Draco stood stiffly on the platform as his parents said goodbye. He barely heard the stilted admonitions of his father on the proper behaviour and expectations, kissed his mother on the cheek, and got on the train. With a sense of wild exhilaration he found an empty compartment and stowed his luggage, pulled down the shade, and cast a locking charm on the door. He opened his trunk, turning the knob to unfold it upward to include a wardrobe and makeup table with a large mirror surrounded by lights. He sang softly to himself "When I was a young boy my father took me into the city…" as he applied eyeliner with the deftness of near daily secret practice and undid the smoothing charm on his hair so that it spilled into his eyes. He performed spells and added cologne and changed into some of his new muggle clothing before throwing his uniform over it and, folding his trunk into its compact shape again, he sat back and cast an unlocking spell at his doorway just as the door was flung open. A wide-eyed Pansy Parkinson stood there, Blaise Zabini staring over her shoulder, Crabbe and Goyle crowded in behind.

"There you are Draco! We were looking everywhere! What happened to…" She paused, recalibrating her question. "What happened to your face?"

"Don't stand there gawking, Pansy. It's so uncouth," he drawled, mask of the pureblood firmly in place. This was the test. He had to make it too casual for anyone to write home about and ruin his freedom. "I'm only testing out a variety of styles. It gets so boring always doing the same thing. Oh, come in, sit down Pansy, Blaise, anyone else hovering out there."

Blaise was looking at him in intrigued fascination. Pansy still looked to be in shock when they arrived at Hogwarts.

He managed to get through the feast alright, all the chaos of First Years being sorted, the Slytherins around him only staring in something like horrified fascination as he drawled and acted his most haughty self, tossing the hair out of his eyes occasionally, enjoying the way it moved, enjoying the way the eyes of those around him could not look away.

"I cannot believe you pierced your lip!" Pansy said, at last, as the bustle of students leaving the hall awoke her at last from the stunned near silence she had been uncharacteristically holding for hours. "I cannot believe your parents LET you!"

"Or your eyebrow!" Blaise added, his admiration obvious.

"Or your nose." This from Vincent.

"It's only piercings," he waved his hand, "easily healed and removed at any time. I don't see what you are all so concerned about. It's very strange." He'd healed them immediately when he entered the manor after getting them done, all in one sitting by a very dubious woman with more tattoos than bare flesh, and cast a disillusionment charm until he had reached his bedroom. He'd spent the rest of the summer removing them every time he left his room, and his wand ready to disguise them by magic in any unexpected circumstance.

"And the holes in your trousers!"

"Ripped jeans are very fashionable!"

They were walking through the halls now.

"Aren't they a muggle fashion, though?" Pansy wrinkled her nose and looked anxious. And what will SNAPE say?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but they are going into style in Paris and I don't want to be behind," Draco said, entirely convincingly, if the nods of his friends could be believed. Blaise looked ready to dash off to buy his own and start piercing his face. "But Snape is behind the times, I'll probably avoid the look in class. Style is so hard to maintain in the face of such stagnant attitudes." This got raised eyebrows all around. Pansy still looked as though she thought he'd gone mad.

After his initial bout of courage, Draco dressed fairly conventionally for class. He wasn't, just yet, quite ready to face Snape, so he disillusioned his piercings, wore only a LITTLE eyeliner, and kept his fashionable touches discreet. At last, though, came Hogsmeade weekend and Draco was more determined than he had ever been to dress EXACTLY how he wanted. Skin-crawlingly desperate, in fact, to dress in the way he felt expressed himself. It took him well over an hour to get ready, and by the time he came down, his face and hair temporarily disguised by an illusion spell and his robe buttoned tight over his clothing, Pansy and Blaise (Crabbe and Goyle had detention already) were pacing impatiently. "THERE you are, come on, we are wasting time!"

They hurried out and past Snape, who was supervising Filch as he checked the permission slips of the students, both men scowling suspiciously. Once outside in the open air, Draco almost ran, thrilled at the freedom. He undid the illusion spell right before the left the grounds, and unbuttoned his robe, throwing it over his arm in careless delight as he hurried on, Pansy and Blaise on his heels.

"Slow down! What in Merlin's name, Draco?" Blaise panted. Draco twirled, his plaid miniskirt flaring out as he grinned in delight, the dangling chains on his belt clanking. But he slowed for his friends now that they were outside. There were no other students in sight, presumably already in Hogsmeade, and Draco breathed the air of freedom and personal satisfaction with himself, his plaid skirt, his belt with the dangling chains and spikes, his torn fishnet leggings, his wonderful platform goth boots, his long-sleeved mesh shirt, his face and ear piercings with the chains and muggle crosses hanging from them, his spiked collar. His dark red eyeshadow and heavy black liner and black lipstick. He looked unbelievably amazing. He wanted Potter to see him. He wanted to see Potter's jaw drop, and the Weasel's face turn red with awe at Draco's dazzling, daring, delightful style. This was going to be brilliant. His friends were staring at him as though he were insane, but Draco did not miss the longing and intrigue in their eyes. He stopped. Still no other students. He dropped his bag on the ground and began to pull things out. A skirt for Pansy, a second pair of his shredded jeans for Blaise, they were too large on him anyway, several shirts, belts, accessories. He stepped back, grinning, as they held armfuls of clothing options. "Go on, go on. Be fashionable. Let's dazzle everyone with our brilliant, daring fashion." He said, completely confident in his ability to get his friends to become just slightly less dazzling and beautiful versions of himself, there to highlight and compliment, but not outshine. Blaise took only a moment, and he was behind a nearby shrub, tossing off his clothing and struggling into Draco's. Pansy, for all her protestations, was only a moment behind. Draco would not allow them to get away without eyeliner and eyeshadow, lipstick, proper accessories, but not quite as dazzling as his own. Then, shoving everything else back into his bag, they walked on. Draco lit a cigarette, prompting Blaise to ask to try one, though this only led to an embarrassing coughing fit and he settled for holding it in what he felt to be an interesting way.

The stares were absolutely worth it. Even better than expected. They walked down the street in V formation, Draco taking point, smoking his cigarette with a style and aplomb that came only from many hours in front of a small hand mirror behind one of the hedges in the garden.

"What. The. Fuck."

Draco turned, a smile lighting his face beatifically, his skirt flaring beautifully, his hair flipping to cover one eye, and there was Potter, flanked by the Weasel and Granger. What a lovely, perfect moment. His face, stunned; his dull muggle clothing, inferior; his hair, a messy, unstylish disaster. And his friends just as dull and uninteresting as he was. What a beautiful, perfect moment.

"Draco!" The moment shattered. He looked over Potter's shoulder, and there was his father, bearing down on him, an expression of such furious horror on his face that Draco wanted to turn and run. Too late, huge platform goth boots too heavy for agility, anyway, was his last gloomy thought before his father stood over him.

"What," he asked, coldly, "Is this?"

"I'm having a phase," Draco drawled, aiming for cool and unconcerned. "It's nothing to-"

His father gripped his arm, fingers digging in painfully, and he was apparated away, the last thing he saw the matching looks of horror and shock of his friends, Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

Standing in the drawing room in the manor, his mother sitting in frozen shock, his father cold and staring, Draco felt hot and icy cold in waves, the prickling feeling of wondering what was coming next almost too much to bear. The silence stretched on, until he could no longer bear it. Clearing his throat and standing very straight he said, very calmly, "Hello Mother. I did not expect to see you again so soon."

"I…can see that." She choked out. "Lucius, what is this about? Draco, why, why are you…?" She seemed as much at a loss for words as Lucius.

"Draco," Lucius found his voice at last, his tone low and cold, "Surely you understand what a mistake you have made."

"You wouldn't understand! You don't understand anything about me!" Draco cried, suddenly fierce. "You only tell me what to do, how to be a perfectly little copy of you. Well, I can't do it. I'm sorry."

"And I am sorry for what I must do." His father's spell hit Draco a moment later.

A moment later, house elves cowered as shrieks and horrific screams rang throughout the manor.