Chapter Six

Draco was unpleasantly reminded of his decision four days later. It was through a text message from Potter with an address and an invitation for him to meet him and the rest of the MI6 team. Alright, admittedly, it wasn't too unpleasant. Actually, it wasn't unpleasant at all. Potter was incredibly polite, even telling him to not hesitate to ask him questions if he had any. A little part of Draco was touched by his attempts to be amicable, but at the same time, every encounter they've had resulted in both of them screaming in each other's faces, and honestly, that was not something to look forward to.

It was noon. Draco exited the metro at the Lujiazui station, and after a quick escalator ride up, stepped onto the skywalk that stretched across the heart of the city. A network of black asphalt roads crisscrossed the earth below him, jammed with cars, and the bridge around him was packed with people pouring in through the metro, hurrying back from lunch to work. Skyscrapers surrounded him, towers of glass and steel silhouetted grandly against a clear blue sky with windows reflecting the clouds that drifted lazily across the atmosphere. He must have seen the skyline over hundreds of times by now, but it never got old. The view that stretched before him was a masterpiece of technology, creativity, and ingenuity.

Draco made his way across the skywalk, slipping on a pair of sunglasses to protect himself from the glare. His phone buzzed, the map on his phone reminding him to take the stairs to his left, and he scowled at the unpleasant reminder of the meeting soon to come.

He descended onto the street. Yellowing leaves crunched beneath his shoes as they drifted from the trees that lined the path. He passed a small group of schoolchildren led by a harried teacher, and strolled by an elderly man sitting by a fence playing an erhu. Through it all, the crowds never thinned, and the streets flowed with people hurrying in and out of office buildings. Draco was in the midst of the crowd, and a part of him that was rigid and tense relaxed just a fraction. There was something wonderfully liberating about being lost in the sea of faces, to be simply another anonymous visage seen and forgotten, free of expectations and responsibility…

He arrived at the Jin Mao Tower, and whatever ease he felt vanished immediately. He glanced up at the building. Unlike the two towers beside it which were columns of sleek blue steel, its darker iron frame and more geometrical architecture made it appear harsh and unforgiving. A thousand worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind, over half of them resulting in either him or Potter being defenestrated off the top of the building, but before he could start really considering backing out, he pushed through the glass doors and stepped into the lobby.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

A rather good-looking young man hurried across the crowded black marble floor. He was dressed impeccably in a sleek black suit with a yellow tie that might have looked out of place on most people but instead paired up excellently with his carelessly styled brown hair and hazel eyes.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the man shook his hand, a friendly smile on his face. There was something very amiable and sincere in the way he spoke, and Draco found himself liking him. "I'm Cedric Diggory, Harry's colleague, and ah – here he is,"

Potter arrived, a few steps behind Diggory. The contrast between the two of them could not have been more palpable. While Diggory was dressed flawlessly, Potter looked distinctly more rumpled, his blue button-up crinkled and his hair as messy as ever. While Diggory looked open and welcoming, all Harry looked tense and all he gave Draco was a terse nod.

"So, Harry might have told you briefly about the case, and I am definitely looking forward to filling you in with more details. However, we might need to establish some things first," Diggory paused. A tiny flicker of nervousness passed over his features, and he said hesitantly, "In most cases, we would bring civilian consultants onto cases easily enough, but given your history with this particular case, bringing you in might not sit well with the Headquarters…"

Oh. Of course.

"I understand." Draco said. Cedric looked slightly guilty about it. Usually, Draco wouldn't bring himself to care, but Cedric seemed so genuine, and despite himself, Draco didn't want him to feel bad at all. He said reassuringly, "You want me to be subtle about it, don't you?"

"Exactly," Cedric smiled, relieved. "Headquarters can't know that you're a part of this case, and we would really appreciate your discretion about this. It'll be unlikely that you'll receive official credit for your help or that you'll be paid, but I'll be taking money from my salary to repay you for your help…"

"Oh, there's no need to do that," Draco cut in hurriedly. He chuckled. "I'm rich enough to buy myself a private island. I think I can afford to skip a few weeks of work."

"Really?" Harry interjected, raising an eyebrow. His tone seemed especially skeptical. "Last time I checked, you seemed pretty busy to me."

"Well, yes," Draco admitted stiffly. In actuality, the managers could have run his bars and clubs without his interference and do a wonderful job at it, but Draco insisted on being a part of everything because he liked being busy. Even though his job was unnecessarily stressful, he would rather stumble home exhausted rather than sit on his ass all day. "My managers will take care of things for the time being."

Harry still looked doubtful, but turned away and shrugged, as if indicating that he couldn't care less.

"Alright!" Cedric said, breaking the tension. "Let's meet the rest of the team!"

Draco expected them to head towards the elevators, but they turned to the doors instead.

"Isn't this your office?" Draco asked, thoroughly confused.

"No, this is just a location for us to meet up with you!" Cedric laughed. "Unfortunately, it might be risky bringing you to the office since that place is loaded with surveillance, and it would be rather problematic if the MI6 realized that you're also a part of this."

"Right." Draco smacked his forehead. They stepped outside and headed down the street, but through it all, Draco couldn't even bear to look at Harry's face. The expression of smug superiority sure to be there was not going to be good for his self-esteem.

Of all the possible places they could have gone to, it just had to be Starbucks.

Honestly, Starbucks was fine. Draco loved Starbucks. They made good coffee. Their mugs were cute. Their wi-fi was fucking amazing. But there were hundreds of incredible restaurants and cafés in the Lujiazui area, and Draco was more than ready to find himself sipping on Pétrus or enjoying some Beijing roast duck, but… Starbucks. It was so anticlimactic.

They arrived at the shop, a cozy little place filled with socializing friends and office workers typing busily away on their computers, and he saw the team immediately. For one, all of them snapped to attention the second he stepped inside, and if that didn't give them away, it would be the sheer amount of distrust on their faces.

"Can I get you something?" Cedric asked, gesturing towards the cashier.

"I'll be fine, thank you," Draco sighed. "Let's get this over with."

They headed over. Harry took the seat on the left, Cedric the one on the right, which left Draco the spot at the center of attention. He sat down stiffly, hoping that the discomfort wasn't too evident on his face, but based on Harry's smirk, he didn't hide it too well

"Alright," Cedric said easily, trying to break the tension. He gestured towards a pretty Chinese girl, then towards an athletic dark-skinned man, and finally to the Indian girl. "Draco, this is Cho, our forensics expert. And here is Dean, our weapons specialist. And this is Parvati, our technician."

Cho's features were carefully schooled into neutrality, but the wariness glittered in her eyes. Dean had his arms crossed and glowered distrustfully. But Parvati… she looked up at him with hate.

"Wait," Draco paused. Out of the three, she looked frighteningly familiar. Dread sank in his stomach. "I know you, don't I?"

"Yes," she hissed. Her face twisted cruelly with loathing. "I am Lavender Brown's closest friend."

Ah, fuck.

It was another face from Hogwarts, another person he'd hurt. Guilt slammed through his body, and he glanced away. Ginny Weasley may have forgiven him for what happened, but she was the only one amongst the hundreds who would happily see him dead for his crimes, and Parvati was an awful reminder of that. That he might have run away from his past and built a new life but the sins of his past were great enough that they would never be forgotten. That he might have forgiven himself, but he was still a long way from redemption.

"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly.

"The fuck you are," Parvati spat. She jabbed a finger into his face. "I know you, Draco Malfoy, and I know that you're going to turn on us the second you can. You might have Cedric fooled, but I what you're capable of better than anyone-"

"Parvati!" Cedric exclaimed.

"She does have a point," Dean eyed Draco suspiciously. "Cedric, I know that we've talked about this, but I need to remind you again that even him being here and seeing our faces is already a huge risk. Are you sure you want to tell him about the case?"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that," Cedric said exasperatedly. "Let's talk about it later and not bring all of this up again in front of our guest, alright?"

"Oh, so he's our guest now?" Parvati sneered. She rounded on Cedric, but Harry cleared his throat loudly. Everyone turned to look at him. Draco thought that he'd be sitting back and enjoying the show, but instead, his jaw set and his face was hard with determination, without a trace of mockery on his features.

"First of all, I want to make something clear." Harry said coldly. His eyes flickered dangerously across the table. "Parvati, I'm afraid that you're wrong. Out of everyone here, I know him and the things he is capable of doing the best. Dean, it is true that sharing this information with him is a risk, but as we've discussed, it's a risk we'll have to take."

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. He looked as if the words he was about to say were actively fighting against him, but when he said them out loud, his voice was steady and without a trace of hesitation or doubt. "We have next to no leads. We have little evidence, and our informants don't have much to report. With every passing day, more Death Eaters are killed, and we're no closer to stopping them than three weeks ago. I'd hate to say this more than anyone, but we need Malfoy's help. And to do that, we need to work with him."

It was a convincing speech. Cho nodded solemnly. Dean looked slightly less doubtful. Parvati still looked murderous, but stood up and left the table, muttering about how she wouldn't be able to focus with Draco being there. Which was just as well. Draco doubted that he would be able to focus either with her presence either.

Draco glanced at Harry. He was staring ahead stonily, his face betraying nothing, but Draco saw the disgust glimmering beneath those clear green eyes. It might have been disgust for the fact that they're teaming up with the enemy for the case, disgust at himself for standing up for him, or just simply disgust at his mere existence… Draco didn't know, and most definitely did not want to know.

"Thank you, Harry," Cedric said gratefully. Harry smiled tightly in return. Cedric pulled a thick folder from his bag and slid it over the table. Draco opened it wordlessly and leafed through the pages.

"The first Death Eater to die was Quirrell. He was found in his house, death by gunshot. This could have been dismissed easily enough, if it wasn't for this…"

Draco stared at the photograph. It showed a man wearing a bloodstained turban sprawled on the floor, a look of terror frozen on his features, but there was something on the victim's face. He squinted, studying it a little closer, and a chill snaked down his spine.

"Is that…?"

"Yes, the murderer branded an English Dragon onto his face. Here's a close-up of it."

Cedric passed Draco a photograph, and this time, Draco couldn't breathe. His body froze with fear, icy dread trickling through his veins, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to turn to his right shoulder. Where the same dragon was tattooed there.

"Every one of his victims had the same mark branded on their faces. We call him the Dragon Killer…"

Cedric was speaking, but Draco wasn't listening. He flipped through the pages, one after the other, struggling not to let his hands shake. Nott was found dead in New York. Yaxley was found strangled in Bangkok. Rowle was poisoned in Hong Kong. Macnair, one of the most infamous assassins in the world, was shot the day before he boarded a plane to Shanghai. All of his father's numerous colleagues, the names he overheard during dinnertime phone calls or even the faces he'd glimpsed in the Manor when Voldemort moved in… all of them, dead. Killed and branded with the same mark that was inked onto his shoulder.

"As you can see, there's a trend," Cedric said. "Other than two deaths in New York, the rest of the killings were done in Asia, or more accurately, Shanghai. The victims were killed here, or on their way here. The deaths started slowly at first, about once a year, but recently, the Dragon Killer's been more active, and we have a death at least once every four months, the last being Alecto Carrow just three weeks ago."

Alecto Carrow, one of Voldemort's most trusted followers and with her brother, leaders of a human trafficking empire in Eastern Europe. Draco could still remember the cruelty on her face, the vicious delight she took in torturing her enemies, or anyone she could get her hands on, really, and the screams from the basement that even soundproof walls couldn't suppress. Now, she was gone. Killed by a stab wound to the heart in her hotel suite.

"Great," Draco said, smiling tightly. "Seems as if he needs to be stopped, the sooner the better. Do you have any suspects of who the killer might be?"

Harry stiffened. Cedric looked suddenly very uncomfortable. None of them could meet his eyes.

Of course. He shouldn't be surprised. After Voldemort's fall, he fled to New York City – where two of the murders occurred during the time he would have been in university. Then, he moved to Shanghai and stayed there for the next six years, which would explain the massive death count there easily. Not to mention his criminal background, his father in prison, his past association with Voldemort himself, and the fact that his fucking name literally meant 'dragon.' He was the fucking prime suspect.

That probably explained why Cho, Dean, and Parvati kept on emphasizing what a risk it was to let him in, and definitely the reason why Potter and Cedric insisted on bringing him into the case. Not because they needed his influence or his help, but because they wanted to keep an eye on him, to surveil him, to watch and wait for him to make a slip so that they could close this case. So that Potter could be the hero of the story once again, taking down two of the greatest crime lords in history.

Well, fuck them. Draco wasn't the Dragon Killer, and he sure as hell was not going to be working with these people who not only dragged him back into this fucked up world but were willing to lie to his face about the real reason he was here. He braced his hands against the table, ready to push himself up and storm off, but he caught a glimpse of the brand, and hesitated.

The photograph depicted Carrow's cheekbone, the dragon a dark sear burned into her skin. It was truly identical to the tattoo on his shoulder, down to the way its snout was raised proudly in the air, the way its wings were tucked artfully against its back, and the elegantly pointed tail. How did the killer know about the tattoo? It was something he got alone in New York City, nothing more than a gift to himself. Why would the killer brand the exact same mark onto his victims? What did Draco have to do with all of this? He wracked his brain, trying to think of a logical explanation, but couldn't come up with any.

A part of him wanted to walk away, but the other part of him knew that it was better to stay. He knew that the MI6 was dangerous, but after seeing the gruesome photographs, the Dragon Killer honestly fucking terrified him. The skin on his left forearm itched, reminding him all too well that he fit the criteria for the next victim, which he did not want to end up as. Furthermore, he really would like to know why in the world his tattoo ended up as a brand marked onto their faces, which meant that the killer had to be detained, and the best way to do that would be working with the MI6…

"That brand," Draco said, pointing towards it. "Have you seen it before?"

"Other than the victims, no," Cedric looked relieved, probably glad not to be on the topic of suspects. "This symbol hasn't appeared anywhere on the internet or on any other sources. It seems wholly unique to the Dragon Killer. Do you recognize it?"

"No, not at all," Draco lied, keeping his tone casual. Good. The MI6 didn't know about his tattoo. No doubt thanks to the fact that he wore long sleeves for all four seasons of the year. Time to keep doing that for the rest of his life.

"Hopefully we'll figure that out soon." Cedric said. He turned to Draco, looking concerned. "I know that this can't be easy for you, but we're so grateful for your help. Let me know if you have any questions or anything, alright?"

"Of course," Draco returned a smile he hoped looked genuine. "Thank you so much."

He glanced at Cho and Dean, who stared sullenly at their drinks. He looked at Potter, who was glowering openly. And finally, he turned to Cedric. There was nothing but sincerity and kindness on his face. Earlier, Draco would have fallen for it and easily considered him a friend, but now, he knew better. Not a single one of them could be trusted.

Based off of: the Starbucks at the Super Brand Mall