Malfoy

Author: icicle33

Rating: M (in future chapters)

Word Count: ~25 K in all (3300 words in this chapter)

Pairing(s): Harry/Draco and mentions of Harry/OMC and Draco/OMC

Warnings: Post War AU, Dracocentric, contains a past relationship and breakup between Harry and Draco, lots of adult language (Draco never learnt to control his tongue), humour and flangst, m/m sex (eventually)

Summary: After the war, Draco was ousted from the wizarding world. With a little bit of luck and the help of some good friends, Draco became a successful veterinarian in the Muggle world. His life was slowly starting to come together again―that is―until Harry Potter shows up at his clinic with a sick cat.

Author's Notes: Hello everyone! This story was written for the HD Career fest on livejournal. For this fest, you need to put Draco and Harry in unusual careers that don't include, Aurors, Potions Masters, Professors, or Unspeakables. The prompt I claimed was Draco as a veterinarian and Harry as a photographer. This story is complete and I will be updating frequently. I hope you enjoy this unusual story and my attempt at weaving it together with canon. A special thanks to Ashiiblack for her awesome beta skills.

The Secret Life of Draco Malfoy

x x x

"You can judge a man's true character by the way he treats his fellow animals." ― Paul McCartney

x x x

~8~8~8~

Draco Malfoy had never liked dogs. Or Cats. Birds. Reptiles. Amphibians. Flamingos. Absolutely not. They all gave him the screaming abdabs. And he found them to be pests. Furry disease carriers. That was all.

In fact, Draco had never liked animals of any kind. For some inexplicable reason, however, they loved him. He knew he was lovable—being a Malfoy, handsome, brilliant, and blond—but it was ridiculous how much animals seemed to love him, especially the furry, cute ones. Of course, it couldn't be the scary, manly ones. No such luck. The furry little rats were set on ruining Draco's reputation. Just like everyone else.

If anyone had told him that he'd spend almost all his time taking care of furry creatures, he never would have believed them. Malfoys and animals did not mix. At least that was what he always thought. As usual, the universe, which he was certain hated him, had different plans than the life of luxury and Ministry job he had always imagined for himself. Lucius had never been a good father – understatement of the year – and they no longer kept in touch, considering Lucius' lifetime prison sentence. However, there was one lesson that his father taught him, which was actually good advice. A Malfoy always copes. Endures. And then survives. And cope he did. His life might not be what he had imagined or hoped for, but it could certainly be worse.

After all, Dr Malfoy had a certain ring to it.

~8~8~8~

Draco stared in the cat-shaped shaped mirror in his office and winked at himself. "Just gorgeous. That's one handsome bloke," he said to the mirror. He ran a hand through his expertly tousled hair, fluffing it just so, and rearranged his round tortoise framed glasses, so they sat almost on the tip of his nose, giving him that intellectual debonair look he always sought after. Not that he wasn't actually brilliant in his own right, but since Draco was so young and blond, he found it necessary to smarten up his image, especially in front of his clients. They loved it.

Besides, his Oliver Peoples spectacles had got him quite the number of dates; so really, they paid for themselves many times over. He straightened out his pressed white lab coat and doubled checked the Windsor knot on his silver tie. Then after blowing one more kiss at the Muggle mirror, he walked out to the reception area with his head held high and a little swagger in his step.

Of course, Draco knew that the Muggle mirror would never talk back to him since he wasn't mad and all, just yet – no thanks to his Black family genes – but he always liked to imagine what the mirrors would say if they had been enchanted. The mirror he used to have at home, a gift from his mother, used to offer the wittiest of compliments.

Thinking about enchanted mirrors and the Manor made him homesick. While he never would have chosen this life for himself, he adored his job, and his co-workers weren't as bad as he had once thought. Really, Draco had nothing to complain about – well – other than his abysmal lack of a love life, but that was another issue entirely. Either way, he found that surrounding himself with familiar faces, even if they were as annoying as his receptionist, calmed him and made him less prone to thinking about the past.

"Bertha, my dear, you're looking lovely today, as always."

Draco smiled at his receptionist, a stern-faced old woman with black hair and bright blue eyes. She always insisted on wearing her own clothing rather than the animal print scrubs the other assistants were required to wear. Today's outfit was a lavender pantsuit with matching beads and Draco was certain it was not Chanel. But since Bertha didn't do more than answer phones and schedule appointments, Draco let her get away with it.

"Dr Malfoy," Bertha said, giving Draco a brief once over. She pursed her lips at him and showed a little bit of teeth. "You're actually on time today. What's the occasion?"

Draco chuckled, knowing that was as close to an actual smile as the old woman ever gave. He placed a hand on Bertha's shoulder and squeezed it twice. "I'm always on time, Bertha. You know that this clinic would never survive without me. The patients come from miles and miles away just to see the great—"

"Yes, yes, I've heard it all before." Bertha waved her left hand at him in a dismissive manner and then handed him a clipboard. "Here, you go, Your Greatness. Your first patient is already here, a tuxedo cat named Winston." Bertha let out a loud sigh. "And his owner...what a polite and well-mannered young man he is. And handsome too."

Draco arched an eyebrow."You don't say?" It wasn't often that handsome young men came into the office with sick cats. Their clientele was decisively more female than male, and the males that did come in, were usually fathers accompanying their crying daughters, who pleaded with Draco to save their beloved pets. "Tell me more. What's he like? What's his name?"

"Harry," Bertha replied in a soft, dreamy voice, which he'd expect to come from a schoolgirl rather than his strict receptionist. "He's quite handsome. Dark, messy hair. Broad shoulders. And the—"

Harry. It had been years since he heard that name. His mouth went dry and he felt the colour drain from his face. "Did you say Harry?" he squeaked.

Keep calm, he reminded himself. There were plenty of Harrys in the world. It was a dreadfully common name after all. Not like Draco. The chances that it was actually Potter were slim. What would he be doing in a Muggle veterinary clinic anyhow? Potter hated cats. Draco knew this for a fact. They'd had that argument countless times back when—no, there was no point in reliving that part of his life. It was over now and Draco didn't like to look back. Living in the past only made him miserable.

He took a deep, calming breath and flashed a nervous smile at Bertha, hoping the old woman would grant him the comfort he desperately needed.

"You know? I'm not really sure. It's written right there on the form I gave you. All I know is that he has the greenest eyes I've ever seen."

Bertha let out another sigh and Draco couldn't help but feel jealous. Bertha was never this excited about anyone but him. And a Harry with black, messy hair, and the greenest eyes she'd ever seen—that could only mean one person. His heart lurched in the back of his throat, his stomach churning the remnants of his hurried breakfast. It couldn't be Harry. Why would he come here? No, Draco needed to remain calm, keep his cool as he always did, and not let Bertha see his panic.

"It wouldn't be a Harry Potter by any chance?" Draco asked, placing one of his trembling hands in his coat pocket.

"You know, I think it—"

Draco never heard Bertha's answer. An all too familiar voice filled his ears.

"Bertha, I'm so sorry, but Winston had an accident and—"

Draco closed his eyes and held his breath. Harry. He would know that voice anywhere. Potter was here in Draco's clinic with a cat. Bloody fucking hell! There was no way he was turning around. Hearing Harry's voice again, after all this time, was like a kick in the groin. A sharp pang burnt in his chest. His lungs constricted and his breath grew shallow. Oh, no. Not again. He had been experiencing panic attacks ever since the end of the war, and this was the worst possible time to have one with Potter around. Unless he wanted to be rescued by Potter yet again, he needed to get out of there. Immediately. He dropped the clipboard on Bertha's desk and got ready to bolt.

"Bertha, please tell Dr Vallarta that I'm suddenly not feeling well and went out to get some air. Tell him to cover for me until I return."

"Draco?" Potter's voice was higher-pitched than Draco had ever heard it. "What are you doing? Why—"

"Sorry Mr," Draco interrupted, in his best imitation of an American accent, "you must have me confused with someone else. I get that a lot."

Without waiting for a response, Draco ran out of the reception area, not bothering to stop for his coat and went straight out the door. He wasn't kidding about needing air. If he didn't relax and soon, he was going to pass out. His vision was starting to go blurry. Stupid Potter.

~8~8~8~

"Draco are you alright?"

"Huh?" Draco looked up from the book he was reading, Contemporary Nutrition for the Everyday Dog and Cat. He had not returned to the clinic at all that day. Instead, he spent the rest of the day pacing around Muggle London. It was the only thing that relaxed him. He indulged in some retail therapy, and then once back at his flat, he paced again. Finally, after three cups of chamomile tea, laced heavily with Calming Draught, he was able to sit down and catch up on his reading.

"You poor, dear." Antonio placed a cool hand on Draco's forehead and plopped down into the seat next to him. "You're as white as a ghost and burning up. Have you been staying up all night reading again?"

"Ghosts are transparent," Draco mumbled into his book, "not white."

Antonio furrowed his brow. "And how would you know?"

"Erm...I-read it in a book...once?"

Antonio gave him a strange look.

"I mean...I saw it on the telly. That's right the telly."

Antonio wrinkled his nose. "Odd," he said with a smirk, "you never watch telly."

Draco shrugged. "That time I did."

Dr Antonio Vallarta was Draco's closest friend, and the only other Veterinary Surgeon at Draco's small but successful animal practice. Sometimes, Draco still forgot that he was a Muggle. But Muggle or not, Antonio was one of the smartest blokes that he had ever met. Bringing him on as a business partner helped their clinic run so much smoother and he wasn't so bad on the eyes either.

Oh, no, their clinic. He felt terrible about leaving Antonio alone and swamping him with his patients, but he needed to take time for himself today. Desperately.

His encounter with Potter had disturbed him. He hoped that Potter would be content with Draco's quick lie and accept that he'd been mistaken and not really seen him. The idea of former Death Eater Draco Malfoy working at a veterinary clinic, treating cute, helpless animals and working alongside Muggles was preposterous. Surely, Potter had enough sense to drop it and leave him alone. Potter was always too nosy for his own good though; knowing him, he probably bombarded Antonio with questions. Damn, he needed to find out what Potter asked and without alarming Antonio.

Draco snapped his book shut and smirked at Antonio. "So...were you able to manage without me? I know the patients prefer me but—"

Antonio shook his head, his long dark hair swaying behind him. "I managed just fine. Things ran smoother than ever." He forced a laugh, but then pressed his lips into a thin line. "Don't change the subject, Draco. I've lived with you for three years now and worked with you longer than that. I know when you're lying."

He reached out and placed a hand on Draco's arm, giving it a light squeeze and making him feel even worse."You were up all night reading again. Weren't you?"

"No, I..."

Antonio released his arm and paused, making sure to meet Draco's eyes. "I know you want to be up to date on all the latest research...but you can't—" His warm hazel eyes were so pained that it almost hurt Draco to look at him; that look made his voice disappear deep into his throat.

"I'm just worried about you, Doc," Antonio added, "I know we're only mates now, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you still."

Draco dropped his gaze to the table, pretending to organise his notes. At one point in his life, lying had come as a second nature to him, but Antonio had single-handedly changed his viewpoint on Muggles. He had helped Draco when no wizard would. It was an undeserved kindness that he would never forget—and he despised lying to him. But he had no choice.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted. "I've been sleeping better. I just forgot to eat breakfast this morning and was feeling a bit lightheaded. That's all."

Antonio gave him a quizzical look but then nodded when Draco flashed him his most innocent smile. "Just promise to turn in early tonight. You need to be at the office bright and early tomorrow...and you're going to have quite a long day."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"If you insist you're fine, then I'm going to need you to cover for me tomorrow evening. You can work a double."

Draco stacked up his books and notes from the table and placed them under his arm. "I suppose that I can cover for you just this once." He let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I'm always doing you favours. What...do you have a hot date or something, Dr Vallarta?"

Antonio laughed and looked away. "Something like that." A light blush spread down his cheeks.

"What?" Draco dropped the books on the table again. He and Antonio were both slaves to their clinic, so even though they were both fit, single blokes, they rarely went out on dates.

"That's great," Draco said with a genuine smile. Antonio was a hell of a catch; his friend deserved to find someone that could make him happy. "Who's the lucky girl?"

Antonio laughed again, although this time it was more of a chortle. His face turned even redder. "Who said anything about a girl?"

Draco's eyes widened. He knew that Antonio swung both ways, but he almost always preferred women. "A bloke...but you haven't gone out with any blokes since..."

"Since you."

Antonio wore that same pained expression that caused a pang in Draco's heart. Oh, how he wished that he hadn't said anything. It had been a long time since the two of them split up, but it was still awkward to talk about their failed relationship. God, he was such an idiot sometimes. He never knew when to keep his mouth shut. Bad. Bad. Bad.

"I-"

"No, it's okay, Doc. You didn't say anything wrong. We're best mates, no? So we dated and it didn't work out. There are worse things in life." Antonio shrugged. "And yeah I haven't been attracted to any blokes since you, but there's something special about this one. I just met him, but we connected. There was a spark."

"A spark?"

"Yes, a spark! And he's so handsome too. You'd almost be jealous, Doc."

Draco sniffed. No matter how many times he complained, Antonio refused to stop using that insufferable nickname. "I doubt he's as handsome as I am," he drawled, pretending to be affronted. "But stop stalling and tell me more! Where did you meet him? What type of shoes was he wearing? Cologne? Where is he taking you? He'd better be paying."

Antonio elbowed Draco in the ribs and laughed, a hearty belly laugh that lit up his entire face. "You crack me up, Doc. It's such a surprise no one's snatched you up yet." He brushed a hand against Draco's forehead and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Breathe, Doc...before you give yourself another panic attack."

Draco was so excited for his friend that he decided to let that jibe pass. Just this once. After all, he owed the bloke. He took a mock deep breath, making sure to inhale and exhale as sharply as possible. "There, I'm calm," he insisted. "Tell me."

Antonio rolled his eyes but starting speaking anyway. "I met him at the clinic today. He brought in the most adorable tuxedo cat named Winston. I have no idea what type of shoes he was wearing. As for cologne, I'm not certain either. But I got close enough to smell him and he smelt divine. Masculine, like sandalwood and fresh cut grass."

"That doesn't smell—"

"And he's taking me to The Ivy tomorrow night." Antonio laughed, his eyes shining with childish delight. "Can you believe it?"

Draco's eyes widened again; he opened them so wide that he was sure Antonio could make out his pupils. "The Ivy? Who is this bloke? That's so..."

"Impossible to get a reservation. I know. But Harry, he said it wasn't a problem."

Draco grimaced, pressing his lips into a sharp line. It couldn't be. There was no way that Potter would have the nerve to hit on his flatmate. Not that Potter knew that Antonio was his flatmate, but that was beside the point. Somehow, the git should have known, and Draco took it as a personal assault.

All the genuine happiness that Draco was feeling for Antonio faded. Completely.

"I was going to say The Ivy is so last year," he drawled in his most haughty voice, which was so reminiscent of Draco's Hogwarts years that it made him cringe. "You don't mean Harry Potter?"

Antonio's face lit up with a brilliant smile again and he ignored Draco's snide comment. Clearly, he was already smitten with Potter. This was not good. Not good at all.

"Yes, the owner of the tuxedo cat. Do you know him?"

Draco blanched, his voice caught in the back of his throat. Usually, he never had problems coming up with a quick-witted response, but Antonio had left him stunned. And it was all thanks to Potter. As usual. Bleeding Potter. Why couldn't he just stay out of his life?

"No," Draco said, resisting the increasing urge to sulk. "I only met him briefly. Dear Bertha, was waxing lyrical about him too."

"Well, he really is brilliant, Doc. And he has the greenest eyes—"

"That you've ever seen. Yes, I've already heard." Draco huffed and picked up his books again. He had heard enough. "Well, I'm knackered. Good night." He walked towards his bedroom and paused in the doorway. "Enjoy your date," he yelled and slammed the door behind him. "Even if it is with stupid Potter."

He threw his books on the floor, for once not caring where they landed, and pulled off his clothes, also tossing them anywhere. Then he crawled into bed where his dog was already waiting for him, curled up and fast asleep on Draco's pillow.

He buried his face in his dog's soft white fur. "Merlin's beard! What am I going to do, Harold? Both my ex-lovers are going out on a date tomorrow. The universe really is against me."

To be continued...

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Don't worry. If you are a bit confused, all will be explained soon. The next chapter starts 5 years earlier, which is why I had to end things here. This story is 100% complete, edited, and betaed, so I will be posting the next part in a couple of days, perhaps sooner if people really seem to like it.

Comments are love.

~Icicle