Greyback walked into his tent, leaving Draco out on his own. Sire? What the hell? Draco looked around the room again, the two men who were fighting in the circle, were still going at it. Others were surreptitiously looking Draco's way, and the rest were staring openly at him. Draco's tent was situated closest to Greyback's, the rest of the tents in the room were arranged in a semi-circle around those two tents. It looked like the Quidditch World Cup camping grounds. Draco had no idea there were this many people living down there, he counted 15 men that he could see.

When Greyback and Draco entered the dueling arena, Draco was surprised to see it changed from last summer, the last time he was down here and before the Dark Lord and his followers had taken up residence at the Manor. Draco turned back around and ducked into his tent, thankfully, it was a standard wizarding tent, with all the amenities. If he had to camp in his own house, at least he had a toilet.

The first thing he did after he scoped out his tent situation was throw up a silencing charm around the tent. Then Draco allowed himself to freak out. He hexed every piece of furniture he could find and screamed and cried. He was a whirlwind of action, twirling around the tent, nothing was safe from his wand. How could this have happened? A few weeks ago he had been the Slytherin Prince, with the world at his feet. He was rich, and young, and his family was in high standing. He had been a little worried about this Dark Lord situation, but his father hadn't spoken much about Him. It was the change in his father's attitude that had him scared. And now here he was, a filthy half-breed. Draco gagged at that thought. No better than a mudblood, really. Fuck, why did this have to happen? What kind of punishment was this for his father? It was a punishment for him! He'd have to endure the hugely painful transformations every month for the rest of his life. He was the one who now had a whole new culture to learn to navigate. His father was locked up and couldn't help him now. He might not even ever see his father again.

Suddenly spent, Draco's wand clattered to the floor and his shoulders slumped. He sat heavily on the floor and held his head in his hands. A few tears leaked down his face as he sat amidst the destruction. Fuck. He didn't really feel any better after destroying everything in his tent. No way Greyback is going to let me be here by myself for too long. Pull it together, Draco. He wiped his face with his hands and looked around him. Debris was everywhere and he still needed to get his stuff from his room. He may not be allowed to stay in his bedroom, but he needed clothes to wear and his school trunk.

"Tink!"

Tink popped into place next to Draco, her eyes were wide as she eyed the mess in the tent, "Yes, Master Draco?"

"Fetch my school trunk and clothes, looks like I'm moving in with the werewolf pack I didn't know was living in my basement." Draco shook his head at the irony of that. He didn't even know who was all living in his own house? Wasn't that kind of fucked up?

Tink popped out and Draco stood slowly and surveyed the damage. Grasping his wand he started muttering Reparo's under his breath as the items in his tent fixed themselves. Slowly, Draco's tent started looking like it had when he walked in 30 minutes ago. His breathing had calmed and the sweat was drying on his back as Tink popped back in the room with his school trunk in tow.

Draco had just finished putting away his clothes in the small dresser provided when, a very old man walked through his tent flap. Draco had a look of surprise on his face, didn't anyone around here knock?

"You the Malfoy boy?" the old man asked in an American accent. He hardly had any hair left, and what he did have was wispy and grey, circling his head, the top left shiny and bald except for the liver spots. The old man bent over his cane and sniffed.

"Yes, I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco ran a hand through his hair trying to straighten it.

"Good, pull up a chair, we're gonna chat," the old man hobbled over to the small table and chairs in the dining area of his tent, he let out a loud sigh as he settled into one of the chairs.

Draco groaned to himself and flopped down in the other chair, he cocked an eyebrow at the presumptuous old man.

"My name's Arnou Mingan, I sired Fenrir," Mingan pulled out a wand that was just as gnarled as his fingers and brought the tea service to the table and began making himself a cup.

"Sired? What does that mean?" Draco was curious, but trying hard not to show it. He affected a bored countenance.

"Means I bit 'im to make 'im a wolf. Wannat on purpose, I shoulda been locked up, but I wasn't. And he's the result. He asked me to teach you 'bout werewolf culture. Can't find it in any book. It's passed down sire to pup." Mingan sighed as he took his first swallow of tea, he filled a second cup and slid it toward Draco.

"Pup?" Draco asked as he squeezed a bit of lemon into his teacup. He was still trying to hide his curiosity, but he couldn't find anything useful about werewolves prior to his bite. If he was going to be a werewolf, he'd be the best damn one there was.

"That's you, yer a pup, yer Fenrir's pup. He sired you, bit you dinnit he?"

Draco nodded, taking a sip of his own tea.

"Mmmhmm," Mingan set down his teacup and pulled a pipe out of his robes. He started packing it with tobacco and breathed deep after he had it lit.

"Well, let's see. Fenrir's an Alpha, not all wolves is Alphas. Alphas are sumpthin' special. I'm not an Alpha, not even a Beta. But at least I'm not an Omega. I was a lone wolf, tried to do what I could for Fenrir, but I didn't have a pack to support him. Packs are important to wolves, you survive longer as a wolf if you have a pack to look after you. I'm probably the oldest lone wolf in the world at 98." Ninety-eight isn't all that old for a wizard, but being a werewolf is hard on the body. That explains Mingan's bent appearance, Draco mused as he sipped his tea again.

"Ok, so a pack is good. Greyback has a pack here, he bit me, I'm part of his pack?" Draco was thinking quickly trying to put all the pieces together.

"Aye, you've a pack, pup. Greyback told me you were smart. He's hopin' you'll be Beta to him," Mingan eyed Draco through his pipe smoke and took another puff.

"What is a Beta? Everyone keeps telling me they want me to be his Beta, but I've never heard of the term before," Draco had lost the bored look and started looking interested. He wasn't even bothering to hide his curiosity anymore. Knowledge is power, and he needed all the knowledge he could get if he was going to have any power in this pack business.

"Beta is second in command, Alpha is the general, Beta is his lieutenant. Fenrir makes the orders, you advise him and make sure his orders are carried out. I don't know much 'bout this Dark Lord you got over 'ere, but Fenrir tells me ya'll are workin' for him?" Mingan puffed on his pipe some more, when he wasn't able to inhale any smoke, he tapped the bowl and looked down into it.

"Yes, we are working for the Dark Lord. Greyback wants me to be second in command? Why me? There have to be at least 15 other people out there," Draco gestured to the room beyond his tent. "And hasn't he bit hundreds of people? Where are they all?"

"Just cuz yer bit doesn't mean yer pack, firstly. The men you see here are pack. Sometimes you bite someone and they don't want nothin' to do with you, or they are their own Alpha. Or they don't survive the initial bite. Used ta be a Chief Alpha who was in charge of all the packs in Europe, he always had the largest pack. I don't right know, but I 'spect that's what Greyback is hopin' to achieve here."

"So I'd be Chief Beta?" Draco liked the sound of that, power was good. All Malfoy's knew that.

"Sumpin like 'at. Let's not worry about tha' jus' yet. As to why all those other fella's won't be Beta, well, maybe one of 'em will be. See, ya gotta fight for Beta, and the Alpha's gotta accept ya as Beta. Greyback's last Beta got himself killed, so he's needin' a new one and he don't want any of those men out there. You as smart as they all say, you'd be good for Beta.

"Beta's are strategists, top advisers, gotta be smart, gotta know the lore, gotta know the political clime. 'S why you were bit, I 'spect. Malfoy's got a lot o' political power behind 'em. Greyback needs a strong Beta in order to make hisself Chief Alpha. Ain't been a Chief Alpha in 400 years, not since Statute of Secrecy was established."

Mingan filled Draco in on more were culture, pack rules and roles. There was a lot Draco didn't know. There were almost as many pack rules as there were pure-blood etiquette rules. Who could eat first when the pack sat down for the meal. Who was allowed to vie for a new position in the pack. How to vie for a new position in the pack. What happened when you lost your position in the pack. It was a lot to take in. Mingan finished his pipe as he was talking and tucked it back into his robes.

"What's an Omega? Sounds bad," Draco finally asked.

"Omega's not what anyone wants ta be. They're the bottom of the totem pole, so to speak. They're the scapegoats and always vying to get higher in the pack if they can. Usually only one or two of them, dependin' on the size of the pack."

"So, if Greyback's the Alpha, I'm the Beta, there's only one Omega, what are the rest of the wolves?" This werewolf stuff was a lot more convoluted than Draco had ever imagined.

"Pack, they're jus' pack," Mingan finished his cup of tea and leaned back with a sigh.

"Why aren't there any women? I've never heard of a woman werewolf before?"

"Women don't survive the change. Werewolves can have mates, they're rare though. If you find your mate, you hold on to her."

"How will I know if I have a mate?" Draco was only 16, he knew his parents had been thinking about setting up a marriage contract for him, but he didn't like the idea of being tied down to one woman for the rest of his life at 16.

"You smell 'er. Instinct, I'm told. Never had a mate myself. You smell yer mate and you'll know. Works both ways though, she smells you, she'll start hangin' 'round more. Once you bond, she'll have some of the same wolfy characteristics you have, but without bein' a were. Ask Fenrir 'bout bonded, I'm too old for tha' talk. Chances are if you ever find yer mate it won't be fer years yet. Like I said, mates are rare. I don' think any of the wolves in Fenrir's pack got a mate."

Mingan stood slowly, "Tha's enough for today, pup. I'll be 'round camp, you got anymore questions. I ain't pack, but Fenrir tolerates me hangin' 'round."

Draco had a lot to mull over after Mingan had left. Being a werewolf hadn't even sunk in yet, he had 26 days until his first change. He'd be lying if he wasn't scared about that. He knew the change would be painful, he wasn't too afraid of the pain, but losing his mind? That terrified him.


Draco was lying on his bed in his very own tent in the middle of a werewolf encampment that was housed in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Suddenly, a bell rang throughout the room. Draco left his tent to and saw that the dueling circle had been filled with tables loaded with food. Thank Merlin! Draco was starving, he started walking toward the feast at the center of the room.

Greyback loped up next to Draco, "Alright, pup?"

"Yes, Mingan just left," Draco fell into step beside Greyback.

"Good, he's a good resource, knows all the lore, I can't keep up with all that. Hopefully you are better with it than I am. You'll be sitting with me for meals. Need to find out if you're the Beta material your crazy aunt thinks you are."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that. Aunt Bella was the Dark Lord's right hand lieutenant, it wasn't often that someone who wasn't family talked about her like that. That would be a comment to mule over in the coming weeks.

Dinner progressed much as it did at Hogwarts, lots of people eating and talking. Greyback listened as Draco gave him a report on what Mingan had told him. He asked Greyback a few questions about who was who in the pack. Draco didn't recognize anyone else in the room.

"I'm the only Death Eater, the Dark Lord didn't want them all. Just me. Suits me, means they are under my control and not the Dark Lord's. But He does plan to continue to use me as punishment, so we might catch a few Death Eater's along the way. I'm going to have Mingan see you each morning to discuss more lore and Were politics."

Greyback gestured to the man sitting to his left, "This is Rand, he's going to get you started on your physical training in the afternoons."

"Physical training?" Draco asked, helping himself to seconds.

"Sparring, hand-to-hand, what you saw the lads doing when you came in."

"But, I'm a wizard, why would I need to learn to fight physically?" Draco wasn't necessarily opposed to exercise, he was a Quidditch player after all, but he didn't know why he needed to learn how to fight physically when he had a wand and magic at his disposal.

"And when you're disarmed? What then? Most wizards, especially pure-bloods," Rand spat, "won't be expecting a physical attack. Besides, being physically fit helps with your transformations, and being a wolf in general. Gets you in tune to your body and your inner wolf. Your first transformation is coming up in three weeks and if we don't get you in fighting form, you are not going to have a good time of it."

Draco nodded at that and took a drink of his pumpkin juice. That made sense, he sure had been shocked as hell when that crazy Granger bint slapped him back in third year.

"We'll get started after lunch, pup," Rand told him as he pushed back from the table and walked away.

"Rand's gruff, but he's a good instructor. Listen to him and you'll be in fighting shape in no time. I expect you to be here in the dueling court most of the time, you can go upstairs to see your mother occasionally, but your childhood bedroom is off limits. You have to live with the pack if you expect to be Beta." Greyback pushed back from the table as well and loped off to speak with a pack member Draco didn't know.

Great, not only am I a werewolf, I have to live with a bunch of other werewolves and strangers to boot, Draco huffed to himself. He was not looking forward to the rest of the summer. He was in werewolf boot camp and he still had to figure out how to kill Dumbledore. Maybe he could just maul him at a full moon? Draco shuddered at that thought. That was definitely off the list. He would have to think of some other options. Did Greyback know what his task was? He hadn't been in the room when the Dark Lord gave the task to Draco. His Aunt Bella knew about the task, but that didn't mean that Greyback also knew. Greyback could become a valuable ally in this new world Draco was forced to navigate. He had always done his best to be the best Malfoy he could. Now that he was a werewolf he would have to make his own rules about what being the best Malfoy meant.


After the meal was over, the tables vanished and Rand waved him over to the center of the circle. Another werewolf was there, Rand introduced him as Seff. Seff was very average looking, maybe a year or two older than Draco. He was in a word, forgettable. He was average height, shorter than Draco, and had mousy brown hair and ordinary brown eyes.

"Seff's an Omega, he probably won't ever be higher than Omega. So he'll be a good training partner for you to start with."

Draco scoffed, "Surely, if you are grooming me to be Beta, I'll be better than a lowly Omega."

Seff lifted an eyebrow and looked at Rand. Rand nodded.

The next thing Draco knew he was flat on his back and Seff was sitting cross-legged on his chest. Rand bent over and looked at Draco, smirking.

"You're a pup, even an Omega can beat a pup. You aren't Beta yet."

Draco grumbled to himself as Seff climbed off his chest. Seff held out a hand to help Draco off the floor, and Draco ignored it, pushing himself to standing.

"Ok, so how did you do that? I didn't even see you move!" Draco shrugged off his robes and tossed them to the side of the circle. He unbuttoned his shirt at his wrists and started rolling up his sleeves as Seff explained the moves to him.

Rand jumped in, "You're a pup, you don't have all your wolf senses yet. Your hearing will get sharper, your nose will get better, your vision too. And of course, your reflexes will improve. After your first change, you should be up and running as far as your senses go. We'll be practicing getting you in shape for your first change. It's always a doozy."

Draco glanced down at his trim body and back up at Rand. Rand laughed at the look on his face.

"Aye, you aren't fat, but that doesn't mean you're in shape. Quidditch only does so much. Take a look around at the rest of the wolves here," Rand gestured at the rest of the room.

Draco turned in a slow circle taking in all the other men in the large room. The one thing they had in common was that most of them were pretty brawny. Draco was slim, slimmer than his father, even his father wouldn't be considered brawny, broad at best.

"Am I going to look like the rest of them?" Draco was a little incredulous. How could his body change that much?

Rand laughed again, "Oh yes, pup, you'll bulk up. Only wolves who don't bulk are loners and sometimes Omega's. The rest of us bulk within the first year of being bit if we're bit as adults. If we're bit as kids, then it happens during puberty. You'll be buying new clothes by Christmas, mark my words."

Rand directed Seff and Draco through several more move combinations. Seff beat Draco every time. By the time Rand had finally called it quits, Draco was beat. He had sweat rolling down his face and was panting hard.

"Pretty good for your first session, pup," Greyback called walking up to the circle. Draco turned to look at him. He was dressed in Death Eaters' robes and had his mask in his hand.

"Dark Lord's called a revel for tonight, I'll be back late. Omegas will have dinner out in 30 minutes," Greyback told Draco as he walked out of the door. Seeing Greyback in his Death Eater's robes had Draco suddenly very glad he hadn't received the Dark Mark. He was glad he didn't have to attend revels, his Aunt Bella had cornered him several times in the last three weeks waxing poetic about revels. It was everything Draco could do to keep a straight face and not grimace at her descriptions.

Draco left the circle and went to his tent to shower before dinner. He was going to be in pain tomorrow. He had worked harder that afternoon than he had at any Quidditch practice he had ever attended. He could only hope that everyone was right and that the hard work would pay off when his first transition rolled around. It would be here in 25 days.


A/N: Newly beta'd by twztdwildcat!