Chapter 3 - Adjusting

                                        

                                              
Published: Jan 14, 2025
Trigger warning: references to sexual assault, panic attacks, nightmares
Draco was wide awake. The house creaked. There were so many noises that he didn't know what they were. Every noise was something coming to get him... but they never did. It had been three nights of restlessness, endless worrying. He couldn't sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, he heard something or thought he heard something. He would wake back up. He was surviving on naps he took on Potter's couch downstairs during the day.
His daylight hours were spent with Potter, who walked him through his physical training exercises.  At first, Draco could only limp around, but it still hurt to walk. Potter didn't let him slack, and he could now make it up and down the stairs without his help. But he had to rest after, and he always did in the den. Draco could hear and smell Potter there and knew he was safe. Potter swore he'd protect him, and Draco never doubted his truthfulness. Wizard's vows were important if the person meant it. Plus... Draco could smell that he wasn't lying.
Potter also made him put on healing balms on his wounds and scars. Werewolf-made wounds were impossible to fully heal, anyway. He hated looking in the mirror and seeing the scar across his face whenever he used the loo. Everyone would know that he wasn't a man anymore... not human. They'll know he's a werewolf. Some will know what he was to them, too. Could he stay cooped up in Potter's house forever?
Potter had to help him with putting the balm on some of the scars, though, as he couldn't reach his back on his own. It made him tense and scared when Potter did, but they needed to be healed. Draco was embarrassed by the marks on his back and neck, but after a few times, he trusted Potter more. Now, he shivered every time Potter massaged the bite scar on the back of his neck, though he couldn't explain precisely why. If Draco could explain it in words, it felt like Potter was leeching out Fenrir's claim on him. Unlike the rest of his body, he calmed down instantly whenever Potter rubbed his neck.
Potter never mentioned Draco's reactions to his massages, and Draco was grateful for that. Draco also noticed that Potter never mentioned anything about the weird werewolf habits that he had picked up. Draco never used to sniff everything, but his sense of smell was so heightened that he had to identify what things were. He was getting good at it, too. He could tell when Potter had entered the room or left. Draco could track him through the house. He could even tell when he met Granger and Weasley last night, though Potter had told him as much.
Draco didn't handle food very well at first, but Potter made him eat food and drink nutrient potions. After four weeks of near starvation and torture, his body was wrecked. As the pack bitch, the wolves tried to feed him the dregs of the beasts, like the organs and feet of their kill, but he refused usually. Some part of him knew it was the quickest way to get out of the hell he was in. Once Greyback left for the battle, he stopped listening to the others.
He wasn't sure if it was because Greyback was the one who turned him, or because he was the Alpha, but he had to obey him. He wasn't sure how to tell Potter about it or ask for books about it. Werewolf lore was not something he had bothered investigating before. Potter showed him the impressive collection of books in the Black Family Library, but he found no books on the subject, unsurprisingly. The Black family were just as pureblood as the Malfoys had been. 
He wasn't a pureblood anymore. He wasn't sure that he knew how to live as not one. And, if he understood Potter, his family's assets were seized, and they weren't getting released anytime soon. With no money or status, he was effectively exiled from society... just like Lupin had been. He had no idea what he could do in this world, now. People talk. Death Eaters surely told their families about his punishment. He was an example for the Dark Lord. There was no hiding what he was now or what Greyback did.