Blood Bound Prisoner

Real life's been a bit overwhelming...but I just couldn't leave this story hanging...

A bit of Lucius in the shower..who could resist to that?

Betaed by Lupinswolfie

Happy reading!

Hermione left the room smiling contently. This was going to be fun. More than she had expected when she had moved to her family’s country residence. Her goal was to concentrate on researching the blood magic involved in the Dark Mark.

It was almost a godsend when Kingsley Shacklebolt had accidentally stepped on a rat near Order headquarters. He gently picked it up and brought the small animal into headquarters, feeling a little guilty that he had injured the innocent soul. The squashed animal turned out to be none other than Peter Pettigrew, who, due to his injuries, couldn’t hold his Animagus form any longer. Luckily for the rat, only a few bones were broken and they could be quickly mended with a few vials of Skele-Gro. He was bruised quite harshly, however, but the Order let the traitor suffer at least a bit, as they weren’t yet sure what to do. Harry had wanted to kill the traitorous man in an instant, avenging Sirius’s stint in Azkaban and the deaths of his parents. The world didn’t need such scum as Pettigrew; Harry had repeated that over and over, circling the captive.

The Order members were quite agreeable on Harry’s idea, but suddenly the traitor vowed to tell the secret of Voldemort’s power. After his long blabbering stopped, they realised that they had acquired the key to minimize casualties on both sides…blood magic.

Pettigrew explained that he had seen the Dark Lord perform the needed rituals for branding his minions with the Dark Mark, along with how to summon certain Death Eaters to him. It appeared that the magic of Purebloods who were branded with the Dark Mark, mixed with that of their Master, essentially bonding the two. Hermione was given the task of researching these rituals in order to try and reverse the procedure, in essence, calling the Death Eaters to the Order and blocking Voldemort's summoning powers. All her friends were sure Hermione could solve this puzzle, as that was what she does best. After all, they had been progressing very well in the horcrux hunt, aided by Tonks, Remus, and Kingsley, and so Harry and Ron had encouraged her to start the research. The final confrontation was coming nearer with each horcrux destroyed and the results of this research would aide them tremendously.

First, she read all the books concerning magical bonds and summons. It had been frustrating to realise that the Hogwarts library’s restricted section had nothing on it; so frustrating in fact, that she had been close to giving up on the idea of her research and the resulting minimization of the loss of life in the war.

Ron’s sudden stroke of genius had really brought her work forward. He had the idea to question Kreacher and Dobby to find out if they knew of Dark Arts books hidden in the homes of the Purebloods.

After a lot of complaining, Kreacher had given in to Harry and revealed the secret passage in Grimmauld Place where the Black’s Dark Magic Library was located. Dobby had been more than happy to give out the location of his old master’s hidden books. So, thanks to the kind nature of the house elves (Kreacher had spent weeks banging his head against a wall to punish himself for the traitorous confession, but she didn’t feel sorry for him; and Dobby had been delighted to receive a huge box of socks as a reward for his service) she had the books she needed for theory.

As for practical testing, she had vials of blood from Snape, who had donated the needed amount joyously, and Pettigrew, who was the exact opposite giving his ‘donation’ only after being petrified and gagged for good measure. The Auror Department promised to send her samples of blood from Pureblood Death Eater as soon as they could, so she had arrived at her current secluded country house in a very happy mood.

She had wished to have a living subject to test her findings on, and her silent prayers had been answered when she had found Malfoy Senior in the woods. It was quite unexpected, but…she sighed. Lucius was a perfect test subject; alive, Pureblooded, and one of the Death Eaters extraordinaire. Maybe if she’d slip a bit of Veritaserum he’d spill more of the Dark Lord’s secrets?

However, she couldn’t think of him as just a mere test subject. He was so…overwhelmingly masculine, she admitted to herself. Even just out of prison and absolutely un-groomed, he radiated such sexuality she had a hard time breathing.

She didn’t know what it was – maybe the aristocratic paleness of his skin? Or the silky, silver-blonde hair? The deep grey eyes? She tried to downplay her sudden attraction. He had been, after all, bloody, unconscious and dirtier than any vagabond.

But once you healed and cleaned him; he was quite yummy, wasn’t he? That smooth skin…you want to feel more of him, right? A little voice nagged in her head. Merlin, it was true.

She had given in to her temptation and touched him. Yes, maybe it was not very intimate, but still she had seen his reaction to her subtle touch. He had been impressively aroused and had tried to hide that. Quite unsuccessfully, she mused.

She had been stunned when she had first seen his naked form…his manhood was very impressive even in its flaccid state. And she was very interested in what he could do with it when aroused. She would certainly find out.

For the first time since she had immersed herself in the research, her dreams were not science themed. Her dreams were extremely erotic, featuring a passionate lover. Not Ron, with whom she had friends-with-benefits relationship, but of Lucius’ deadly seductive and actions unlike those of the subtle prisoner he had been today.

Standing up from the bed was quite awkward for Lucius. He was glad that she was gone; it would hurt his pride to let her see him wobbly on his legs.

He reached the door and stumbled into the bathroom. He didn’t notice the threshold until he tripped, but soon he regained his balance and looked around. It did look so cheap…so Muggle, he remarked. He did miss the posh marble bathroom at the Manor. No gold plaited spigots and pool-sized tubs were available in these Muggle rooms. But, he reminded himself, any kind of bathroom was a godsend gift in his situation. Oh, how he had hated the monthly Scourgify which left him sore for days afterwards. The guards in Azkaban had far from cared about his well being.

But now, that was the past and the future was the Mud- no, the gorgeous woman who held him captive. His thoughts drifted to her curvaceous body and his cock sprang to attention immediately.

She was too pretty to be a Mudblood; it just couldn’t be. Maybe there was something amiss with her papers? Most likely so, as she reminded him so much of Helena Rosier, his great-grandmother. Yet the girl had the untameable hair of the Yaxley line so…

These thoughts didn’t help to mend his raging hard on. He stepped into the shower cubicle and after a bit of fiddling with the knobs managed to get an ice cold spray. It immediately lessened the hard on.

Not wanting to freeze himself to death, he turned the knobs again until a pleasant warm stream caressed his skin. He wished that it would’ve been the girls’ hands, but he knew better than to daydream like a teenager.

There was a tray with different bottles in the corner. He noticed none of them were from the magical world, as he perused the cheap plastic containers and bold letterings.
When he had been Lord of the Manor, he had used custom made fine toiletries from France. But as a beggar can’t be a chooser, he quickly found the bottle which stated the contents to be a shampoo. First he squeezed a little on his palm, sniffing it and inspecting it for harm. It just lathered up in the water. He carefully massaged it into his long hair. The shampoo felt unexpectedly pleasant, the scent was calming. He rinsed it off and felt his hair becoming cleaner. For good measure, he lathered up his hair again and, when he was pleased with the result, he finally rinsed all of the suds away. To his dismay, there was no conditioner to be found in the tray, but he’d live without it. Any shampoo was better than being subjected to Scourgify.

Another bright bottle caught his eye, ‘Shower Gel’, it read. The bright yellow substance emitting a strong citrus smell seemed a bit suspicious to him. It did, however, lather up in the water so Lucius decided that if the girl had wanted to harm him, she would’ve chosen a more direct approach. After all, it is not punishable to kill an Azkaban escapee. No, these were not the things his body was thinking about.

His mind filled with other images. Her on her knees in front of him, her hot mouth enveloping his cock. Oh yes, that’s what he wished when he began to stroke himself. After a few strokes he came hard, it felt so good.

He was sure he’d bed the girl. He hadn’t had any action in prison, and he was a man with a rampant libido. Now, as he was clean and becoming healthier, he could try to use his charm. It had never failed him when it came to getting the woman he wanted. Narcissa was the exception, but everyone else sooner or later couldn’t resist him.

Life was going to be good for him, he thought as he stepped out of the shower stall and fetched a towel. The towel was clean, but it felt rough against his skin and he knew better than complain. A heavy cotton bathrobe hung on the door. It was slightly unappealing due to its greyish colouring, but it was the only thing he had to wear. He wanted to be covered up when he next saw Miss Granger.

Cursing under his breath, he slowly padded to his bed, the floor was uncomfortably cold and the plastic material felt slippery. One careless step and he’d fall. He wouldn’t want that to happen. He’d avoid looking helpless in her eyes again.

After a while, he reached the bed and sat down, perusing the contents on the nightstand. A plastic pitcher with water and a plastic glass, obviously, for security reasons, just like the three potion vials, made of unbreakable glass.

Not that he was such an idiot to use glass shards to harm himself or attack her. He had seen her fight at the Ministry. She was a force to be reckoned with. And what would it bring him, anyway? A trip back to Azkaban? That’s what he didn’t want. He planned to seduce the girl and see how he could arrange his life without going back to the cold cell. He’d rather spend five years in this room as a Muggle than have the constant lurking of Dementors behind his back.

Another item on the night stand was a plain comb, again plastic. He could see a pattern here, which made him smirk. Then again, the girl had shown him more kindness than anyone else had in his lifetime. He hoped she didn’t have an ulterior motive.

He combed his hair slowly, surprised that the Muggle shampoo concoction had really detangled his hair. It felt good to be a bit groomed again.

The contents of the vials were harmless – a pain reliever, a follow up to Skele-Gro, and a sleeping draught. He downed them and curled up in bed.

Cheap, Muggle-like life wasn’t too bad. Maybe if he seduced the girl, he’d be able to bargain for other luxuries.

He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.