Chapter Seventeen
If he had to pick which of his bars embodied the Slytherin energy the most, GARDEN would most definitely be the one. It was dark, with the ceiling and floor and every piece of furniture made of sleek black steel, but the walls were covered in thickly woven vines bursting with leaves, tinting the air with the scent of greenery. Strips of white neon light illuminated the space, lighting up the well-stocked bar stretching across the room and casting flickering shadows on the floor. Every inch of the room radiated a feeling of danger, from the sharp edges of steel to the wildness and savagery of the jungle on the walls, but at the same time, there was something strangely alluring about the darkness, a promise of a thrill the light could never provide.
If the décor wasn't enough to pique one's interest, the drinks certainly would. Hyun, once again, outdid himself. GARDEN's specialty was in cocktails involving a myriad of organic fruits, flowers, and herbs. Every drink was skillfully crafted from the freshly purchased produce or garnished elegantly with edible flowers, and every drink served was truly a piece of art. Despite GARDEN being surrounded by a street full of award-winning bars and clubs, there would always be a line at its entrance of guests waiting noisily and impatiently to try Hyun's masterpieces.
Now, the bar was silent. The doors were shut, the lighting dark, and the shop was closed for the night. A few customers knocked on the glass windows of the entrance, but after receiving no response, were forced to turn away disappointedly.
Draco stood behind the bar, waiting. He knew that he had to see Bellatrix Lestrange alone, but ever since breaking the news to the team, Harry and Cedric were adamant in insisting that they be on the field with him, but there was no way in hell he was ever going to let them be within ten kilometers of Bellatrix Lestrange, much less be in the same room with her. The last thing he needed was his dear aunt running into the man who killed her beloved Dark Lord, and he did not want his shop getting blown to bits in the ensuing firefight because renovations were really fucking expensive. However, at the same time, he knew that there was no way he would be able to change those idiots' minds, so he put on a fake smile and agreed to their terms.
But he lied. Everyone thought that Lestrange would be arriving on Wednesday. But in reality, she was coming two days earlier. The meeting was probably going to be one of the most terrifying experiences in his life, but at least he wouldn't need worry about anyone getting hurt.
The flash of headlights from the windows caught his attention, and he glanced up. A sleek black car stopped by the road, and a woman stepped from the passenger seat. The click of her heels rang down the street as she made her way up the front steps. Draco pressed a button which unlocked the doors, and she stepped through the entrance.
Bellatrix Lestrange had arrived.
His aunt had always been beautiful, and even after eleven years since the last time he saw her, her beauty hadn't faded a single bit. Her mane of wild black curls remained untainted by grey, her skin pale but flushed with health, and her figure was tucked impeccably into a stylish and formfitting lace dress. Her chin was lifted proudly, her dark eyes glittering, and every inch of her radiated confidence and power.
"Draco, darling!"
Before Draco could react, she had crossed the room and kissed him on both cheeks. Her hands were as cold as ice, and he stiffened under her touch, but he had lived for long enough in an aristocratic family to return the greeting courteously enough.
"Aunt Bella." Draco smiled thinly.
They pulled apart, and Aunt Bellatrix took a seat on the barstool before him, shrugging off her black cashmere coat. Diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, subtle but refined, and he could smell Jean Patou lingering in the air where they kissed. Compared to her elegance and wealth, he suddenly felt very plain, standing there dressed simply in black trousers and a dark green shirt with the cuffs fastened firmly at his wrists.
"Where's that gorgeous bartender?" She asked, taking a glance around. "Dominic just came back from Shanghai, and he insisted that I must need to try something that bartender makes. What's his name again? Hyun?"
"It's Mr. Choi's day off today, so I'll be your bartender for tonight." Draco answered coolly. Even if the heavens raged and hell burned over, Hyun was not to be dragged into anything to do with the underworld.
"Pity." Aunt Bella pouted. She flipped through the menu placed before her, looking through the options thoughtfully before deciding. "I'll have the Veritaserum."
Draco nodded curtly and got to work. He filled a shaker with ice before measuring out half a jigger of St-Germain and homemade hibiscus agave and pouring them in. A jigger of vodka and another of freshly squeezed pomelo juice followed. Slamming the lid closed, he shook the drink, the sound of crashing ice ringing through the room. As 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. Despite himself, he felt the corner of his lips quirk into a smile. The fragrance of pomelo blended beautifully with the brighter notes of hibiscus, and after garnishing it with a few edible salvia petals, served it.
Aunt Bella took a sip. Immediately, her red lips parted into a smile, revealing a flash of white teeth. She looked astonished but impressed. "This is exquisite!"
"Thank you." Draco said. He couldn't help but to feel immensely pleased with himself. There was always something so satisfying about being praised, even if it came from his psychopathic mafia lord aunt. A part of him wanted to keep things this way, the two of them idly chatting away over drinks, but unfortunately, there were more important matters at hand. Sighing, he got down to business.
"What brought you to Shanghai?" he asked casually.
Aunt Bella shrugged. "I missed my favorite nephew. It's been… what, ten years since the last time I saw you?"
"Eleven." Draco corrected her.
"Right." Aunt Bella nodded. Her crimson lips curled into a smile. "You seem to be doing pretty well out here in China, running your bars and nightclubs."
"It's a decent job." Draco said nonchalantly. "The only sacrifices I have to make is a normal sleeping schedule and ten years off my lifespan from maintenance-induced stress. I know, it sounds awful, because who in their right mind would ever sign up for dealing with wasted teenagers on a daily basis? But hey, at least this job pays well. Even if I die early, at least I'll die the richest man in Shanghai."
Aunt Bella stared at him for a moment, shocked. Probably because the terrified, angsty Draco she knew from eleven years ago didn't match up with the dry, cynical Draco standing before her now. Just as he was wondering if he said a little too much, Aunt Bella burst into laughter, the sound of her voice ringing across the empty shop.
"My god!" She chuckled, wiping at her eyes. "Darling, I never knew that you could ever be this hilarious! You've changed so much!"
"To be fair, being surrounded by mafia lords and serial killers in my childhood really did put a damper on things. Now that I'm out of the underworld, I can finally show off my sense of humor. Though…" Draco paused thoughtfully. "Come think of it, I'm not quite out of it entirely. The Dragon Killer has been making things quite complicated…"
"Oh, yes. The Dragon Killer." Aunt Bella took another sip of her drink. She peered over the rim of her glass, her dark eyes still glittering with good humor. "Let me ask you a question. Don't you find it strange that the Dragon Killer has been so active in Shanghai, but you're still alive and unharmed?"
Oh. He'd never thought about it this way before, but this was interesting. Draco frowned. One reason why he teamed up with the MI6 to find the Dragon Killer was because he had always assumed that there was a target on his back, but now that he thought about it… it really was strange how he had been live in blissful obliviousness for so long.
"Maybe it's because unlike the rest of you, I'm a law-abiding citizen living a civilian life." He answered steadily enough.
"I don't think so." Aunt Bella's smile widened. She put down her drink. "Alright, I'll stop teasing you. Draco, darling, you're the Dragon Killer, aren't you?"
Ah. Of course. Well, that explained her question. She thought that he, Draco Malfoy, was the Dragon Killer.
Honestly, it wasn't a bad conclusion. Draco could totally understand her logic. After all, the deaths occurred in Shanghai, and he was the resident Death Eater of this region. Not to mention the fact that his name literally fucking meant Dragon. It wouldn't take a genius to figure this out. Anyone with basic common sense would point him out as the most obvious suspect. Except, no, he was most definitely not, in fact, the Dragon Killer.
"Sorry to disappoint," Draco smiled wryly, "but I'm not the Dragon Killer."
"Don't lie to me, darling. Who else could have done it?" Aunt Bella chuckled. "You remember the day of the Fallout? Everyone was furious and were itching to pin the blame on someone. Not sure who it was who said that you lost your nerve and gave away the plan, but from then on out, they started coming after you. You killed them out of self-defense, didn't you?"
Oh god. Fuck. Whatever semblance of good humor and ease he had earlier vanished, replaced by a cold dread and guilt and terror that sank into his stomach and turned his organs into ice.
Fuck, yes, he sure as hell lost his nerve that day. He practically fell on his knees before Potter and gave away the plan, pleading him and begging him without a scrap of dignity to turn away because he didn't want him to die. And it was thanks to his act of treason that Potter was prepared, and that Lord Voldemort was killed that day.
But at the same time, that act of treason saved him. His father and mother paid their price for the role they played in Voldemort's empire, but he walked away free. To protect him, the entire affair was kept a secret. Nobody other than him, Potter, and the judge involved in the court proceedings knew that he had betrayed Lord Voldemort, and once the whole mess was over, they turned away and walked down their different paths of life without once looking back. And like a fool, he'd believed it, that other than the demons in his head, he was safe from the underworld.
However, nothing could be kept a secret forever. News of his treason must have slipped out, and once the Death Eaters heard it… deep inside, Draco had always suspected the reason why the Death Eaters were coming after him must have been because of it. Now, he knew that as a fact.
And the Dragon Killer… Draco stilled. While he lived his life hurrying about running his nightclubs, completely oblivious to men and women out for his blood, there had been someone killing them before they got to him. There had been someone protecting him. Not just for one assassination attempt, but for dozens of them strung out over the course of the last six years.
But why? Why would the Dragon Killer protect him, not just once or twice, but for years? And why would he brand the victims' faces with his dragon tattoo? Draco suddenly remembered the figure who saved him from Amycus Carrow. Was he the Dragon Killer? Who is he? Did Draco know him? And what did he want from Draco?
Draco took a deep breath. His temples were pounding, and he was going to have one hell of a migraine later, but he pushed his thoughts and questions to the back of his mind. Aunt Bella was watching him curiously, and he needed to deal with the current threat at hand.
"What about you, Aunt Bella?" Draco asked casually. "Do you think I did it? Betrayed the Dark Lord?"
Was it a risk? Was he a raging idiot? Probably. Bellatrix Lestrange was Lord Voldemort's most devoted follower. Draco remembered all too well the rapturous adoration in her eyes whenever she was in the Dark Lord's presence and the vicious delight in the way she carried out his orders. Closing his eyes, he could almost see the way the silver knife in her hands split skin like water and smell the blood clinging to her clothes as she emerged after her work. Fuck, it was a huge risk asking her such a direct question, but he had to be absolutely certain.
"Of course not." Aunt Bella answered easily. "You bear the Dark Mark, don't you? The Dark Lord only gives his Mark to those he trusts, and nobody bearing it would even dare to think of betrayal. I'm sure you remember what happened to poor Karkaroff."
Draco nodded in agreement. Inwardly, he exhaled in relief. Thank god. He did not seem to be on Bellatrix Lestrange's hit list.
"However…" Aunt Bella paused. Doubt flickered across her features. "Rowle was particularly insistent that you were at fault. And no matter how hard I tried to dissuade her, Alecto adamantly believed that you had to pay. I was confident that you would never turn against the Dark Lord, but hearing these rumors, seeing these deaths…"
In one moment, she looked comfortable and contemplative, but in the next moment, her face twisted viciously into a cruel sneer as she shot from her chair, her face inches away from Draco's. His pupils shrank and he wanted to recoil in shock, but he felt something cold press into the side of his neck, and knew immediately that it was his aunt's favorite silver knife pressing digging into his jugular artery.
"Tell me, Draco Malfoy, did you betray the Dark Lord?" she hissed.
Draco swallowed, his throat bobbing. He wiped away whatever traces of alarm that must have appeared on his face in the moment of surprise and slammed a mask of cold impassivity over his features, but it was too late. She must have caught a glimpse of something in his gaze – fear or guilt or shame – and it was enough.
"You did, didn't you?" she breathed. The malice on her face melted as the realization dawned upon her, and she suddenly looked incredibly hurt.
Well, shit. Now that everything was out in the open, there was no point in denying it.
"I did." Draco agreed.
Aunt Bella didn't hesitate. Her devotion to the Dark Lord was far stronger than any ties she might have to her one and only nephew. Rage once again twisted her features, and the knife in her hand flashed, ready to sink into skin, but Draco was faster.
There was a glimmer of metal. Aunt Bella stopped. Her eyes flickered down. And she realized that the tip of a needle was pressed into waist, ready to pierce through the lace of her dress and puncture into skin.
"Just wanted to get this out of the way first, because I know we're both in a really uncomfortable position right now, but it seems as if we're at a stalemate." Draco said lightly. Those extra Chemistry classes with Professor Snape did not go to waste. He smiled. "It's Aconite. If you kill me, I'm not leaving you alive either."
The fury on Aunt Bella's face was terrifying, her lips curled over her teeth and her eyes raging with wrath, but Draco could feel her chest pulse with her breathing, her heartbeat throbbing, and knew, that like him, she wanted to live.
"Put your knife away." He spoke. "Walk out of my bar. Go back to St. Petersburg. I will never see you again, and I hope you'll do the same for me."
"You fucking wish!" Aunt Bella spat. The knife dug deeper into his skin, but so did the needle, and she stopped. There was nothing else she could do. Snarling, she took a step back, and the weight of the blade lifted from Draco's neck. He felt something trickle down into his collar, but didn't dare to check on it.
"Goodbye, Aunt Bella." Draco said. A part of him wanted to close the night off with a witty remark, or at the very least say those words with some power or bravado, but in the end… all he could speak and feel was sadness.
Aunt Bella didn't even spare him a second glance, tucking away her blade, pulling on her coat, and storming from the bar. The doors swung shut behind her, and from the windows, Draco saw her step into her car and drive off into the distance – and unlikely as it is, hopefully back to Russia where they can both live the rest of their lives in peace and free from each other's presence.
Draco brushed his neck, and his fingertips came away bloody. Even though his throat hadn't been slit, the blade had still nicked his skin.
Overall, in some aspects, he'd say that the mission was a success. Nobody got hurt. He walked away alive. And now, he knew for certain that the Death Eaters were coming to Shanghai because of him, and though they still had no clue about who the Dragon Killer was and what his true motives might be, he had been protecting Draco, and… in a strange way, he could even be considered a friend.
But at the same time… well, shit. Draco couldn't stop himself from chuckling dryly. He really fucked himself up today, didn't he? He really shouldn't have asked his aunt that stupid question about whether or not she thought he betrayed Lord Voldemort. But to be fair, it was already a concern she had, and she would have brought it up eventually.
No matter. Draco supposed it was time to start looking forward to late-night visits from his dear Aunt Bella that might just result in him dying in unspeakable agony.
Based off of: BOTANIST