Chapter Twenty
"You need us to come with you?" Harry asked.
"No need," Cedric said cheerfully, slinging his bag over his shoulder. They had just finished another meeting, and everybody else had already headed out. Harry and Draco had lingered to help clean up, but just as they were about to leave as well, Cedric had suddenly received a call to check out a report of some suspicious activity. "Harry, you go rest, since it's been a long day for you. And Draco, good luck with your day, since it's only just begun!"
Draco chuckled. "Thank you."
"Alright." Harry frowned slightly. "It's getting dark. Be careful."
"Don't worry about me. I'll be able to take care of myself." Cedric reassured them.
The three of them left the apartment. While Cedric hopped into a cab, Draco and Harry made their way over to the metro station.
Even though it was not yet five, the sun had already faded, the sky in magnificent shades of purple and blue with even a few stars scattered across the inky canvas… though, considering the light pollution that was so prevalent in the city, chances are high that those stars were probably just lights from a passing plane. It was also getting significantly colder, the frostiness seeping through his clothes and into his bones, and when a gust of wind blew past them, both of them shivered and buried their necks into their collars.
Draco heard the click of a lighter, and the glowing tip of a cigarette glimmered in the darkness beside him. This time, Harry was considerate enough to make sure that he stood downwind to him.
"You know," Harry said. A cloud of smoke bloomed from his lips. "We should do Christmas together more often."
"We really should," Draco agreed. Soon after the gathering, their friends had headed back to England to celebrate Christmas with their families. They may have arrived mortal enemies, but when they left, could even be tentatively considered friends. "You know, before they arrived, I actually called my insurance company and upgraded my plan."
"Really?" Harry looked at him in shock.
"Why the fuck not?" Draco shot back. "You, Weasley, and Granger. McGonagall's probably still paying for the damages you caused. Thank god you three graduated, because you guys sure wasted a lot of the school's money on renovations."
"Not as much as the Weasleys," Harry snorted. "Fred and George-"
Harry stopped abruptly. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and the two of them fell silent.
Ah, yes. Of course. The Weasley twins. No, not anymore. Now, it's just the Weasley twin.
"How's George doing?" Draco asked quietly.
"He's doing really good." Harry replied. He cracked a smile. "Still running that joke shop. Married Angelina Johnson two years ago. They're thinking of having children, and it's hilarious every time they bring it up. Mrs. Weasley doesn't know whether to feel delighted at the prospect of having more grandchildren or horrified to have another prankster running around."
Despite himself, Draco felt the corner of his lips tug into a smile as he imagined another red-headed little boy racing about dropping centipedes down people's shirts or egging houses or ding dong ditching, with his furious grandmother chasing after him and whacking him over the head with a rolling pin. "Imagine if they have twins."
"Oh god," Harry actually looked terrified. "Don't say anything more. Just thinking about it is enough to scare the shit out of me."
Chuckling, the two of them arrived at the metro station.
"You calling a cab?" Draco asked.
"Yeah. Just got one." Harry finished placing the order and flashed Draco a smile. "See you tomorrow."
Draco was just about to respond when Harry's phone suddenly rang. He picked it up. Draco thought that it was probably just a telemarketer or something until Harry suddenly frowned.
"What is it?" Draco demanded.
"It's Cedric." Harry finished the call and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He rubbed at his brow. "The MI6 has us all wear trackers in our phone or clothes, so we can keep track of each other in case if we get kidnapped or if we're in trouble. Cho was watching Cedric's, when his suddenly disappeared. I'm hoping that it's just a malfunction, but…"
With Bellatrix Lestrange targeting them. With the Dragon Killer on the loose. God, at this moment, Draco wished more than anything in the fucking world right now that it was… oh, he didn't know, that maybe it was just that Cedric forgot to charge his tracker or something stupid like that.
The taxi Harry called pulled up to the curb beside them, but as he was about to get in, saw that Draco followed suit.
"I'm coming with you." Draco said firmly.
"You don't have to-" Harry started, but he saw the look in Draco's eye that indicated that even if he wrapped him up in chains and hung him off the top of the Jin Mao tower, he'd pull a fucking Houdini and still be there with him. There was nothing Harry could do but to nod grimly. The two of them got into the car, and headed off.
The entirety of the ride really only lasted for less than ten minutes, but it was the longest ten minutes in Draco's life. He and Harry sat in a tense silence, jaws clenched and brows furrowed, both of them too terrified to voice their fears. Harry's hands lingered around a pocket in his backpack, no doubt where a pistol was kept, and the moment the taxi pulled to a stop, they were out the door.
They were at a rather lovely residential complex consisting of elegant little villas. Christmas lights glittered on the tress and lampposts, and every window glimmered with soft golden light, a promise of warmth against the winter chill. Draco honestly wouldn't have minded living in one of these villas, if it weren't for the fact that they were most definitely exorbitantly expensive considering Shanghai's ridiculous housing prices, and that all that extra space would be wasted on him since he was alone all the time anyway.
Draco followed Harry, who led the way, the directions on his phone leading them to a villa at the end of the street. Like the other houses around it, it was decked with Christmas decorations and every window was filled with illumination. It looked really like nothing more than an ordinary family's home, and when Harry stormed up and rang the doorbell, Draco was actually expecting an old grandma to throw open the door and tell them to piss off.
They waited for a moment. Nobody responded. Harry rang again. There was still no response.
"Do you think anyone's in the house?" He asked, turning to Draco.
"I don't know." Draco frowned. "The lights are still on, so there must be someone, right?"
"They could have forgotten to turn off the lights," Harry suggested.
"But how could they have forgotten to turn off so many?" Draco gestured at the house that was positively surrounded by a halo of gold.
"Oh. True that."
Then, before Draco could even react, Harry promptly lashed out and kicked down the door with at tremendous crash. Splinters flew everywhere as the wood cracked, and the door swung weakly to the side, welcoming them into the room.
"What…" Draco gaped. Struggling to get over his shock, he spluttered, "What the fuck, Potter?"
"I got impatient," Harry answered easily and strode indoors.
"You know that people are going to report this, right?" Draco demanded, following him inside. "The fucking police is on their way here now, because this is-"
Both of them suddenly stopped. They had just stepped into the living room. The chamber itself looked ordinary enough, but what halted them wasn't the décor, but the smell.
The smell of blood, and behind it, the scorch of burnt flesh.
Fuck. Oh god. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
In that moment, both of them knew immediately what to do. There were three doors in the living room, and they took one each, throwing it open and scouring the room behind it, with nothing amiss in both. They emerged into the living room around the same time, and stood before the third. Harry had his hand on the doorknob, eyes dark behind those glasses. Draco nodded grimly, and together; they opened the door. And when they saw what lay before them…
Draco couldn't breathe.
Bellatrix Lestrange was sprawled, dead, in an armchair, her throat split into a gaping red smile that was still dripping down the front of her dark purple dress, the snowy ermine coat around her shoulders now a rag of matted crimson. A hulking man with shaggy grey hair was on the bed, a knife buried in his heart, glassy eyes staring at the ceiling and the sheets around him tainted with gore. And branded on both of their cheekbones in delicate lines of scarlet was the dragon - the very same one on Draco's shoulder.
And Cedric… Oh god. Cedric was beside her, on the floor and slumped against a closet, reeking of blood with his throat similarly slit. Though there was no brand on his face, his eyes were open, the fear frozen inside, and… he died afraid. Cedric had died afraid.
Harry was already there, frantically feeling for a pulse and calling Cedric's name, pleading for him to still be there with them, and Draco knew that he should be helping. That he should be feeling distraught or distraught or furious, that he should be kneeling on the bloodstained carpet with Harry desperately trying to will their friend back to life, but he couldn't.
His eyes were fixed on the wall behind his aunt, where written in dripping black paint, was a message. A message from his past. A message that had once nearly driven him into insanity. A message from the darkest days of his life.
"Rage against the dying of the light."