Hostage of War

Hostage of War



Chapter 4



Intrusions







“Goodness, Granger! Are you planning on taking up a toil and plough the earth, as your name suggests? You cannot possibly think your attire to be suitable for a family dinner!”



Hermione looked down on herself. Black jeans and a light cotton cardigan in red had seemed to be acceptable for a weekday dinner, since she had been dining by herself most days, but tonight Draco had obviously changed into dress robes after wearing sufficiently elegant robes all day.



“Are you expecting guests?”



She did not want to cause discord on the first ‘real’ supper with the family. Dinner on the first night had been a disaster. Lucius never showed up, being called away by his Master, Narcissa sent her apologies stating that she had a headache. She had sat in her funeral robes at the long table across from Draco, silent and awkward until he too, was summoned. After that, food had been served in her room, at the small table near the window, and she had been grateful for the solitude. Being called down for supper had been unexpected.



Draco looked at her incredulously.



“You mean otherwise you would insult my parents with this attire? No, Granger, we are not expecting guests. Now I suggest to run up to your room, pull on something less offending to the eye and be down here in a matter of minutes for the aperitif.”



For a few seconds she stood motionless, trying to figure out whether this was some sort of trap she was about to walk into.



“Move your arse, Granger; I won’t be able to make your excuses forever!”



She ran up the staircase, taking two or three of the low steps at a time. Draco mumbled something that could very well have been ‘undignified, graceless klutz’, but she did not care.



In her room she opened her wardrobe and started flipping through the hangers, desperate to find one of her robes. Something told her that even an evening gown would not have passed for dignified if it was a Muggle garment.



Finally she found the light blue robes. They were not as delicate and elegant as Narcissa Malfoy’s robes, but they would do for the evening. She did very well remember how out of place and sad she had felt in her altered funeral robes.



Running down the stairs again, she nearly tripped over her low heeled shoes.



To her surprise, Draco was still waiting in the hall, hands clasped behind his back, studying a still life with visible impatience.



Hearing her clicking steps on the stone floor, he turned around and scrutinised her from head to toe.



Her hair was still untamed and absolutely everywhere and the sky blue robes were on the plain side, more suited for an outing during the day than a formal family dinner, but she would have to do.



He held his arm out to her and she simply stared at it.



After a deep sigh, he rolled his eyes.



“Put your fingertips on my forearm, Granger. I am going to escort you to dinner.”



She looked flustered and slightly alarmed, but approached him with hesitant steps.



“Right.” She looked at his arm as if hypnotised.



With a huff he took her hand in his and placed it on his arm.



“There. Not that difficult, is it?”



The double door to the dining room opened and he walked through, forcing her to tag along like a clumsy, stumbling child playing dress-up, unaccustomed to the long skirt and slippery shoes.



Lucius arched his brows upon his son’s entry, the hostage on his arm. It was indeed proper etiquette, but he had quite obviously expected a debacle of some variation or other, taking her upbringing into account.



Draco went through the motions of supper as expected and led the witch on his arm to the liquor cabinet. On a silver-plated tray, a milky substance stood waiting in an intricately cut crystal decanter next to a jug of iced water.



“How much water do you want in your pastis, Granger?”



“What, no absinthe?” She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.



Draco rolled his eyes.



“Pastis is an anise-based aperitif and you should mix it with water unless you want to be drunk before the first course arrives, Granger.”



“I know what pastis is, my family has a holiday home in the south of France,” she hissed low into his ear. “I just don’t care for the taste of anise or liquorice. I simply didn’t want to be rude in rejecting the aperitif, but could not decide whether I’d prefer a stronger taste but less to swallow or a diluted taste that would take me ages to get down.”



“Gee, thanks for not being rude, then. You can ask for something else, you know.”



She had the grace to blush. Being on the defence around him had become second nature and she did not expect him to simply ask her a question without ulterior motives.



“Sorry. Would you happen to have some grenadine syrup? That would be fine.”



Draco looked at her curiously. Interacting with her in a civil manner felt surreal and dangerous.



She nearly appeared to be a somewhat decent witch.



“Of course.” He reached for a tall bottle on another tray and added red syrup to one of the glasses, turning the drink a pinkish colour.



“Thanks.”



He noticed that her cheeks had turned rather pinkish, too.



There was an awkward silence when Draco and Hermione joined the elder Malfoys near the fire place.



It was quite clear that Hermione was not a guest but an outsider placed in their midst.



Narcissa smiled sweetly at the girl.



“So, you have been to France?”



Thankful for the pointer, Hermione tried to smile back.



“My family has a holiday home in the Camargue region. We used to go there every summer before ... before the war became too intense. My parents were even thinking of relocating there for their retirement.”



Completely disregarding the awkward silence that followed, Narcissa exclaimed in a cheery voice: “The Camargue! How lovely! I always adored its rustic beauty. The white horses, the flamingos... Have you ever been to a bull fight? They are quite the spectacle.”



“Er, we try not to support that particular custom...”



“No matter, no matter!” Narcissa placed her hand on Hermione’s arm just above her wrist.



“We also like to spend our summers abroad. There is of course the ancestral home in Normandy, but we have another retreat on the Riviera.”



“The Malfoys are from Normandy?”



“Yes.” Lucius joined the conversation. “Marellus Malfoi followed William to England.” He downed the rest of his aperitif. “The Malfoys have been in England ever since.”



“How about your family, Granger? Do you know which farm your ancestors slaved away on?”



She refused to give Draco the satisfaction to see her riled up.



“No, I do not know. But my mother’s maiden name is Beauregard, so we assume that her ancestors also came over from France at some point of time.”



They slowly walked from the fire place to the long dining table, where Lucius drew out the chair for Narcissa and Draco automatically did the same for Hermione.



Conversation was hard work at best, but Draco noted that his mother looked particularly pleased that their hostage knew which cutlery went with which course and did not eat with her elbows on the table.



Who would have thought that the Mudblood had basic manners?





***





Having an outsider in his home was aggravating. Draco Malfoy valued his privacy, and with Granger in the house he felt as if he could not relax and sprawl over the sofas in the drawing room in his under robes anymore.



Not that a Malfoy would ever do something as undignified as that, but now that it seemed impossible, the urge to sprawl and walk around half dressed was mounting.



Thankfully, she had adopted to stay out of the family’s way as much as possible, evading his father’s annoyed silences and his mother’s attempts to dress her in soft pink frilly robes.



The only person she could not avoid and who could not avoid her in turn was he himself. Hogwarts had been closed from the middle of their sixth year onward and the war had prevented any form of tutoring to be effective.



Although he had been able to keep up with the sixth year studies, the seventh year curriculum had been commenced and recommenced and recommenced again and again after being interrupted by the events of the war and obligations to the Dark Lord.



Starting his studies over with the Mudblood know-it-all had been a daunting prospect, but to be honest it was almost pleasant to have somebody to study with.



He liked to watch her.



She was chewing the feathery end of her quill while concentrating hard on her history essay.



With private tutors who only had to divide their attention between two students, there had been no reason to wave her hand in the air in the most annoyingly fashion and their fast-paced discussion in every single lesson regardless the subject was … exhilarating.



After only a week they had already covered two weeks worth of lessons and their tutors were thinking about giving them research projects to work on and broaden their knowledge beyond NEWT level. The only reason they had not started yet, was the reluctance of their pure blood teachers to force one of their own to work closely with a Mudblood.



He looked forward to working with her on a joint project without close supervision of a tutor.



After the first night in which he had barged into her room to be witness to her nightmares, she had been amusingly skittish.



Her quill was now scratching away fervently obviously hardly able to keep up with her thoughts, she obviously struggled between quickly putting her thoughts on paper and still maintaining her neat, even style of writing.



The fluttery sleeves of her new robes were pushed out of the way of her quill but threatened to smear the fresh ink by constantly gliding down her forearms. Very slowly, Draco moved his hand over to her bare skin. In her ignorance of pure blood culture, she was probably completely unaware of how enticing her arms looked to him. Pure blood girls never showed an inch of skin of their arms and legs after a certain age. At Hogwarts the Slytherin girls had always opted for long sleeved blouses and either worn tights or knee highs and skirts of the appropriate length.



He had to smile when he thought back to the dormitory talk with Blaise and Theo. The half blood and Mudblood girls of the other houses had been the topic of choice on many nights. The short sleeves on their blouses in summer, the ankle socks and knee length skirts and—oh gods!—the flimsy tops and short skirts on the weekends.



Surely, Granger would be appalled should she ever find out that she had been the centre of many wanking sessions for any Slytherin interested in girls. Markus Flint had been teased mercilessly for weeks after he had forgotten to put up silencing charms and a muffled cry of ‘Granger!’ had sounded past his drawn bed curtains.



Draco himself had entertained thoughts of her more than once ever since he happened to walk by her when returning a book to the library. She had been perched on one of the tall library ladders, reaching for a thick, mouldy-looking tome with worn off old lettering. He had happened to look up, coincidentally, of course, and caught a glimpse of red, low cut knickers and nothing else under her grey uniform skirt.



That night, he had fisted and tugged at himself imagining her wearing a matching bra to those red knickers and slowly crawling up to him in his bed.



Imagining to touch her was allowed, he had decided.



And now he had the opportunity in front of him every day.



He drew a finger along her exposed forearm and she jumped in surprise, drawing the tip of her quill from one side of her parchment to the other, smearing more than one paragraph.



“What are you playing at? Do you want me to mess up my magical creatures essay so you can get me into trouble with Professor Morgwin?”



He snorted.



“As if I needed to resort to that, Granger.” And then in a lower tone: “Does it excite you to be so close to me?”



She wordlessly moved one seat down, out of range of his hands.



Draco smirked at her bent head, her unbelievable hair falling over her face, concealing a blush, maybe?



He had not missed how the fine hairs on her arm had stood and how goose bumps had spread over her skin, leaving a prickly trail in his finger’s wake.



“So Granger, will you be able to touch a unicorn?”



The quill in her hand paused her fluent writing and she looked up from her parchment very slowly.



“Excuse me?”



Draco felt a warm rush of satisfaction as Granger gaped at him and blinked slowly.



“Are you showing yourself some respect and wait or are you the Muggle that you seem to be and have put out already?”



“This is none of your business, Malfoy.”



“I see.”



He bade his time.



“Nobody wants to touch you?”



She ignored him.



“On the other hand, it might be quite the opposite. At least you were not surprised to find a man in your room in the middle of the night.”



She suddenly looked sad and he pushed on, sensing the near victory.



“Is Potter good in bed?”



“I am not a whore, Malfoy.”



“So nobody wants to touch you, then.” He leaned back. “Understandable.”



Granger closed her book with a bang and stood.



“Have you looked around, Malfoy? The wizarding world is nearly void of wizards nowadays. Are you honestly expecting me to wait for a hypothetical wedding to some hypothetical wizard, who will be thrilled at being able to rid me of a tiny piece of skin? For the last few years I did not know whether I will wake up the next morning and I am glad, so glad, that I had a wizard, who was kind and loving and gentle when we needed it and quite the opposite when we needed that. I am glad I had these moments with him, because now he is gone and nothing will bring him back and I miss him and ... and...and I hate you!”



Her voice had been choked and she quickly gathered her parchment and quills and made a mess of it while trying to pack them too quickly, destroying her days’ work and not caring.



He had not expected this.



And aggravating her did not feel as good as it should have felt.



*****************************************************************************************************************



A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed! I am sorry that I can\'t answer reviews in detail today, internet and power cuts here leave me a very small window for updating. The next chapter will be up in a few days.