A/n: Hello! Welcome, friends! A few things you should know before we begin: this story is inspired by the headcanon of a miss peppermonster on tumblr, so credit to her for the idea. Second, a portion if this chapter is basically lifted directly from HBP. It's important to the story, you'll see why, but it has been changed around to fit Draco's point of view. All of the dialogue is the same in this part and most of the… er… stage direction. Other than that, everything else is my original writing. Enjoy! Don't forget to Favorite, Follow, and Review!

Rated M for graphic sexual situations, violence, and lots of bad language ;)

They say the devil is an artist, and if that's so, then maybe I am his greatest piece yet.

Draco Malfoy examined himself in the long, full length mirror in his bathroom. He was naked, beads of water dripped down his freshly showered body. He looked up and down himself, he had toned muscles from quidditch, but he was thinner, he thought. His skin had a greyish tinge to it, and there were purple bags under his eyes. He sighed, drying himself with a fluffy white towel and pulled on his favorite silk pajamas.

School was starting soon and Draco couldn't wait to get back. After a summer filled with limited communication from everybody, he was excited for some human interaction, even if it was with people he generally despised.

Hogwarts offered a certain warmth that the Malfoy Manor did not. Although Draco loved his home- with its large floor to ceiling windows and numerous libraries and fireplaces- it was a lonely place. It was cold, as if people didn't actually live there. It was silent, so much different from the din of a thousand voices that reverberated constantly (except when everyone was sleeping) from the solid stone walls. He missed the torch lights dancing along the corridor floors, and he missed the way the smell of breakfast or lunch or dinner would waft through the air and tickle the nose of anybody who happened to inhale sharply.

He missed the way the rain would patter lightly against the glass, and the way he could watch the sun reflect off the lake in the common room. He missed being with familiar people, and he missed learning. He missed absorbing knowledge and grinding his teeth over a tough assignment in the dark, in a secluded corner of the library at 3 o'clock in the morning. He missed pumpkin juice and the way the rich foods would sit in his stomach at the end of the day, warming him from head to toe and making his eyelids heavy.

He missed the parties that the older Slytherins would throw, and how they occasionally got rowdy and out of hand. He missed the smell of girls, and their near constant presence around him. He was never want for a female's touch. He missed the little things. He missed the place he felt most alive and most comfortable. In a sense, he missed his real home.

Sinking into the pillows on his large, elaborately carved, mahogany bed, Draco sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing the platinum strands that had been stuck to his head in their semi-dry state. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of his down comforter envelope is weary body.

The next morning he woke early, the sun hadn't yet made an appearance, and he opened the door of his balcony. The cool morning air licked his skin, beckoning him outside. He pulled on a robe, fondled in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and, placing one delicately between his lips, lit it with the tip of his wand. Normally this would be illegal; The Ministry would be on his ass in a heartbeat. But he was a Malfoy. He had connections. He didn't follow laws like normal people.

He inhaled the smoke, dragging it deep into his lungs, and then exhaled, blowing it above his head. The smell of tobacco lingered on his skin, in his hair, as the tendrils twirled around him. He finished it, watching the embers glow and turn to ash, eventually crumbling and falling off onto the ground in front of him. It struck him as almost ironic how much a human life could be so much like a flake of ash: burning bright and hot and then eventually crumbling and turning grey and cold. The human soul was fragile, Draco thought. Good thing he wasn't so weak.

He got ready for and usually went about his day like this: First he styled his hair, making sure it looked effortlessly smooth. Then, he picked out his outfit for the day from his large walk in closet. Unsurprisingly, most of his clothes he owned were some shade of grey or black or green. He took care to wash his face, fix any imperfections that may have shown up overnight, and brush his teeth. He didn't eat breakfast. He just couldn't stomach (no pun intended) feeling so full so early in the morning. Instead, he drank a large cup of coffee or tea, whatever tickled his fancy at the time. He usually greeted his mother, who was at her customary end of the dining room table, with a swift kiss on the cheek. Draco would maybe take a walk, if the weather was nice. If not he would retreat to his own study and read or find something to occupy his time. Occasionally he would go out somewhere. Draco liked being alone around people that he didn't know, and people that he knew didn't care about him. He could be invisible. He could blend in, which was a luxury he didn't often have the good fortune of experiencing.

Today, however, he didn't have the time for himself. He was accompanying his mother to Diagon Alley to pick up his school supplies. She, being Narcissa Malfoy, could have easily had all of it delivered to the Manor, or even directly to Hogwarts if she so wished. But she didn't often get the chance to go out unaccompanied by Lucius (currently rotting in a cell in Azkaban, much to both of their dismay), and Narcissa took the chance as often as she could (although not as if she had a chance at the moment). Not that she didn't enjoy being seen with her husband - she loved him fiercely and deeply – but she was a proud, independent woman. She wanted people to know that Lucius didn't rule her. He was not an iron fist that squeezed the life out of her. He was simply her partner. Her other half, maybe, but she could and would survive without him. She was not a fragile doll, and as the current head of the Malfoy family, she had a duty to keep up their public image, to be seen in a good light, together as a family, as often as possible.

The two departed around eight thirty, Narcissa apparating them directly into Diagon Alley. They got Draco's books-pausing to browse in Flourish and Blotts (Draco picked up a few extra books to treat his eventual, crushing boredom)- his potions ingredients, and all of the basic necessities he would need for the year ahead of him. They were in Madame Malkin's when his mother truly started to irritate him. As much as he loved her, her constant presence made it even harder than usual for him to slip away quietly, or walk unnoticed. She was too ostentatious.

"I'm not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

Madame Malkin tsked at him as she continued to alter the dress robes he was trying on. They were a handsome dark green color that flattered his tall figure nicely. She was pinning up the sleeves when she interjected into their conversation, "Now, dear, you mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child-"

He scowled deeply, who did she think she was?

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you?" He snapped loudly at her. He stepped off the platform to examine himself in the mirror. It was just as he was admiring the cut of the collar that he noticed the three of them standing behind him. His steely grey eyes narrowed. "If you're wondering what that smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in."

Madame Malkin scurried out from behind a clothes rack, her wand in one hand and a tape measure in the other. Her ruddy face was scrunched into a frown. "I don't think there's any need for language like that!" She turned toward where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop, either!" Her eyes widened at Harry and Ron, who both had their wands out, and carefully trained on Draco.

"No, don't, honestly it's not worth it..." Hermione squeaked softly.

He smirked. She had a black eye. "Yeah, like you'd dare do magic outside of school. Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"That's quite enough!" Madam Malkin said with an air of attempted authority. She looked desperately over her shoulder toward Narcissa for assistance. "Madam – Please – "

Narcissa strolled out from behind a clothes rack, her shoulders tall, her eyes narrow and glinting. "Put those away." She said coldly, "And if you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

Harry Potter boldly stepped forward. "Really?" He said. He was as tall as Narcissa, now. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

Madam Malkin clutched at her chest. "Really, you shouldn't accuse - dangerous thing to say – wands away, please!"

When Harry didn't lower his wand, Narcissa smiled unpleasantly at him. "I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

Harry's eyes darted wildly around the shop, mocking Narcissa. "Wow… look at that… he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Draco stepped angrily toward Harry, ready to throttle him, but the unhemmed robe hindered him, and he tripped. Weasley guffawed loudly. Draco snarled. "Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!"

Narcissa placed her slender white fingers warningly on his shoulder. "It's alright, Draco. I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

Harry's eyes were crackling with rage. He raised his wand higher.

Hermione jumped forward and attempted to force his arms down to his sides. If Draco wasn't so angry, it might have been comical.

"Harry no!" She whispered. "Think… You mustn't… You'll be in such trouble!"

Madam Malkin shifted her feet, unsure of how to proceed. She eventually bent down towards Draco, who was still glaring at Harry, and fiddled with the sleeve of the robes. "I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just- "

"Ouch!" Draco yelped, swatting her hand away forcefully. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don't think I want these anymore – " He pulled them quickly over his head and dropped them unceremoniously at Madam Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco." She glared at Hermione, her nose turned up in disgust. "Now I know the kind of scum that shops here… We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

The two exited the shop, striding tall. Draco took extra care to hit Weasley as hard as he possibly could without causing even more of a scene. They continued down the street, finishing all of their shopping, when Narcissa suddenly spotted one of her friends. They stopped to chat for a few minutes before the other woman invited Narcissa to tea at her home.

"What, now?" Draco interrupted.

"Yes." The woman smiled coldly at him.

He frowned. His mother turned to him. "Don't get into anything that you can't get out of. Return home once you've finished with your…" she paused, "errands."

He nodded, watching them stride away and into the crowd. He turned, slipping down the street, past the obscenely brightly colored Weasley's Wizard Whatevers and into Knockturn Alley. He opened the door to Borgin and Burkes, the bell tinkled softly. Borgin emerged from the shadows.

"Mr. Malfoy," A sly grin unfolded itself across his features. "How may I help you, today?"

Malfoy ran his fingers along the display case in front of him. Multiple skulls stared up at him, their empty eye sockets mirroring a howling black abyss. He started.

"I have a cabinet," He began. "A vanishing cabinet. It's broken and I need it to be fixed. Would you know how to fix it?"

Borgin shrugged noncommittally. "Possibly. I would need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't. It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Borgin licked his lips nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" Draco questioned, raising his eyebrows and sneering at the greasy little man. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

He lifted his left sleeve up to reveal a very large scar on his forearm. Sharp crescent moon teeth marks glittered in the low light of the shop. Borgin stepped back, his face pale and frightened.

"Tell anyone," Said Malfoy, "And there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for –"

"I'll decide that. Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe. I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

Borgin broke into a reluctant grin. "Of course not… sir." And then he gave a deep, sweeping bow.

Draco's smirk quickly collapsed into a serious, piercing glare. "Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, Naturally." Borgin assured him lightly.

Draco turned on his heel and excited the shop, a small smile playing across his sharp features.
That had gone better than he had expected, especially since he was counting on the scar on his arm to strike fear right into Mr. Borgin's heart.

Because, this wasn't just a normal, ordinary scar. It was a very distinctive scar, one only a small group of people had, one that would bring shame upon his family if the secret ever got out.

You see, Draco Malfoy had become a werewolf.

A/n: Like it? Hate it? Can't wait to read more? Let me know! Make sure to Favorite, Follow, and Review. You can also follow me (and shoot me a message) on tumblr, my URL is slytherinsnitches!