*Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the intellectual property of one J.K. Rowling and various publishers. I make no monetary gains from the use of her characters and settings and claim no rights over them.*

Warnings: Violence (Non-graphic)/ Mature Themes/ Coarse Language/ Dark!fic/ Not Epilogue Compliant - This piece of fiction shows Harry in a very dark role. If that makes you in any way uncomfortable you may want to skip this piece.

*With special thanks to Euclidian: for putting up with my depraved imaginings with good grace and patience. I owe you a debt of gratitude and a 'happy ending' in 'Fifteen.'*

No Justice; Just Me

"If I never see the inside of a tent again it will be too soon."

"It's been over a year, Ron." Harry's grin was lopsided and genuine as he stuffed a worn leather pouch into his rucksack.

"Still; you're a better man than me mate."

"I wouldn't say that." Harry murmured and pulled the drawstring tight; he slung his pack over his shoulder and headed for the door. "See you in a couple days."

"Harry?"

He turned, brow arched.

"I just…I don't understand why…"

"I just need to do this Ron." Harry said gently, firmly. "I'll be back in a couple of days."

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "See ya'."

The door clicked shut.

~*~

The place could have used a coat of paint and the roof was in need of mending, but it was the name that settled it for him; the tinkle of a bell echoed through the parlour of The Hog's Head Inn as Harry opened the door.

"Anyone here?"

An elderly man stepped through a door behind the counter; he closed it behind himself and shuffled over to a too tall desk chair, eyes fixed on the floor as he clambered up onto it and eased himself down with a gruff sigh. He reached for a pen, stroked his beard and, finally, set his eyes on his guest.

"You'll be wantin' a room then." It wasn't a question.

"Have you got one available?"

The old man raised an arm, waving in a non-committal gesture to a pegged shelf, each peg dangling a brass key from its hook.

"Single or double?" he asked, pen poised above his ledger. Harry's brow quirked as he looked around the empty room. "Single." He answered.

"Hmm." The man nodded. "Name?"

"Potter."

"Thirty pounds for the night, fifty for two."

"Just the one."

"We don't take credit."

"Alright."

The old man stared at him over the counter, Harry stared back; silence fell.

"Thirty pounds." He said.

"Oh, right." Harry nodded and reached into his back pocket; he handed the cash over the counter. "Have you got a menu?"

The old man frowned. "What's today?"

"Tuesday."

"Bangers, mash and peas; apple crumble and coffee afters. Order by five, supper's on at six; we don't do room service."

Harry nodded. "I'll have dinner then."

The frowned deepened, the old man made a mark on his ledger and turned, pulling a key from the shelf. "Room three, upstairs on the left, washroom's straight ahead, end of the corridor; you'll find fresh linen in your cupboard."

Harry took the key with a nod of thanks and took the stairs two at a time.

~*~

Moonlight filtered through the threadbare curtains, crept across the dusty floorboards; Harry sat, hunched on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall.

The minute hand ticked over.

12:00

Harry stood, threw his pack over his shoulder and disapparated.

~*~

He'd imagined the sight of it, bathed as it was in pale moonlight, the chirp of crickets calling from blade to blade of lush green grass, the smell of cool spring air, would illicit some sort of emotion in him; the memories alone should have brought a surge of anger or perhaps fear, but he felt nothing; nothing but the sheer, simple pleasure of the senses on an idyllic English spring under the waning gibbous moon.

He breathed it in and walked through the gate.

It was the plume that caught his eye; it was hard to miss on a night like this. The stark white feathers glowed in the wan light as the albino peacock strode proudly across the lawn as, Harry felt, was its right; anything that beautiful was entitled to its in-bred sense of pride.

His smile was soft as he approached the regal bird. "Do you remember me?" he whispered as he knelt before it, his hands reaching to stroke the soft plumage of its slender neck and back.

The animal blinked its large eyes; Harry's smile broke into a grin.

"May it never be said I'm half-arsed."

His hands squeezed around the bird's neck and he snapped it backwards with a sickening 'crack'; the bird fell at his feet in a heap.

"Who's a pretty bird." He cooed.

He stood, brushed the dirt off his knees and strolled up the path toward the front door.

~*~

Draco Malfoy jerked to consciousness with a snort.

"Good morning sleepy head." Harry singsonged; he corked the phial of Hartshorne and dropped it into his pocket. "For a second there I thought that wasn't going to work; you sleep like the dead." He grinned.

Draco blinked; bleary eyes out of focus as they cast around the room. "What… Potter... What the hell are you doing in my…"

"Did you know your front door was unlocked?"

Draco frowned. "No it isn't."

"Wasn't; and yes, it was. I brought a lock-pick just in case but…"

"Lock-pick… what is… what the hell…"

"It's a little device muggles use to break into homes, but, as I said, I didn't…"

"What the hell is going on Potter?!"

Harry stopped short, a tiny crease formed between his eyes as he frowned. "You don't have to shout." He scolded, looking hurt. "I would have explained had you given me a chance."

"Potter," Draco began, his tone threatening. "Why are you in my house, in my drawing room, and why can't I move?"

Harry nodded. "Well, I've immobilised you; a neat little spell Hermione found for me. 'Course she had no idea what I was going to use it for but…" he shrugged. "And we're in your drawing room because, well, I think it's rather fitting, almost poetic in a way."

Draco paled, his pulse racing. "What's fitting?"

Harry smiled, his eyes soft. "I'll remove the spell if you promise not try and make a run for it."

"Are you insane?"

Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself." He whistled tunelessly as he stepped toward the blond, bypassing the chair he sat in and moving behind him. Draco heard something scrape against the carpet and only then did he register the sounds of muffled voices. "Potter!" he barked as Narcissa, bound stark naked to a rough wooden chair and gagged, was pushed into his line of sight. "What the… Don't you fucking touch her!"

"You're such a drama queen." Harry muttered as he shoved the chair.

"I'll fucking kill you Potter, I swear! Don't you dare touch her!"

"Oh come off it Draco; I'm not going to rape your mother." Harry said exasperatedly as he pushed and prodded, arranging the chair to his liking. "That's just disgusting." He frowned as he straightened and nodded as though pleased with himself. "No offense." He nodded toward the woman. "Although," he said as he made his way back behind Draco's chair. "I've heard that rapists don't do it for the sex. It's all about domination and control, degradation and humiliation." He paused, huffed loudly; Lucius soon appeared in the same condition, next to his wife. Harry stood back and brushed his hands. "I suppose I could understand that part." He said as he came to stand back in front of the blond boy; Draco shook his head violently. "I'm not going to do it though." He added offhandedly . "It's just icky."

Harry took a deep breath, surveyed his handiwork and the small family and sighed. "Well. Let's get started!"

~*~

"How did you get in here?"

"The front door."

Draco sighed heavily, glaring at the dark haired boy as he rummaged through his pack. "I meant the wards; how did you get through the wards without them alerting the house?"

"Easy." Harry shrugged. "I'm keyed in."

"What?"

"You really didn't know?"

"What the hell are you talking about Potter?"

Harry stared at the blond. "I helped reset them," he said, nodding, as though trying to coax a response. "You're a smart bloke, Malfoy; I was sure you'd have figured it out. I mean, I'm glad you didn't, but you saw me and the Aurors out milling around your lawn; took seven bloody hours." he shook his head. "I have to say I'm kind of disappointed in you."

"Why are you doing this?" Draco whispered.

Harry frowned thoughtfully "There's a long and a short answer to that question." He answered. "But as I don't want to waste precious time monologuing we'll have to settle with the short." He paused, head tilted to the side as he gazed into the scared, wide eyes in front of him. "You deserve it." He said gently.

"Deserve what?"

"This." Harry grinned.

"I don't understand."

"It's really not that complicated."

"You defended us… you pleaded for leniency… why?"

"Come on Malfoy. I think it's pretty obvious that my motives were entirely selfish." Harry said as he pulled the leather pouch from his sack and laid it on the floor.

"You're insane." Draco whispered.

"I'm really not." Harry smiled. "But if it makes you feel better." He shrugged. "Now, listen carefully; I'm going to release you, but before you go getting any big ideas of acts of heroism and daring escape I want you to watch what I'm about to do."

His green eyes settled on a vase atop the mantle, it exploded a moment later; he turned back to Draco. "I don't have a wand and, as you can see, I don't need one. So, with that in mind…" He raised his hand and Draco slumped forward in his seat, panting.

"You alright?"

Draco nodded.

"Good. Can you look up at me?"

The blond tilted his head, gray eyes resting on green; Harry smiled softly at him. "Go kiss your mother."

"What?"

"Kiss your mother."

Draco frowned, his gaze searching Harry's. "Potter, no."

"Draco, I'm giving you the chance I never had." Harry said gently. "Now, kiss her. Tell her how much you love her, how much she means to you, how much she'll always mean to you."

Draco shook his head, eyes welling over. "Potter… Harry, please. You can't…"

"Draco."

The blond slid from his seat, his knees hitting the carpet with a dull thud; he crawled slowly toward his mother, his hands wrapping around her knees, head resting on her pale thighs as he sobbed. "Mother." He rubbed his face against her smooth skin, his cries coming harder as she sobbed and whimpered beneath the gag. He leaned up, pressing kisses to her tear streaked face. "I love you Mummy… I love you so much… so much…" he whispered again and again.

Harry watched the scene with calm, ravenous delight. Several minutes passed before he crossed the room and pulled the boy away from his mother, guiding him back to his seat and easing him down. He straddled Draco's thighs, settling himself on the boy's lap as he reached for him, cupping his face in his hands, wiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs. "There now…shh… it'll be alright." He whispered softly.

"Please." Draco whispered. "Please don't do this. Take whatever you want, take everything. We'll leave… we'll leave and we'll never come back, or you can Obliviate us, take our memories just please, please don't do this, Harry, please…"

"Shh…"

"Please, Harry, please don't…"

"It's too late for all that now, Draco." Harry said gently. "If it's any consolation I'm gonna do you first.

"I really don't hate you, you know; I feel sorry for you." he said as he stood and backed away; he recast the spell and Draco stiffened in his seat. "Your parents, they knew what they were doing, knew it was wrong, but you? You were just a child, just trying to make Mummy and Daddy happy, and I can't bring myself to blame you for that."

Harry knelt and unrolled the leather pouch; the edge of the blades and other tools strapped inside glinted in the firelight; Draco whimpered. "And you." Harry said, pulling a scalpel from the pouch and turning to face the adults; he stood over Narcissa, blade resting gently against a pale eyelid. "You're gonna watch every minute of this."

~*~

The embers had long since died out; sunlight peeked through the drapes.

Harry arranged the final piece of Lucius Malfoy and stood back to admire his handiwork.

So much red; splashed and splattered against a backdrop of pale skin, the expanse of it like a canvas. His masterpiece.

They really were a beautiful family.

He pulled an empty phial from his pocket, pressed the tip of his index finger to his temple and grimaced as he pulled the thin, silver thread and placed into the glass.

Daddy…

Harry frowned, looked over his shoulder.

Daddy…

The room swayed, images blurring, fading…

Harry pulled his head from the Pensieve, gasping a lungful of air; he shook his head and with a flick of his wrist the basin disappeared.

"Daddy?"

Harry turned; his smile wide as the little girl burst through the door. "Yes pumpkin?"

"Mummy says to hurry up and get dressed or we'll never hear the end of it from Gramma Molly."

"Well I'd hate to upset your Gran." Harry grinned as he swooped his daughter up into his arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Especially after all the work she put into supper."

The little girl giggled.

~*~

Dinner was a lively and enjoyable affair; the apple crumble was especially good.