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Gazing into the Abyss	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1184 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 1-Gazing into the Abyss
- 1
Author's note: Happy Halloween, everyone! You didn't think I had forgotten about this holiday, did you? :P Figured it was time I contributed to this fandom again, so have this oneshot! (Don't worry, I'm working on the update for my other Drarry story). This is something I started writing two years ago (yes, that long) and finally got around to finishing it this weekend (I simply have an amazing writing schedule, I know). It's not a conventional Halloween fic in that it's creepy or so, but it does have some dark themes, so I figured it would fit this holiday.
Also yes, I still can't write decent endings for the life of me, so I apologise in advance for that. Some warnings will be given at the end, because otherwise it would spoil the plot, but feel free to take a look at it if you want to be fully prepared.
Warnings: Draco's pov; set some years after the war; Auror Draco; multiple character deaths; description of gore and wounds; slash; implied mature content
Disclaimer: The quote at the end belongs to Nietzsche.
I hope you'll like this fic!
Gazing into the Abyss
They found their suspect with all his limbs torn off, forming a perfect circle around the dead body. The chocolate brown eyes stared blankly at the overcast sky; his face pulled into a perpetual mask of horror.
One of the Aurors, twenty-seven year old Draco Malfoy, sighed and lowered his wand. "Alert Kingsley," he ordered his ashen-faced partner. "He'll need to see this."
As the man, Jonathan Elk, stumbled backwards, turning away from the horrifying sight, Draco squatted down and studied the dead wizard with critical eyes. They had been tracking their suspect for nearly a week now, trying to catch him in the act to have enough proof to detain him. Last week they had nearly had him, but the fight between them had ended with him fleeing after nearly blinding Draco permanently. It had only been his quick acting that had prevented the curse from doing worse.
And now their suspect was dead. Killed in exactly the same manner as he had murdered his own victims.
What a coincidence.
"This is no longer a coincidence," Kingsley announced, pointing his wand at the latest picture which had joined the board. The picture was of Draco's latest suspect; the one with his limbs ripped off.
Eight other pictures were already plastered on the board; each showing a wizard or witch Draco and Jonathan had been close to apprehending, before they had found their dead bodies. None of their suspects had known each other, but they all had one thing in common: they had all been killed in the exact same manner they had murdered their own victims.
There was Kelly Hoppings, who had poisoned her victims with a potion that would make their blood turn into a tar like substance until it oozed out of every possible opening. Her body had been found in her apartment, stuck to her couch by the tar like substance. Next to her was Larten, first name still unknown, who had tortured his victims by shattering their bones one by one before slitting their throat. They had discovered his dead body in an alley; his bones shattered and his throat slit.
Another suspect called Matthew Reed had loved tormenting people by forcing them to face their worst fears over and over again before he slit their chests open with a silver dagger. His own terrified face stared back at them from the picture as his blood formed a large pool underneath his body.
Draco's latest suspect, a lanky wizard who they only knew by the nickname Quick Red, had delighted in slowly tearing through bone and muscle until the arms and legs fell off. After that he left his victims to bleed to death, arranging their limbs in a circle around them and casting the Dark Fear Curse on them before leaving them behind. Off to steal their belongings. He was the latest in the row of suspects having been murdered by their own method.
Karma was seemingly having its morbid way with them.
"Nine different people with no known connection between them, have all been found dead. Murdered by their own method." Kingsley paused; his dark eyes roaming across the gathered Aurors in the meeting room. "We need to find the person responsible for this and soon."
"Who says multiple people aren't doing this?" Weasley piped up. He was leaning against the window, studying the pictures with a frown as he crossed his arms. "They're not killed the same way after all."
"And they all just happen to know how these suspects killed their own victims?" Kingsley raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "No, it is more likely that it is one person, who knows a hell of a lot about these cases. Someone is out there, finding these suspects before we do and bringing their own brand of justice on them."
"Can't say I really consider them to be a loss to our society," Elisabeth Mallow piped up softly behind Draco. "They fucked with the wrong person is how I see it."
"Which brings me to my next point," Kingsley raised his voice and the low chattering amongst the Aurors instantly halted. "Nobody takes any of their files with them when they go home. Everything related to the cases stays inside the Ministry."
"What are you saying? That there's a leak?" Brett Silver asked incredulously; his black, long hair glinting in the weak sunlight.
The older man raised his hands. "I'm not accusing anyone of being the leak, because I know I can trust you. But this person somehow knows everything about the cases. They know where to find the suspects, how to stay ahead of us and how the suspects killed their victims. It is not impossible to assume they have a way of entering your homes undetected and look at the cases there. The wards around the Aurors' offices will be raised as well to prevent anyone from sneaking in."
"I don't see why we should be careful with our cases," Tom Adder drawled and when Draco glanced at him, he met cold, blue eyes straight on. "You see, those suspects have one more thing in common besides being killed off by their own method."
"Which is?" Kingsley asked patiently, but his eyes were slightly narrowed.
Tom nodded towards Draco and Jonathan. "They were all cases assigned to them. All nine of them," he smiled thinly and crossed his right leg over his left. "Curious how they all ended up dead after having those two Aurors after them, hm?"
"Are you implying something?" Draco asked mildly. Next to them Jonathan remained quiet, glancing away.
"I don't need to imply anything for everyone to realise something fishy is going on," Tom retorted snootily, sticking up his nose in the air. "Why don't you interrogate them, Kingsley? Once is an accident and it has happened or will happen to every one of us at least once. But nine times? As you said: not a coincidence anymore."
Before Kingsley could reply – and judging by the dark look on his face, his retort wouldn't be pretty – a silver haired woman near the back spoke up softly, "They're not the ones killing these people."
Tom turned towards her sharply, his cheeks gaining an ugly red flush. "And how would you know, Leana? Seen it in your crystal ball, perhaps?" he asked snidely.
Her black cat, which never left her side and was now curled up around her neck, lifted up his head and hissed softly. Leana raised her hand and scratched soothingly underneath the cat's chin. "You know I don't need a crystal ball to see the truth, Tom," she answered calmly, appearing unruffled. "I know when people are lying and I talked to them after they discovered some of the bodies. They're clean."
He looked away, glaring at the floor, knowing he was defeated. Leana never lied and she was always right; that was a fact the entire Auror department was aware of. Draco still hadn't managed to figure out whether she had the gift of Seeing, but whatever her gift was, it allowed her to know instantly whether someone was lying or not. She was brought in every time a suspect didn't want to crack.
"Tomorrow I will assign a team to deal with this particular serial killer," Kingsley said, obviously having decided to ignore Tom's interruption. "They might have been criminals, but that doesn't mean this person can get away with just murdering them."
"If Potter was here, the case would have been solved quickly probably," someone else – probably Kyle – muttered somewhere behind Draco.
From the corner of his eye, Draco saw several heads swivelling into Weasley's direction. The man in question was leaning against the wall next to the window, a blank look on his face and his arms crossed. If he'd heard the comment about his friend, he didn't react to it.
"For now you're all dismissed and can go home. I'll see you tomorrow." Kingsley turned around and started gathering the files belonging to the victims.
Draco slipped out of the room before anyone else could think of accosting him and went to his office to finish his paperwork. It was barely five and neither Pansy nor Blaise were free tonight, so he might as well spend his time doing something useful instead of just sitting at home doing nothing.
Jonathan didn't join him, but he hadn't expected him to. The guy was obviously distressed after finding yet another criminal dead. Admittedly that disturbed Draco as well, but as an Auror he couldn't allow his emotions to interfere with his job. In this field, you had to be prepared for everything, including disgusting crime scenes.
It'd be splendid, though, if his next case didn't end up dead somewhere. The paperwork for it was getting annoying.
There was barely anyone left when he finally made his way to the Atrium in order to Floo home. There were a couple of stragglers still, people from other departments staying behind to finish a project, but none of them looked up when he passed by them. That was fine with him; he wasn't in the mood for useless chitchat. His left eye was still smarting a bit from the Blinding Spell he'd nary avoided and he needed another dose of the Soothing Potion to deal with it.
The candles automatically flared to life when the fireplace spat him out amidst green flames and he absently brushed the soot off his robes. Lippy, the house elf who'd followed him from Malfoy Manor to his own place, popped up in the foyer quietly and bowed.
"Master Malfoy wanting tomato soup for dinner?" she asked in her squeaky voice.
"Yes, that'll be fine, Lippy," he murmured and she accepted his outer robes with another bow.
"Lippy be bringing soup to Master Malfoy in kitchen, sir!" She popped out of the room, presumably to deal with his robes first.
He went upstairs to take a shower first and changed into a fresh set of pyjamas before going downstairs to eat his dinner. The soup was already waiting for him on the table, gentle steam curling upwards and dissipating once it rose higher than a couple of inches above the bowl. A glass with pumpkin juice had also been poured out already.
He sat down heavily in the chair and started eating from his soup, not paying any particular mind to the taste, delicious though it was. He was thinking about his former case, how yet again a perpetrator had ended up dead before he could arrest them. On one hand, they weren't exactly a loss to society; only their family would really mourn then and even that was in some cases doubtful.
On the other hand: it was becoming rather annoying to find his suspects dead before he could actually arrest them and see them suffer in Azkaban. Not to mention the paperwork involving these incidents was a bitch to handle. It was a good thing Shacklebolt believed in his innocence, because otherwise he probably would have landed in big trouble already. Finding suspect after suspect dead instead of being able to arrest them didn't exactly do wonders for his reputation at the Ministry.
His attention was drawn towards the Evening Prophet and he pulled it closer to him with one finger, idly perusing the front page. He stilled when he saw the picture in the middle.
Harry Potter stood bent over a criminal he'd just caught, his eyes blazing even in the black and white picture and as Draco watched, Potter roughly pulled the guy from the ground and marched him to other Aurors. If the large picture hadn't managed to snatch his attention, the bold, glaring title underneath it would have done the job nicely.
The Boy-Who-Lives Still Missing After Two Years! Who Knows More?
The article underneath it gave a full summary and timeline of the moment it had become clear that Potter had gone missing, but Draco didn't need to read it to remember it all. He himself had been working as an Auror for just eight months when word had spread that Potter had seemingly vanished overnight. His friends had seen him leaving for his home the evening before, but when dawn broke, there was no trace of the man left.
There hadn't been any signs of a struggle at his home and all his belongings – including his prized Firebolt – had been left untouched. In fact, Draco remembered the report stating, the house had looked like Potter had just stepped outside for a moment and would be back soon.
He wouldn't, though.
Day after day, week after week went by and Potter remained missing. It was like he'd just vanished into thin air, like he'd never existed. His friends and the Weasley clan as a whole were questioned; Aunt Andromeda and her grandson Teddy had even been called up to the Ministry to explain that they hadn't seen Potter since their weekly dinner three days before he'd disappeared.
Other people – including Draco – had been interrogated; criminals who'd ended up in Azkaban thanks to Potter had been subjected to Veritaserum in case any of them had hatched a plan with outside help to get rid of Potter.
No matter who they questioned, no matter which places they ransacked, the result remained the same, even two years later: Potter remained missing. Simply gone in just one night.
Without any evidence to speak of, they couldn't even be certain whether they were dealing with an abduction or a voluntary disappearance. If it had been voluntary, Weasley had argued, then Potter would have said something to them, would have left a note at the very least.
And disappearing like that, out of the blue, wasn't like him at all, Granger had added.
So it had to be an abduction – albeit one where the kidnapper or kidnappers never reached out for any sort of ransom.
Two years later and there was still no trace of Potter. The Weasleys mourned, Aunt Andromeda and Teddy remained upset, and the Auror department was missing one of their best Aurors they had had so far.
What the Dark Lord hadn't been able to accomplish, someone else seemingly had.
Draco threw one more look at the picture, staring at those eyes full with fire, before he stood up and went back upstairs, preparing for the night.
"I called you here to inform you that Jonathan Elk had requested his transfer to another department," Shacklebolt informed him the next morning, putting some papers into a neat stack.
Draco checked a sigh. "Of course he did. Did he give any specific reason why?"
The older man folded his hands together on the desk. "Apparently the cases we deal with were a bit too much for him."
"And he didn't think of that before he studied for the job?" Draco muttered underneath his breath and shook his head lightly. "All right, has a new partner been found for me yet?"
"No, we're getting new people later this week, so I'll be assigning one of them as your partner," Shacklebolt replied calmly. "Until then you'll be put on desk duty unfortunately."
"Why can't I get - " Draco cut himself off abruptly when he realised the answer to his own question.
Right, the others probably didn't want to work with him because of his name or because his last nine cases all had ended up with him finding the suspect dead. Perhaps the others thought his 'bad luck' would start to haunt them as well if they partnered up with him.
Stupid idiots.
"Sorry, Malfoy. I know you don't like desk work."
He looked genuinely apologetic too and Draco couldn't really hold anything against him. It was that twat's fault for suddenly requesting a transfer, leaving him partner less for the unforeseeable time. How did one choose to become an Auror, yet have no clue whatsoever of the sort of cases you might get assigned? It baffled the blond man, but perhaps now he'd get a partner who wouldn't faint at the sight of a speck of blood.
One could only hope.
He ended up getting a new partner on Thursday. Some bloke named Oliver Wilson; a tall curly haired man, who was a couple of years younger than Draco, and who seemed to think the whole world revolved around him. Draco was very aware of how ironic that sounded coming from him, but Wilson was on a whole other level.
He also seemed to be under the impression he just had to flutter his eyelashes at someone and they would bend to his will.
"You know, I thought they would put me with one of the older Aurors, but I'm pleasantly surprised that you became my partner," Wilson grinned, supporting his elbows on his desk when he leant forwards.
"Good for you," Draco muttered disinterested, reading the file Shacklebolt had given him when he'd arrived an hour ago.
He was glad he was no longer desk bound, but in the last hour Wilson had refused to shut his mouth even once. He kept yapping about whatever popped up into his head – none of it work related – and was already driving Draco close to the brink of hexing him.
"I've heard quite a lot about you. You seemed to have made a name for yourself already," Wilson babbled; his light blue eyes shining. "I don't get why you didn't have a partner before, though. I would think that - "
"When your last nine suspects end up murdered, people tend to think twice about becoming your partner," Draco answered silkily, closing the file.
Wilson gaped at him, blissfully silent for the first time in an hour.
Draco stood up and threw the file on Wilson's desk, snatching his cloak up. "We've got a case, let's go."
"Wait, Draco! I still need to read it!" Wilson cried out, but the blond marched out of the office, leaving the other one to scramble after him.
Three weeks after becoming his partner, Wilson became more daring and asked him out for the first time. Not only was Draco not interested at all, but the idiot had the gall to ask him out during an investigation of a new case.
The audacity – or perhaps more like stupidity – of it all had even Weasley staring at him in disbelief, straightening out from where he had stood bent over the victim.
"No, not interested. Focus on the dead body instead," Draco said curtly, barely able to hide his irritation. Who the hell thought it was a fantastic idea to ask somebody on a date whilst standing right next to a dead body? Clearly Wilson was a bigger idiot than he had expected.
"No need to play hard to get; I can hardly wait until someone else is quicker than me, right?" Wilson grinned unrepentantly.
"It's not playing hard to get when I have zero interest to start with," Draco said coldly and at least his glare had Wilson taken a couple of steps back. "Why don't you make yourself useful and go around the neighbourhood, see if anyone saw or heard something."
Wilson actually pouted, but at least left the alley to finally do something useful.
"You tend to get the short end of the stick a lot when it comes to partners, huh, Malfoy?" Weasley remarked neutrally.
Draco glanced at him. While they definitely would never be friends or even friendly acquaintances they were adult enough to behave professionally around each other. Meaning that they didn't engage in fights anymore and didn't attempt to curse each other. Most of the time they tended to avoid each other, which worked just fine even in a cluttered department like the Auror's one.
"I could do with some better luck in that regard," he agreed and sat down on his haunches next to the body, frowning. "Any reason why you're also here? Aren't you working on a case of your own?"
His own case laid sprawled out across the dirty alley ground, limbs askew; the poor woman strangled to death with her own long, chestnut brown hair. As if that hadn't been enough she'd been sliced open from her collarbone to just below her navel; her intestines spilling out of the gaping wound grotesquely.
It was too early to consider this the work of a serial killer with only just one victim so far, but this didn't look like a crime of passion or a duel gone wrong either. Too violent for that. Frankly, it looked more like a torture scene that the Dark Lord had preferred if someone had pissed him off.
Draco swallowed, blinking rapidly to dispel the mental images.
"Kingsley assigned me to the team regarding your serial killer," Weasley answered neutrally. "We're ordered to keep track of every murder case now, just in case the serial killer decides that your own cases are no longer interesting enough."
Draco snorted and rose up. "Kingsley thinks he might be going after the others as well?"
The ginger haired man shrugged; a deep frown cleaving his forehead in two. "Who knows what this person is thinking? Civilians taking justice in their own hands isn't that unheard of, but killing nine, all with their own modus operandi? Doesn't sound like a regular guy to me."
"You got any ideas who it might be?" Draco questioned curiously.
He'd been going through the cases during the evening, wondering if he had missed something; perhaps a certain witness popping up more frequently than should be possible. So far he hadn't been able to find anything that stood out in particular. All cases had had different witness; they all had taken place in different parts of England and none of the killers had known each other before they had met their gruesome end. Aside from being killed the same way they had murdered their own victims, their deaths seemed random; nothing to tie them all to a certain person or group who might be responsible.
"I wish," Weasley said, scowling. "We've gone through the reports and the case files again and again and nothing stands out. At this point Kyle might as well be right when he said that this could be a case of the victim coming back to take revenge."
"In all nine cases?" Draco asked sceptically.
It definitely wasn't unheard of that spirits would linger on earth until they could extract revenge on the one who'd wronged them. Some just never moved on, like the ghosts at Hogwarts. So yes, it could be that one of his suspects had been murdered by the vengeful ghosts of one of his victims – but all nine of them? That seemed rather excessive unless every dead person had suddenly decided to linger on earth.
Weasley threw his hands up. "Not my idea, Kyle's. With nothing to go on, anything is accepted now. Have you remembered anything else so far that might proof a tie between the cases?"
"No, I've gone through the reports myself, thinking I might have missed something, but nothing so far," Draco answered, somewhat annoyed. "Not even the witnesses had anything in common."
"That's what I thought," Weasley sighed. "Well, I leave you to it. Brett and I are going to interview some witnesses again; hopefully they remember something new."
He crossed Wilson right as the man made his way back to Draco. "The lady next door says she heard the woman screaming last night, but was too afraid to get in the middle of it so she stayed inside," he explained, glancing at his notebook. "The old man across the street saw a man running away after the killing, but because it was dark, he couldn't get a good look at him."
"Running away? Why not simply Apparate?" It couldn't have been a Muggle fight; the residue of Dark Magic was still clinging to the walls.
"Apparently the neighbourhood requested that the Apparition spot moved further down the street, because the noise of Apparating was becoming too bothersome," Wilson replied. "Think the killer might be from around these parts? Because he knew he couldn't Apparate straight away, I mean."
He might be an insensitive twat, but at least he wasn't that dumb.
"That could very likely be the case," Draco said and nodded at Willbrook, the coroner, who had a stretcher floating next to him.
"Let's go interview her family and friends; maybe they knew she was meeting someone."
While he might not be that stupid when it concerned the actual Auror work, clearly Wilson couldn't take the more than obvious hint that Draco wasn't interested in him.
"Well, you're gay, no?" Wilson pushed after Draco rejected him for the seventh time. "So why not go out on a date with me?"
"Because I have standards, that's why. Now finish your damn report, before Kingsley gets pissed off," Draco snapped and stalked out of the office he was forced to share with the prat.
He was very tempted to go straight to Kingsley and demand another partner, because Wilson's insistence on asking him out was driving him absolutely bonkers and on the verge of cursing the fucking idiot, but he didn't. If Kingsley agreed to switch his partner, who knew how long it would take before a new one showed up? New Aurors weren't exactly falling out of the sky and the ones willing to work with him were even rarer; his family name and reputation preceding him every time.
It didn't matter that he'd been an Auror for almost three years now with a perfect track record – save for nine suspects ending up dead, but that was hardly his fault – most people only saw his last name and what his family had done during the war. Never mind that Potter himself had vouched for his family during the trials; most people simply didn't trust him.
Distrust between Auror partners could literally be deadly, if one wasn't ready to back up the other during a fight, so finding a new partner again would be a fucking nightmare. He would be more than willing to work alone, but the rules stated that Aurors always had to work in pair or be delegated to desk work only.
Seeing as he didn't want to be stuck behind his desk again for the unforeseeable time … He would just have to put up with Wilson and hope that he would back off before Draco would decide that a curse definitely would be worth the punishment he would receive in return.
"Malfoy? This just came through: new victim, strangulation and sliced open again." Elisabeth halted him in the corridor. Her red coloured lips were thin when she went on, "Same neighbourhood as the other two, two streets away this time. Looks like you've got a new serial killer."
"Looks like it," Draco agreed and sighed, accepting the paperwork. "Thanks, Mallow, Wilson and I are going to check it out."
Just once he wanted to have a simple case; was that too much to ask for?
"You need to take better care of yourself," Mother admonished him gently, watching him pull on his cloak.
He'd gone straight from the Ministry to the manor, needing some company after the gruesome scene he'd visited this afternoon. The bout of rain from last night had washed away most of the blood, but it hadn't done much to reduce the overall gruesomeness of the crime scene. The third victim – yet another woman, again with long brown hair – had been strangled with her own locks just like the previous two. Just like the first two victims, she'd been sliced open; her intestines already chewed on by rats by the time they had arrived. She'd been dead for approximately ten hours, only having been discovered because a neighbour's dog had been going wild from the scent.
As if having been murdered and left behind like trash hadn't been bad enough, her own family hadn't even seemed to care when Draco and Wilson had visited them to tell them the news. The woman – Melinda had been her name – had been kicked out of the house two weeks ago; her family unable to cope with the fact that she had come out as a lesbian. Apparently her sexuality had been enough for them to no longer consider her their daughter.
She had had friends who had cared about her, though, and while understandably distraught, they had been able to tell Draco and Wilson that Melinda had been having issues with a guy stalking her after she'd refused a date with him. Exactly the same story had been given to them by the friends of the first two victims, which confirmed that this was the same guy killing them all. They didn't have a name nor a description yet, but clearly they were dealing with a lunatic who couldn't handle rejection.
Privately Draco had thought that Wilson perfectly fitted the description considering his own refusal to accept Draco's rejection, but Wilson was gay while their killer was decidedly not.
"I am, don't worry," Draco sighed and kissed her cheek. "Thanks for having me over. I know I wasn't the best company tonight."
Mother raised an eyebrow; something akin to amusement making her ice blue eyes glimmer. "And you think your father is always perfect companionship?" she asked dryly before shaking her head gently. "You know you're always welcome here, son. Whenever you want to, you can come over."
"Thanks, mother. I'll see you and father soon," he promised and stepped into the Floo, letting the green flames whisk him away to his own home.
From the foyer he made his way to the staircase, wanting to go to bed, but the glimpse of a strange box in the corner of his eye when he passed the kitchen made him pause. Somewhat warily, he entered the kitchen and drew his wand, eyeing the box. It was a simply brown one, nothing on the outside giving any indication as to what might be inside it.
"Lippy?"
The house elf popped into the kitchen immediately, eyeing him with large eyes. "Yes, Master Draco?"
"Who sent this box? When did it arrive?"
Lippy turned to look at the box. "An owl deliver it, Master Malfoy. But no name on the box, Master. Lippy should have check! Lippy is so sorry!"
"It's all right!" Draco said hastily before Lippy could run to the wall and slam her head against it in punishment. "Can you remember when it was delivered?"
She wrung her long, spindly fingers together. "Five in the evening, Master Malfoy."
"Okay, can you warm my bed for me? The nights are getting chillier," he ordered her, before she could start lamenting her carelessness again. He wasn't in the mood to listen to a house elf wailing.
"Yes, Master Malfoy, Lippy do it!"
As soon as she was gone, he turned back to the box and cast every Detection Spell and Charm he could think of that could alert him if someone had messed with the package. The spells came back clean, nothing suspicious to detect, but that didn't lessen his own suspicion that much.
Five p.m. was when he had left the Ministry to go to the manor. Who had sent him this box? It couldn't be any of his friends because they would have put their name on the box. They wouldn't do something like this out of the blue either with nothing to celebrate.
"Diffindo!" The Severing Charm made quick work of the top of the box, slicing it open to reveal its content.
What he saw when he peeked inside perplexed it. Out of everything that the box could have possibly contained, an assortment of sweets was not something he had expected. They were all his favourites too, including the Sugar Quills he liked so much. Who had sent them and why? He might have assumed mother, because she used to send him sweets boxes at Hogwarts, but she would have mentioned it if she'd been planning on doing that.
A card stuck between some Cauldron Cakes attracted his attention and he used his wand to float it in the air, unwilling to take any risks, even with all the spells announcing the box was safe.
Figured you could use this after such a long day.
That was all the card said. No greeting, no goodbye, not even an initial to tell Draco anything about the sender. It had to be someone he knew, though, because why else go for that particular message? If it wasn't his friends or his family, though, who could it be? He wasn't close to any of his colleagues so …
He scowled when he realised that unfortunately someone did consider them close enough. Was Wilson trying to gain his attention with sweets? Merlin, what was it going to take for that numbskull to finally get it through his thick head that Draco wasn't interested?
"Maybe I should curse him after all," he muttered darkly and went upstairs, ignoring the box.
Perhaps desk work wouldn't be such a bad thing after all, if it meant getting rid of that idiot.
"Thank you for your help, it's really appreciated," Draco said, finishing jotting down the information.
"I don't know whether it'll help you, though," the girl, Irena, said nervously. "He ran really fast and I was trying not to catch his attention, so - "
"It's okay, you did a very good job. We never got this much information before," he reassured her. "You can go now; Auror Mallow will escort you home."
She nodded, visibly relieved, and hurried to Mallow who was waiting for her a bit further down the street. The older woman caught his eyes and they exchanged a nod.
The middle of October saw a fourth victim of the Strangler as the media had taken to calling him. Once more a brunette had been strangled with her long hair before being sliced open, but this time they had more to work with. Because their killer was getting sloppier, not that careful anymore, and a witness had got a good look at him when he rushed past her.
Their killer was a man in his mid-thirties, rather pale skin and shaggy light brown hair. He had run with a slight limp in his right leg, but quick to disappear as always. Tonight he had left more behind than just a body, however.
He'd left a glove behind, which had fallen out of his pocket in his rush to disappear. They were going to need the help of the Unspeakables for this one, because they had ways to locate a criminal in more detail than a regular Look For Me Spell had, but considering how stubborn they tended to be, it might take a bit before Kingsley could sweet talk them into helping them.
That didn't matter. The girl's testimony and the glove were more than they had before and they were getting closer to catching the bastard. With some luck the Unspeakables would be in a good mood and they could capture the Strangler before he made a fifth victim.
"They took the body with them," Wilson announced, waving goodbye at some other Aurors.
"That's fine," Draco muttered, studying his notes. He had already seen the body, so the coroner could do his job now.
"You've heard about the Halloween ball?" Wilson questioned lightly as they made their way to the Apparition point. Above them stars slowly blinked; evening had already fallen an hour ago, blanketing them in darkness save for some streetlights.
"No, I completely couldn't see the giant banners announcing it which hang throughout the entirety of the Ministry," Draco said deadpan.
Not offended in the slightest Wilson merely laughed, resting his hand on Draco's arm. "Yeah, they're pretty noticeable, aren't they? So, are you planning on going with someone?"
"No and no, you may not ask me out," Draco said curtly, shook him off roughly and Apparated before Wilson could open his mouth again.
Merlin, but Wilson was beyond getting on his nerves. Just how many times did he have to tell that twat to fuck off before he would finally understand it? At this point his behaviour was just beyond pathetic.
A decadent looking chocolate cake was awaiting him in his kitchen when he finally returned home a couple of hours later. A card rested against the box with just one simple line written on it.
I don't like people touching what's mine.
That made him pause; his stomach flipping uncomfortable as he reread the line again. He had assumed that the sweets had come from Wilson, had been ready to dismiss the cake in the same way, but the card …
This couldn't be Wilson. Not only because of what was written on the card, but also because he'd put new wards up, specifically to keep everything from Wilson out. Nothing that bore even the slightest trace of his magic could slip through the newly erected wards.
But someone else could.
Someone who had seen Wilson and him interacting tonight; someone who knew where Draco lived and knew what kind of sweets he liked.
Staring at the cake, he called out, "Lippy, reinforce the wards. Make sure that nothing but post from my parents can get through the wards."
"Lippy do it, Master Malfoy!" she declared in her squeaky voice, disappearing to start her task.
Wards infused with house elf magic were one of the strongest wards in existence; the beings' desire to keep their family safe ensuring that nothing could breach through them. Even the most powerful Ward Creators had trouble keeping up with house elf magic.
Let's see if this mysterious person could get through his new wards now.
"I could be enjoying myself at the ball now," Wilson grumbled quietly. "Are we even sure that the Unspeakables know what they're doing?"
"You want to tell them you're second guessing their information, be my guest," Draco drawled, darting behind a tree. "I'm sure they would love to hear that."
Wilson grimaced, but fortunately had the good sense to shut up now that they were gaining in on their killer. After more than a week Kingsley had finally managed to convince the Unspeakables to offer their help and with the aid of the glove, they had set about narrowing down the killer's location. That had taken a while for reasons Draco hadn't bothered to try to understand, but this afternoon they had finally received word of the Strangler's location.
A hut hidden in the woods, north of the neighbourhood he'd been terrorising. So far the death count remained four victims and Draco was determined to keep it like that. Tonight would finally see that bastard locked up in a cell and he was going to be the one to put him there.
"You've seen any movement yet?" Wilson whispered, hidden behind another tree. He had his wand raised; his gaze fixated on the shabby looking hut around twenty feet away from them.
"No, nothing," Draco murmured, crouching lower. There was some faint light visible behind one of the windows, but he hadn't detected any movement yet.
The Unspeakables had sent them to this place, however, so he had to be here still.
"They couldn't even sent a brunette for me to play with? I'm offended."
Draco whirled around and was just in time to duck out of the way of several arrows aiming straight for him.
"Oh, you're fast! This is going to be fun!"
Their killer, the Strangler, stood just a couple of feet behind them; a maniacal grin on his face as he twirled his wand around almost casually before firing off a curse at Wilson that had the bark of the tree behind him exploding into several pieces when he ducked.
"Expelliarmus!" Draco snapped, but the killer just cackled and ducked behind a tree before firing off the Expulso Curse which forced Draco to jump back or risk debris flying in his face.
Right as he scrambled to the left, taking aim at the killer, another spell was fired off.
"Dormi."
Draco hastily erected a shield, but too late. The Sleeping Charm shot straight past his shield and hit him in his chest, enveloping him in a bright pink light.
He was asleep before he crumpled down on the ground.
The second he woke up, Draco realised he was in deep shit.
He was tied to some kind of pole; his hands behind his back, a rope digging in his skin whenever he moved his hands. There was a fire burning a couple of feet away in front of him, the only source of light in the otherwise dark empty field. He couldn't even pick up the noise of Muggle traffic, which meant that wherever he was, it wasn't anywhere close to a populated place. Fuck, for all he knew, he might be in a completely different country.
His wand was obviously gone and his cloak had been removed as well, which had him reluctantly thinking that his abductor was smart, because his cloak had contained a small button he could have used to alert the rest of the team.
Wilson was tied up next to him, he realised when he turned his head upon the sound of soft groaning. He watched the man blink dazedly, shaking his head slowly before he looked up; his eyes locking onto Draco's.
"What the hell happened?" he asked in a raspy voice. "We got in a fight with the killer – did he manage to get the both of us?"
"I doubt it was him," Draco murmured and jerked his head to the fire.
Wilson's quiet "Fuck" echoed through the field when he saw what Draco was looking at.
It was their killer. Sprawled across the ground, strangled with his own hair that had to have been magically grown longer, because he had had short hair when they had fought. He'd been sliced open from collarbone to his navel; his blood glistening in the flames. He couldn't have been dead for that long yet; blood still freshly dripping down his sides.
He had met his end in the same way he had killed those poor women. Just like the previous nine killers Draco had hunted down, he'd been killed with his own modus operandi.
"This isn't good," Wilson muttered blankly.
In spite of the less than desirable situation they were in, Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes in irritation. "You think?" he asked sarcastically. "My, I never would have guessed that us being tied up and our killer lying dead in front of us would be a bad situation."
"Maybe we can talk with this person?" Wilson suggested nervously; his eyes shooting back and forth between the fire and the dead body. "I mean, they only killed murderers so far, they have to be reasonable, no?"
"If you call someone able to strangle someone else and slice open their torso as reasonable, yes," Draco said flatly. "I doubt they invited us over for tea and biscuits."
The whole being tied to a pole kind of gave away that this definitely wasn't a cosy meeting.
"It's good to know that the years haven't tempered your snarky attitude," an amused voice drifted over towards them.
Draco almost hurt his neck with the speed he turned his head around. His eyes widened when he got a better look at the person leisurely approaching him. The shocked gasp of Wilson told him he wasn't imagining things.
Harry Potter, the one everyone had been searching for two years, casually walked over to them; his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cloak. He looked every bit the same as he had done two years ago at the Ministry, as if not a day had gone by since then. His hair was still the same untameable mess; his bright green eyes were still hidden behind a pair of glasses. He was still smaller than Draco; his body lithe and slender even underneath the cloak.
He paused not even two feet away from Draco and cocked his head to the right. "Kind of an ugly predicament you're in, huh?" he said lightly.
"Thank Merlin you're here!" Wilson blurted out; his eyes shining with excitement. "Where have you been? Everyone's been looking for you! Never mind, that doesn't matter now. Can you help free us before the killer comes back? He's been going around, killing murderers the same way they killed their victims and I'd rather not take someone like him on while still tied up, you know?" He laughed, relief basically dripping off his face now that Potter was here.
Because of course he would be relieved, who wouldn't be when the Hero of the Wizarding World was not only alive and well, but also here to save the day again?
Potter smiled; the odd tilt to it setting Draco on edge. "Your voice is incredibly grating, did you know that?" he informed him calmly.
Right before he took a couple of steps back, putting him right behind the poles. "Diffindo," he uttered calmly.
Instead of ropes, something heavier thumped down on the ground and silence reigned over the field for just a couple of seconds before Wilson started screaming, whipping his arms in front of him –
With his hands missing, blood spurting out wildly, spraying the ground; some of it hitting Draco's legs.
"Well? You didn't want to be tied up anymore. Now you're free to take me on, what are you going to do?" Potter smiled amused, stepping back in front of Draco.
Who could only stare up at him, at the way those emerald green eyes glittered madly in the dancing flames; the wind playing with black strands. Standing there at ease as if he hadn't just cut off someone's hands.
"I – I – I d-don't get it," Wilson brought out. He was rapidly growing as white as a sheet; his eyes huge and stuck on his arms, as he swayed from left to right. "Wh-why-why - "
"Because you apparently have a lot of trouble keeping your hands to yourself," Potter said cheerfully, but his smile was tight and his eyes narrowed when he sat down on his haunches in front of Wilson. "I could also cut off your ears, because clearly you don't use them to listen. Or rip out your tongue; maybe that will finally drive through the fact that you're not wanted."
"I – I don't und-understand," Wilson stuttered, whimpering, looking like a lost child instead of an adult as he stared cluelessly at Potter.
"You're the one who murdered all those killers," Draco said through numb lips.
Potter winked at him. "You were always one of the smartest in our year. Only beaten out by Hermione if I remember correctly."
"How did you do it?"
Barely any details about the modus operandi had been given to the press as a way to weed out potential fake testimonies, so Potter couldn't have got the information through that source. The only way he could have found out about it was if he had gone into the Ministry and had looked through the files himself, but wouldn't people have noticed if a famous missing person was walking around the Ministry?
"The Ministry is rather quiet at night," Potter snickered, spinning his wand between his fingers. "And surprisingly unprotected. You would think they would have tightened security after all those breaches during our school years. Once you're cued into the wards, they don't react to you anymore – even if you haven't visited the place in a while."
"You went straight to the source," Draco said and laughed incredulously. "Only you would walk straight into the lion's den to steal information."
"Gryffindor, remember?" Potter smirked. "And I would hardly call it stealing when I never took any of the files with me."
"Wh-why?" Wilson looked like he was going to faint any minute now; his skin a deadly shade of white.
"Why did I kill them?" Potter tilted his head again. "Because they deserved it. Because they had a nasty habit of harming what's mine. Just like you have a nasty habit of touching what isn't yours."
"I – I didn't touch anything that's yours!" Wilson cried out and finally he was starting to panic now that he realised there was no unknown killer lurking about.
The killer was right in front of him, eyeing him not unlike a dragon who would eye an intruder.
And just like a dragon, Potter wasn't about to let the intruder go.
"No? So you didn't keep asking him out? So you didn't keep touching him without his consent? So you didn't keep harassing him into accepting a date? My, your memory must be quite shit then," Potter smiled coldly.
Wilson's wild gaze shot between Potter and Draco. "I – I swear, I didn't know you two were together! I wouldn't have kept - " He choked when Potter slammed his fist into his stomach.
"Single or not, you should have backed off the second he rejected you," he said sharply. "The Auror program has gone down the drain if they let people with your morals through."
Even in this surreal situation Draco couldn't help but think there was a certain irony behind those words, given what Potter had been up to since he had disappeared.
"I swear I'll – I'll leave him alone, I swear!" Wilson stuttered, but Draco saw it was no use.
Potter had made up his mind already; that was clear as day to everyone but Wilson.
"I'm sure you will," Potter smiled and rose up. "Because I'm going to help you keep that promise."
Wilson's frantically begging was abruptly cut off when his body slumped sideways; his eyes already glazing over before his head hit the ground.
Dead, just like the Strangler.
"And then there were only two of them," Potter snickered, turning to face Draco. "Whatever shall I do to you, hm?"
"For starters you could release me without cutting off my hands," Draco sighed. "I'm rather partial to them, you know. You're done having fun? Or are you going to leave them in despair for a while longer?"
"The ones who matter know how to reach me, so what does it matter?" Harry questioned rhetorically.
"Still not going to let the rest of them know? Or are you worried they're going to put a stop to your fun?" Draco asked mockingly, smirking when Harry glared at him.
"They would have to prove first I'm behind everything and so far they don't seem to be doing a good job of that," Harry retorted.
"Can you blame them? They're definitely not suspecting that you've gone mental."
Harry pursed his lips together. "If I was truly mental, I'd have killed you already, but I haven't."
"No, instead you turned the creepy way and sent me anonymous gifts," Draco shot back, raising an eyebrow. "One could argue that that isn't actually a mark of a sane man either."
"Please, like you didn't know they were from me," Harry snorted and then narrowed his eyes. "You raised your wards after the cake one. Not very nice, you know."
"I've never claimed to be nice," Draco smiled sharply. "You should have shown up instead of sending me gifts if you wanted the wards to remain open."
"Testy, testy," Harry said in a sing-sang voice, laughing as he jumped out of reach when Draco went to kick him.
"If anyone's testy, it's you. Killing nine – well, ten just because they attacked me?" Draco clucked his tongue. "Do you have any idea how much paperwork your stunts cost me? Why even use their own modus operandi? Everything would have been easier if they had thought the deaths had been random."
The dark haired wizard shrugged. "They're not exactly a loss to society after what they'd done." His eyes darkened. "And like I said: I really don't like it when people harm what's mine."
"And Wilson? He wasn't a killer." Annoying beyond belief, yes, but not a killer.
"No, but he kept harassing you," quick as a snake Harry sank into his lap, bracing his arms on his shoulders, "and so he had to go."
Draco stared at him, at the man many people would argue had gone insane if they knew what he had been up to in the past few years. Perhaps they were right; maybe Harry had indeed completely snapped. Killing murderers in cold blood definitely was not something a honourable Auror would do after all.
But Harry had never liked playing according to the rules and when the Ministry had tried to push him into the mould of the perfect hero one time too many, Harry had washed his hands off them and had completely disappeared, not even warning his closest friends for several weeks.
Surprisingly Draco had been one of the Aurors initially signed to the utmost important mission of finding Harry Potter. By a stroke of luck he had run into the other man three weeks after he'd disappeared. It had nearly ended in a vicious duel before Draco had made it clear that he really couldn't give a fuck what Potter was doing and to please keep the amount of paperwork he had to fill in to an absolute minimum.
It had been easy to claim he hadn't been able to discover Potter's whereabouts, because he hadn't. He'd simply run into him for a brief moment before the other wizard had disappeared once more. After that he hadn't seen or heard from Potter again until the man had simply shown up one evening, requesting they shared dinner.
At that point Draco probably should have realised that something had snapped within Harry, but he found it difficult to care about that when Harry was the one who made him feel alive again in the first place. He had always craved Harry's attention one way or the other and getting to know the man better hadn't done anything but fuel that fire even more.
Not even witnessing Harry ruthlessly kill the first murder suspect after the guy had nearly disembowelled Draco had made him back down from their relationship.
If Harry was mad, so was he and he couldn't find it in him to care about that.
"You gave me a lot of paperwork to fill in," Draco accused him.
"You raised the bloody wards like the absolute twat you are," Harry shot back in return.
"Clearly they weren't raised enough if you could send me those flowers," the blond said unimpressed, referring to the bouquet of blood red roses he'd received yesterday.
"Took me three hours to dismantle them in the right way, though," Harry grumbled annoyed. "You could have just keyed me in as an exception."
"But where would have been the fun in that?" Draco smirked, tilting his head back.
"I can just leave you here tied to the pole," Harry threatened, narrowing his eyes.
"And deprive yourself of the fuck you so desperately want? Right, like you're that much of a masochist," Draco snorted.
"I've got my hand."
"And I've got a dick that can make you scream, remember?" Draco said cockily, smirking when Harry rolled his eyes. "So what's it going to be? Your hand or my dick?"
"You could at least pretend to be a little bit distraught at being surrounded by two bodies – one who was your colleague by the way." Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I don't need to hear that from the guy who killed them. Besides, Wilson was getting on my nerves. Not that you really should have killed him, mind," he added, "but you were always the type to go overboard. Now fucking cut these ropes; it's too bloody cold here."
"Always so bossy," Harry tutted but at least he removed the ropes, allowing Draco to bring his arms back to the front.
He probably should be a lot more concerned about his dead colleague, but it was hard to focus on that when Harry was so eager to kiss him. Even harder when Harry Side-Apparated the both of them straight into a bed in a room Draco didn't recognise at all; his hands already tugging open Draco's belt.
The unknown room didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered when he was drowning in gleaming green eyes; green which was swallowed up by an infinite black when he finally pushed inside of him, Harry's mouth parting in a silent gasp before Draco sealed their lips together.
Maybe he was playing with fire, loving someone as unstable as Harry was, but he would gladly get burnt again and again until there was nothing left of him.
As long as he had Harry, madness and everything, nothing else mattered.
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.
The End
AN2: Additional warnings: Dark Harry who has no problem killing people; probably somewhat deranged.
I hope that even though it wasn't that creepy, it's still fitting for Halloween! And I hope it wasn't that bad ^^; It's been a while since I last wrote a oneshot for this fandom *coughs* I'm off to my other projects now. Enjoy your Halloween!
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I hope to see you all back in my future stories! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!
Cuddles
Melissa
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Gazing into the Abyss