Fate\'s Victim

“NO! No…I won’t do it.” The blond Slytherin looked uneasy, and the smallest bit disgusted.

The white haired wizard before him stroked his beard, looking thoughtful. The twinkling effect of his blue eyes was worse then ever. “I never said you had to, Mister Malfoy. I simply informed you of my terms should you be interested in protection from your Father’s Master. But of course, you may decline.” He rounded his desk and sat down again, as he had been when Draco Malfoy entered his office earlier that very evening.

Draco was frustrated. He hadn’t expected the old Headmaster of Hogwarts to ask such a thing of him. He expected to be asked to be loyal to the Side of Light. Or to even take a vow not to ever go against the Side of Light, and act as a spy for whatever group of weirdo’s Dumbledore had assembled. But NOT this!

His eyes moved to his right, where the wall was covered with wooden decorative shelving, each section baring the emblem of one of the four houses in order: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff. Inside the shelving units were various knickknacks. Astrological tools, magical implements, useful parts of magical creatures, and so on.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look at the man sitting before him. He looked to his left. Dumbledore’s sitting area was there, a large fireplace blazing welcomingly, with more shelving continued there too. Books were everywhere over there, crowding the shelves, piled in stacks near the chairs and couches, some even leaned up against the shelving.

He sighed. He did need the protection. But to be asked to…to…no, that was asking too much. But if he didn’t agree, it would be back to Malfoy Manor for him, and nothing left to do but take the Dark Mark as his Father expected. That was something he did not want to do. To be near that Dark Bastard, and serve him loyally? That wasn’t for the likes of Draco.

Draco was a cowered. He had shown that side of himself many times, including the time he had screamed, practically wet himself, and ran, just from seeing whatever that was – probably the Dark Lord – feeding on the corpse of the Unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. Potter had been able to stand his ground. But Draco hadn’t. That was part of why everyone loved The-Boy-Who-Lived, and hated The Slytherin Ice Prince. At least Potter could bloody well stand up for himself.

He flipped the strand of long white blond hair that had fallen forward back over his shoulder and chewed at his lip, trying to think of a way out of this. But really, there was no other way, and both he and Dumbledore knew it. Of course the Old Man knew he would get his way. He always seemed to know everything, which really was quite annoying.

Finally, Draco grimaced and leaned forward in the chair, slapping his wand down on Dumbledore’s desk. “Fine.” He growled. “I’ll do it.”

Dumbledore smiled easily as if he had been expecting that answer, which was easy, because he had been. His eyes continued to twinkle as before, if not brighter now. Fawkes burst into flames. His remains floated slowly down to the base of his perch, as Draco stared in horror, and Dumbledore continued to smile.

“Of course, Mister Malfoy. If you would just place a drop of your blood here, here and here,” the Headmaster said, pointing to spots on a rather long parchment that had to be the contract Dumbledore had drawn up. Draco nodded, pricked his finger using the knife on the desk and placed the drops of blood where directed. When he was finished, the contract disappeared with a poof and Dumbledore stood and motioned to the door.

“Please be so kind as to make your way to the Hospital Wing. I believe Madam Pomfrey has all the things she needs to get this agreement started.”

Draco stood numbly, and left the Headmaster’s Office.