That, of course, made sense, and she gave a tiny, unhappy nod to acquiesce to his request.  The coffee was good.  There were croissants in the kitchen he'd arranged to have delivered every other day, and she had at least three books she hadn't read on the history of creature rights on the continent. The subject had become less enjoyable now that she was the creature.  The shift in perspective changed everything.  She opted to reread a history of the Goblin Wars while Malfoy showered and returned, his hair obedient to his will again.  She'd curled up in her chair, lost in the mechanics of magical warfare, when an imperious knock heralded the entrance of Blaise Zabini.