Disclaimer: I own not a thing.

Chapter warnings: Well this chapter was for more exploration of the social interactions, and how sulky Draco can be when he has an audience. All in all, this is more light hearted than the last few, but it was fun to write none the less. There is some cursing though, I think.

"I am not ready for this, not even a little bit," muttered Draco darkly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, sulking. He was tired, and his very veins ached, and being surrounded by common born muggles was doing nothing for his mood. He glared darkly at Pansy and Blaise, even though he allowed her to link her elbow around his arm. They had insisted that nothing was different, and that he needed to stop hiding in his room. It was only two weeks until Hogwarts, and none of them had picked out any books, clothes or anything. It was tradition that the three of them went together, but Draco hadn't been released back into the real world by the Dark Lord until a few days ago. And if he hadn't been specifically ordered too, he wouldn't be going to Hogwarts at all. Its not like he could ever be a successful real wizard ever, so what the hell was the point of an education.

"Stop wallowing, Draco, we can buy outrageous muggle clothes and make our mums squeal," Pansy said in a patient manner, her peace offering almost making him smile. Almost.

He allowed himself to be dragged along, sulking, and refusing to participate in Blaise and Pansy's inane chatter. He was sore, and annoyed, and his head hurt, as it usually did these days, and he was exhausted. But Pansy was right, he needed new clothes, his current ones hung off his body in unattractive fashions that made him look like the homeless cousin of Draco Malfoy.

All he could think about as he watched his friends pick out things they needed was how much he wanted to not be here. Not have to go to school. Not still be alive. There was a slight chance that he was being over dramatic, but it was unfair, and he was used to not being swamped in depression like some common teenage bint.

He wasn't even aware of what Pansy had picked out for him at this bookshop, just threw money at the sales witch and stalked after Pansy. How the hell did she even know what classes he was taking, he eyed her suspiciously, surmising that she probably paid a house elf to nick his schedule. Crafty witch.

Blaise joined him in his dreary, sulking vigil once they were in Twilifit and Tattings. Pansy was throwing robes around, joyful sales witches helping her find clothes for herself, maybe the boys, maybe a whole army, it would be hard to tell, with the sheer amount of clothes being tossed about.

"So how's the past couple of weeks been?" Blaise asked lightly.

Draco made no eye contact, and just shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh you know. Summer time is tedious for me, since I don't tan."

Blaise didn't push him, but his lips pursed slightly, indicating that the tall, dark haired boy was not ready to accept being pushed off forever.

The rest of the day passed in a similar vein, Pansy dragging them to some stores, Blaise dragging them into some others, as they made their way down Diagon Alley, to the end. Here, there was a new shop for muggle clothing, a shop that both Draco and Pansy's mothers despised.

Once inside, Draco perked up a bit, and gleefully picked out some muggle clothes, relishing how ruffled his mother would be. He even picked out some blue jeans, which his mother would surely faint at, they were so deliciously common. And he found a shirt with the words Sex Pistols emblazoned on it. He wasn't entirely sure what a sex pistol was, but the shirt said Sex across it, and as any 16 year old boy might, he thought was amusingly vulgar. Blaise found an odd pink feathery thing, and then the two boys spent the rest of the time, trying to sneak the most absurd articles of clothing they could find into Pansy's stack of garmets. Draco almost felt human again when he found himself sitting between his friends, lounging in the sun, eating ice cream from that odd little mans ice cream shop. Between bites of delicious coffee ice-cream, he reluctantly decided that perhaps he wouldn't have an awful time at Hogwarts. Maybe.

Then, the afternoon was ruined. Granger and one of the thousands of Weasley's swept past, calling in hysterics for their High Lord Potter. They turned to Draco's friends, and screeched about the loss of their one and only prince of light, savior of the world, saintly, and loving Potter. Draco closed his eyes, remembering Lupin's words. Calm. Calm. He breathed in slowly, opened his eyes and stared at a blank wall across the alley. Empty mind.

These days when he got upset, it did not go well. He wasn't the same as he used to be, and his magic had warped. It was stronger than he was used too but it was also not something he could control yet. The Dark Lord had had Snape imbue him with strained blood of magical creatures, that had been modified. He had run similar tests with muggles unsuccessfully, but since Draco's incident Draco had been an acceptable candidate for the next step. He was a pureblood, had good strong magic, but was no longer considered top tier because of Greyback's lovely germs, and so could be tainted. The non-human magic was hard to wield, and he would sometimes either transform into his werewolf form if his emotions ran too high. Sometimes, other things would happen, like random things catching fire, or sometimes things would change color. And sometimes, lately, his forced animagus form would happen uncontrollably. The dark lord had not trusted the control Draco might have as a werewolf, and had demanded that under the scrutiny of several very powerful Death Eaters, Draco take a stab at learning how to be an animagus. It was tricky magic, and Draco couldn't really control his magic that well anymore to begin with.

Long story short, he had to try to ignore things such as aggressive Weasley's and mudbloods flailing in his presence. No fighting. Pain caused him to react the worst, which saved him from the crutiatus curse unless he really deserved it, and if a weasel was to punch him right now, it would not end well for anyone involved.

He was jarred out of his meditation by someone grabbing his arm. His eyes snapped to the girl Weasel's face, narrowing dangerously. He clenched his jaw, trying to control himself, his magic thrumming powerfully. Blaise was on his feet in a flash, but had stilled, not wanting to alarm Draco.

"I don't know where your precious lover is. Unhand me," he managed, through gritted teeth, not making eye contact with her. Ginger or whatever, huffed something, moving into his line of sight again haughtily. There was a rushing sound in his ears, but he clung to his control.

"Unhand me, blood traitor," He hissed, wrenching his arm from her grasp and standing, to try and at least intimidate her out of his sight. Before he could fathom what was happening, she raised her hand and slapper him as hard as she could. He flinched, and felt, with dread, his skin start to feel fiery. He turned to Blaise, his eyes wild, shaking his head. "Get me out of here," he muttered, letting Blaise put his arm under Draco's armpit, dragging him down the street, into Knockturn alley, while Draco staved off his spiraling magic. Pansy was hopefully handling the situation, and as soon as Blaise dragged Draco into the floo, Draco blacked out, and the pain swallowed him whole.