Monster.

Chapter Two

“How is he?” Dumbledore asked straight-faced as Draco sauntered into his office. The Headmaster sat rigid in his tall chair, fingers tapping nervously against the wood of his desk. His eyes were sharp as they alighted on Draco’s smug face. Dropping down into the other armchair in front of the Headmaster’s desk, Draco just shrugged.

“No worse for the wear, I suppose,” commented Draco neutrally. “The act of bonding him to me is done. He will essentially do anything I ask of him and you have your perfect Golden Boy back.” Each of the powers stared at each other from across the fragile wooden desk. Dumbledore said nothing.

“Now your end of the deal.”

The white-bearded man withdrew parchment from his sleeve. He held them in his hand, not attempting to give them to Draco until he was heard. “These grant you and your mother asylum here at Hogwarts. When your brother is born, he will also have asylum here under your mother’s hand. It also absolves you from everything you or your mother might have done under the rule of the Dark Lord.”

A crinkling of paper was the only sound in the otherwise flickering lights of the shuttered-down room. Draco was naturally a patient man, but when Dumbledore gave no move to give him the papers, he leaned forward, his lips curling into a sneer.

“What else do you want, old man? I’ve given you what you wanted- a toy to control and defeat the other Dark out there. You should be happy- after all, you know when they battle, neither will be left alive,” Draco spat, his hands curling around the shadows within his grasp under the grain of the wood on the Headmaster’s desk.

“What do you intend to do with him until he is called to do his task?” Dumbledore asked stiffly, his blue eyes dark under the oppressive onslaught of shadows that Draco carried with him everywhere.

“You must know,” Draco said coldly, “that when Veela bind another partner to themselves, they also bind themselves to the other partner. I intend to enjoy my bond-mate before you kill him.”

Draco then stood and with a swish of his dark cloak and the step of his heavy boots, faded out of the room. The room brightened again, the small candles in their places waving brightly and cheering up the room. Dumbledore extinguished them with a tap of his wand and he sat in the dark of his own making. The dark weighed and oppressed onto him. As were the prices of war.

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Draco stormed down the hallway. If the old man weren’t so high and mighty, Draco might have thought the man a Slytherin at one point or another. After all, only a true Slytherin could speak in such riddles and side-step questions as if they were slathered in butter.

But the old man was good for one thing. He really knew how to throw the circumstances in ones direction. Draco was now the freest man with all the great, great perks that come with being a free man in the Light army- a wonderful piece of ass to go with his victory. A willing piece of ass. In an enemy that he’d always wanted to fuck. Draco shivered in anticipation of his new fuck toy.

Thank Merlin for those blinded bastards who thought they were doing work for the greater good.