Hostage of War

A/N: A big thank you to Softobsidian74 for alpha reading and feedback and to Sempra for the fantastic beta!

Chapter 3

Nocturn

Bloody, stupid Mudblood!

The elves should have put up locking and silencing spells. Obviously, she did not have herself under control.

What was she playing at raising such a ruckus in the middle of the night?

With a sound of indignation, Draco swung his legs over the edge of his bed, snatched his wand from its place on the bedside cabinet, stomped to the door and threw it open to the hall.

Like a cloud of thunder he rolled toward the Mudblood’s room, ready to take her apart and put her firmly into her place.

Armistice or not, her behaviour was unacceptable.

Without the least bit of polite decorum, he pounded against the polished oak of her door.

He waited several seconds in mounting anger. This uncultured bint did not even have the decency to answer when called upon. This just served to show how a Muggle upbringing could thoroughly spoil someone. Or maybe it was truly the blood. Granger had been exposed to real culture, wizard culture, for years by now. And still she did not know how to behave in polite company.

For instance, one should not let a caller stand outside of the door in silence.

Silence?

The moaning and groaning had stopped at some point during his angry advance. She was probably embarrassed that he had heard her and was now hiding under the duvet in mortification.

Served her right.

He smirked. He would tease her mercilessly during breakfast. If he had to treat the Mudblood like a sister, teasing and pulling pig tails was certainly within the parameters of ‘equal’ treatment.

Turning around he wanted to make his way back to his own room, when the mumbling and moaning started again.

Infuriated and tired, he whipped around and simply used his magical signature that identified him as a Malfoy and opened her door, letting it bang against the wall of her room, sure to damage the priceless silken wall covering.

“Granger!” He hollered.

It was extremely dark in the room. She had closed the wooden shutters on the inside of the window and prevented the moon light to seep into her room.

“Lumos,” he ordered in a voice that was not hushed to prevent her from waking.

The Mudblood tossed and flailed in the wide sleigh bed. The duvet only covered her lower half by now and she was even fighting this minimal restriction of her legs.

So she had not been engaging in some outlandish activity, but rather had an unnerving nightmare.

Unnerving especially for him.

This would not do.

He stalked to her bedside and poked her with his wand.

She whimpered and moved her head from side to side.

A mischievous idea formed.

“Nox.”

Time to pull pig tails.

Draco sat down on the edge of her bed, his hip lightly touching hers. He grasped her shoulder firmly and shook.

“Hermione, wake up!”

She cried out and flew into his arms.

Stunned he held still.

“Harry? Oh Harry I had a terrible dream!”

Potter? She expected to find Potter in her bed when waking up to a man with a naked chest?

Interesting.

He tentatively wrapped an arm around her.

Granger clung to him, sobbing violently.

“It was horrible! Albus and Voldemort had declared a truce and that meant that hostages had to be exchanged.”

Draco barely kept himself from flinching at the casual mention of the Dark Lord’s name. Granger trembled in his embrace and made the crook of his neck wet and slick with hot tears and sweet smelling face cream.

“I had to go to the Malfoys and they were so cold to me!”

Cold, were they? Draco wanted to know how far he could push her with his little game and slid his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck. He delicately pushed her head back and swiped his thumb over her cheek to wipe away some tears that might still be there.

She sniffled a bit, but felt very pliant and even leaned into his cupping hand. The trust she was emanating was pleasant and discomfiting at the same time. She was stupid to trust anybody like this. Dark room or not. And he would show her just that.

Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips against her slightly open mouth. For several moments, nothing happened and Draco noticed several things. She had frozen to complete stillness. Her lips were salty from her tears. Beyond the salt, the Mudblood tasted … good. Like fresh warm bread. Like cinnamon swirls. Like hot cross buns with butter.

He let his tongue glide along her lower lip and further. That propelled her into action, suddenly pushing against his chest with all her force, her legs struggled against the cover, but he was sitting on its edge and it effectively restrained her to the mattress.

Soft breasts were pressed against him and he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin silk garment that she was wearing to bed.

What had started as a little game to aggravate her was quickly getting out of hand. He used his body weight to tip her backward and with her hands pushing against his shoulders, she had nothing to brace herself on and fell on her back with a muffled groan...

With her wand she might have been very agile, but physically she was no match for him. It was easy to take advantage of her confused and tangled state and pin her to the bed with his body.

She squeaked in surprise and he realised that she must be feeling how hard he was, even through the quilt.

He moved away from her lips and started sucking the delicate skin of her throat relentlessly.

She made a keening sound and tried to wriggle away from him. In her attempt she only succeeded to lodge him firmly between her thighs.

“Is this how you would treat a sister, Malfoy?” Her words were choked and angry and made him come to his senses.

Raising up on one elbow, he reached for his wand and cast Iluminate, candles and sconces flaring to life. Granger looked ravished and deliciously helpless beneath him. He saw outrage and fear and it turned him on even more.

But he knew she was right.

“No, Granger, not a sister, although I might be willing to invoke some very old Pureblood customs for you.” Her eyes grew wide with incredulity and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “But you know, cousins are not forbidden to us.”

He gave a sharp thrust that made her cry out in surprise and maybe pleasure. Then he released her and sauntered out of the room, unabashedly showing off the state of arousal he was in.

He did not bother to close the door and heard her jump out of the bed and run across the room to slam the door shut once she deemed him far enough away. Waiting patiently, he listened to her dragging or pushing a heavy piece of furniture against the door to block it.

It was beyond him why that should stop him in the least or why she did not levitate whatever it was that now sat under the door handle. He shook his head.

Mudblood.

Always forgetting that she was a witch.


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