Title: Angels and Dementors
Author: lafillesauvage / Roxie

Summary:When Detective Harry Potter inadvertently stumbles across notorious Ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy in Newcastle, of all places, he begins to suspect that Something Dastardly is in the works. But what does a group of vigilante DE Sympathisers have to do with it? And what's all this about a so-called fourth Unforgiveable? Featuring Obsessive!Harry, AlcoholicBistroOwner!Draco and a liberal dose of Newcastle Bashing. HP/DM SLASH.

DISCLAIMER:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

No offence is intended to anyone who lives or comes from the Newcastle area. Harry can be somewhat rude when it comes to voicing his opinions of the city, but don't worry, I'm sure Draco will be such a gracioushost that Harry will soon come around...


Chapter 1

After apparating to the foot of the Angel of the North statue, Harry took in the view of the city that sprawled out beneath his feet. By rights, he could have apparated a great deal closer to his target destination – a small student flat just south of the Tyne – but, never having visited Newcastle before in his relatively short 24 years, Harry decided to make the most of what was likely to be a brief visit.
Well, that, and the fact that he had been having the day from hell and it wouldn't do to apparate directly into a suspect's home given Harry's prodigious record of cursing first, thinking later.

All things considered, the walk in the fresh northern air would do him a great deal of good and help him forget all about the lecture from his boss that he would no doubt have to face when he returned to his sad Ministry cubicle in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Improper Use of Magic Office).

It wasn't that he disliked his job per se; on the contrary, he was convinced it was a great deal more suited to him than a career in the Auror Division ever would have been. Harry had decided long ago that risking his life out of necessity when there was a madman out to murder him was one thing, but risking his life on a daily basis for no other reason than to pamper to everyone else's expectations was something else altogether.

So, after taking a year to finish his NEWTS, (and doing reasonably well, in his opinion, though of course not as well as Hermione), Harry had enrolled in the Investigative Division of the DMLE, where he was assigned to the task of investigating breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy (and decidedlynotbreaches of the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, which seemed far too hypocritical to Harry after his own misguided youth).

For the most part, it was a rewarding job, and it certainly gave him a number of interesting anecdotes to draw upon at dinner parties, but the amount of Ministry red tape was ridiculous. Even before the War, the Ministry had been a bureaucrat's wet dream, but after the events of Voldemort's takeover (and, though it was never mentioned as an official reason, the infiltration of the Ministry by a particular trio of teenagers disguised by Polyjuice potion) there had been a decided tightening of the rules and regulations.

Harry, however, never one to follow rules no matter who set them, of course spent most of his time doing his utmost to avoid adhering to 'proper protocol'. This led to 2 years' worth of case files building up and swallowing Harry's desk and eventually to the intervention of the Head of the Department, Mafalda Hopkirk, whose shrill voice Harry remembered from the warning letters he received in his second and fifth years at Hogwarts. She had warned him, in no uncertain terms, that he must complete his outstanding paperwork by the end of the month, or else…

Harry doubted that 'or else' meant a termination of his contract, as the Ministry still fawned over him as their Golden Poster Boy (much to Harry's annoyance). But still, the warning was enough to rile Harry into wandlessly setting fire to a stack of the aforementioned files (unfortunately for Harry, though, the Ministry always made copies, so this hadn't really achieved anything).

However, before Hopkirk managed to catch him and nag his ear off in a way reminiscent of Hermione, Harry had been alerted to an instance of magic in a Muggle-populated area, and so here he was, standing outside 33 Bartram Gardens, Gateshead, knocking on the door of the residence of one Kevin Entwhistle.

After the War, the Ministry had sought a way to redeem itself in the eyes of Muggleborns. Thus it was decided that each year the Ministry would offer Muggleborns the chance to take a place at a Muggle university of their choice, all expenses paid, including accommodation and living costs.

Harry wouldn't go so far as to say the program was a popular one; most Muggleborns were so enamoured by magic by the time they reached their final year that they made applications to study at wizarding higher education institutions around the world – Harry remembered Hermione herself had spent 3 years studying at the wizarding University of Bologna before returning to England to become an Unspeakable.

Still, every year there were around 5 Hogwarts alumni who elected to return to the Muggle world and complete a degree at one of the British universities on offer, in the process agreeing to abstain from the use of magic for the duration, unless of course, their lives were in danger and magic became necessary (the Ministry understandably did not want the blood of any more Muggleborns on its hands). This made it rather easy for Harry's division to keep tabs on these students, tracking them down when magic was detected in order to ascertain whether the use constituted a breach of the Statute of Secrecy or could be justified by mitigating circumstances. Once a decision had been made, a team of Obliviators was dispatched to modify the memories of any witnesses and, in case of the former, the wizard in question would receive a warning against further magical activity.

On average Harry was alerted to around 3 instances of magical activity by Muggleborn students each year, usually when the wizard/witch had been out drinking the night before and tried to banish their hangover with magic the next day. Still, each instance had to be investigated, just on the off-chance there was something more serious behind it.

When Entwhistle finally answered the door, he was barely clothed. In fact, 'barely' was an understatement. He had a white sheet wrapped around his waist, nothing on his torso, and a red, mortified expression on his face. If Harry wasn't so mortified himself, he would have found the scene rather amusing.

"Shit. I mean, sorry…er…Mr. Potter, sir. What can I…er…do for you?" Entwhistle stuttered, his jade green eyes taking in the official navy blue robes of the DMLE, the wand gripped tightly in Harry's right hand and finally the deep pink scar on Harry's forehead that, of course, remained an obsession of the wizarding world despite it being almost 7 years since Voldemort's demise.

"Mr Entwhistle," Harry managed at last to regain his professional composure, "My name is Detective Potter and I am here on behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Improper Use of Magic Office, in order to investigate reports of magical activity at your residence at 9:53 this morning. As I'm sure you are aware, Mr Entwhistle, as per your enrolment on the Ministry's Muggleborn Higher Education Program, the use of magic is strictly prohibited by the International Statute of Secrecy, Clause 73, unless in extreme circumstances such as the endangerment of your life."

"Of course, Mr Potter, of course. I understand but you see it really was just a big mistake so..er…there's really no need for you to stick around. I've learnt my lesson, won't happen again. Good day." Entwhistle flashed him an insincere grin and proceeded to try and close his front door with the hand that wasn't trying to keep hold of the sheet and maintain his dignity.

"Mr Entwhistle, that may well be the case, but proper protocol dictates that I must now search your property in order to ascertain whether there really was a threat to your life and how many Obliviators will need to be called in order to uphold the Statute of Secrecy." Harry placed his hand on the door and held out his wand in warning; he might have calmed down after this morning's events, but he still was not in the mood to be toyed with.

"But, like I said Potter, it was just a mistake, I'm sure there's really no need-"

"Mr Entwhistle, I will have to ask you to stand aside or I will be forced to stun you." Harry glared at the blond until he finally relented, slumping against the wall behind the door as if hiding from what Harry might find in his downstairs flat. Fortunately, (or maybe 'unfortunately' would be more apt in this case) Harry didn't have to wait long to find out what this was.

"Ah! Potter, what alovelysurprise!" Harry turned from the sight of Entwhistle, eyes closed, cheeks reddening, right into the sneering countenance of none other than Draco Malfoy. "Still prying into other people's business are we, Scarhead? How some things never change…"

As Malfoy trailed off, Harry took in the sight of him, stood proudly in a similar state of undress to Entwhistle – Harry conveniently ignored the voice in his head that told him Malfoy had good reason not to be ashamed. Putting two and two together and coming up with some...disconcerting images (he refused to use the word 'arousing', even though they were definitely having an effect on his lower regions) of Entwhistle and Malfoy, naked and sweaty, writhing against each other in bed, Harry suddenly found his hatred of 'proper protocol' filtering across to the practical parts of his job, too.

Snapping out of his daze, Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, who was now smirking in a way that made Harry paranoid about his inability to ever master Occlumency.

"Malfoy. I take it you're the reason for the reports of magical activity, then? God knows I'd consider the sight of you in my home a threat to my life, if not my sanity."

"Yes, yes, Potter, it's all my fault. What can I say? I guess sex with me is just…magical!" the way Malfoy purred made Harry's skin flush and his cock strain against the fabric of his boxers in a very, very unprofessional way.

Malfoy's smirk grew wider until it was practically a leer, while Harry's eyes narrowed to slits and his vice-like grip on his wand threatened to snap the wood in half. It was just like being back at school again; in all his life, with the obvious exception of Voldemort, Harry had never met anyone who could get under his skin as quickly and successfully as Draco Malfoy, git extraordinaire.

A pointed cough from the doorway seemed enough to snap Harry and Malfoy out of their glaring contest.

"Mr Potter, if you really need to look around, I'd appreciate if you could be speedy about it. I have a lecture to get to in forty-five minutes." Entwhistle seemed determined to avoid making direct eye-contact with Harry, but his point was clear enough.

"Of course, I think I've seen all I need to see here anyway. An official warning will arrive by owl by tomorrow morning at the latest. Good day, Mr. Entwhistle." Harry shot one last glare at Malfoy before stalking out of the house.

He didn't get very far before his curiosity got the better of him. Truth be told, Harry didn't really know what waiting outside the house perched on a neighbouring wall for Malfoy to come out would achieve. After all, it was the responsibility of the Auror division to keep tabs on known former Death Eaters, not the Improper Use of Magic Office.

Still, Harry had never been one to leave Malfoy alone when he suspected something was going on; sure, it might have looked like Entwhistle and Malfoy were just lovers, (Harry fought hard to block the mental images from returning), but who knows what he might really be up to? So, stifling the voice in his head that asked him, in Hermione's voice no less, what the real reason for his obsession with Malfoy was, Harry settled in and prepared to wait.

It was maybe ten minutes before Malfoy emerged, no Entwhistle in sight, and immediately noticed Harry sat across the road, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

"Oh Potter, please," he complained loudly with a roll of his eyes, "I had enough of your stalking in sixth year. I'd rather not relive the experience, if you don't mind." With that Malfoy took off down the street, pointedly ignoring Harry, who trailed after him like a particularly persistent puppy.

By the time the two men reached the bus stop outside the nearby hospital, Harry had transfigured his DMLE robes into Muggle clothing, noting, with a pang of irritation, that Malfoy was already appropriately dressed for this world, a fact that only served to make Harry even more suspicious. In 13 years of knowing the man, Harry had never seen Malfoy in anything other than the finest wizarding robes. Harry couldn't yet work out how this sartorial observation tied in with whatever nefarious plot Malfoy was involved in, but Harry knew it had to be relevant somehow.

When the bus arrived and Harry took a seat right next to Malfoy, it appeared to be too much for the former Slytherin.

"What, Potter?" he hissed. "Just what is your problem?"

"You are! What the hell are you doing in Newcastle of all places? What about your manor? And why are you dressed like a Muggle? The Draco Malfoy I know-"

"That's just it though, isn't it, Potter?" Malfoy seethed at him, turning in his seat until his face was so close that Harry, even with his reputation of killing the most evil dark wizard in history, felt slightly nervous. Only slightly. "Youdon'tknow me. You don't know anythingabout me. So why won't you just fuck off?"

And before Harry could even think of a reply to that, Malfoy had jumped up, brushed past him, and exited the bus. By the time Harry, too, got off the bus, Malfoy's blond head was nowhere to be seen in the lunchtime crowd of shoppers, office workers and students who were milling around the city centre. Swallowing the curse on his lips, Harry resolved to track him down. 6 years of not seeing the other man had done nothing to lessen the mistrust that Harry felt towards him.

Whatever Malfoy was up to, Harry would be the one to uncover it.


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