Being a hit-wizard is not easy | Drarry

Chapter three

This is the last part of the introduction, from next week I'll start posting the story every Monday.

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Being a hit-wizard is not easy.

At twenty-seven, seven years after the first meeting with Shacklebolt, five years after officially becoming a hit-wizard, Draco Malfoy is still living his bachelor life.

Anyone looking would see the stereotypical only-child coming from a rich family, with too much insolence and a side of daddy issues. He spends his nights partying and his days sleeping the hangover off, he sleeps with a different partner every night and never calls back, despite owning the latest smart-phone model.

A closer look on Draco's life would show absolutely nothing new, he's been living in the same flat he bought seven years ago, with the small kitchen and cosy living room. The only new addition Draco made during the years was adopting a cat. Pongo is a stray Draco found badly injured in the alley behind his apartment building one cold day, two years ago. The vet he went to, told him that they would take care of the cat and put him up for adoption as soon as he was well again, but Draco had looked the poor creature in the eyes and hadn't had the heart of leaving him there. Fast forward two weeks, Pongo had been welcomed in his new home.

As said, to an outside looker, Draco's life would seem ordinary, wake up, feed the cat, read the papers while having breakfast, go for a run around the park, come home, read or watch TV, eat lunch, nap with the cat, get ready to go out, feed the cat before going out because a grumpy Pongo is not very good company, go out, party for most of the night, have sex with strangers at clubs, come home, sleep, go grocery shopping on Monday, do the washing on Tuesday, clean the house on Saturday and repeat.

Nothing interesting, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing real. Because Draco Malfoy does not lead a normal life, but only four people know about it.

What almost no one knows about Draco's life is that, after he gets up in the morning, he feeds the cat and reads the papers while having breakfast, paying attention to any suspicious activity, then he goes out for a run around the park making sure that the tree branches are free of red ribbons and Shacklebolt doesn't need to see him. Back home, he reads reports and files about his next targets, the sound of the TV covering his own voice repeating every detail he needs to know by heart. After lunch he disappears in his room, supposedly to take a nap, instead he presses his hand to the wall next to his bed and, through a door that only his magical signature can open, he gets to his office. The actual door to his office has been disguised as the door to a broom cupboard and has been warded so heavily that only a couple of wizards alive are powerful enough to get through the layer after layer of magical barriers.

His office is the room Draco likes the most, a bit of magical space has transformed the previously small room in one big enough to house a full gym and training area. One wall is entirely covered in weapons and Draco loves his weapons, there are daggers, swords, axes, knives, guns and rifles all neatly arranged next to coils of chains, whips and ropes. He even owns a bow and a crossbow, though he has yet to use them on anyone.

A corner of the office houses a small Potion lab, with a brewing station, a cupboard for the ingredients and one for stockpiling his Potions, most of which have healing purposes, since he can't go to the muggle hospital with certain kinds of injuries and St. Mungo's is obviously out of the question.

The other half of the room is dedicated to the planning of the raids, most of the wall is covered by a corkboard on which is pinned everything regarding Draco's current case, there are maps, photographs and sketches, plans and relevant information. A huge desk takes up most of the floor space, a muggle computer sitting right in the middle. Whatever space isn't used for Draco's open cases is filled with paperwork and closed files, the problem with secrecy is that he can't actually make his reports to the Ministry, so he has to keep all records at home, obviously none of them bear the Ministry crest, so to the outside eye Draco would look like a very meticulous serial killer. The last item in his office/headquarters is a collage of pictures, mug shots of each target on the list Draco was given when he started his job, big red exes marking the already carried out jobs.

Draco spends a few hours in his office every day, going over his files, revising the strategy and the required equipment, making adjustments to the plans and devising new ones. He studies new spells and practices with his weapons.

At dinner he eats with Pongo and then leaves for the night. Most of the bouncers of the London clubs know him by name at this point, he smiles at the bartenders and spends a few hours roaming around the club or dancing, a muffling charm always on his ears as to prevent the constant loud music to affect his hearing abilities. If he doesn't have work to do for the night, he actually enjoys his time there, he likes the press of bodies on the dancefloor, the anonymity of dark corners and hallways, the taste and smell of other human beings on his skin. He never takes anyone home, it's either a bathroom in a club, a dark side-alley or a stranger's house. His home is his sanctuary, the only place where he can be himself and no one is allowed there, except for Pongo.

On the nights he has work to do, he leaves early, but never before midnight, he likes to do his work in the first hours of the morning, when most of the world his either sleeping, drinking, dancing, fucking or, like him, up to no good.

When he comes back home, he showers and goes to sleep, waiting for the next time he'll wake up and start all over again.

Saturdays and Sundays are the only days when he actually does what it seems like he's doing, he reads and keeps up with the news in the muggle world, he visits museums and tourist attractions, he goes to the cinema or the theatre after the discovery of his passion for musicals and sappy romantic comedies.

The weekends are his muggles days, the ones when he doesn't have to constantly think about killing people, the ones when he can do what he likes and be himself.

He has no friends, he doesn't have any contact with the Wizarding World except for his visits to his mother and the meetings with Shacklebolt.

He tells himself that it's ok, he's not sure he believes it.

Being a hit-wizard is not easy, especially when it's the only thing you are allowed to be.