In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020 collection.

Prompt:

"The monster demands a mate!" (The Bride of Frankenstein)

A special thanks to WritingFicariously (A03 penname) for beta'ing this piece for me & helping come up with the title. And creating a BEAUTIFUL manip for it. If I knew how to add it to this I would, but I'm a dummy when it comes to that stuff.

Night Has Come

The skies were dark and the clouds thundered above him as he kneeled in the mud before the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy could feel the rain pelting against his pale skin, the cold soaking into his bones. He tried not to shake against the chill, but the more he attempted to keep still, the harder he shook. He knew his face hinted at the fear he was feeling because every time the Dark Lord turned his dead eyes on him, his smile widened, revealing his razor sharp teeth. His faithful snake coiled near, ready to strike when commanded.

"Draco Malfoy," he hissed as he stepped toward the shivering man-child. The clothes were taken off his body, leaving Draco naked to the elements as he kneeled inside a stone circle. His wrists were tied behind his body with his eyes turned toward the wet earth. "You have failed me," he whispered, his voice hoarse as the words as he walked around the circle. Draco raised his head slightly to see a weathered tome in the Dark Lord's hands. Through the pouring rain, he squinted to make out the symbols, but they were foreign to his eyes.

"You shall be my example," the Dark Lord continued, as he turned toward the rest of his followers. "Draco Malfoy will be the first to become something more." The malicious glee in his voice was tangible as he walked around the circle once, and then thrice more. "I will make you stronger and more powerful - a whole new breed of Wizard." He cackled the words, his voice carrying over the wind. "We shall be the New Empire!"

He stopped his walking at the top of the circle, directly in front of Draco's shivering body. He was sure his skin was purple from the cold. The shaking continued as the Dark Lord continued to speak, starting to chant the spell from the text. Vomit rose from his gut as he feared the worst. The swell of magic was dark, oppressive. It scratched at his skin as the Dark Lord's voice rose over the wind.

Pain, unimaginable pain, stabbed at his body as his vision went black. His body shook violently, and a heat like the fiery pits of hell burned across his skin. It made him wish for the cold the rain had provided earlier. His fear escalated as a scream left his throat. He lost track of the Dark Lord's voice, of the chant, as he felt a force pushing against him, clawing at his skin so violently that he was sure blood was dripping down his naked form. But his vision was clouded, his eyes shut tightly as the pain ran over him in waves.

Until suddenly, the pain was no longer there. He no longer felt anything at all. He was gone.

Draco Malfoy was a changed man. He found himself hunched over the ground and the mud sank as he moved from his spot. His limbs were stiff from lack of movement when he tried to stand. Blood caked his skin, the dried blood tugging as he moved away from the ground. He had to blink away the blurriness. Standing, he tried to shake off the grogginess pulling at his limbs. It took a moment before his vision cleared, but a sense of dread filled him to the core when he looked around him. Blood was spilt all across the ground. The bodies, utterly massacred, were scattered in the clearing of the forest, the faces torn to shreds, completely unrecognizable. A shudder ran down his spine as the chill of the air tickled at his naked body.

He turned just as he heard voices coming from the forest. Fear licked at his senses and he ran. With long legs, he was fast, but as he moved across the forest floor he felt as if he were something more judging by the speed at which he was moving. Everything blurred around him. He didn't focus on anything until suddenly, a strong need filled him stopping him in his tracks. A calling ringing in his ears. He tried to make sense of what was happening as his senses all went off around him.

Magic whipped around him. Not the cool, whisper touches of magic he was used to but quick, stilted movements. He found his body suddenly wrapped in dark clothing, the blood disappearing from his person. His eyes widened when he realized magic was happening despite him being wandless.

Hello , a voice said from the back of his mind, its quiet, abrasive whisper scratching in his senses.

"Who are you?" he asked out loud, feeling very foolish when he knew the voice was inside his mind.

Your new companion, so to speak, it spoke back to him. Draco wasn't sure how to respond, but somehow he felt the dark force pushing its way through his body until it was like a shadow encasing him. It's time .

"Time for what?" He felt his body push forward. Unease filled him as he realized just how much control this creature had inside him…

The Dark Lord's spell, he realized. It must have allowed this creature - thing - to enter his body. You're catching on, it said to him with a hint of smugness in its tone. The raw scratch of its voice created goosebumps to flicker across his pale skin.

"What are you?"

Your language does not have a name for what I am. Just know I am here to help you. You cannot live without me, and I cannot live without you. Draco moved across the forest floor as he tried to hash out the thoughts in his mind, thinking back over all the dark texts, and glanced back. The book was back with the bodies. Don't even think about it. They'll catch us. Now we must hurry.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked as he felt his body flying with unimaginable speeds across the forest floor once more.

Home.

Time moved forward. Draco and the other became a single entity; its thoughts became his own. It brought him to a land untouched by time. A fortress, strong and sturdy, looming its way up into the sky. The sky above covered with dark thunder clouds, rain off in the distance. Tugging the collar of his coat up around his neck, he found himself walking up a large stone staircase up to the dark structure, made of stone and wood. A castle of solitude. Not a soul to be found as he entered.

The halls he walked down had no trace of dust. It was all untouched as he found his way through the empty walkways, peering in on all the empty rooms. His gaze wandered to the painted portraits displayed in a single room. Faces, of different shapes and color, of different genders, stared back at him as he wandered.

The other melded into the background. Its voice quieted with time as he became familiar with the land around him. The magic within him swelled. It became something incredible

His magic became more. More powerful, more wicked and just… more.

He no longer needed a wand. He had only to think about something and it was done. He could be anywhere with just a thought. The new power felt like a new part of him, like a growing limb. Time passed, but for him, he remained untouched. The place he resided, a large stone castle cast off from time in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, was where he found himself most comfortable.

The loss of family did nothing to shake him. The loss of companionship did not affect him as he kept himself company among the books stored within this great place. No one searched for him, he made sure of it, and the few whispers he heard flying around were quickly squashed. Draco Malfoy was among the dead that fateful night, one of the unrecognizable bodies. That was the night Draco Malfoy ceased to exist within the Wizarding World.

It worked for a time. He lived a quiet life of solitude in his quiet little corner of the world. His life was noiseless until he found himself in Diagon Alley many years later in search of some new reading material as he had read everything within the Library shelves. He came to the Wizarding World so rarely that he was no longer familiar with most faces, and his magic clouding his face so he was unrecognizable to any person passing by.. He moved among the people, a snarl curled upon his lip as he listened to their terrible voices. Silence had been his friend for so long that other voices created a mess of anger and rage within him. He felt his power crackling inside him, but he snuffed it out. Pulling the cloak tighter against his neck, he ducked his head down, trying to block out the sounds as he drew in a deep breath to calm himself.

That single deep breath brought a scent that woke the other for the first time in over a year, almost two years. The other had remained quiet, dormant, for so long that Draco thought they had merged. But the smell of dust from long forgotten books, lavender and vanilla, and pen ink came crashing into him. All his senses centered on that single scent that lingered in the air. His pupils blew wide open, taking over the grey of his eyes. Black and soulless, he looked around attempting to locate the source.

Mate, the other whispered in the darkest crevices of his mind.

His world crashed. Battered like a shipwreck, wood splintered everywhere, waves eating away at the splinters. His legs took him down unfamiliar alleyways, his body wanted to rush through, but he forced it to take its time so not to draw attention to himself. With precise steps, he stalked around the town until he stopped at a small bakery. The warmth coming from the front door wafted the smell of fresh bread, overtaking the trail he had been following. Just as hope started to disappear, he caught sight of a familiar face coming out from the shop across the street. Dark curls, wild and untamed, framed her face as a smile lit up her features to whomever she was waving goodbye to from the doorway. As she turned to walk down the street, her arms full of books, the smell came rushing back to him. If he hadn't been frozen in such a state, he would have doubled over from the sensations taking over his body.

Mate.

Mine.

…Granger… Hermione…

Hermione Granger was her same old self, and yet, she knew she had changed since the war ended, especially because it had ended so suddenly. Out of nowhere. One day she was obliviating her parents, and the next there was news of a terrible massacre that had taken Voldemort, along with all of his followers. The investigation into the deaths had been ditched when, after months of searching, no one was able to find a clue as to what had happened.

The attack was inhumane, the magic unrecognizable.

Too many questions had been left wide open. So many deaths with no answer as to how it had happened. These questions left a longing in her for answers. The fear of what truly happened, that something could create such destruction, led her to finding what it was; because, eventually, whatever started this could come back. It could come looking for more than just dirty Death Eaters. The first step was finding out what exactly it was. She had been pulled in by the Ministry when their top researchers were unable to locate any clues, but when her research had come to a stilted stop, they cast even her aside along with the case.

While she understood that they could only do so much, it was hard to leave the study behind. She still researched it from time to time, but found that if she found herself too immersed she'd get lost for weeks on end. A siren's song coming from the unfamiliar magic reaching for her very core. This enigma of magic reaching out for her, trying to seduce her with its call. It scared her. The familiarity of the magic as it brushed against her own, and yet she couldn't touch it, recognize it - name it . So she stepped back, mostly at the request of Harry and Ron when they realized how much it affected her. It didn't stop the magic was from calling to her. Sometimes it called to her in dreams, other times the magical enigma came calling as a shadow, a thought, a whisper. It spoke in gravel whispers that she couldn't quite make out in her sleep. Dark shadows with no definite shape reaching for her. That's when she realized there was definitely something more sinister out there and that she had to exercise caution in her research, limit her interaction with the faint magical trace the Ministry held on to that had been left at the scene. Because she was tempted, not that she'd admit this out loud. Tempted to reach back toward that shadow, that gravel whisper. Tempted to follow it. But she couldn't do that because she knew her place in this world and the responsibilities that lay upon her shoulders. So with some distance, she grasped for the clarity she needed.

Her trepidation for this enigmatic magic didn't stop her from grabbing every imaginable text and tome she could get her hands on to search for any mention of its existence. Where it came from no one knew, no one could even mention what exactly it was. More often than not she came up empty-handed in her search. There were times, though, when she would have a small stroke of luck and she would find an ancient witch or wizard's journal and a mere mention could be found in an entry. Everything she was thinking, feeling in regards to this enigma was almost written word for word in faded ink. However, by the next journal entry, it was gone as if it never existed in the first place.

The frustration that Hermione felt in regards to the lack of information was unlike anything she'd ever felt. She'd been frustrated, hurt, torn when discovering her magic was irreversible for retrieving her parents memories. The sheer irritation from having to always be the brains when it came to Harry and Ron, only to have it used against her had been hard, but this journey to discover what exactly had the power to destroy so many Death Eaters and their Master was probably at the top of the list. So she walked away for a whole month. No studying, no researching, no searching for anything related to the massacre.

Until one morning when she woke from a strange dream. It felt much like the previous dreams she had in regards to this mysterious enigma, but this time it didn't call for her. It didn't show itself. It was a lingering feeling that she woke up with the following morning that led her toward Diagon Alley. A couple of hours after her favorite bookshop, Flourish and Blotts, opened and she was locating obscure books that had been on her list. These books had been in the maybe column for some time, but after the roadblocks she had hit last month, something tugged at her to grab them now.

As she walked out of the bookstore, however, she could not shake the feeling of eyes following her. She ducked her head, and pushed faster through the crowd all while trying to avoid brushing against anyone. The notion of being watched would not go away as she made her way through Diagon Alley back to her Apartment. She glanced back often but no one met her gaze. Even as she walked into the building, a quick glance over her shoulder, showed no one around.

It wasn't until she was in her apartment, the books placed hazardously along the sofa, that she made her way to the window. Pulling the blinds apart just slightly to look down at the street, she saw a shadow disappear into an alleyway. A shiver ran down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

Hermione didn't sleep much that night. Or the night after. Or the night after that. The feeling of being watched ebbed and flowed with each passing day. There were times she felt the air finally leave her lungs and she could move around without glancing over her shoulder, but other times it lingered on her like a caress across her collar bone. A tightening in her chest would happen when she felt that lingering gaze, but no matter what spell she performed, or how unassuming she could be, she could feel those eyes on her.

She hesitated reaching out to Harry or Ron because of their protective natures. Part of her worried she was being paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time she had thought something only to be proven she was a bit looney in the head. One particular incident, right after the war had ended, created a rift between her friendship with the boys. No matter how they tried to reassure her that they believed her, that she was not crazy, she had seen the looks on their faces. The doubt that had lingered in their eyes when they looked at her. It had left a crevice in her heart.

It had taken months for them to even begin to talk to one another again without a fight or an argument breaking out between them, but it was never quite the same after that. Her world no longer intersected with theirs as often anymore. Her world became smaller and smaller. Her only concern became who was watching her, and what had happened to the Dark Lord and his followers. She wanted to know what exactly had caused that much damage to one of the most powerful Wizards of the century.

Leaving her office at the Ministry, she felt the pressure build, like a gnawing headache rising from the base of her skull, as she exited the building. She found that the Ministry was the only place she had a reprieve. She could take a breath and not feel the weight of whoever was watching her. It was a chance to release the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and give her free room to accomplish tasks without feeling stressed. It lasted only until she walked out those doors though. She would Apparate from the safe spot to her neighborhood in muggle London, and the feeling of someone watching her, would not leave all night.

Tonight though, she felt particularly brave when she landed in her neighborhood. She stopped in the middle of the road to glance back at the alleyway. When she glanced over, only darkness met her. No shadow to glimpse this time as she looked around. Casting a silent Lumos, she moved her wand forward to see if her light revealed anything.

Defeat washed over her when the only thing revealed was a beat-up garbage bin and a cat sneaking out from its top as the light brushed over it. Her shoulders dropped down as she let out a long breath. Turning around, her mind elsewhere, she walked toward her apartment only to bump into a particularly hard wall. Hard enough that she fell to the road on her bum. Her wand fell beside her. Leaning forward, rubbing her elbow as she reached back for her wand, she grumbled under her breath. Rising to her knees, she glanced up to curse at the wall only to falter as the wall became a shape.

"What the -" So many emotions swirled in her as her gaze came upon the face of Draco Malfoy. A smirk graced his features as he watched her from bright silver eyes. His arms crossed over his chest, he looked particularly unphased by their little bump.

"Hello, Granger." He replied as he reached down for her, wrapping his hands around her arms and pulling her up to stand on her feet.

"You're… alive," she whispered as she looked at him but those emotions swirling in her rose up. The pressure from earlier came back with a vengeance, rattling her bones. His gaze followed her movements closely. His smirk held an edge of darkness to it. An uneasy feeling dug into her spine causing her to shift on her feet. When his gaze flickered with her movement, that's when she realized she was prey . She was his prey.

"You're supposed to be dead," she said as she took a step back, her hand gripping her wand tighter.

"Is that so?" He followed with a step and a smile spread over his features. "Maybe I'm a figment of your imagination?"

Dread filled her. He couldn't know… he wasn't around then. He was supposed to be dead . Only Harry and Ron had known about her hallucinations. Her hallucinations that she had seen - "It was you! I did see you those years ago, didn't I?"

Draco didn't respond. He stepped closer. Leaning down, his cheek brushed hers as he whispered in her ear. "Oh, Granger, you clever witch." His hands wrapped around her wrists causing her to jolt at his grip but also at the coldness of his skin. She sucked in a breath.

She leaned back to look into his face. There in his gaze, she saw the shadows that flickered behind the silver of his eyes. Shadows that were all too familiar from her dreams, from that alleyway, and to the magic she had been studying. Eyes wide, she could only let out a hoarse gasp. "W-what are you?" A tremble taking over her body.

"Oh, sweetheart," he grinned. His teeth widened to show a feral smile as he leaned forward again. One hand released her wrist to come up and drag a long, cold finger down her cheek. "It matters not what I am, but what you are."

The fear in her grew like wildfire as his words brought about an inferno within her that was somehow both raging flames and icey cold. Sharp daggers of ice pierced at her heart. Tendrils of hot fire licked at her veins. She shook so violently, but somehow managed to ask, "A-and what am I?"

"Mate." He smiled so serenely that she could only wonder if the madness inside him was making him hallucinate. But sudden clarity came to her when realized why she recognized the shadows. A persistent pressure in the back of her mind had her wanting to pull away, but the longer she looked into that silver-flecked gaze, the quieter she became. She recognized that shadow because she knew that madness - it was the same madness she had suppressed for so long.

She felt the pressure begin to rise within her as the darkness spread around them. Closing her eyes, the world spun on its axis. When she opened her eyes, she looked into eyes of black, the silver only flickering through, on a once familiar face.

"Welcome home, mate."

Shadows welcomed her with open arms. Tendrils of the darkness flickered out, reaching for her. With only a moment of hesitation, she glanced around but when nothing familiar met her gaze, she walked into his arms. Her steps echoed hollowly off the stone walls. A soft thud matched the quiet beat of her heart as she walked toward him. Once in the shelter of his arms, the darkness encased the two and the pressure dissipated. In its place, a warmth unfamiliar to herself rose up from deep within her. A familiar feeling crept its way into her chest.

It was a feeling she thought long-forgotten.

Home.