"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
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The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
again, this book is not meant for everyone. this chapter is where it gets even darker, please read the trigger warnings before you read each chapter <3.
𝐓𝐖 - 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 | "𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 '𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫' 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞."
ϟ
Boredom expands as a nothing, as if one could reach out into the world and the hand would return empty. It is a painful disconnect, a stalling of passions that need their time in the sun.
Flipping through every sheet in the Quibbler provided for me, my finger skimming over every square inch of the silk glossed page.
Sleeping, watching the pendulum clock, occasionally taking a few trips to the garden, waiting for Vance to return, but— that is all I can do. I am not permitted to go, or do anything else.
"You wouldn't like what I do during the day." Vance elucidated, planting his cooling lips on the frame of my hair. "It's a straight path to the garden and back. Other than that, you are not allowed to go anywhere. The house-elf will bring meals, I'll be back soon."
That was nearly twenty nine hours ago.
Presently, I sit on the mattress, my legs crossed at an angle. I wonder to myself, I still have questions that are yet to be answered. On top of that, my brain develops new inquires— layering the previous ones.
"The fuck are you doing?"
I glance to the doorway entry, the same blond from the other day. Disappointment blankets over me like a hot chill quivering up my spine. I knew it wasn't Vance, by the tone of his voice, the disposition in his words. Yet, I peered with hope— anything to grasp onto.
"Me? I was just sitt— wait, what are you doing? Why are you here?" I question, prancing myself off the high bed. It has been twenty nine hours since my last human interaction, I didn't appear to be presentable. "What about Vance, what is he doing?"
Sensing the presence of Draco has never been comforting. During my school days, I've always felt anxious anytime he was near. I constantly worried about how his next hex or his next curse would impact me.
Anxious is a natural state, a form of function that is mistaken for dysfunction, for there is truly much in this world that needs fixing for all. That, plus, the brain can only quell anxiety properly after the mid-twenties.
Draco jeers, swiping his knuckle at his upper lip before he spoke. "There is a psychological response for your behavior."
