the girl who lost it all [d.m]

twenty five: tutus

tutus: safe, protected, secure

———

DRACO parted crowds as he went.

Death Eaters stepped aside as he strode through towards the edge of the Crooked Forest, his cloak billowing around him. The golden mask was covering his features—but everyone knew who he was.

They ducked their heads, murmuring greetings and acknowledgements, fear and reverence written across their faces, shuffling backward as he moved through them, barely sparing any of them a glance.

Draco Malfoy was indeed a powerful man.

The Crooked Forest stayed true to its name. The trees curved at odd angles instead of standing up straight, their trunks twisted. Immediately, Draco scanned the treetops. With trees that easy to climb, it was highly likely Shacklebolt had some spies up in the canopy, tracking the movements of Death Eaters, looking for a way out.

"Malfoy."

Draco didn't take his gaze off the forest but acknowledged the Death Eater next to him. "Yaxley. How much longer?"

The older man seemed to stiffen at Draco's curt tone. "A few weeks. We're working on the wards day and night."

Draco narrowed his eyes when he caught movement high in the canopy. A flash of red hair—so quick he blinked and it was gone. Why Shacklebolt chose the Weaslette as one of his spies was beyond him. "Work faster."

Again, Yaxley bristled and Draco finally turned to face him. His white hair was tied with a simple black ribbon at the base of his neck, his skin worn and weary. As one of the oldest Death Eaters, alongside Dolohov, Yaxley held respect in the ranks—but ever since he had made the mistake of allowing Dolohov to take Elara from the stronghold in Estonia and into his private estate—thus indirectly leading to her escape—he'd fallen down the rungs of favour on the Dark Lord's ladder. Draco had promptly filled in his place and had only climbed further from there.

Maybe that was why Yaxley always regarded Draco with an air of discomfort.

"We're trying. They're using pretty powerful magic."

"You have them surrounded on all sides?" Draco again narrowed his eyes at the forest, trying to pick up any signs of movement. He needed to get to Shacklebolt if this plan was going to work. But how?

Yaxley nodded, following Draco's gaze. "They have no way out. Their wards will break eventually and then we'll move in and grab them."

A passing wizard—not a Death Eater yet—bowed his head at Draco as he hurried past.

Draco turned to scan the Death Eaters mulling about, most lurking near the tree line, their wands drawn, muttering spells, others standing further back, discussing in quiet voices. He found himself looking for a specific face—one he hoped wouldn't be here.