Welcome to another Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy slash fic. Thanks to Tony Moonstone for the idea of a vigilante killer of Death Eaters that manages to put Harry and Draco in yet another situation to get to know each other better. I tweaked the idea to suit my needs, and I hope it doesn't disappoint. And thanks to Tony Moonstone for also bringing me out of semi-retirement lol.

This story takes place about 2 1/2 years after the end of the war. Harry and Ron are Aurors in training. Much of the story takes place in the Muggle world, and I've really tried to do a lot of research. However, I will make many mistakes, as I am American. Please forgive me. PM me if you see something glaring.

Posting may be sporadic. But I'll try to keep up.

disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Harry Potter series, and do not make money from them. That would be prostitution.

*Cover art for this fic by Chouette_E on DeviantArt*

"Oi, Harry, did you hear there was another murder last night?" Ron asked, sitting at his desk munching on a pumpkin pasty.

"That makes five, then," Harry replied. "We've got to stop this before it gets out of hand."

"What's this we shite? We're still Aurors in training. You think they're going to let us in on the big cases?" Ron scoffed. "Besides, this person is doing our job for us."

"Our job isn't to pick off the Death Eaters one by one. It's to bring them in to stand trial. If the Ministry condoned the killings, we wouldn't be any better than the Death Eaters."

"Well, we can disagree about that. But I suppose not all of them deserve the death penalty."

Harry nodded. "That's all I'm saying. Most of the Death Eaters that have been brought in so far have been sentenced to Azkaban with the hope of rehabilitation."

"You think that will actually work?" Ron asked.

Giving it some thought, Harry answered, "Not for all of them. But with Voldemort gone, there's not as much pressure to follow. You know as well as I do that there were plenty of witches and wizards coerced or threatened to join the Death Eaters."

Harry was specifically speaking about Draco Malfoy, one of the few underage wizards to carry the Dark Mark. He truly believed Draco was forced not only by Voldemort, but his parents, to take part. Harry supposed that Draco had put himself through some sort of self-rehabilitation when he officially renounced the Death Eaters. His father, Lucius, on the other hand, chose to run away and hide instead. Claiming to be under Voldemort's Imperius spell may have worked once, but it wouldn't work again.

Wiping his mouth, Ron sighed. "Another day of paying dues. Pass me the paperwork for the Apothecary burglary."

Harry chuckled. "This case is just as important as the Death Eater murders. At least it is to the shop owner."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just a bit boring. I want some excitement."

"Be careful what you wish for," a voice came from the doorway. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood, filling the entire space. He was an intimidating man, for those who didn't know him personally.

"Yes, sir," Ron grumbled.

"Harry, I have a job for you," Shacklebolt said.

Harry sat up straighter. "Of course. What is it?"

"A Death Eater wants to turn himself in. These killings have got him spooked. He wants to negotiate a deal. Names and locations of other Death Eaters, plus a guilty plea for a shortened sentence in the south end of Azkaban."

"The south end, sir?"

"Where the lesser criminals are housed."

"Oh. And what would you like me to do?" Harry reached for a parchment. "Shall I draw up an agreement?"

"No, Harry. I want you to escort this prisoner personally."

"Why me? Surely, there are other Aurors with more experience–

"He requested you by name. Or, rather, his son did. We haven't spoken directly with Lucius Malfoy."

"Crikey," Ron said. "That old coward is finally turning himself in?"

"I still don't understand why it has to be me," Harry said.

"Draco Malfoy requested you because, and I quote, Potter is probably the only Auror stupid enough to be completely honest and fair." Shacklebolt smiled. "I certainly hope that's not true. But if he feels more comfortable turning his father over to you, then that's what he'll get. I'll let you know all the details once they're ironed out."

After Shacklebolt left, Ron scoffed. "Malfoy, still getting his own way, the git. Do you think old Lucius really has information about the other Death Eaters?"

Harry shrugged. Though Harry had had interactions with Draco since the end of the war, it had been about six months since he last saw him. Harry recalled how gaunt and pale Draco looked after his father had gone into hiding. Narcissa and Draco were subjected to interrogations, house searches and wand testing. After being kept in a Ministry holding cell for forty-eight hours straight, Draco finally publicly renounced the ways of the Death Eaters and condemned Voldemort's philosophies. Harry had attended that press conference. He was shocked by Draco's appearance, and at the time, thought the Ministry's tactics weren't any better than Voldemort's. Of course, that was an exaggeration. Harry was simply too naive at the time. But he didn't think it was necessary to detain Draco the way they did. He had already begun to turn against the Death Eaters, and he told Harry as much during what seemed to be a chance meeting in Diagon Alley. Later, Harry realized that Draco had several "chance meetings" with peers who fought on the right side of the war. The former Death Eater had explained and admitted his role among Voldemort's followers and apologized, or tried to. Though many rebuffed Draco's attempt at penitence, Harry had appreciated the gesture.

By the end of the day, a messenger handed Harry a parchment with information regarding Lucius Malfoy's arrest. It was to take place on Friday evening at midnight at the Town Hall of Ackerley. It was out of the way and mostly abandoned, with little chance of Muggles being about. Harry couldn't blame Malfoy for not wanting to meet in a wizarding town or going directly to the Ministry without seeing and signing the negotiation agreement. He still thought it odd that he was personally requested.

After finishing up his work on Friday, Harry had supper with Ron and Hermione, then went home to tidy up. He wasn't nervous about picking up Malfoy. But rather was anxious to prove himself capable of handling real Auror duties. A few minutes before midnight, Harry put on his black Auror robes and apparated to the town of Ackerley.

The moon was just a small sliver high in the sky, and clouds drifted across more often than not. Harry waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness, then scouted the area for Lucius. Not there yet. He decided to keep to the shadows until the Death Eater arrived.

Five minutes or so later, Harry heard the crunch of shoes on the fine gravel around the hall, which had been slowly crumbling down for years. The cloud cover parted for a moment and Harry could see not one but two heads of impossibly light hair. He hadn't realized Draco would be accompanying his father. Pulling out both his wand and the agreement parchment, Harry took a step toward the pair. The younger Malfoy nodded an acknowledgement to Harry.

From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted movement to the left of the Malfoys.

"Get down!" he shouted, as a streak of green bolted toward father and son.

As Harry turned in the direction from which the hex came, several more curses were hurtled toward Lucius and Draco. The building facade next to them exploded outward, showering them with debris.

Raising his wand, Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

He tried again. "Impedimenta!"

Both spells were repelled by their target, which, Harry barely caught sight of. What he was able to see, shook him to the core. He was certain the assailant had been wearing red Auror robes.

Having lost his suspect, Harry hurried to the pair of Malfoys lying next to one another in crumpled heaps on the ground.

"Rennervate." He tried to rouse Lucius. When that didn't work, Harry put a hand to Lucius' neck. No pulse.

"Damnit!"

Draco groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Kneeling before him, Harry examined Draco as best he could. There was a bump on the side of his head, along with a nasty gash.

Harry glanced around. He didn't know if the attacker was still in the area. There was nothing he could do for Lucius, but he needed to get Draco out of there. But where to go? If someone from the Ministry was the one going after Death Eaters, Harry couldn't take Draco there. And whomever it was saw Harry, so he couldn't go home.

In a split decision, Harry apparated himself and Draco to Hogsmeade. They appeared behind the post office. Luckily, the moon was hidden behind clouds, so they couldn't be seen. Not that there was anyone out and about at that hour. To be sure Draco didn't wake and disapparate away, Harry hit him with a Bewitched Sleep spell. Then he cast a quick glamour on himself and went around to the Hog's Head Inn.

"Welcome to the Hog's Head Inn," a bored night receptionist droned at Harry. "Room?"

Harry nodded.

"Five galleons. You want the mornin' paper?"

"Sorry?"

"The Prophet. Only two Sickles, and delivered to your room."

"Uh, yeah, all right then." Harry put the money on the counter.

The sleepy man handed Harry a chunky-looking key. "Room 304. Third floor."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled. "Oh, is there an Anti-Appararition charm on the room?"

"Course. But if you 'ave your key in your pocket, you'll be able to apparate in and out."

He walked through the bar area of the inn and crept up the creaky stairs. The door to room 304 stood somewhat crookedly in the doorframe, and had a large brass knob of a handle. Under it was a place for the magical key. As soon as he walked in, he put the key in his pocket and went to get Draco.

Back in the room, Harry was able to inspect Draco's injuries more thoroughly. He hesitated before deciding to undress the former Slytherin. The man would probably be furious, or embarrassed, at Harry doing so without consent. But he was unconscious and bleeding at the moment, so Harry had no choice.

Once down to his pants, Draco's body revealed more damage than Harry was expecting. Harry used a modified Revelio spell he learned in Auror training to help diagnose and identify the wounds.

He closed the gash on Draco's head, and one on his shoulder, with the same spell Snape had used to counteract the Sectum Sempra Harry had used on Draco Sixth Year.

Harry shuddered at the memory.

Continuing on, Harry found a slight fracture in Draco's left fibula. It would probably heal quickly enough as long as Draco didn't put pressure on it, but Harry cast a Bandaging Charm just to be safe.

The most concerning thing to Harry was the head injury. Draco most certainly had a concussion, but how severe, Harry couldn't tell. Using medical magic on the brain was tricky business, even for a trained Mediwitch. Best to keep him under the sleeping spell in order to heal naturally.

Pulling the covers up around his unwitting companion, Harry sighed and sat down on the other side of the bed.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. He was exhausted. But his mind raced. By now, the Ministry would be aware that Harry had failed his mission. Surely Lucius' body would have been discovered.

His eyelids growing heavy, Harry decided to wait until morning to owl Shacklebolt to keep him apprised.

hdhdhd

At precisely five in the morning, a newspaper was slid under the door of Harry's room. He'd been sleeping for less than three hours, but woke completely at the soft sliding sound.

He padded silently across the room and picked up the paper. There on the first page was a photo of Lucius Malfoy with the word DEAD slapped across it.

"News travels quickly," he said to himself. He was surprised Shacklebolt let the information out before they could conduct a formal investigation and get Harry's input.

He was about to toss the paper aside when something caught his eye. Skimming the lower portion of the article, Harry's mouth dropped open when he read the words 'prime suspect, Harry Potter.'

The article went on to imply that Harry had no alibi for the times of any of the other murders, as well as a strong motive for wanting all of the Death Eaters gone. The author also cited Harry's rebellious streak as The Chosen One as part of a psychological profile, which fit in with a rogue vigilante. Just the sort to take it upon himself to rid the wizarding world of evil without going through the proper channels.

"Fuck."

He threw the paper across the room, then winced as he caught sight of Draco in the bed, forgetting that he was still under the influence of Bewitched Sleep.

Harry's brow furrowed. It occurred to him that only he, Draco, and the attacker knew that Draco had been at the rendezvous point. They apparently made no effort to inform Lucius' son of his death before reporting it in the paper.

And Harry would be the lucky tosser to break the bad news.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry sighed. His first instinct was to owl Ron. Odds were, it would be intercepted or confiscated by the Ministry. It was too dangerous to reveal himself to anyone until he had a way to clear his name.

The sun was beginning to peek through the tattered blinds on the window.

Fucking sunrise comes earlier and earlier, Harry thought.

Too lazy to change, he transfigured his clothing a bit in case the same receptionist was still on duty. He didn't want to appear to have slept in his clothes, which he did. His stomach was rumbling and he needed food.

"Excuse me." Harry tried to smile. "Where can I get some breakfast?"

"We don't serve 'til noon. And then it's just spirits. Don't have no food until four. You can try Madame Puddifoots or Three Broomsticks. It might be a bit early though."

"Thanks."

Knowing Draco was safe up in the room, Harry decided to walk through the village to see if either of those places were open. Madame Puddifoot's wouldn't have been his first choice. The only time he ever went there, with Cho Chang, he absolutely hated it. It wasn't only the over-the-top pink decorations or the fact that all the couples inside were kissing and cuddling. He hadn't quite figured out by then that it was his date. Particularly that his date was female. The thought of kissing and cuddling with her made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable. Luckily, Cho became upset and left before too long, and put Harry out of his misery.

Perhaps he could get some tea and crumpets to go.

As he approached, he could see that it was closed. Secretly thankful, Harry walked on. The lights were just coming on inside The Three Broomsticks as he came upon it. He pulled open the door.

"Are you serving yet?" he asked.

"Cook's not in for another half hour," a perky young witch told him.

"Oh." Harry's shoulders slumped. He turned to leave.

"But I think we may have some leftover pork pies in the kitchen. I could put up a pot of tea."

"Tea and pork pie sounds brilliant." Harry smiled. He'd have settled for nearly anything. But he lucked out with the pork pie. He wondered if they had two, so he could bring one back for Draco.

Taking a seat at the bar, Harry's head bobbed occasionally. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Keeping his eyes open was becoming difficult.

A man came in through the back entrance carrying a box. He startled Harry, whose head shot up as he gasped.

"Morning," the man called out, then spotted Harry. "Oh, you're an early customer."

Harry waved half-heartedly. He wasn't in any mood for conversation with strangers. When the barmaid came back with a cup of tea and a pork pie, he was grateful.

He thanked her, then ate in silence.

The delivery man brought in a few more boxes before chatting up the young barmaid. Harry didn't pay them any mind, until his name was brought up. His first instinct was to leave as quickly as possible. Then he remembered he was wearing a Glamour. From what he could hear, the Ministry was looking for Harry to bring him in for questioning.

Harry had to force himself not to shove the rest of the pie into his mouth so he could leave. He had to play it much cooler than that.

Interrupting the others' conversation, Harry asked, "Would you happen to have another pork pie in the kitchen? I'd like to take one for later."

"Oh, of course sir. I'll be right back." The girl sort of half curtsied, half bowed before whisking off to the kitchen.

"How about you?" the delivery man asked Harry.

"How about me, what?"

"Do you think what Harry Potter is doing is wrong? Or do those bastards deserve it?"

Harry regarded the man. It would probably have been best to simply go along with him so he could get out of there. "Well, I don't think it's him at all."

"But he was the one who was sent to get Malfoy."

"That doesn't mean he killed him." Harry frowned. He didn't want to defend himself too vehemently for fear of suspicion. "I mean, witches and wizard did all sorts of . . . questionable things during the war, in the name of fighting evil. But flat-out murder? I don't think Harry Potter would resort to that."

The man nodded. "I suppose you might be right. But still, I don't think anyone would condemn him if he did."

"No one is above the law," Harry said. "Not even . . . him." Harry very nearly said me, but caught himself.

Just then, the barmaid came out with a second pork pie. It was perfect timing as Harry has finished the first and was more than ready to leave. He paid the girl, giving her a decent tip for her troubles, and left.

Making his way toward the Hog's Head Inn, he tried to keep a steady pace, though he wanted to run. He needed to get out of Hogsmeade, and the wizarding world, straightaway.