Chapter Two

Life as the owner of Shanghai's highest-ranking bars and nightclubs isn't an easy one. There were good days. There were bad days. And there were also days that were so goddamn shitty that would give any sane person an ulcer just thinking about it, but was something Draco had to not only live through but fix because he was the fucking owner and insisted on being there for everything.

It started off at ten in the morning after he just had four hours of sleep. His phone went off beside his ear, jarring him awake, and he didn't bother hiding his irritation as he snapped, "What?"

"One of the bouncers just quit." It was the manager of HEXAGON. "It was a family emergency of some sort, and he left the city this morning."

"Shit," Draco groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Should I ask Charlie to send one of his gym buddies over to stand in until we get another one?"

"No, don't ask Charlie." His head was beginning to throb. "Charlie's a good bouncer, but he's new and we don't know how his friends are like yet. Ask for Zheng Yan from AMPM. He's clean and he'll get you someone."

"Got it, boss."

Draco slumped back into his pillows and was ready to sink back into sleep, but two seconds later, his phone shrilled again.

"What is it now?" he snarled.

"Hey, Draco," Hyun sounded nervous. This wasn't going to be good. Hyun never sounded nervous. "The smoke machine broke down and I couldn't fix it. Should I place an order for another one?"

The day was going absolutely brilliantly. And it had just barely begun.

He spent all morning calling his supplier from Tokyo for another smoke machine, and it was noon when he stumbled out of his apartment. Coffee. He needed coffee. A steaming cup of oat milk latte sounded incredible. But when he arrived at his favorite café, it was choking with office employees purchasing their lunches and snacks. He waited impatiently in line for what seemed to be an eternity. When he finally had his cup in his hands, he took a big gulp, ready to feel that delicious caffeine rush, but something was off. He frowned, squinted at his drink suspiciously, then stared in disbelief at the markings on the side of the cup. It was decaf.

Draco was exhausted, under-caffeinated, and had a raging headache. He was praying to the stars that it wouldn't get worse, but knowing his luck, it probably would.

He headed out to check on his bars and clubs next. Despite having muscles the size of basketballs, the new bouncer at HEXAGON looked terrified of his job. The DJ at Genesis insisted on a raise. A particularly busy night drained GARDEN's inventory, and the incoming shipment of supplies was delayed.

Admittedly, Draco could have just let his managers deal with the problems. They are definitely capable enough to resolve these issues without his interference and he could have easily kicked back, watched the profits roll in, and enjoyed significantly lower stress levels, but he absolutely insisted on being kept in the loop. He wanted to be updated on everything that happened in his clubs, big or small, and play an active role in resolving the issues. Even despite knowing that this anxiety-filled lifestyle was working him to an early grave.

Draco was at the Black Tiger and had just finished dealing with an angry customer when his phone rang with the worst news of the night.

"Where you going, boss?" An employee asked, but he didn't have time respond. He was already sprinting out the door.

AMPM was a short distance away and there wasn't a taxi in sight, so Draco ran all the way there. His footsteps echoed along the empty streets and his breath rasped loudly in his lungs. It was only less than ten minutes of running which shouldn't have been too exhausting, but combined with the stress swimming through his veins and the overall fatigue of the day, he found his shirt clinging to his back with sweat and his knees shaking with strain.

AMPM was the largest club he owned, and even from a block away, he could already see the flashing lights and hear the pounding bass rumbling the pavement beneath his feet. People littered the streets surrounding it, some tipsy and stumbling to the taxis waiting by the side of the road ready to head home while others were just arriving, ready for the night. There was a crowd of people at the entrance, waiting impatiently to enter the club, but Draco slipped past them and headed to the back. Every club had a secret employee entrance, and that was where he entered to address the most terrifying emergency he had in a long time.

It was a seizure. A young man had probably come in drunk as fuck, and couldn't stop himself from having a few more shots. He had vomited all over the club, then fell into a bout of shaking that scared the living daylights out of everyone around him. He was rushed to a small emergency room near the back, where Draco found him still covered in his puke, and though the worst of the seizure was over, he was still trembling like a leaf. An ambulance was called, his family informed, and five more terrifying minutes later, the vehicle arrived wailing at the back exit. Bouncers were summoned to carry the young man out, and paramedics rushed strap him to a stretcher. Watching the ambulance vanish down the road with its red lights flaring, Draco leaned back against a wall and finally allowed himself to release a breath of relief.

It was two in the morning, and he needed a fucking drink. Draco stepped back into the club, this time not to the sterile emergency room but to a world of noise and smoke and chaos.

Flashing lights illuminated the vast hall packed with people while screens mounted on the stage and hanging from the walls blazed, sending the room burning with color. Music pounded from the speakers, the clash of melodies and drums a chaotic roar that made it impossible to hear anything, all of it underlined by a resonating bass whose every blow thrummed all the way up to his chest. Every inch of the club was filled with party-goers, standing on top of tables and chairs as they danced to the music, drinks spilling from their hands as they jumped to the beat and heads were thrown back in euphoria. People were laughing, crying, and all of them were on their way to being wasted, but at the same time having the time of their lives.

Usually, Draco might have stepped back and taken a moment to appreciate the scene before him, and maybe even dance for a song or two before getting back to work. But not this time. The flashing lights and pulsing music sent the migraine in his skull pounding in pain, and the smell of smoke and perfume in the air stung his nose. He headed straight for the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, swallowing it in a gulp. He sighed and closed his eyes as the alcohol burned its way down his throat and warmed his chest. Just four more hours. He would get to go home in four more hours and finally get some desperately-needed sleep…

"OH MY GOD – DRACO MALFOY?"

A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Draco staggered back. The colorful lights that blazed through the room made it difficult to make out faces, but yes. He would recognize that red hair and freckled face anywhere.

"Weasley." he managed. His stomach twisted.

Ginny was beaming, her face flushed with alcohol, and she was most definitely tipsy. Which was good, because if she was sober, he would not be standing there alive. She reached behind her and pulled a figure into view. It was clear that the person did not want to meet Draco whatsoever, but Ginny Weasley was a force of nature, and there was no denying her. Harry Potter faced Draco reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled awkwardly at him.

"CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?" Ginny yelled. It was loud in the club, loud enough that a fucking airplane could have taken off unnoticed on the dance floor, but that didn't stop her from trying to start a conversation. She looked absolutely delighted, shouting at the top of her lungs and gesticulating about excitedly, but all Draco could see was her mouth moving and could not hear a single word she said.

Potter looked pleadingly at Ginny and tugged at her arm, but the Weasley girl was adamant and refused to budge. Despite the nervousness swimming about his stomach, Draco laughed. Harry looked absolutely miserable being there. Just to be spiteful, Draco let Ginny rant for another few minutes, but by then, Harry looked as if he was going to pass out, so Draco took pity on him. He reached for Ginny's arm, and gestured towards the exit. Harry's face flooded with relief, and propping her between them, they headed outside.

The night breeze felt refreshing against the stuffiness of the club, but the lack of flashing lights and roaring music was a little disorienting. They paused for a moment, allowing their eyes to grow used to the darkness and for their ears to stop ringing. Draco glanced at Ginny. Through it all, she had not stopped babbling, and her face was very flushed. She wasn't just tipsy. She was very, very drunk.

It certainly had been an amusing night, but seeing Potter for the second time in one week was too much, and the mere sight of Ginny Weasley was enough to bring back memories far too painful to speak of. Draco was ready to never see them both ever again. He led them to the front of the club where taxis were busy dropping people off, but as they made their way down the path, Ginny suddenly lurched. Staggering, Draco's hold on her arm loosened. He reached for her, but it was too late. There was a small cluster of restaurants at the front of the club and Ginny scampered over, clambering onto a seat at a table outside, burying her face in her arms, and dead asleep in seconds.

Well. That complicated things.

Draco and Harry hurried over, with Harry taking a seat beside Ginny and Draco opposite to them. Harry shook her gently, perhaps hoping to wake her, but as mentioned earlier, Ginny Weasley was a force of nature. If she wanted to sleep, she will sleep, and nothing in the world can stop her from getting that sleep.

Harry glanced at Draco. Draco glanced at Harry. He felt as if he should say something. That's what normal people do, right? Start a conversation? But Draco had absolutely no idea what to say.

There were two menus on the table and Draco practically lunged for it, flipping through the pages and scrutinizing the food with a little too much interest. Sneaking a glance, Potter was doing the same, thoroughly engrossed in the croque-monsieur section. This could actually work. Menus were intriguing pieces of literature, and maybe Ginny would wake up before they finished selecting what to eat, and they would go away and leave him alone again…

A waitress came to ask for their orders. Harry ordered a croissant. Draco ordered a Perrier. The waitress left, taking the menus with her.

Dammit.

It was only after a minute of the most agonizing awkward silence Draco had ever experienced in his entire life when Harry finally muttered, "ah, fuck this."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, sticking one between his teeth as he lit it with a lighter. The tip of the cigarette glowed as he took a deep breath, and smoke plumed from his lips as he exhaled.

Draco stared. Harry Potter, smoking?

"What?" Harry frowned, perhaps sensing Draco watching him.

"No, sorry, nothing." Draco held out his hands. He hesitated. "I just never thought you'd be the type to smoke."

"Well, I never thought you'd be a party animal," Harry quipped back. To Draco's surprise, he didn't sound judgmental or criticizing. He was smirking playfully, the corner of his lips curled into a half-smile, and those clear green eyes glittered with curiosity.

"Sort of." Draco admitted. "I'm actually the owner of this club. And of a few other bars and clubs too. I guess being a party animal's part of my job description."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he then nodded slowly. "Honestly? I can see that. AMPM's definitely one of the better clubs I've been to. We had a great time. Until Ginny got wasted, of course. Hope she'll feel good enough to head home soon. I don't fancy staying here the whole night."

Draco laughed, but it faded when Harry turned slightly to brush aside a few strands of hair that had drifted to cover Ginny's face while she slept. He noticed how gentle his fingers were as they brushed against her cheek, the way his face softened when he looked at her. Of course. Nothing could have changed. They were inseparable in the seventh year of school, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were engaged or even married by now.

"You guys still together?" Draco asked quietly.

"No," Harry said sheepishly.

Draco looked up, shocked. "What?"

"Yeah, we broke up after the first year of university," Harry glanced at Ginny. He still looked so tenderly at her, but there was also sadness on his face as well. "You remember Luna Lovegood?"

Draco paused as he struggled to place a face to the name, and once he did, he turned to Harry in disbelief. "You're telling me that she left you for Loony Lovegood?"

"Hey, don't be mean," Harry protested, but sighed resignedly. "Guess she prefers blonds."

Draco took a moment to think. Ginerva Weasley, the school jock and horseracing champion, the fearless young leader unafraid to speak her mind, bold and beautiful and fiercely intelligent. Falling in love with Luna Lovegood, the girl who was always wearing a dreamy expression, who walked around barefoot in the halls and insisted that unicorns were real.

Why the hell not? He'd seen stranger things.

"Good news for the rest of us, then! England's most eligible bachelor is open for business…" Draco trailed off when he saw that Harry's eyes weren't fixed on his face, but at something past his shoulder. Whirling around, he saw a small group of teenagers staggering past them. All of them were clearly drunk, but the girl in the center looked particularly intoxicated. Despite having two friends support her, she was swaying on her feet, dark hair tumbling into her face as she stumbled, and looked ready to pass out in any moment. Behind them followed two burly men dressed in streetwear but who were clearly private security.

The procession made their way slowly past, staggering into a waiting limousine and heading down the road. When Draco turned back around, his stomach twisted. Harry's hands had curled into fists on the table and he was tense, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard with anger.

"That was Mina Lee. The daughter of Walter Lee. The wealthiest gangster in Hong Kong. And she was in your club."

Fuck.

"Yes, she was in my club," Draco admitted. "Don't worry, Potter, I don't cater exclusively to gangsters or to the mafia or to anyone in that world. I've definitely left that part of my life in my past."

"She was in your club," Harry repeated. His voice was like steel. "You cater to criminals. Even after everything that happened. Even after everything I did. You just couldn't stay away."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't help them with their business or whatever the hell they're doing," Draco responded defensively. His temper flared. "They're customers. They come here for a night of partying, just like anybody else. What was I supposed to do when they came to my club, huh? Turn them away because their dad's a gangster?"

"Come on, Ginny, we're leaving," Potter said harshly. She protested weakly, but he wasn't taking no for an answer, hoisting her up and marching her to the line of taxis idling by the road. They climbed into one without a backward glance, and in moments, they were on their way home.

Draco watched the car make its way down the road, and once it vanished into the distance, he stomped his foot angrily. God, that was childish of him, and the last time he did something as silly as that was when he was a first-year, but Potter was fucking infuriating! Given everything that he'd been through, Draco was the last person in the world that would have anything at all to do with the criminal underworld, but of course, Potter simply could not imagine a world where Draco was not the bad guy of the story.

That was just one more reason why he stayed alone. Because nobody could see him for more than his past.

He deserved a fucking drink.

Based off of: TAXX and le Café de Stagiaires