11 | ﴾ A Quick Fix ﴿

                                    

                                          
Another week had passed at the Malfoy Manor and it was now the beginning of May. Nothing significant had happened per se - Draco and I had considerably flat lined our drama and begun to operate around each other in quiet submission. The words he had enforced in the darkness of the ballroom had impacted my hopes of reconnecting with him in order to make my imprisonment more bearable. I had instead decided to simply shut down my emotions and be obedient. I effortfully did not pester the other inhabitants of the home as I went about my hobbies in the background. The Manor was consistently silent as though abandoned, and I rarely saw Narcissa or the elves in the expansive superstructure. It was as though I was existing in the astral realm, not able to see the living around me, floating around as if to haunt the place in beautiful pastel dresses.
                          
He spent his days away from the house trying to chase Harry Potter down, often times coming home looking dirty, angry or tired and at odd hours. He refused to tell me any information about the war whatsoever. I learned very quickly to stop pressuring him when one night he reached his limit with the questions and punched a hole in the wall of our bedroom. What was most burning in my thoughts was how Lucius had suggested Harry was fond of me. I wanted to know what that history was all about. I was also curious as to the importance of the person named Granger dying, but these topics seemed to enrage Draco more than anything else. He was evidently filled with anger, pain and resentment towards his father for whatever he was being made to do but he forbid any form of offered support.
                          
So I left him alone. I saw him late at night when we would carry out the routine, almost wordlessly now. It had become drastically more bearable and even pleasurable as Draco demonstrated his willingness to be gentle with me, in exchange for my promise not to kiss him. After the first night's failure on his part he held up his resolve quite well at avoiding my face, simply burying his in my neck. The agreement provided an odd sense of team work, and it prevented episodes of adversity or crying. 
                          
During the days I established a schedule to maintain my sanity and wellbeing. I would read for several hours in the morning in the gigantic and ancient library, trying to understand the history of the British Sacred 28 families more profoundly. I read about the history of the Death Eaters, the dark lord, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, wandless magic... anything I could get my hands on that might strengthen my skills in the current predicament. 
                          
I learned that the powers Neville had been suggesting I was developing previously were in fact linked to ancestral Veela traits including the wandless blue flames when angry, and another horrifying idea that they used to morph into lethal half-bird half-human creatures. This part especially terrified me at the notion that I could evolve, but the texts suggested that the morphology abilities had long been bred out for hundreds of years. The flames however, were still seen in recent times by pure blood lines. The fact that they would only appear when I was angry or distressed eased my mind slightly, knowing that I wasn't entirely at fault for not having conjured anything yet.
                          
Another notable ability was that of seduction which I had already known about. My mother had always stressed how I had to be careful with men; that I would always be mesmerizing and intoxicating, able to get my way no matter what, even break hearts dramatically from a stare or cause men to react in ways that might embarrass them. Although this power too was slowly fading in our blood line, I had certainly used this to my advantage my entire life - taking whatever boys I wanted as mine. The fact that dancing was one of my natural instincts was not shocking either as the texts clearly described this method being used by Veela as a way to draw in unwary men for the kill in ancient magical wars. It wasn't that surprising that I had thought chasing after Malfoy would be an easy and noncommittal achievement.
                          
When I was done reading I would snap my fingers and call for Nibbles to help me in the gardens. She and I had begun to form somewhat of a functioning relationship. Over the past month of working with her enough time had passed for me to study and predict her biting compulsions. She was so incredibly filled with anxiety from abuse that she had refined a nervous out lash in the form of biting that seemed to relieve whatever was pent up inside. I'd started to talk to her quite loquaciously, asking her about what made her happy, what she liked to dream about, her favorite foods. Slowly, achingly, she'd stopped biting me altogether. She was now becoming calm and reassured, and would appear at my call with a slight smile on her face for our afternoon sessions in the sunlight.