Chapter Thirteen

"Fuck!"

Draco stormed from the warehouse, Harry a few steps behind him. It was nearly midnight, the sky dark, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the street before them. It was cold. Draco clenched his shoulders against the wind as he strode down the sidewalk, refusing to look back at the man following him.

"Dammit, Draco, wait!" Harry yelled, reaching forward to grab his arm. Draco shook him off violently. They arrived at a crossroad, and since the traffic lights were red, Draco was forced to stop. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off.

"If you shared that file with Nott, he might have given us a bit more other than to fuck off." Draco hissed. "You said it yourself that the intel was hardly sensitive, so why can't you sacrifice that little scrap of information so that we might get another lead on the Dragon Killer?"

"We don't know why Nott wants the file, or what he's going to do with the intel." Harry snapped back. "Besides, Nott's a dead end. He has no fucking clue who the Dragon Killer is, so chances are that whatever information he's going to provide is something we know already."

Draco scowled, turning away. Harry's got a point. When they arrived at Nott's warehouse at Jiangsu Road, it was evident that Nott had nothing to do with the case. When he demanded access to a classified MI6 document in exchange for details in regards to the underworld, Draco had jumped at the opportunity, because any scrap of information might be important to the case, right? But looking back, Harry was right. Nott was clearly taking advantage of them, and before they knew it, they had started arguing again, just like the good old days.

Harry sighed tiredly. "You know what? Let's just forget about tonight, alright?"

It was late, both of them were exhausted, and admittedly, Draco had been a prick. He was about to agree and perhaps maybe even apologize when he heard the click of a lighter, and a gust of smoke blew right into his face.

"Fuck!" Draco coughed. Harry had lit a cigarette and was standing upwind to him, so the breeze had sent the cloud of nicotine right into him. "Watch where you're blowing, idiot!"

Harry glared at him and gave him the finger. Scowling, Draco stormed to his other side. As the owner of a nightclub, he was used to the scent of nicotine, but having second-hand smoke right in his face pissed him off, and god, he could never understand how people could get used to the taste of those disgusting things.

"You calling a cab?" Harry asked.

Draco glanced over. Harry was watching him coolly, the tip of his cigarette glimmering in the darkness. The golden glow of the streetlights blended marvelously with the crimson illumination from the traffic lights, sending Harry's features basking in streaks of shadow and color, and if it was even possible, the frosty expression on his face made him look even more appealing. Draco wasn't in a generous mood and it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from admitting it. Harry was beautiful.

"Yeah." Draco responded shortly. A part of his mind was thinking about how lovely the yellow and ochre paints he just bought would capture the colors perfectly, but he forced himself to stop. He glanced at his phone and quickly called himself a taxi. He asked stiffly, "Need me to call one for you?"

"No, I got it." Harry's response was curt.

They stood in silence as they waited for their rides to arrive. The road before them was still and empty, but despite being this late into the night, there would still be a few cars driving about. Right at that moment, a minivan passed them, which sent the cloud of nicotine whooshing back into Draco's face.

"I've never asked, but how the hell did you get into this habit?" He coughed and fanned the air before him furiously to disperse the smoke.

Harry laughed dryly and took another drag, but was considerate enough to direct it away from him. "We all have different ways to cope."

"Working for the MI6 can't be easy, huh?"

"Work can be stressful at times, but for the most part, it's been alright." Harry's voice was very quiet, and all of a sudden, there was a trace of sadness on his features. "It's not easy being Harry Potter, you know."

For a moment, Draco wasn't sure what to say. To an outsider, Harry's face displayed nothing but impassiveness, but Draco knew him well enough to see that those green eyes hid a sorrow and loss nobody could understand. Harry had probably endured suffering and survived painful experiences he couldn't begin to comprehend, and he knew that any words of comfort he said would be shallow and irrelevant. Yet, at the same time, if there's anyone in the world who had been through just as much as Harry did…

"No shit." Draco snorted. "You think it's easy being Draco Malfoy?"

Harry looked shocked. Then, he burst into laughter so hard that he had to hold onto a streetlight for balance, the sound of his voice ringing down the street. Seeing him so happy, Draco found himself chuckling as well as he hushed him. "Shut up, people are sleeping!"

"Oh, sorry." Sure enough, there was a scruffy little apartment complex across the road, and neither of them wanted to wake the people resting there. Harry stopped, lifting his glasses to rub at his eyes, but he was still smiling. "But you're right. I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're fucking right."

"Of course, I'm right." Draco scoffed, crossing his arms, and he regretted the words as soon as they slipped from his mouth. "I'm Draco Malfoy. When have I ever been wrong?"

"That's a bold statement to make." Harry's eyes lit up in delight as he grinned. "How about that one time in Moody's class during our fourth year when…"

"Oh, look, the taxi's coming!" Draco yelled, effectively interrupting Harry, and was ready to fall on his knees and thank the heavens for the distraction. He was not looking forward to reliving one of the most embarrassing moments in his life. Harry turned around, and sure enough, a taxi was making its way down the road, heading towards them.

"Is that yours?" Harry asked.

Draco frowned. He double-checked the license plate. "No. Isn't it yours?"

For a second, they stared at each other stupidly. Then, understanding dawned upon their faces and Harry had barely shouted, "Get down!" when the bullets came spraying through the air.

The taxi rolled to a halt before them, a man wearing a simple black mask leaning from the shotgun window with a rifle in his hands. There was a silencer on the muzzle, which was actually a wise precaution, considering how the Shanghai police would be onto them the moment a sleeping neighbor filed a complaint, but Draco didn't have time to appreciate these details. The sector they were in was largely industrial, consisting of concrete warehouses and buildings crisscrossed with a network of little alleys, and Harry pulled him into one, and the two of them staggered down the narrow street.

"Who the fuck is that?" Draco gasped. His heart was pounding so furiously in his chest he was surprised he hadn't dropped dead from cardiac arrest.

"Don't know." Harry said grimly. They rounded a corner, entering another alley, but rather than sprinting, they slowed into a jog, careful to remain as silent as possible. From the distance, they heard the sound of a car door slamming. The assailant must have left the car, and would now be pursuing them on foot.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and tried his best to listen for noise, hoping that their attacker's footsteps might betray his location, but to his dismay, the attacker was soundless. As he opened his eyes and glanced around, the adrenaline that had raced through his body had receded somewhat but was now replaced by an icy dread. They were far away from the main roads lined with streetlights, so the only illumination came from the moon, and it was dark enough that Draco could barely see Harry standing beside him. The walls of concrete surrounding them seemed impossibly tall and choking, trapping them in a maze where a wrong turn would have them face to face with the muzzle of a gun. Draco felt like a pathetic little mouse, scurrying about helplessly, and he hated it.

Comparatively, Harry didn't look too bad. Even though he was also clearly tense, jaw clenched and eyes alert, not a trace of fear was visible on his features and there was a sense of control in the way he moved, as if he was the one doing the hunting instead. Draco suddenly caught a glimpse of a glint of metal, and he realized that Harry had pulled out a gun from god-knows-where. Draco relaxed slightly. Good. At least they were armed.

"Where are we going?" Draco whispered. As they wound through the alleys, Harry was the one leading the way. He had no idea if Harry knew where they were going, and the last thing they needed to be was hopelessly lost.

"Trust me." Harry whispered back, sounding incredibly certain. Swallowing his doubts, Draco followed.

They wandered through the streets for only around five more minutes, but it was easily the most nerve-wracking five minutes Draco had experienced in a long time. Harry glanced around a corner, and he hurried over to see as well. They were back at the road where they had waited for taxis, and Draco blinked as his eyes adjusted from the darkness of the alleys to the brightly lit street. Once his vision cleared, he saw that the road was empty, except for the taxi that had brought the assailant, parked by the curb. The man himself was nowhere to be seen.

"He came alone." Harry observed. They remained tucked in the alley, where the buildings surrounding them provided them with some form of cover, but his gun was still raised in preparation, the safety off.

"Great." Draco said. Right at that moment, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he jumped in alarm. Fumbling, he pulled the device from his pocket. It was just a random notification. But seeing the phone in his hands… he wanted to smack himself in the head for not thinking of doing it earlier. "I'm calling Cedric. He'd better be here with the fucking infantry because I promised Hyun, I'd be there for work tomorrow, and he'll be pissed if I die and can't make it."

Harry chuckled for a moment, but paused. "You and Hyun seem pretty close, huh?"

"Of course." Draco replied. From where he was standing, he couldn't quite see Harry's face, but… was it just him, or did Harry look a little disgruntled? No matter. They didn't have time to worry about these trivial matters. "We're – FUCK!"

A gunshot rang through the street, the crack echoing through the night, shattering the silence, and Draco yelled as a bullet slammed into the patch of wall one meter away, spraying bits of stone and dust into the air. He scrambled to the side, his jacket protecting him from the worst of the shrapnel. His heart was in his throat, his knees were shaking, and there was enough adrenaline was shooting through his body to keep him awake for a month straight. One meter. One bloody meter. That was how close he was to bleeding out on the floor.

Harry didn't hesitate. The assailant made his position known by shooting, and Harry was ready. Another gunshot rang through the air, followed by a grunt of pain as the attacker tumbled from the roof of a warehouse where he stood, falling from the heights and landing with a sickening crunch somewhere on the other side of the building. Despite himself, Draco flinched. God. At this point in time, he should be used to this. The sound of breaking bones, of ripping flesh, of splitting skin. It wasn't anything new to his ears. But at the same time, it had been years since he'd seen an injury worse than alcohol poisoning, and for a moment, he wasn't on the street with Harry anymore but back at the Manor, hearing the screams rising from the basement, the scent of blood heavy in the air and choking on terror…

"Draco!" Harry shook him. "Draco, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes," Draco managed. He must have looked shell-shocked. As his vision cleared, he saw that Harry was standing before him, but his face was creased with so much concern that despite still reeling from the fact that he had just been shot at and still struggling to process an unwelcome reminder of his past, Draco felt honestly quite touched. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Alright." Harry let go of him. Without his hands there, Draco's shoulders felt suddenly empty and cold. "Can you call Cedric? I need to take a look at our attacker to see if he's alive."

Draco nodded numbly. Seeing that he understood, Harry vanished down the alley. Draco's hands had stilled somewhat, but they were still shaking badly enough that it took him three tries before he finally dialed Cedric's number correctly. Cedric responded immediately, promising to be there in ten minutes, apologizing profusely for how everything turned out even though Draco didn't blame him at all.

Draco sighed as he slid his phone back into his pocket, slumping against the wall. God, he was exhausted, and so fucking relieved that this whole situation was finally over. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and glanced at the road, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. Sure enough, dozens of lights in every building of the apartment complex on the other side of the street had flickered on, no doubt concerned citizens woken up by the gunshots. The local police would be here in minutes as well. Poor Cedric. The MI6 team was going to have a lot on its hands cleaning this mess…

Wait. Gunshots? Draco tensed. Something wasn't right. Their attacker was using a silenced weapon. But right before the bullet hit the wall one meter away from him, he had most definitely heard the sound of a gunshot. There was someone else present. Draco was a sitting duck, standing there and staring at his phone, and even the most novice of snipers would have been able to shoot his brains out easily. Yet, why did this one miss? The only way to mess up such an easy shot would be if the assailant had been distracted, perhaps by the first gunshot…

He glanced around, this time to the building opposite to the warehouse where the assailant stood. It was a concrete building around eight floors tall. Draco squinted. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but there was a flicker of movement from the topmost window, and he was certain that he saw the silhouette of a head and shoulders leaning out. He took a few steps back, craning his neck to see who it was, but he was too late. The figure reacted immediately, slamming the windows shut, leaving Draco with no clue of its identity.

Right at that moment, the sound of wailing sirens pierced through the night. Police cars rounded the corner, pouring onto the road, and sent the asphalt awash in streaks of red and blue. A minivan arrived at the scene as well, screeching to a stop, and even before the vehicle had ceased, Cedric was already leaping out, hurrying to make sure that Draco was alright. While Cho and Parvati argued with the local police, Cedric ushered Draco into the van, and before he could protest, they were blazing down the road.

"Why are we leaving?" Draco demanded. "Where are we going?"

The driver didn't respond, staring stonily ahead. Which was just as well, because Draco's phone rang, and he picked it up immediately.

"Draco?" It was Harry.

"Yes! Thank god! Where are you?" Relief swept through him like a wave.

"I'm still at the crime scene. It's getting quite messy." The weariness in Harry's voice was undeniable. "Cedric told me to tell you that you'll be sent to his apartment for debriefing. We'll try to be back as soon as we can, but it's going to be a long night. Really sorry about that."

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Thanks." This time, Harry hesitated. "Draco… I saw our attacker. He died from the fall. But… it's Carrow. Amycus Carrow."

The phone slipped from Draco's fingers and fell on the floor with a clunk.

"Draco? Draco?" Harry voice buzzed anxiously from the phone's speakers.

"Sorry, just dropped my phone." Draco managed.

"Oh." Harry said. "Alright, I need to go. I'll see you sometime later tonight?"

"See you." Draco responded hollowly. The call ended, and he slumped into his seat.

Amycus Carrow. The man with the sallow cheeks and cold eyes, whose face was constantly twisted with a sneer. The Death Eater whose reputation for cruelty rivaled that of his sister's, and the coldblooded head of a massive human trafficking ring. One of the most dangerous and feared humans in the world… Dead. Gone.

Draco's head pounded painfully, and he pressed his fingers into his temples, stifling a groan. Does Amycus Carrow have anything to do with the Dragon Killer? Or was his appearance simply a coincidence? And what about that figure from the building? What was his involvement in the case? Who was he? And why in the world would he save Draco?

Right at that moment, the dragon inked on his right shoulder itched, reminding him that he still had no clue as to what his role his tattoo played in this mess as well, or what the Dragon Killer wanted with him. For a split second, Draco debated calling Harry again to tell him about the ink on his shoulder, but shot it down immediately. There were too many questions, and far too little answers, but through it all, there was one question Draco didn't ask. As to why Amycus Carrow wanted to kill him… Draco knew that answer far too well.