Chapter Seven

Walter Lee was the wealthiest drug lord in east Asia, based in Hong Kong, but has influences as far north as Harbin. It was his second night in Shanghai for a business trip, and Draco was assigned to pay him a visit. Accompanied, of course, by Potter and Diggory, no doubt there to make sure that he didn't end up ratting them out to the enemy and messing up their precious case. Admittedly, Lee wasn't much of a suspect. He had no connections to Voldemort whatsoever and hadn't left Asia for the last ten years, but considering how the majority of the Dragon Killer murders have occurred in the area, Lee was sure to know something they didn't.

It was around midnight. They stepped out of the taxi and arrived at what seemed to be a closed-down barbershop. A neon sign reading "BARBER" flickered weakly above the entrance, and the cracked glass windows revealed a dusty interior lit by a single lightbulb. A bench was placed beside the door, and two middle-aged men sat there, smoking. Based on its outside appearance, it looked abandoned and uninviting, but Draco had seen the interior and knew not to underestimate Shanghai's best speakeasy.

"Are we in the right place?" Harry asked skeptically.

As they approached, the two men glanced up. On the surface, they looked like overweight uncles sitting outside for a late-night smoke, but Draco saw the way their eyes assessed them, the scowls on their faces, and knew that they were anything but that.

"Oh yes, we are." Draco muttered.

The wealthiest and most powerful leaders of crime enjoyed good drinks and parties as well, but couldn't exactly take the risk of stepping into any random bar or club. There were always rivals or enemies hiding in the crowd, waiting for an opportunity to take them down. Thus, they rented places out. Every city had a handful of bars and clubs whose managers were fine with hosting only the leaders and their guests for the night, and BARBER was one of those.

And yes. Draco had been asked multiple times to host these dangerous people, but he declined every time. Was it a risk, saying no to those with enough power to have him shot for turning them down? Hell, yeah. But he did it regardless. And thanks to whatever lingering respect for the Malfoy name they had, they left him alone and alive afterwards.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco said to the two men in Chinese. He'd be lying if he didn't feel a flash of smug satisfaction when he saw Potter's eyes widen in astonishment. It took him three years and it was probably one of the hardest things he'd done in his life, but he did it. He mastered Mandarin. Admittedly, he still had an accent. But to be fair, it was nearly impossible to lose that faint English accent. "Walter Lee is expecting me."

One of the men nodded, but the scowls deepened. He barked a question him. Draco was ready to answer, but stopped. Shit. It was in Cantonese. His smugness vanished. He might be an expert in Mandarin, but he couldn't say a word in Cantonese.

Harry's look of surprise was turning into skepticism. The men glanced up at him critically, waiting for an answer. Draco was, needless to say, starting to feel rather uncomfortable.

"Oh, he's asking who we are," Cedric said, coming to the rescue.

"Thank you," Draco exhaled in relief. "Tell them that you're my guests."

Cedric translated for him. Hearing it, the two men glanced doubtfully at each other, and then pulled out a speaker and growled a question into it. After hearing a crackling response, they shrugged and gestured at the three of them to enter.

"You speak Cantonese?" Draco asked, impressed. He opened the door and the three of them hurried inside, glad to be away from the guards. The interior was small and cramped, consisting of nothing more than two moldy swivel chairs facing cracked mirrors, and the dangling lightbulb on the ceiling made the shadows dance on the walls.

"Yeah," Cedric grinned sheepishly. "Cho's from Hong Kong."

"Oh," Draco said. He glanced at Cedric. He was rubbing the back of his neck and even in the darkness, the flush on his cheeks was unmistakable. Despite himself, Draco's lips quirked into a smile. Cedric and Cho. They made a lovely couple.

"How about you Potter?" Draco asked, turning to him. "Do you speak Chinese, too?"

Potter hesitated. For a second, Draco expected him to start speaking not only flawless Mandarin but a dozen other dialects as well, but Harry sighed, shook his head, and said ruefully, "No."

"Really?" Draco said, raising his eyebrows. He smirked, and switched to Mandarin. "Not even a single word?"

"I definitely remember teaching you a few phrases yesterday," Cedric sighed disappointedly in Cantonese. "What a shame, Harry. What a shame."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but after seeing how Draco and Cedric were both grinning in anticipation for another round of flaunting their ability to speak Chinese, threw his hands up in the air in defeat and with his face burning, muttered, "You two are the fucking worst…"

Draco and Cedric burst into laughter. Harry stared at them sullenly, but it was infectious, and he ended up chuckling along with them too. For a moment, Draco was happy. It had been quite a long time since he'd laughed so openly. He could almost pretend that they were just a group of friends, falling apart over each other's stupid jokes, just heading out for a late-night drink after work… no. Harry and Cedric were still chortling, but Draco forced himself to stop. He took a step back. Potter and Diggory weren't his friends. They were using him, taking advantage of his influences for their agendas. They were watching him, testing him, waiting to see if he would make a mistake that would expose him as the Dragon Killer. They could not be trusted.

"We should get to work," Draco said quietly.

"Yeah, we should," Cedric agreed, but he was still chuckling.

Draco gave them a moment to sober up, to take a few deep breaths, and straighten their jackets. Once they were ready, he turned to what appeared to be a storage room door at the back of the room. However, when he pulled it open, it revealed a dark staircase illuminated by flickering red light. Wordlessly, they ascended, and entered the bar.

They stepped into a collision of the past and the future. The space was modeled after old Shanghai, the plain concrete walls plastered with vintage posters of models in cheongsams, and the tables and chairs clustered throughout the shop looked as if they came straight from a pawnshop. However, strips of neon gleamed in the room, tucked along the edges of the walls, and dramatic signs spelling out Chinese characters cast the space in vivid colors, making it seem as if they've just entered a science-fiction movie set.

The bar was filled with people, the room flowing with conversation, and the scent of smoke lingered faintly in the air. The bartenders were busy at work, shaking up drinks for the customers. A bulky man surrounded by friends at a table close to the entrance ordered another round of beers. Three girls were at the bar, trying out shots. Everybody seemed busy, engrossed in their company, but at the same time, there was something different. Eyes flickered about a little too often to be considered natural, and every person seemed to be incredibly perceptive of what was happening in the far end of the room.

As they should. Walter Lee was at a table there, deep in discussion with a group of three men. Every person in the bar was either one of Lee's guests or people wanting to do business with him, and all of them wanted to be next in greeting the infamous kingpin and winning his favor.

Draco made his way through the crowd. Heads turned to watch them. In the past, he might have felt slightly self-conscious, but with Harry and Cedric following closely along, he found himself squaring his shoulders and meeting the gazes. They crossed the room quickly. Draco was thinking of finding a seat as close as possible to Lee and darting over to make a quick introduction once his discussion was over, but to his surprise, Lee spotted him first.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco headed over, Harry and Cedric trailing behind him. Lee stood up, grinning, and reached out to shake his hand. The hours of greeting senators, officials, and all sorts of important people with Father during his childhood kicked back in. Draco returned the smile easily and shook his hand firmly. "Mr. Lee."

Lee gestured at them to wait, and turned to the three men he had been talking to. "Thank you for the proposal, gentlemen. I will take it into consideration." They didn't look pleased, but the dismissal in his voice was clear, and they headed off.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Lee waved a hand at the empty chairs, and Draco took a seat opposite to him. Harry and Cedric sat down stiffly beside him; their faces were carefully neutral but their body language betrayed the fact that they were clearly on edge. Lee, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He must have been at least fifty years old, but didn't look a day over thirty, leaning comfortably back on his chair, full of good humor and radiating charisma. When he spoke, his voice was clipped by a faint Cantonese accent. "Mr. Malfoy, you must let me visit one of your bars someday. My daughter is a tough critique, and your places are the only ones to receive compliments."

"Thank you. I'm truly honored." Draco said. Despite himself, a glimmer of pride warmed in his chest. He sighed and shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, you know that I try to keep my work away from the underworld…"

"Of course," Lee said, nodding understandingly. "I respect your wishes."

There were no traces of outrage or cruelty or thinly veiled threats in his voice. For that, Draco was grateful.

"As heartbroken as I am from your rejection, I'll try my best not to let it affect our conversation to come," Lee leaned forward, looking faintly amused. "Tell me, what could the MI6 possibly want from me?"

Cedric inhaled sharply, but Harry's eyes flashed. Fuck. Draco recognized that look on Harry's face. He was going to do something stupid and impulsive, but before Draco could stop him, it was too late.

"We're not here to arrest you, if that's what you're wondering." Harry said coldly.

"I certainly hope not," Lee's tone was still light, but there was an edge to it that hadn't been there earlier.

"Yeah, definitely nothing like that is going to happen tonight," Draco added hurriedly, trying to defuse the situation. "Mr. Lee, we're simply here to ask if you'd know anything about-"

"How did you know that we're the MI6?" Harry demanded, cutting him off.

"I'm sure I'd recognize the face of the young hero who brought down Voldemort." Lee replied dryly.

Harry opened his mouth, but stopped abruptly, and turned to Cedric with a look of shock and outrage on his face. Cedric smiled tightly at Draco, gesturing at him to continue. Harry was about to protest again, but stopped just as abruptly before, this time with a little wince of pain.

Damn. Cedric must have kicked Harry hard enough to fracture bone under that table, but that was just as well, because it was up to Draco to talk their way out of this situation.

"I'm absolutely mortified," Draco said to Lee, pouring a fucking waterfall of apology into his voice. "I'm so sorry for my colleague's behavior. He's a fucking idiot. Decent enough when it comes to the tactical side of things, but negotiation? Not his forte."

Lee inclined his head. "At least the other one's got his head on his shoulders."

"Yes," Draco agreed, flashing a grateful glance at Cedric. He turned back to Lee. "Death Eaters are being killed, and the MI6 is currently trying to find the murderer. They have suspects and leads, but you know the underworld better than they do, and any insight from you would be invaluable to the case."

Lee's face darkened. The friendliness and humor he emitted when they first met was long gone, replaced by a cold carefulness.

"I've heard of the deaths." he said slowly. "The underworld is in a rather disorganized state at the moment, with so many leaders departing so suddenly."

"I can only imagine." Draco said, adding that as another reason why he was glad he left that world behind. "We believe that there might be a new Voldemort on the rise, seizing the power the Death Eaters he killed left behind."

Lee nodded thoughtfully. "This is a good theory. Have you considered Bellatrix Lestrange or Antonin Dolohov as your suspects?"

"Yes," Cedric answered, frowning. "They certainly are powerful, but after Voldemort's fall, they fled to Russia, where they stayed ever since. They work mainly in Eastern Europe, not Asia."

"True," Lee agreed. "When Nott died, his arms trade went to his son. When Yaxley was killed, his organ trafficking empire went to his second in command. The conflict between who to take over after Rowle nearly tore his drug ring apart until the victor butchered his competition. Tell me, who are the successors and what is the similarity between them?"

"The successors? Theodore Nott, Alexei Sergey, and…" Cedric's brow furrowed as he struggled to remember the last name.

"Dominic Andreyev," Harry finished. His face was grim. "Theodore Nott's mother was close friends with Bellatrix Lestrange. Alexei Sergey is Antonin Dolohov's godson. And Dominic Andreyev received most of his support in taking over Rowle's empire from Lestrange herself. We all know that Dolohov is loyal to her, which means…"

Harry's words sank heavily before them. The implications were clear. Bellatrix Lestrange might be the Dragon Killer.

The silence was broken with Lee clapping slowly, regarding Harry with a thoughtful expression. "Not bad. Seems as if you might be more than how Mr. Malfoy portrayed you after all."

"I certainly hope so." Harry said graciously. "After all, how could a fucking idiot have possibly taken down Voldemort?"

He glanced at Draco and smiled, his teeth a flash in the darkness. Ah, fuck. Potter was never going to let that insult go.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee." Cedric said gratefully. "Your help has been invaluable."

"That killer has been making work very difficult for me," Mr. Lee said, chuckling. "I wish you the best of luck in capturing him."

They stood up, continuing to thank Lee profusely, and made their way out. Cedric was beaming, proud of their success in attaining another lead for the case. Potter was smiling amiably, but the anger behind those eyes wasn't fooling anyone. And Draco was wondering how long it would take for the taxi he called to arrive so he could get the fuck away before facing the wrath of Harry Potter.

They stepped outside, the night air clear and cold in contrast to the stuffy interior. The streets around them were empty, the windows in the adjacent buildings dark, and the lampposts cast long shadows upon the silent roads. Draco stuck his hands in his pockets and tilted his face to the breeze, relishing freshness of it against his skin.

Potter stepped up next to him. He parted his lips to speak, but Draco already knew what he was going to say and cut him off brutally. "You were fucking up the meeting. I said what I said to stop us from being killed and to convince Lee to help us. I don't regret a thing, and I don't give a fuck about how you feel about it."

There was a moment of silence. Draco glanced over, expecting to see Potter trembling with fury, but to his surprise, saw bitter amusement instead.

"I was going to apologize." Potter smiled dryly and shook his head, disappointed. "But of course, to you, I'm just a reckless, short-tempered fool who has no idea how to say sorry."

Seeing the tension, Cedric hurried over between them and placed a hand on each shoulder. "Well, today was certainly a success! Shall we call a cab and head home?"

He sounded exceptionally cheerful, no doubt an attempt to defuse the situation. In ordinary situations, that might have worked, but poor Cedric had absolutely no idea how deeply rooted the enmity between the two of them was.

"No need. I already called a taxi for myself." Draco dismissed Cedric and turned to Potter. "And Potter? That was excellent. You just defined yourself perfectly, because out of everyone I know, you're the only idiot that would even consider threatening a kingpin in his own home."

"That's something I'm aware of, and that's the exact reason why I was about to apologize until you blew me off," Harry snapped back. "Yeah, I'm an idiot, but you're an arrogant, self-centered prick who thinks his judgement is always correct and refuses to listen to people even if they're there trying to make things right… you know what? Maybe that's the reason why it's impossible for anyone to like you."

Draco flinched, taking a step back. Seeing him visibly shaken, Harry advanced, his face full of spite. "You don't think I haven't noticed, do you? You don't have a partner, you don't have friends, and all you do is work. You're surrounded by people in Hogwarts, but that's thanks to your father's money. Now that it's gone, you're stuck all alone in the far corner of the world without anyone with you because you're too – fucking - proud."

"Harry!" Cedric exclaimed, shocked.

"See?" Draco said bitterly. "The world sees him as a flawless hero, but honestly? He's full of-"

"Shut up!" Cedric yelled. He glared at the two of them, looking absolutely furious but at the same time full of disbelief. "What the fuck is wrong with you two? What the hell happened to get you to hate each other so fucking much?"

Right at that moment, a taxi arrived down the street, rolling to a halt before them. Thank god. Draco was sick and tired of this shit. He climbed into the car, but before closing the door, he turned to Cedric and said bluntly, "Ask Potter. He'd love to tell you all about it."

With that, he slammed the door shut, and the taxi made its way down the street. Draco slumped back against the chair, utterly exhausted. A part of him was shaking, because what Potter said about him… it was true. He could be arrogant and self-centered at times. He was a rather prideful creature. But at the same time, Potter couldn't have been farther from the truth. The reason why he was alone… he doubted that anyone would understand that.

He glanced out the windows. They trundled up a bridge, and the city sprawled beneath them, a network of glittering golden lights shimmering against a backdrop of darkness. As he gazed at the cityscape before him, the rage and indignity that had come hot and fast faded surprisingly quickly, replaced by a lonely sadness. There was no use in denying it. It felt good laughing as they entered the bar, and it felt good being surrounded by allies in a dangerous environment. It felt good to have friends. But at the same time, Bellatrix Lestrange being the prime suspect didn't mean that Draco was off the list, and no matter how pleasant things could be with Potter and Diggory, he could never trust them.

Based off of: BAR FLOW