Disclaimer: Cover art is by Elentori, so thanks to her for the beautiful image that fits so well with this story. Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. However, my OCs belong to me and this AU I have created, is entirely my idea.

AN: I have a few things to say before you start this story. I do try to combine the best bits from the books and movies together in this fic, cause I don't want to condemn either - movies and books are completely different and people shouldn't hate one or the other because of that. It is also important to note that most of the story is from Draco's perspective. The narrative sometimes switches to other characters in order to add backstory and context (anyone who has read my earlier fics knows I love flashbacks), but apart from that it is mostly from Draco's perspective. However, that does not mean I agree with Draco or his family's prejudices. In fact, I think the character is a right brat, but I also know that, just like Harry, Draco was only a boy. He was human. This story is not meant to excuse all of what he did in the original books, or offer a redemption arc that Draco didn't receive in canon. I simply want to write from Draco's perspective, show a different side to a story that Harry's limited POV couldn't show us. Most of all, I want to show that everything isn't as black and white as it seems. And write an AU. Marie Kondo said if it doesn't spark joy throw it out and that's my philosophy on canon, basically.

Also, I have reviews commenting on how they thought this fic might turn out to be a drarry fic. Sorry, but thats not happening. Respect to the other hp ships, but I'm afraid my otp is dramione. Though that isn't happening in this fic, it may come into this universe I've created eventually. Just forewarning y'all.

To those

who read by flashlight

who see dragons in the clouds

who feel most alive in worlds that never were

who know magic is real

This is for you

CHAPTER 1

A Child's Cry

Malfoy Manor, 1993.

Tears rolled unwanted down Draco Malfoy's cheeks as he furiously clawed at his arm, trying desperately to tear away the albino scales that had grown there.

He stood in front of one of the tall mirrors that decorated his personal en-suite found in the West Wing of Malfoy Manor, a Wing that had been solely his since he was old enough to walk. He was only wearing a pair of thin, grey silk pajama bottoms, leaving him shirtless, his thin body doing no favours to make the distressed boy look like the powerful facade he showed everyone at Hogwarts - even his torso and arms were now covered in patches of reptilian scales. His wand was laid on top of the sink behind him, along with a thick enchantments book about Transfiguration, but they could not help him. Nothing could.

At first, Draco had thought the presence of the pure-white scales that now lined his forearm instead of skin was the result of a cruel prank that his fellow classmates had bestowed on him just before they left Hogwarts after their second year. The scales had first shown up not long after his thirteenth birthday in the beginning of June, and since then he'd tried every counter spell he could think of. He figured out how to disable the monitoring charm on his wand after his first year at Hogwarts, so the Ministry was none the wiser at his blatant disregard for Statue of Secrecy that had led to Underage Wizards not being able to use magic outside of Hogwarts.

He hadn't told his parents because, well, they were his parents. He knew his mother would have a right fit and he hadn't been able to stomach the idea of seeing the look of disappointment his father would give him. He'd grown quite accustomed to seeing that look cross his father's face, and nowadays he tried everything to avoid it. Not to mention the fact that his father had been sacked from the board of Hogwarts Governors after the Basilisk had been defeated, leaving his father in a fouler mood than ever before.

Now, after two weeks of not only the scales not disappearing, but also spreading to other parts of his body, he was glad he hadn't told his parents.

He had figured out by then it wasn't magic causing it, not in that sense anyway. He'd noticed the way he started eating more over the past year even if he didn't put on weight, finding himself hungry more often. What alarmed him more though, was his sudden desire to eat anything containing meat, with no care for whether it was cooked or not. There were other things as well, including a heart that, judging from the sound of its rapid beat, was on the wrong side of his body for a human. Draco knew, deep down, past all his denial, his body was changing in ways that wasn't human. And that thought terrified him.

When he had woken up that morning, only to be greeted by the sight of a pair of not human, but distinctly reptilian, eyes staring back at him in the mirror, it had been the last straw. Blind with panic, he'd tried everything to remove the scales that had been the start to all his problems, but to no avail. When magic failed him, he resorted back to physically trying to claw the scales out of his skin, even going as far as to grab the silver knife he used to open wax sealed envelopes to cut away the scales. As a result, his arm was now a bloodied mess, pain ripping through his mind only to be ignored as he continued with his frantic movements, blood dripping down to the dark, shiny marble tiles at his feet, which was a bold contrast to his pale alabaster skin.

He wouldn't let his father know. He couldn't. Draco wasn't a fool, he knew a magical creature when he saw one, and Draco knew there was nothing human about his reflection. He was a half-breed. An impurity and disgrace to the Malfoy line.

Horrified, he let his tears fall as he tried to carve the scales out of his arm, fear twisting in his gut as the pain, tears and blood mixed together in a toxic combination. What would his father do if he found out? What was his mother say? He wasn't one of them anymore, deep down; he knew that – he wasn't a pureblood. He was becoming the one thing he had hated and feared ever since he'd been old enough to understand. He was becoming a beast. A monster.

A firm knock on the door startled him, making his heart sound like a drum pounding in his ears as his chest contracted in fear.

"Draco? Are you alright?" His mother's voice carried through the door. A more overwhelming kind of terror twisted in Draco's gut.

"I-I'm fine." Draco barely managed to reply, desperately trying to control his sobs and heavy breathing to lie. His mother wasn't fooled. When could he ever fool her?

"Are you sure? You've been in there an hour already, dear. Aren't you coming down to join us for breakfast? One of the house elves said you refused to leave."

Draco internally cursed. Damn house elf! He'd told it to tell his parents everything was fine! Why couldn't it listen to his instructions?

Because Lucius is its master, not you. It is sworn to protect you, even from yourself. A part of his mind supplied for him, the only rational part left in his currently hysterical state.

"I'll be there in a minute!" Draco called back, his voice stronger this time. He made a grab for the knife that he'd put beside his wand earlier, thinking to hide it somewhere and then clean himself up, but his fingers worked sluggishly because of the pain and he only succeeded in knocking it to the floor where it clattered loudly against the tiles. The curses that followed from his mouth did little to convince his mother that everything was 'fine'.

"Draco? What are you doing in there?" When he didn't answer his mother, the sound of the doorknob rattling filled his ears, as his mother's voice grew more panicked. "Draco? Open this door!" She yelled through the door.

"One second!" Draco yelled back, trying his best to clean up the mess he had made, tears still staining his cheeks along with the thin trickle of blood that stained his arms. He noticed his pupils were still thin slits, just like that of a reptile.

Of course, his mother must have then remembered she was a witch as he barely had time to whirl around and place his arms behind his back when his mother stormed in, wand held tightly in her hand after using a simple unlocking charm. Unfortunately, he forgot the mirror was behind him, showing every detail of his bloodstained, scaly arms, not to mention the white scales that adorned his shirtless torso.

His mother stopped dead in her tracks at the sight, her wand falling from her numb fingers. The noise it made as it clattered to the floor was deafening, both mother and son looking just as horrified as the other. Seconds later, his mother had brought her hand to her face, her eyes wide as tears welled up at the sides.

"What have you done?" She uttered so softly, so brokenly that it caused the dam that was Draco's emotions to break.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I-I'm so sorry." Draco didn't meet his mother's eyes, sobs beginning to rack his body yet again. "I'm turning into a monster."

"Oh Draco..." His mother instantly strode forward then, her expression looking so pained and horrified in that moment. She instantly enveloped Draco in a crushing embrace, both of them sinking to the floor as Draco sobbed into her chest. His blood was staining her robes, but she didn't seem to care. She only cared about him.

"LUCIUS! Lucius, come quickly!" She screamed, obviously seeking help but Draco didn't want his father to see him. Draco started to cry harder.

In the end, his mother sent a house elf to fetch his father since even if you used a sonorous spell, it was doubtful his father would hear her from the Manor being so big. When he finally did arrive, a small house elf right at his side, he froze in the doorway much like his wife had done.

It must have been a sight to see with the black bathroom tiles pockmarked by specs of blood, large tomes and the knife laid next to the sink while his scaly-skinned son sobbed into his wife's robes.

"Lucius." His mother was crying too by that point, her tearful eyes meeting the stunned gaze of her husband. Draco didn't look up, fearful of what he would see on his father's face.

"Draco." His father called out, softer than he predicted. Draco didn't answer; instead he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head against his mother's chest as his body trembled.

"Lucius, he's scared." He heard his mother say. There was a long silence before his father spoke again. The unspoken 'he's scared of you' hung heavy in the air.

"Draco, look at me." His father asked again, in a firmer tone that Draco knew not to disobey.

Slowly, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, only to come face to face with his father, who had since moved from the doorway and was now kneeling in front of him, beside his mother. To Draco's surprise, his father didn't look angry or disappointed. He didn't sneer in disgust. His expression only showed concern – concern for his son.

"It's alright, son. It's going to be alright." His father reassured, saying the very words Draco so desperately wanted to hear.

For the first time he could remember, his father pulled him into a crushing hug, much like his mother's, and Draco didn't protest. He'd never cried in front of his father, at least not since he was a toddler, but that didn't stop him now.

"Draco, can you stand?" His father asked. Draco simply nodded, not trusting his voice. He didn't question his father's kind tone either. "Good. Come now, Draco."

With help from his father, Draco carefully stood up, and before he knew it, his father had led him out of the bathroom and into his large bedroom that was decorated in royal blues, silvers and pitch blacks. Behind them, his mother barked orders to the house elf; Draco feeling far away as he barely heard his mother give orders for an owl to be sent, to whom he didn't catch.

When his father told him to lie down on his bed, he didn't argue and carefully laid down, wincing as he finally laid his arms down too. His father didn't seem to care that blood was quickly staining the sheets.

"Drink this, Draco." His father ordered, pushing a small vial containing a thick liquid to his lips. "It will help with the pain."

Draco didn't object and drank the whole potion without really thinking. It did numb the pain but within seconds he was feeling drowsy, making him realise that maybe it wasn't just a pain relief.

The last thing he saw was his father hovering over him, also barking orders to both the house elf and his wife, a frown on his face, before Draco finally succumbed to the blissful darkness that was known as sleep.

When Draco finally woke up, the first thing he noticed was the pain in his arms had disappeared. His eyelids fluttered as he came round, eventually managing to sit up in his large king-sized, four poster bed. It was then that he was able to take in the appearance of his room, and therefore realise he was completely alone. An ornately carved wooden chair had been brought to the side of his bed but no one was sat there, and the rest of the room was likewise empty.

Seeing such a scene made him think it had all been just a dream, that none of it had happened, but he looked to the side where his bedside table stood, and saw a dozen vials placed upon it, all with different labels. From their titles, he was able to recognize them as healing potions, which then reminded him of his arms.

Looking down, his eyes met the albino scales that covered his right arm completely now, but to his shock, not only was there no blood, but it had completely healed. The scales he had managed to pry away had grown back, both his arms showing no signs anything had happened at all.

He swallowed uneasily, his stomach feeling sick once again. He didn't like the feeling of fear that flooded his gut.

Draco pulled the covers away from him, slowly swinging his feet to the polished wood flooring. He rubbed his face with his hands to not only rub the sleep out of his eyes, but also to try and diminish the pain in his head that he was now very aware of.

Taking his time to make sure he didn't faint from getting up too quickly, Draco stood up and made his way out of his room. His torso was still bare, so he quickly found a shirt to put on before he left. He paused when he noticed his reflection in one of the Georgian styled mirrors that hung on the walls, a pair of reptilian eyes still staring back at him. He recoiled from his refection, hurriedly backing away and rushing out of his suite, as if trying to escape the truth he was faced with.

Silently, Draco began to make his way downstairs, creeping past the sleeping portraits that hung on the walls in the corridors. He was thankful the portraits weren't awake. He didn't think he could cope if they had started screaming at the sight of his animalistic appearance.

When he arrived at the grand staircase that connected the East and West Wing, he carefully descended the stairs to the first floor; mindful of the certain steps that he knew from experience eavesdropping on his father's conversations creaked under his weight. Voices could be heard coming from the parlor, so Draco headed straight towards it. It was only as he drew closer that he managed to clearly make out the words.

"What happens now?" He heard his mother ask, at the same time a clink of china echoed of the walls, indicating a tea set had just been placed on the table, no doubt by one of the house elves. Whoever was inside the parlor with his mother hadn't been in there long, if the newly arrived beverages were anything to go by. Their departure from his room must have been what woke him up.

"He's close to the change, Narcissa." He heard an unfamiliar male voice answer. "There are many things that are going to happen. I think it might be wise if I stay here for a while, or he stays with me."

"That's just absurd." That was definitely his Father. "Draco can stay here."

"Yes, because that's worked so well up to now." The same unfamiliar voice drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Although Draco couldn't see his father from his position, he could still practically feel the glare he sent at the unknown guest.

"I raised him. I think I know perfectly well how to look after him." Lucius ground out.

"Oh yes, you're perfectly right, Lucius - my deepest apologies. I just didn't realise that filling his head with pureblood supremacy bullshit is the best way to prepare him for the day when you actually tell him he isn't a pureblood at all." Draco's eyes widened at the man's words, knowing that they were talking about him.

He gulped, trying to fight the unease and horror in his gut. He had been right. He wasn't a pureblood. He wasn't superior, but inferior in every way. Draco felt sick.

"Boys, stop it! What's done is done. Atlas, you told Lucius to give Draco a choice and he has. As for you Lucius, maybe you should listen to what Atlas has to say, or do you not care about our son's wellbeing at all?" That was his mother again, always the one to bring back order into the conversation. However, her comment only served to open another can of worms that made Draco's blood run cold.

"But he's not my son now is he, Narcissa?"

"LUCIUS!" He heard his mother yell in anger, but by that point Draco had already stopped listening. Instead, one thought, and one thought alone, was ringing inside his head like a pounding church bell, demanding to be heard.

He wasn't a Malfoy.

And in that single moment, Draco felt his whole life shatter into a million jagged pieces. He wasn't a Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. He wasn't a pureblood - he wasn't one of them. Everything he had known, everything he had believed, was a lie.

Not wanting to hear anything more, Draco ran for the stairs, not caring if they heard him leave. And for the first time, Draco truly understood. He understood why nothing he did ever seemed to make his father proud, why he had rarely seen any affectionate contact from the elder Malfoy.

After all, how can you love a child that isn't yours?