"Well... we should check that...."
"No. Not for any reason, Granger. Promise me that you will decidedly not check on us or retreat to this room," Draco said, looking at the floor. "No matter what you hear."
He could smell her confusion, concern, surprise and then fear. She was probably figuring out her error in the cell placement. "Draco... there might be enough time...."
"No. Please leave. I need to calm down," he said, trying to maintain his breathing.
"O-Okay... hopefully... it'll be alright," she said and mumbled something to Harry, before she and Weasley finally left.
Draco was resisting the urge to cry. Panic was radiating out of him. Harry was saying something. 
"Draco!" he yelled. "Hey! Look at me!"
Draco rarely felt the pull to obey him, anymore, but slowly turned his head. 
"You're going to be okay. I won't let anything happen to you. I won't hurt you."
"You can't stop it. We're werewolves... mindless beasts. Power, control, food, prey... and sex. Our base instincts."
"That's not true, and you know it, Draco," Harry said, struggling to remain standing as the full moon was set to rise. 
"Yeah, it is!" Draco cried but decided to lie down before the tremors dropped him.
"If it was... Draco... you would have eaten me or turned me the second I got within reach of you the last two times," Harry hissed, going to his knees, twitching.
Draco didn't reply. He didn't have an explanation for that, but he winced as Harry's pain scent spiked. It was time. The full moon had risen properly. His body jerked and twisted. It tried to turn... but his morphing body was shoved back inside of itself by the throbbing mark on his shoulder. Draco's cries turned to whines, and wolf-him heard his mate screaming and writhing in pain. He felt the need to go to him, and his wolf instincts were already pulling him to go toward his mate. The wolf had taken over.
Slowly, wolf-him rose. His mind clear. His senses heightened. His claws and teeth sharp. His sharp eyes looked at the still-spasming body in the next cell. His mate was a mass of black fur. His limbs were still twisting and snapping into place as the full-grown wolf transformed. 
However, he had not changed. He was stuck in this wrong form. He was stuck in a cage again, too, and he was separated from his mate. His shoulder ached from the bad mark. He couldn't run... hunt... see the moon... and his body was wrong. So wrong....
He whimpered and his mate lurched to his feet, displaying. He was jet black. A beautiful mate. Strong... huge... powerful... ready to defend... ready to stake his claim. His mate was confused, though, learning his new form. He trotted around uncertainly, getting used to the movement, but his eyes never really looked away from him. His mate whined, trying to communicate... trying to get him to listen to him... to reason.
Reason didn't matter much to wolf-him. He wanted to bite, kill... turn. Most of all, he wanted his mate. But his mind recoiled from the idea. His human mind was hurt... he was hurt. Memories of the other wolves were overpowering him and filled his mind with images of his capture and torture. Wolf-him dropped his head, whimpering, remembering submitting to his sire... his former Alpha. His human mind felt misery from it and so did wolf-him.
But his mate stood tall, ready to attack... protect. His mate paced angrily, trying to find the source of wolf-him's anguish. The black wolf growled and snapped, desperate to fight something or anything. Frustrated, a loud, ear-piercing snarl came from his mate. Wolf-him cringed away. As much as he wanted his mate, the memories were too painful. He backed to the corner, refusing to look at his mate, who was pleading for him to come closer.