Being a hit-wizard is not easy | Drarry

Chapter four

Being a hit-wizard is not easy, but most of it is enjoyable.

In the five years Draco has been working, he's managed to cross out 24 out of the 30 names on his list. He started with the less important Death Eaters, partly because he wanted to practice what he had learned in training before going after more experienced wizards, but also because he wasn't sure he was ready to face the likes of the Lestrange brothers and Dolohov.

Now though, he doesn't have any other choice, the only ones left are Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Dolohov and Yaxley.

The fun is about to start.

Today is the last of the reconnaissance days that lead up to a mission and Draco, as usual, is clubbing.

His body is sweating as he grinds it against others, following the rhythm of the music, his heart is beating fast inside his chest from both the exertion and the anticipation. A glance at the watch on his wrist tells him that it's already past one in the morning. Time to act.

With practiced ease he slips through the crowd on the dancefloor and makes his way to the bathroom. Checking that all the stalls are vacant he magically locks the door and starts with his usual preparations.

A cleaning charms gets rid of the sweat and whatever other substance he might have picked up during the night, once body and clothes are in order, he downs the sobering potion he always keeps on himself, disguised as a mini bottle of vodka, he need all his wits and reflexes ready, being intoxicated would hinder his job. After a few moments the potion takes effect and he is ready.

He waves his wand around himself, creating a bubble of silencing charms, no one in the club will notice if he walks without making any noise, because everybody else will be making too much of it, but he will need the silence later on.

Checking his appearance in the mirror one more time, he makes his way out of the bathroom and, with a wave at the bartender, he exits the club.

The street gets quieter the furthest he goes from the club, the coloured lights fade leaving only the yellow tint of the lampposts lining the road. Draco walks past a few drunk strugglers and ducks into a dark side alley, whose only occupants are a dirty bin and the garbage that people haven't been careful enough to throw in said bin. It's the perfect place for a change of identity.

It takes a few minutes of precise spellwork, but the time is well spent as the person who remains standing in the alley is nothing like how he was before.

In Draco's place now stands a short olive-skinned man with curly brown hair and dull brown eyes, the tight clothes have been replaced by shaggy jeans and a cotton grey jumper. There's nothing remarkable about this person at all, it could be confused for one of the many homeless people roaming the streets and that's exactly what Draco wants.

The only thing that hasn't changed is the mark etched on his left forearm. The skull and snake are bit less prominent on the darker skin, but very much still there, which could be a disadvantage in most cases but right now Draco needs it and, as much as he doesn't like needing anything that His Snakiness has left behind, the mark is fundamental in the process.

Clutching his left forearm, he closes his eyes, with his right hand he traces the black lines and focuses on one thought. Yaxley.

Almost immediately he is able to feel the string of dark magic that connects him to the other man, it's not a pleasant sensation, it makes him feel dirty, tainted, but he's gotten used to it during the years.

Focusing on the string he spins on his feet and disapparates. The uncomfortable feeling of being sucked through a very tight tube engulfs him, but he knows he can't get distracted for even a second for what he is about to do.