A/N: This is my first story for Dramione and I'm really excited to explore something I haven't seen often in the fandom. It was planned as PWP but then the characters had a mind of their own ;). The story will be an AU Dramione with demon!Draco, tentacles, EWE, fluff, and it will contain consensual, explicit lemons. Please consider this if you're squeamish!

All my love goes to two people who helped me so much with this story. LittleMissEighty-Sixed is a wonderful cheerleader and alpha reader who helped me with parts of the plot. Riptidemonzarc is my most-trusted and invaluable beta-reader who makes sure to eliminate all the mistakes and always gives in-depth advice (and helps me to understand the English language better!). I really appreciate all your hard work! 3 All mistakes are my own as I tend to constantly fiddle around with my writing.

The aesthetic is by LittleMissEighty-Sixed. Thank you so much, hun! 3

Cross-posted from AO3.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Twenty-five years of being a pureblood from an untainted, highly esteemed family. Twenty-five years of no worries worse than what shirt to wear with his robes, and now this. Well, except for that very unpleasant year during which an utterly sadistic madman had held the wizarding world by its throat, followed by seven more years where he and his mother had to work exceptionally hard to try and drag the name 'Malfoy' out of the dirt.

He eyed the little, slightly trembling knobs in the ornate cheval glass he'd conjured. Twisting left and right, he saw them lined up in a soft curve from his shoulders down to his hips. How convenient for his father to have received the Kiss shortly after the Final Battle instead of having to explain this. Draco exhaled slowly to calm down his rising panic, and pulled his shirt back on before he grabbed the book bound in worn leather again. The old livret de famille was all about Malfoy this, Malfoi that, blather blather blather. No wonder his whole family had such overinflated egos, when they only ever referred to what was in this book.

No, he was looking for side-references: letters, old notes, and diaries from one of his ancestors, preferably from the one responsible for his condition. Merlin's balls, he didn't even know if his father had had it, too, or if it occurred randomly, or if it jumped generations. He didn't know if it was a bloody curse or a hereditary anomaly, or if it was an after effect of a hex during battle. It had been such chaos after he and Narcissa had opposed the Dark Lord (and thus his own father), and he couldn't remember all the curses that had hit him. But, battle curses were meant to have immediate effect, so he probably could rule that out.

His shoulders slumped a little before he rolled the muscles along his spine and looked out of the window of the Malfoy library to observe the sinking sun. He was in for a long night.

ooOoOoOoo

"Mother," Draco addressed the blonde woman in the study. She smiled and gestured to the tea service on the table in front of her.

"Draco. It's good to see you. Have tea with me?"

"Of course, Mother." He took a seat opposite of her, carefully folding the damasque table napkin across his lap and waiting for her to pour the tea.

"Two sugars and a drop of milk?"

"Make that three sugars, please."

She searched his eyes in an unspoken question but complied. "You don't have to be so formal to have tea with me," she said. "We live in the same house, after all."

"I have to ask you something important."

Her eyes lit up, breaking the careful mask she seemed to wear almost all the time recently. "Did you meet somebo—"

"Mother." He groaned and barely suppressed a roll of his eyes. "It's something else." He took a sip of heavenly sweet tea, then pushed the chair back and made to stand while he unbuttoned his shirt. The white napkin fell to the floor, just like her mouth fell open. "Do you know what this is?" He lifted one arm and pointed at the small protrusions with his other.

Her eyes quickly flickered along his sides. "No, I don't. What happened? Did you get hexed? I swear the Blacks have a handful of very elaborate curses. We will make whoever did this beg for mercy."

Draco felt his hackles rising and the bulges expanded and stretched his skin. He'd expected a bit more than a too-quick and perfunctory threat from his mother, no matter that he was convinced of the truth about nasty Black curses. "You're lying."

"I don't know what you—"

"I'm your son. I know when you're lying." His voice raised with the last words. "What the fuck are you hiding?"

"Language." She scolded.

"Mother!" He hissed. The stretch on his skin was bordering pain now.

His mother averted her eyes. "I only saw once..." Her throat worked. "I must've been thirteen or fourteen. We were visiting the Malfoys. A visit to prepare the marriage contracts, of sorts, but I sneaked out to have a look at that fabulous piano your grandparents had in the Music Room. But the piano wasn't the only thing I saw there." She took a deep breath.

"What was it, then?" Draco urged her on.

"Your grandfather Abraxas. And my aunt Lucretia. She was sitting on the piano, her legs spread by those things that came out of Abraxas' back." She gesticulated to Draco's sides. "But instead of screaming in horror, she seemed to relish it. And there were more of those things touching all of her body and—"

A quick wave of his hand interrupted her. "Stop. Please. I can imagine the rest." He watched her flushed face, wondering if she would've liked that, too. Draco stomped that thought into the furthest remote corner of his mind. He didn't need that picture haunting him. "And Father? Was he also afflicted?"

Narcissa shook her head. "No. But it didn't seem that Abraxas considered himself afflicted. He missed your grandmother a lot but I think he was content about his health until the Dragon Pox. And Lucretia seemed to have no objections either." She watched him close his shirt again. "Do they hurt?"

He hesitated. "Sometimes. Hell, I don't know. I don't think I've had them fully expanded yet, so I don't know if it'll hurt."

"How long...?"

"Yesterday. I noticed them for the first time on my bloody birthday. Good thing I managed to talk you out of that ridiculous party you've planned."

She didn't reprimand him for his language this time, or chastise him for his lack of gratitude concerning her efforts to establish their family in the appropriate social circles again, but she held his gaze. "Have you begun to research it yet?"

"Yes. But I couldn't find anything in the livret de famille and other official records. No comment, no footnote, no obscure hint."

"Our livret de famille isn't what you need. We need to go to Gringotts."

ooOoOoOoo

Draco had never been able to shake off the uncomfortable shudders that had accompanied all his visits to the family vault since Voldemort's defeat. Not as much that he feared an underhanded attack; no, the goblins were far too professional for that, but to know that he'd never be able to escape the maze of vaults gave him the skivvies. On top of that, he always had to pass any items by the curse breaker in charge. To eliminate Dark Artifacts, the Ministry claimed. Not that he himself wasn't a bloody Walking Dark Artifact anyway, with that blasted Mark on his left arm.

And that's how he'd crossed Granger again. She'd obviously declined a Ministry position and had instead chosen to work as a curse breaker. It was all the same to him who checked him for hidden items or the ones he'd carry openly, and he definitely didn't cut down the amount of galleons he'd withdraw from his account at one time so he'd have to pay a visit more often. Because, honestly, a Malfoy didn't get far with only 50 Galleons. Nor did he ever look for a curly brunette every time he went to Gringotts. The mere thought was so ridiculous that he didn't let it out of the deepest recesses of his mind.

The compulsory check didn't turn any nefarious objects up, as usual and expected, but it still was a nuisance. Thank Merlin it hadn't been Granger today. Small beads of sweat formed on his upper lip as he trailed his mother through the security door into the Malfoy section. Narcissa dismissed the goblin with a nod and motioned her son to follow her further in. They walked to a back corner, passing paintings that were out of taste and all kind of collectibles they couldn't fit into the manor anymore, but as much as Draco tried to read her face, her expression was indifferent. With a flick of her wand, she lifted a heap of heavy-looking tapestry, and Draco raised his eyebrows when a metallic trunk appeared.

"Give me your left hand," she ordered, and put it into her right.

"Ow, Mother!" He yelped when a small golden knife slit across his palm and then hers. Her hard grasp hindered him from pulling away reflexively, and he watched their mingled blood fall on the trunk, splashing in big drops onto the family crest. "Blood magic," he murmured as the lock clicked and the trunk which was really more of a chest opened.

"Of course," Narcissa said. She healed the cuts with a wandless spell. "It only works with two living members of the family. The younger one has to use the left hand, the elder one the right. And you need a golden knife but I think that's just for appearances. I'm not willing to challenge magic that old, however."

He nodded and peeked into the box. A wave of suppressed magic emanated from it, and he loosened the tie around his neck. Piles of frayed parchment, stacks of old books, and items that he didn't want to examine further filled the trunk. It had been equipped with an Undetectable Extension Charm to fit all that clutter. "How come you've never told me about this here?"

"It's filled with the real history of our family. And most of it is... unsavoury." She shifted her weight on her other foot. "I thought it best to ignore it."

Draco snorted. "More unsavoury than a raving lunatic planning to take over the world by killing most of its population? More unsavoury than our own flesh and blood enjoying the torture of children in our own drawing room, in our own home?" He took a deep breath to tame his anger before he continued and changed the topic. "Do you think an Accio works here? I don't even know what to look for."

His mother stopped him from starting the spell with her cold hand on his wand arm. "First I need your vow that you won't disclose the existence of any of those things to anyone outside of our family."

"Mother, really?" He snapped. Fury started to pound behind his temples in view of Narcissa's misguided protection of family. It had been a long time since the Malfoy family had had anything to lose, and all that Draco had done in recent years was to clearly distinguish himself from Lucius. He couldn't care less if one of his ancestors hadn't behaved appropriately. Hell, most of them probably hadn't, and he might have a lot more cousins than he could imagine.

"I can't have you blabbering our secrets—"

"I don't blabber anything!" he shouted.

"The vow, Draco," she replied with ice in her voice. "I haven't risked so much and worked so hard for this family for nothing."

"What the bloody hell is in there? What can be more horrible than You-Know-Who's revels in our home? What can be more humiliating than the bloody groveling we had to do since Potter killed him? The constant mistrust, and all the fake scandals and outrageous accusations that show up in the Prophet every quarter year?" He felt his skin stretching, then sharp pain, and warm liquid running along his sides, and he looked down his chest. Red spots were blooming on his previously pristine white shirt. "Oh shit."

Narcissa gasped. The cloth of his shirt tented and ripped as his protrusions elongated further than they ever had since he'd noticed them. "You need to calm down, Draco!"

Funny, how she didn't sound calm in the slightest.

He observed small smears of blood on the limbs. Why isn't it more? A tentative try to issue mental orders to one appendage facing him sent an ancient Chinese vase behind him into shards and made his mother duck when three more lashed at her. "Fuck. Sorry, Mother." He winced when she narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't seem to control those... things."

Her hand flew against her mouth and his fingers moved to where her eyes were fixated on while pain started to hammer away in his head. Pointy little nubs were forming on both sides of his forehead. They got bigger and bigger, and his mother's eyes grew with them exponentially. Soon he could grab the protrusions with his hands. They felt warm and wet, with a metallic smell permeating the air. And then he did something very un-Malfoy-ish.

He fainted.

Let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.