Hello! This story will be 26 chapters long, plus an epilogue and postscript. Updates will be every other day. Hope you enjoy :)
Chapter One
Life as the owner of Shanghai's highest-ranking bars and nightclubs isn't an easy one, but Draco lived it well enough. He's used to stumbling home at six in the morning and being woken up two hours later by unrelenting phone calls. He's used to running from bar to bar or club to club in the dead of night at a moment's notice because of some random emergency. And god bless his soul for the sheer amount of paperwork he had to do about government regulations or maintenance or whatever the fuck that needed to be dealt with.
There were good days. There were bad days. There were great days. There were shitty days. But there were never perfect days. Until today.
First of all, he woke up not to the sound of an angrily buzzing phone but instead to the feel of a cool autumn breeze on his face. When he glanced at his watch, he realized that it was three in the afternoon. It was the first time he had eight full hours of uninterrupted sleep in weeks. He checked his phone, expecting an explosion of texts from his club managers, but to his surprise, found only a few messages that were addressed in minutes.
Well, this is a pleasant surprise. But it was only the beginning of the day, and it was far too early to celebrate. There were still plenty of opportunities for things to go wrong.
He padded to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, and ran a hand through his hair to tousle it artfully. He pulled on a pair of tight black jeans and slipped into his favorite dark green shirt, buttoning it up halfway but leaving the cuffs firmly fastened at his wrists. Gleaming black combat boots and a slender silver chain around his neck completed the picture. Picking up his phone and keys, he headed out to the street. The first order of business was, of course, coffee and lunch.
He arrived at his favorite French café. Since it was rather late in the day, he was used to seeing his favorite pastries sold out or squeezing through crowds of students looking for an after-school snack, but this time, the shop was remarkably empty. To his astonishment, there were still some of his favorite canelés left over, and the coffee was on half-price. While he picked up his drink and pastries from the barista, he almost expected to be run over by a horde of hungry primary school students or spill the coffee all over himself or for something disastrous happen. But it didn't. He stepped into the warm sunlight moments later, the bag of pastries warm in his hands and sipping away at his oat milk latte.
The day was certainly shaping up nicely, but Draco frowned as he imagined the shit that was bound to happen at work that would most certainly ruin everything.
He checked on his clubs first, greeting his managers who were busy barking orders as they made preparations for the night. HEXAGON was running slightly short on liquor due to a supply delay, but even before the head bartender could finish, a delivery van rolled in with crates full of clinking glass. A group of drunk teenagers had thrown a bottle of beer into a speaker at AMPM, but fortunately, no damage had been sustained. Genesis had a slower night, and nothing went wrong at all.
After that, he checked on his bars. The new employee in GARDEN did incredibly well during happy hour last night, and a popular Youtuber released a video recommending Black Tiger, meaning that business was going to flourish for the next few weeks. It was around midnight when Draco arrived at his final stop, and he was positively beaming. Everything was going beautifully. A part of him was still tense, expecting an emergency or unpleasant surprise of some sort, but another part of him swatted those concerns away. It was a wonderful day, so why not just accept and enjoy it?
Draco stepped into CIRCLE and stepped up to the bar. Hyun finished wiping off a glass with a flourish and grinned at him. "Someone's been having a good day,"
"Good day for me, bad day for you." Draco shot back. "Your boss is spending the rest of the night here, so get your ass back to work!"
He laughed, and Draco couldn't stop himself from smiling. Upon arriving in Shanghai, Hyun was one of the first people he'd met, the first person he hired, and the first friend he made in a long time. It wasn't because of the fact that Hyun was beautiful – though those delicate Korean-Chinese features framed by large round glasses did influence his decision just a little. It was because the drinks he made were the most complex yet delectable he'd ever sampled, and paired with an intelligent and creative mind constantly seeking to make his creations even more innovative, his talents were wasted in the seedy little bar he worked at. Draco hired him that night, and in weeks, they became partners. He took care of the business side of things and all the technical issues, and Hyun took care of the menu. Every drink they served in every bar or club had Hyun's own personal twist to it, and there was no denying the fact that a large part of their success came from his creativity.
He took an order from a trio of wide-eyed college girls, and began to make their drinks. Draco watched him, the way his wrists moved as he poured ice and liquor into a shaker, the way his lips pressed together in concentration, and the lock of hair that swept before his eyes as he began to shake the drink. He had to resist the urge to reach over to pull those strands back. Hyun was straight, and he didn't want to ruin their friendship.
Draco leaned back against a sink and sighed. It was almost midnight, and he was so content. It was dark in the shop, the only sources of illumination coming from the golden lights that basked the bar and the shelves of alcohol behind it and the glittering silver pinpricks that glimmered like stars on the ceiling. The jazz playing in the background mixed with the muted conversation from the tables scattered throughout the shop created a feeling of warmth and comfort. The anxiety that chased him all day suddenly seemed insignificant. The guests were happy. Hyun was happy. He was happy. Everything was perfect.
The door opened, and a figure entered. Draco pushed himself off the sink, ready to greet the customer, and promptly froze.
The day was turning out beautifully, but heaven forbid that Draco Lucius Malfoy ever have a perfect day, so naturally, things got fucked. Because despite all the thousands of miles he'd put between himself and his past, and of all the people in the entire burning world that could have stumbled upon his doorstep - it had to be him.
Harry fucking Potter.
He took a seat at the bar, flipping through the menu, and Draco thanked the stars for his decision to keep the illumination minimal, because Potter didn't seem to notice him in the darkness at all. Draco glanced frantically at Hyun, ready to push him into Potter and get himself the hell out of here, but those college girls had ordered another drink and he was busy making them. The other two employees were busy cleaning tables. And right at that moment, Potter glanced at him, ready to order.
There was no other choice.
"Potter," he drawled, heading over.
The shock on Potter's face was priceless, but that didn't last long. The all-too familiar wariness and suspicion slammed into place, and the way he scowled at Draco brought him right back to the hallways of secondary school.
"Malfoy," he said curtly.
Draco nodded at his menu. "How can I help you?"
"Wh- oh. Right." he glanced at the booklet in his hands and paused. "Well, I was actually hoping you could give me some recommendations. There's a lot of choices, and I wasn't sure what to pick."
Well. Hats off to Hyun! He did his job brilliantly, but maybe just a little too brilliantly.
"Amortentia's a good choice if you want to get wasted tonight," Draco pointed to its name on the menu. "Or you can try the Firewhiskey Old Fashioned if you're feeling classy. Or my personal favorite – the Smoking Martini."
While Potter considered the recommendations, Draco took a good look at him. He'd built on a thin sheath of muscle, and his tanned skin was positively glowing under the lighting. He'd ditched those clunky glasses of his childhood and had traded them for slender circular frames that made those clear green eyes seem especially vivid. His hair, though, was still as messy as ever, but rather than looking sloppy and unkept, it gave him an air of casual confidence. Why not admit it? He looked good. Really good.
"You know what? You're taking too long," Draco interrupted. "You're wasting my time, so I'm picking for you."
He didn't wait for his reply, filling a shaker with ice and then pouring two jiggers of gin into it. Half a jigger of vodka and another of orange liqueur followed. Slamming the lid closed, he shook the drink, hearing the ice and alcohol crash musically against the steel. Once the metal began to frost beneath his fingertips, he cracked open the shaker, slid a strainer over the opening, and poured it into a martini glass. After that, he poured half a jigger of grenadine into the drink, the crimson syrup sinking to the bottom of the clear liquid. Draco know that he no Hyun, but just by appearance alone, he'd say he did quite well.
Now for the fun part. The Smoking Martini was named just that for a reason. Draco turned on the smoke machine, which was a small metal device the size of a toaster with a tube ending in a nozzle sprouting from its side. He pinched the upper quarter of the tube shut, and felt the pressure build immediately. Moving quickly, he dipped the tip of the nozzle into a bubble mixture, and then placed it a few inches above the surface of the drink. Releasing his hold on the tube just slightly, the smoke from the machine poured through only to be caught in the confines of the bubble. He watched as it expanded, bloating over the rim of the glass, and once it was big enough, he gently moved the nozzle away. The final masterpiece was a bubble the size of a large softball, smoke swirling mistily inside as it hovered on the surface on the drink.
Reaching out, Potter touched the bubble with the tip of his finger. Draco had probably seen what was going to happen next a hundred times by now, but it never got old, watching the way the silvery mist poured over the rim of the glass and how the air was filled with the scent of applewood smoke. And, of course, how every customer's eyes lit up with awe and the delight on their faces. Even Harry wasn't immune. He laughed, his teeth flashing in the darkness, and lifted the drink to his lips.
"How is it?" Draco asked.
"It's good!" Harry took another sip. Almost thoughtfully, he said, "I never thought you'd become a bartender."
"Why not?" Draco leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Well, I always thought that you'd take over your father's company." He paused. "Or salvage what's left of it, anyway."
Draco stiffened. Was he aware of what he just said? Potter was halfway done with his cocktail now, sipping obliviously away. How typical of him. He just couldn't resist throwing an insult.
"What about you, Potter?" he asked. "What have you been doing recently?"
"Me? I work for law enforcement." Potter said casually.
"Really? Still can't resist being the hero and saving the day, huh?"
Potter's face darkened immediately. "Better than a life kicking drunkards out before they piss and puke."
"At least I'm good at my job." Draco snapped. Whatever brief semblance of amity they had was long gone. "This reminds me exactly why I moved to Shanghai – because the police force here is actually capable of keeping the streets safe, unlike England, where I swear, I've had my things stolen every time I take the Tube."
"Well, maybe you should have been more careful- Why are we even doing this?" Potter threw his hands up in frustration. "We're fucking twenty-eight and we're fighting like we're first-years in Hogwarts. You know what? It's late and I'm tired. Thanks for the drink, Malfoy."
With that, he slapped a hundred rmb bill on the bar and stormed out, the door thudding shut behind him. Even when he was gone, Draco's heart was still pounding in his ears and his vision was still tinged with red. Hyun glanced at him, concerned, and he smiled tightly back at him. He forced his fists to unclench, picked up a rag, and began to scrub the bar furiously.
It wasn't until ten minutes later when he realized that Harry might not have actually insulted him. For much of his life, he did walk around boasting about how he was going to take over his father's company. And after everything that had happened when they were seventeen, there really isn't much left to salvage of the once-great Malfoy empire. What Harry said might have truly been nothing more than a casual comment.
Well, shit. He overreacted.
Draco supposed that even after eleven years, nothing changed between them at all.
Based off of: ARENA LUXE