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.
"If they step a foot out of the forest, it'll trigger our Tracking Wards," Yaxley was saying. "We'll know exactly where they are. They won't escape."
"They better not," murmured Draco through his mask, "or you'll answer to the Dark Lord."
"How is he?" Yaxley dipped his head, as if ashamed. "He hasn't called on me in a long time."
"Don't hold your breath," Draco said, still looking through the crowd. "He's weakening. He entrusts most of his tasks to me now."
Yaxley's face fell. "And the...the Horcruxes?"
Draco's hand flared in pain and he willed the Concealment Charm he'd cast over the ring to hold. "All three are safe."
"In your care, how could they not be?"
The muscles in Draco's shoulders tensed as soon as he heard his voice. Unbridled rage threatened to consume him but he forced himself to take a breath and allowed his golden mask to shimmer away before turning to face the newcomer.
Antonin Dolohov was not a handsome man. His hair hung in strings to his shoulders, dark but grey-streaked, his eyes beady and hollow. He was only a bit shorter than Draco but considerably more wiry.
"Dolohov," Draco said, coolly.
"After all," Dolohov said, ignoring his acknowledgement, "you are the Dark Lord's right hand man. There is no one else he would entrust with his Horcruxes, is there?"
Even his voice was slimy—like water over mossy rocks—and it made Draco want to strangle him. He would one day. He'd delight in watching the light fade from those snake eyes.
"Of course," murmured Yaxley, seemingly desperate to fill the silence.
"I heard it'll be a few weeks before you can break in there." Draco jerked his chin towards the forest. "That's a few weeks too long. I'm worried you're not working hard enough."
Yaxley went rigid but Dolohov only grinned, exposing yellowed teeth. "Some endeavours take time, Malfoy. You should know that better than anyone."
Immediately, Draco's stomach twisted and he felt nauseous. What was Dolohov referring to? Could it be that he knew how long Draco had searched for Elara before he'd found her? The thought made bile rise in his throat but he didn't let it show, his Occlumency pushing away his paranoia.
"Is there something specific you're referring to?" Draco asked, bored, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed the trees. He hoped the Weasley girl was watching. Maybe if she saw him, she'd get word back to Shacklebolt.
"Oh no, of course not," Dolohov answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just that you worked quite hard to get to the position you are in now."
"You sound jealous."
The responding cackle made Draco's ears hurt. "Jealous? Oh, not at all. In fact, I am so proud of you. Filling your father's shoes just like he would've wanted."
That last sentence cut through Draco like a blade. "I am not my father." He turned his head to meet Dolohov's gaze. "I am not as weak as to make the same mistakes he made."
I will not yield to the Dark Lord. I will never be a pawn again.
"Lucius wasn't all that bad," Dolohov said with a smile that made Draco's skin crawl. "He was intelligent—like you. Loyal." A knowing glint appeared in his eyes. "Just like you."
Draco focused on laying brick after brick in his mind, every fiber in him ready to strike Dolohov if need be.
"Not as cruel, I'll admit," the Death Eater went on. "I always thought Lucius was a little too soft for his own good. But he was a good soldier—kill now, ask questions later. Shame that girl took him down."
Draco's skin felt clammy but he didn't let his gaze falter from Dolohov's, not even when a cold wind whipped past, slapping their faces.
Yaxley scoffed. "A girl. Can you believe it? A girl took down the great Lucius Malfoy."
"That girl," mused Dolohov, watching Draco closely, "took down a lot more than just Lucius Malfoy." He finally turned to face the treeline, breaking eye contact, and continued speaking. "She murdered a hundred Death Eaters the night the old man was killed. Do you remember that, Draco?"
The usage of his first name made every alarm bell in Draco's head go off.
"Of course, you were just a boy then." Dolohov glanced back at him. "Just a little nineteen year old boy, always following Daddy's footsteps, trying to save Mummy."
Draco forced a breath in and tried to focus on something else. Shacklebolt—how could he get to Shacklebolt?
"That girl is quite the enigma," Dolohov continued, undeterred by Draco's silence. "She managed to kill a hundred Death Eaters in a matter of minutes, resisted all kinds of Legilimency and torture and then—"
Draco's shoulder wound was beginning to ache.
"And then she escapes from the dungeons beneath my estate."
There it was. What Dolohov had been leading up to this entire conversation. Draco knew both Yaxley and Dolohov didn't like him—but out of the two of them, Dolohov was entirely more threatening. He was cunning and intelligent, as well as cruel—three traits Draco saw in himself.
As if reading his mind—which Draco made sure was impossible by enforcing his Occlumency—Dolohov spoke. "You know, I was once like you, Draco."
Again, the condescending use of his first name. Draco's hand twitched, aching to reach for his wand.
"Ambitious. Smart. Power-hungry."
Yaxley shifted, nervously, from foot to foot.
"Fiercely loyal," Dolohov went on, casually, looking towards the forest. "One could even say obsessive."
"I am not like you," Draco growled, growing tired of this conversation. He turned to face Dolohov, fully, his hands still clasped behind his back. "I will not make the mistake of disobeying the Dark Lord's direct order."
Dolohov didn't look fazed. "Ah."
"After all, it is that very mistake that resulted in the escape of the girl that you so fondly talk about, isn't it?"
Yaxley reddened but Dolohov only looked away.
"Tell me, Antonin." Let's see how you like it. "What were your plans for the girl? What was so important that you directly went against a command issued by the Dark Lord himself—and stole her from Yaxley's stronghold?"
The only sound was the wind howling in their ears, ripping at their clothes. Draco's head ached badly but he didn't let any of his pain show.
"Well?" he prodded, keeping his tone low.
Dolohov's chin tipped up. "I believed I could lure Potter in."
"Lie." Draco turned back to face the forest, a bitter taste on his tongue as he said the next sentence. "You wanted her for yourself."
"She was unbreakable!" exploded the other Death Eater, suddenly filled with fury. "No one—no one—could get to her. Her mind was protected. She didn't know Occlumency."
"Maybe she did," Yaxley put in, spluttering, in a pitiful attempt to try and diffuse the tension.
"She didn't," Dolohov grumbled. "I know what Occlumency looks like. It's like running into a wall. This girl—it was just darkness in her head. Like someone had thrown a cloak over her mind."
Draco stayed silent, trying not to think of the ring he'd given her.
"I was curious to see if I could break her. If I could be the one to get information out of her. Bellatrix tried. Mulciber did too. But neither of them resorted to the real way we could've gotten her to talk."
The nausea in Draco's stomach surged upward. He'd known Dolohov had carved his initials into Elara's hip but he'd never known the extent to which he would have gone to get information out of her. Had he ever gotten the chance? Had he ever—
He was going to be sick. His chest constricted, violently, and for a long moment, he was sure he was going to have to Apparate straight out of there before he collapsed.
But rage quickly filled him up to the brim and it was all he could do to stop himself from murdering Antonin Dolohov in cold blood right there.
"Didn't like that, Draco?"
He snapped out of his daze, keeping his eyes on the forest in front of him. The Wardbreakers were still hovering at the edge of the treeline, whispering spells, the others gathered behind them, watching out for any movement within the trees.
"But she is the enemy," Dolohov continued in that thin voice of his. "Isn't she?"
Draco gritted his teeth and counted to ten in his head. It would do no good to lose his temper right now. He couldn't risk it. If Dolohov suspected something, he'd have to deal with it another time.
"Excuse me." Draco turned on his heel, allowing his mask to slide back into place and pulling the hood of his cloak onto his head.
"Devotion is a good quality to have," Dolohov said, eyes gleaming, voice fading as Draco strode away, "as long as it's to the right side."
Draco Apparated away a split second later.
|
Paisley was quiet.
After the raid that had taken place the last time Draco was here, people had retreated into their houses, shuttering their windows and locking their doors. He couldn't see them but he was sure the Wizardkind had protective wards up around the house. The Muggles would be left to fend for themselves.
As usual, flyers depicting Harry Potter's face and the hefty reward offered for capturing him—alive—dotted the lampposts and brick walls and Draco set fire to a few of them as he walked, his mind somewhere deep in thought.
Dolohov may have suspicions about Draco but he wouldn't act on them yet. Not when Draco was this powerful. And with Dolohov having fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord, he couldn't bring it up to him either.
So Draco was safe. For now.
But Elara...His throat burned at the thought of what she had had to suffer at the hands of Antonin Dolohov. It made him want to lock her up somewhere far away until the war blew over and she was safe. He couldn't breathe at the thought of something happening to her.
But Astoria—
He just wanted Elara to be safe. Then he'd forget about her and focus on Astoria.
How much had Dolohov really taken from her?
He kicked open the gate to Orion's house, all but storming up to the frontdoor. He didn't even pay attention to the eagleknocker he so loved to slam just to get a rise out of his friend.
The house was quiet and smelled like freshly baked cake but when Draco halted just inside the doorway, he couldn't hear any signs of guests. Maybe Orion had just had the sudden urge to bake.
Shrugging off his coat, Draco ignored the twinge of pain in his shoulder and kicked the door shut behind him. He took two steps into the dimly lit hallway and then stopped short, frowning at the empty space by his boots.
The fat grey cat was usually here by now, winding around his legs. But today, there was no warm purr and twisting body—just empty space.
Draco's hand moved to his wand on instinct and he drew it as he inched down the hallway, forcing his worry for Orion into a separate compartment. His friend was fully capable of handling himself.
The living room was empty—as was the kitchen, although the smell of cake still hung in the air. Draco made his way down the hallway, his muscles coiled, the silence nearly deafening.
Quietly, he took the stairs down into the basement level, a hex on the tip of his tongue and then burst in through the door at the bottom of the staircase, emerging into the library.
What he saw nearly made him drop his wand.
The library was large and well-lit, a fire crackling in the hearth in front of two velvet armchairs. Nestled into the corner by the fireplace was a large oak table—one Draco and Orion had sat at numerous times—but this time, it seemed he had another guest.
Elara sat with her legs up on the chair, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting on it, dipping a slab of vanilla cake—Draco's favourite—into her tea. Orion sat opposite her, a large book open in between them, with his own slice of cake and cup of tea.
It was the strangest thing Draco had seen to date—and also the most infuriating.
"What," he said in a low voice, "the fuck?"
"Afternoon," Elara greeted with barely a glance in his direction before she finished off the slice of cake.
Draco's entire body was rigid as Orion turned to give him a cheeky look. "Don't look at me like that, mate. She did this all on her own."
Oh, he was going to kill the both of them. "And you just let her in?"
"Was he supposed to leave me outside with Death Eaters patrolling the streets?" Elara inquired, sarcasm dripping off her tongue as she lifted her cup of tea. "Orion, why don't we get him some too?"
His friend's resulting grin made Draco want to throttle him. "You sure about that, Elara dear? He looks like he's got a bad case of indigestion."
With a menacing growl, Draco stalked towards the table in five long strides and gripped Elara's arm, yanking her up and onto her feet. She gasped as her tea spilled over onto her shirt, scorching her through her clothes before the cup fell to the ground. It would have shattered, had it not been for the midnight blue carpet that covered the library's floor.
"Let—go!" she protested, trying to wrench from his grip but Draco didn't let up, dragging her away from the table. "Malfoy, let me go right now."
"I told you not to come here." He released her as soon as she asked, although he wanted nothing more than to drag her out of here and Apparate away. "I told you to—how dare you fucking defy me?"
"Defy you?" Elara let out a short laugh. "Your word was never an order. I'm not defying anybody."
"You were supposed to stay inside," Draco hissed back, towering over her. She didn't look scared, her hair pulled neatly back into a braid, her arms crossed over her chest despite the tea stain that had seeped into her cream turtleneck. "You were supposed to stay in the fucking safehouse—"
"I told you I'd cause trouble. You can't say I didn't warn you." Her chin tipped up like it always did when she was arguing with him.
Draco stared down at her, his emotions rising and falling like waves. This woman was going to be the death of him.
This beautiful, stubborn woman.
"You're coming with me," he snarled despite the fact that she looked so fearless glaring up at him, her mouth set, dark eyes defiant. Even her freckles seemed to glare at him. "I told you I don't fucking care what you want. You're staying in that safehouse."
Elara rolled her eyes then cast a look behind her at Orion as if to say 'Can you believe this guy?' It made Draco's blood boil.
"I know you want to keep me safe," she said, calmly, turning back to Draco. He was rather inappropriately struck with the thought that the colour of her sweater suited her and then quickly snapped himself back to reality. "But Orion and I have already made progress. There's no point going back now."
"Prog—Progress?" Draco bit out, shooting a deadly look in Orion's direction. His friend only put up his hands in surrender. "What—"
"She's been here for seven hours, mate," Orion piped up, looking almost sheepish. "And she's really fucking smart. I've never seen a Ravenclaw like her—she puts you Slytherins to shame."
If anyone else had said it, Draco would have put his fist through their face. But this was Orion—and Orion was the only person who knew how much Elara meant to Draco. He wouldn't lay a hand on her.
"The Horcrux can be destroyed after we remove the curses on it," Elara told him, her tone gentler now. "We're working on how to do that."
"You're not—You're—I'm taking you home." Again, Draco reached for her arm but she yanked away.
"No," she said, resolutely. "And if you force me, I'll just find my way back here when you're not there."
"Elara." His warning tone didn't make her stop from where she was moving back to the table.
"Draco," Orion said, quietly. "She's safe here. You know I'll guard her with my life."
Draco's hands were shaking now, his heart pounding at a frantic pace at the thought of Elara being right in the middle of Paisley, surrounded by Death Eaters. "She shouldn't have to be protected in the first place—"
"Isn't that what you're doing?" Elara interjected, sharply, as she took her seat again. Orion had vanished the mess made by her spilled tea on the carpet as well as her clothes. "Back at the safehouse. You're protecting me."
Draco bit down on his tongue, tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. He couldn't let her stay here. He'd have to take her back to the safehouse every night and bring her back whenever she wanted. It'd be risky and dangerous—and he couldn't bring himself to accept it for her sake.
"Malfoy," she said, firmly, and Draco met her eyes again. "Let me help. I'm safe. Both you and Orion are here, aren't you? If anything happens, I have two big bad wolves ready to fight for me." She added the last part, dryly, as if she wasn't impressed by either of them and both men scowled in her direction. "Oh, don't be such big babies."
Draco still hesitated, the stabbing pain behind his eyes making him shut them as he sifted through possibility after possibility, weighed pros against cons, tried to think of her from a detached perspective rather than the mangled mess he became whenever he was around her.
"Draco." Orion was suddenly in front of him, steering him away from Elara until they turned into one of the aisles and were out of earshot. "Draco, listen to me."
But Draco's mind was currently in a frenzy, his head throbbing. Elara was here—in the middle of Paisley. She'd gotten here on her own—did she have any idea how risky that was? She could've been caught and captured and taken away and Draco wouldn't have even known. Or worse, she could've been recognised and taken back to that cell—
"She's smart," Orion continued, his hand on Draco's shoulder. He shook him, lightly, when he didn't respond. "Listen to me. She's going to be fine. She's intelligent and capable—and Merlin, does she have a mouth on her. She's a stubborn little minx and—are you listening to me?"
Draco was beginning to feel numb all over.
"Snap out of it."
"Orion," Draco said, his voice hoarse. "Orion, if something happens to—"
"It won't," his friend cut him off, fiercely. "Nothing is going to happen to her." His eyes softened as he looked at Draco. "You helped her, mate. You got her out of that cell and made sure she was safe the past two years."
Draco's chest felt tight, his heart racing. He fought the urge to claw at his Dark Mark.
"You saved her," Orion went on, gently, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. "Now let her save you."
His words made something open up in Draco's throat and through his daze, he managed to Occlude enough to remove himself from his mental paralysis. Orion waited, patiently, his hand reassuring on Draco's shoulder until they met eyes and Draco gave a short nod.
They stepped out from behind the bookshelf, Elara coming into view again. She was still at the desk, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for them.
Quietly, Orion muttered something about getting Draco tea and hurried out of the library, shutting the door behind him, gingerly.
"You scared him off," Elara commented, raising an eyebrow at him. She was the perfect picture of someone preparing for war. Her eyes had that defiant glint in them, her jaw tight. She was obviously expecting Draco to drag her out of there.
I don't want to be alone.
Neither do I.
Draco took a breath, steeled himself for what he was about to say. "There will be rules."
She didn't show her surprise although her fingers stopped tapping on her arm. "Can I decide if I'll follow them after you tell me what they are?"
"No." Draco moved forward, finally feeling composed. "You will follow them regardless."
She didn't look too happy about that but she was obviously desperate enough to hear him out.
"Rule number one: You don't step a foot out of this house," Draco told her, his voice low, as he drew closer to the table. "I don't care what happens—you don't go out into Paisley unless you're with me."
Elara looked up at him as he came to a stop by the edge of the desk. "Not even with Orion?"
"Not even with Orion," Draco confirmed, his teeth clenched. "Second, if Orion ever has any guests, you never show yourself. Ever." He placed both his palms flat onto the desk, leaning over it to get closer to her. He needed her to know how serious he was. "I don't care if Orion starts screaming bloody murder. You do not show yourself."
Elara quirked an eyebrow at him. He hated how neat her hair was. He wanted to rip it free and tangle his fingers in it. "That seems a little unreasonable. What if something's wrong?"
"If Orion is in danger, you leave him be," Draco growled out, looking straight into those dark eyes. "He can handle himself. And if there's danger nearby, you get the fuck out and find some place safe—"
"That contradicts rule number one."
Draco lifted his hand and slammed it right back down onto the table, his temper flaring. "I'm not fucking around here, Elara!"
"Neither am I!" she shot back, indignantly. "You're just being a complete and utter arse—"
"Oh, am I? I didn't realise trying to protect you was such an arsehole move!"
"I'll be fine!" She pushed to her feet, equally fired up and mimicked his pose, pressing her palms flat against the table to lean over it and get in his face. "If you could stop treating me like I'm a fucking child, that would be appreciated—"
"I'm not treating you like a child, I'm trying to make sure you're safe!" Draco hissed at her. "Learn the fucking difference or I'll make sure you do."
She fell silent then, her chest heaving, and Draco didn't move an inch. Their noses brushed.
"Do not leave this house," he said, his voice suddenly quiet. "Do not put yourself in danger. Two simple rules, Elara, but if you don't follow them, I will drag you back to that safehouse and lock you up in there."
Her eyes flicked between his own like she was trying to judge if he was serious. "And what if you're in danger?"
The question caught him off-guard and he was suddenly aware of how the atmosphere had shifted from explosive to tense. It made his gut curl. "I'm never in danger."
"But what if you are?" she prodded and he didn't miss the way her eyes moved to his lips for a tenth of a second. "What do I do then?"
If he just tilted his head and moved an inch forward, their lips would touch. He tried to crush the desire to do so and instead, kept his eyes firmly focused on hers. "You leave."
The breath she released brushed his lips and her eyes slid down to his hand where the Horcrux sat. "Even if you're dying?"
Draco swallowed hard, trying to string together a sentence. Her close proximity was making that increasingly difficult. "Yes," he said. "Even if I'm dying and you're the only person who can save me. You do not put yourself in danger for me." He corrected himself, quickly, "Not for anyone."
A beat of silence passed and then she spoke again, her voice wavering slightly. "Why do you feel responsible for what happened to me, Draco?"
Electricity raced under his skin at the sound of his name. "I already told you not to ask."
"It has something to do with what happened that night at the Astronomy Tower, doesn't it?" she pushed on, studying his face. "The night I drank that vial and killed the Death Eaters."
"No." Lie.
Her nose grazed his again as she tilted her head to the side, eyes locked on his. "Don't I deserve to know?"
His jaw clenched. "You don't need to know."
She glared at him but the fire had faded from her eyes. "You, Draco Malfoy, are the most infuriating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet."
A smirk curved his lips and he couldn't stop his gaze from flicking to her mouth. "The feeling is entirely mutual, darling."
When he looked back up at her eyes, there was fire in her gaze. They stayed like that, noses almost touching, shooting daggers at each other until a few moments later, the door swung open and Orion shuffled in, carrying a tray.
"Tea?" he asked, cheerfully—as if his two guests weren't about to strangle each other from over his table.
Without breaking eye contact, Draco moved back and Elara did too, collapsing back into her seat. She suddenly looked exhausted—had she looked that pale and hollow when he'd walked in?
She caught his gaze from over Orion as he bent to pour tea out. Draco felt something unspoken between himself and Elara and understood it in less than a second.
He pulled up the third chair and manoeuvred it next to Elara's, dropping down into it and pressing his leg to hers. Immediately, his own headache dimmed and he nearly let out a groan of satisfaction. He'd been living with it for so long now that his Occlumency naturally kept it suppressed so he didn't fixate on it too much but it was still a dull, constant pain.
He heard Elara give her own little sigh of relief, felt the warmth of her thigh against his. Orion pretended not to notice and only handed Draco a cup of tea before moving to fill Elara's.
"Right then." Orion set down the teapot and slid into the chair opposite them. "Where do we start?"
———
hiya. this chapter was actually much longer but it got too long and then sOMEHOW MY PROGRESS WAS ERASED so this is all you guys get :(
vote or lily will carve out ur eyes
kisses,
nyx