Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl is my character, as well as Sarah, some of the spells and books, and other such non-canon or basic grapevine stuff. Please respect that.
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Chapter 7
Are You Sure?
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That evening, Draco and Lucius Apparated at the mansion at eight. "Wait here." Lucius entered the ballroom, and Draco sighed.
A maid walked out of the room. No, it was Kahl. "Courier."
She turned and bowed. "Yes, sir?"
Draco glanced at the room, its tall doors now closed. "Do you know what they're doing?"
"It is not my place say, sir."
Draco nodded. "Do you still think I should doubt this?"
"I did not say you should, sir, but one must be sure of their dedication if they are to become a Deatheater. It is not an action to be taken lightly."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I know. Does everyone think I'm an imbecile?"
The girl raised her eyebrows.
"Never mind."
She nodded and moved to leave.
"Why aren't you a Deatheater?"
"A lowly servant such as myself?"
"One so entrusted as you, yes. If you wanted to be—"
"It would eliminate my usefulness as a courier. We all serve where we can."
"Of course." Draco thought for a moment. "What do you remember from your reading last summer?"
Kahl laughed dryly. Draco blinked; he'd never heard her laugh before. "Most of it and too much to list now, sir," she said.
"And of our discussions?"
"Much of that, too."
"I'm impressed."
"It was very informative, and I try to remember what I learn."
The doors opened; the girl bowed and walked away. A voice called from inside the room. "Enter."
Draco went into the room. The Deatheaters watched him from the shadows of their hoods. He faced Voldemort. The inhuman face twisted into a smile. "Ready, young sir?" His voice held a mocking laugh.
"You had better be sure of this, Master Malfoy."
Draco pushed the courier's voice from his mind and bowed to Voldemort.
"Good. At the bottom of the hill is a Muggle town. I'm sure you've seen it before."
"Yes, master."
"There's one Muggle who always walks at nine o'clock, no matter what the day or weather. I want you to kill him." Voldemort threw a knife to Draco. He caught it and stared at the blade. "Well?"
Draco squared his shoulders, and he bowed. "Yes, sir."
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Kahl watched the three hooded figures walk out of the mansion and out of sight among the trees. She tapped her fingers against the windowsill. She smacked the windowsill and, turning away, stalked out of the room.
She paused at the top of the steps; a few Deatheaters walked past the foot of the stairs. There were murmurs in the hall below. Kahl went back down the hall and to the servants staircase; she moved slowly down the narrow, rickety wooden stairs to the kitchen. She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. She slipped out.
The hillside was dark, but Kahl moved steadily over the smooth lawn. She slowed when she reached the trees, and she made her way through them, hands held out before her, eyes seeking out the almost invisible trunks. After some minutes, she saw a glimmer of moonlight ahead between the black tree trunks. She soon made it to the edge of the woods, and she listened intently. A shadowy figure rose up against the pale ribbon of the road. It turned; a red and silver blade gleamed in the moonlight. Kahl's breath caught in her throat, and she reached out to grab a tree. The figure was joined by two more, they removed a limp form, and they vanished into the trees. They passed a few feet away from her. Their footsteps faded in the distance, and Kahl sank down to the cold ground, her back against the rough tree trunk. She stared unseeing at the dark leaves for a long time.
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Draco dropped on his bed, and he looked up into the darkness obscuring the ceiling of his room. He could still sense the chaos, feel the cold hilt of the dagger warming in his palm and the fluid tickling slowly over his hand, hear the thump of the body against the hard-packed road...
He threw the pillow over his face and shut his eyes tightly. He rubbed his palms hard against the satin cover of the pillow, but he couldn't rid himself of the feeling of drying liquid on his hands.