Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to my beautiful team!

Written for...

Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Team/Position: Holyhead Harpies, Seeker. Task: Write a story incorporating Borgin and Burkes.

Dirty Dealings

1,023 words

The store was as dusty and dimly lit as Draco remembered, though it had been almost two years since his last visit. The bell above the door tinkled as he entered. He scanned the front room, searching for any sign of life. Old Borgin used to pounce on customers as soon as they walked in, but several moments later and Draco still found himself alone, admiring the artifacts kept in glass cases.

He let out an irritated sigh after two minutes had passed and called out. "Is anyone there?"

Borgin shuffled out of the back after a moment. As soon as he saw Draco he quickened his pace.

"Young Master Malfoy, what a surprise."

Draco kept his expression neutral. "Borgin. I've come to acquire something for my father."

"Your father?" Borgin pursed his lips. "News travels fast, sir. The people say Lucius has been captured, imprisoned."

"The rumors are true. I was hoping to find something to help with that." Draco let his eyes wander to an exquisitely carved statuette in a case behind the counter. It was of a two-headed woman wielding a sword. He'd once admired it when he was a child, curiously reading plaques while his father did business with the shopkeeper. "I need something that would ease the journey to Azkaban."

Borgin swallowed, hands fidgeting with the buttons on his vest. "What did you have in mind?"

Draco pointed to the statuette and Borgin let out a nervous chuckle. "That's very dangerous, young man."

"I'm well aware of the dangers," Draco sneered. He crossed his arms over his chest and held his head high, as he'd seen his father do a hundred times when someone would underestimate him. "It will undoubtedly serve its purpose in aiding my father's escape. But if Malfoy gold is no longer good here, perhaps I'll take it somewhere else."

"No, no," Borgin hurried to cover his tracks. "It was not my intention to insult you, sir, nor your family. My only concern was for your safety."

The old man pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it over the case. The door swung open at once. Borgin took a moment to pull on a pair of worn dragon hide gloves, delicately picking up the statuette and placing it on the counter between them.

He nervously licked his lips, smiling toothlessly at Draco. "I must warn you, if the lady is mishandled in any way, she will strike. It is best you keep her in a bag, or wear gloves. Direct contact will result in instant death."

"She perfect," Draco murmured, leaning closer to smirk at the carving. "How much for her?"

"The lady is one of a kind, you understand. I acquired her from a collector of such fine relics in Africa some twenty-"

"How much?" Draco repeated sternly.

"Two thousand Galleons."

Draco scoffed. "Do you take me for a fool, Borgin?"

"Of course not, sir."

"I think you see nothing but my age, but I assure you, my father has taught me well. I will pay no more than five hundred Galleons."

Draco could see the struggle in the shopkeeper's eyes, trying to decide whether it was wise to continue haggling. Eventually he stuck out a gloved hand.

"Five hundred Galleons, you have a deal."

Instead of shaking the hand, Draco dropped a pouch of coins into it.

"You'll ship the statue to Malfoy Manor. I can't be seen carrying it through the alley."

"Of course, of course," Borgin agreed.

Draco smiled, heading for the exit. At the last second, he turned back. "Oh, Borgin, one last thing."

"Yes, sir?"

"You're under arrest."

Draco pulled the door open at a team of Aurors swarmed inside. The first of them, a woman twice his age, stupefied the shopkeeper as he reached for his wand.

In the action, as the Aurors began to search the shop and confiscate all the dark artifacts, Draco slipped outside and quietly made his way towards Diagon Alley.

"Leaving so soon?" someone called from behind him. He didn't need to turn around to see who it was. The voice was permanently ingrained in his memory.

"I thought it best to get out of everyone's way," he admitted, staring at the cobblestone street.

Potter stood in his path, a smile on his face. He held out a pouch of coins - the same Draco had left on the counter. "You forgot your payment."

Draco shook his head roughly. "I don't need the money. I'm doing this-"

"You're doing this as community service," Potter supplied for him. "But that doesn't mean you should go without a reward. You did a good job today, Draco. With Borgin and Burke's shut down, there will be fewer opportunities for dark wizards to get their hands on dangerous objects."

"Fewer, yes, but that's hardly good enough. There's too much darkness in the world, Potter. I caused a lot of it. What I did today hardly makes up for that."

The dark-haired wizard frowned at him, but stepped out of Draco's way.

"You can't punish yourself forever, Draco," he said quietly. "I … the Aurors will still be here when you're ready to move on. We could use someone like you."

Draco didn't reply. He left Knockturn Alley behind and returned to his room at the Leaky Cauldron. He spent the night alone, staring out the window at the alley below. A pile of unopened letters sat on the window sill, but he didn't need to open them to know what they said.

An official notice from the Ministry, notifying him of the final ruling in the case of Lucius Malfoy. May he rot in Azkaban.

A letter from his mother, begging him to come home. But he couldn't just yet. He didn't deserve her love.

And the Auror forms Potter had promised to send after Draco's first mission with the Ministry. Borgin and Burkes had been his tenth and final raid. He'd hoped after all those months of undercover work, of taking down his father's old suppliers, that he might feel better.

Redemption was harder to find, it seemed, but maybe there was still hope.