The doing of the thing had been almost anticlimactic, which he supposed was both a blessing and a curse.

He had followed the spell for nearly a day, tracking every trace of Malfoy blood that it located, finding that not only was his family significantly smaller than it had been ten years ago, but that there were at least three skeletons in the Malfoy closet living in Muggle London. Bastard squibs, he realized, after popping in on one who bore such a striking resemblance to himself that he was quite certain that the boy had to have been a by-blow of Lucius probably, he thought with more disgust than he had felt in some time, the product of a Voldemort inspired revel where raping Muggle women for sport seemed to be the entertainment of sport. Apparently they'd decided not to kill all of them when they were done. The boy was likely around sixteen, which matched up quite well with the timeline, and he could have been Draco's twin at that age. Draco resisted the urge to go up and introduce himself. The boy looked happy and well adjusted, and was obviously not a wizard. Why disturb his life and break the Statute of Secrecy. It would profit no one. He silently wished the boy well and went on to the next trace.

He found his father in a well appointed town home in East London, the Muggle section, which was actually a better circumstance than he could have hoped for. He watched the place for several hours before he actually saw his father pass in front of the windows and pour himself a glass of wine. Nodding, he removed the small witches glass from his pocket and tapped it. Weasley's face appeared, looking pale and grim.

"Go, I've found him." Ron nodded once and his face disappeared from view. Ten minutes later the glass warmed in his pocket and he removed it to find Weasley back in the glass.

"I have the Ministry bonded receipt, I don't think the Magister even knew what the hell he was signing. Good luck." Draco nodded and slid the Muggle handgun out of his pocket, crossing the street and knocking firmly on the door.

Lucius answered personally, and froze just for a moment at the sight of his son on the doorstep. Draco fired one shot and Lucius looked down at the suddenly dribbling hole in his chest in surprise and some consternation. Draco had no wand, no talisman, and the shock was so sudden that he did not yet even register pain. Without hesitation Draco raised the gun higher and pulled the trigger again, the bullet striking true right in the middle of his forehead. Lucius dropped like a stone. Draco used magic to arrange the body in the dignity befitting a Malfoy, and Accio'd the Malfoy signet ring from Lucius finger to his own hand. The fact that the ring came at all was his proof that Lucius was well and truly dead. He felt nothing. There was no triumph, and also no regret. Perhaps there was a sense of relief and the feeling of one more loose end being tied up, but he no longer hated Lucius as he once did. No, in the end Lucius was a pathetic bigot who had been easily dispatched by a Muggle method because he was so ignorant of the culture that he had never bothered to question what the twisty looking bit of metal in his sons hand was for. It had been easier than Stunning fish in a barrel. He walked back down the walk leaving the door open so someone would realized something was amiss and contact the authorities. Hopefully the body would be discovered soon. He apparated to the front steps of the Ministry, arriving by coincidence just as Weasley came through the doors.

"It's done," he said quietly, then looked at the gun still in his hand and shuddered, vanishing it. To his credit Weasley didn't say anything at all, only nodded and motioned to a pub across the street. Draco agreed with an answering nod, and they headed over.

Feeling came back after the second shot of Firewhiskey, and Draco realized that shock had had more to do with his lack of reaction than anything else. It annoyed him as much as he did understand it. He'd done more than his share of killing in the war, but this was the first time he had committed what he could not help but think of as cold blooded murder. Weasley seemed to understand this instinctively and simply sat, waiting for Draco to get his head around it.

"He didn't even realize what I was about," he finally said, apropos of nothing. "He just stared at me. I wasn't holding a wand or talisman or something recognizable from our world so it apparently did not even occur to him that he was in danger. I haven't had to use a wand since I was fifteen, did he not remember that? Did he think I didn't have the courage? I, there was supposed to be something more, even a token of resistance, something. He just stood there and then he looked so surprised, as if he couldn't comprehend that I had done him damage. I shot the second time as much just to wipe that look form his face, that gormless, stupid look as I did to make sure it was done. Gods!"

"You've done the right thing, Hemione is safe from him now, so are you for that matter. That's the main thing, yeah? It's ok to be a bit in the weeds from it. It isn't like it was in the war, I get that. There it was all right at the second, pause and you're dead kind of stuff. This, well, it was life or death but not the immediate kind. Same thing needed to be done, just makes it harder to do it."

"Did you kill anyone as an Auror?" Ron nodded, grimacing.

"Yeah, a few times. Never got better. It's when it does that you have to worry, right? Come on, I'll Floo you home, you need to talk to Hermione before the press or the Aurors do. You know legal or not this is going to cause one hell of a stench, and she needs to know so she can be prepared." Draco nodded, and rose stuck between wanting to thank the other man, and yet such friendly words seemed to stick halfway down his throat and refuse to come higher. Ron looked at him and snorted.

"Yeah, you're welcome, feels bloody weird to me to say it either. Guess you aren't a complete git, Malfoy. Well, not always anyway. Good luck dealing with Hermione, I'm betting she's going to be all the danger you can handle once you admit you refused to include her in this." Draco stepped into the flames with those words ringing in his ears, and the first word out of his mouth as he stumbled out of his own fireplace at home said it all.

"Shit."