Hostage of War

A/N: My thanks goes to Softobsidian74 for alpha reading, feedback and encouragement and to Sempra, who did a stellar beta job!

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Proditio


“Kips!”

The small elf winked into the breakfast room.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Is Miss Hermione still in her room? Maybe she is unwell?”

“Miss Hermione is not on the Estate, Mistress.”

Simultaneously, a chair hit the marble ground with a loud clatter and paper rustled as a newspaper fell on the surface of the table.

Lucius stood his face white with fear and rage.

“What?”

The small creature shivered and bowed to its Master.

“The wards show that Miss Hermione has left the Estate at three thirty-two this morning.”

“In the middle of the night?” His voice was faint. “Why was I not alerted?”

Then louder.

“WHY was I not alerted?”

The elf cowered.

Lucius had actually never given order to be alerted should Hermione leave. She was here voluntarily; she knew what would happen should she leave. She would never compromise the peace.

But apparently she had.

“Lucius,” Narcissa put a soft hand on her husband’s arm. “Let us go to her room.”

Draco was already on his way out of the dining room and the first to hurry up the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time.

The door to her room was not open, but it was unlocked. The bed looked slept-in with slightly rumpled sheets, a dent in the pillow and one corner of the golden yellow duvet thrown back as if she had just gotten up.

Her robes and Muggle clothes were still in the wardrobe and a quickly performed spell told them that no items had been removed.

Toiletry items, a few make up things and the hair care potions in golden glimmering flasks that Narcissa had gifted to her stood undisturbed in front of the mirror and on the edge of her built-in bathtub.

“It does not look like she ran away,” Narcissa remarked in a slow, pensive voice.

Lucius scoffed.

“Or she does not want it to look like she ran away.” He pushed his hand into his hair and caused a few strands to slip out of the ribbon at the nape of his neck. “The Dark Lord will not like this.”

His outward appearance remained relatively calm, but his eyes and a slight tremor in his voice belied his distress.

The disappearance of the Granger girl could jeopardise well-laid plans that ought not to be disturbed.

Draco’s eyes fell on the tall window.

“I will search the grounds, just in case.”

His mother had moved close to his father, to comfort and be comforted. He left the stairs and entrance hall behind him and exited into the gardens. The grass was still damp and a veil of fog wound around the group of trees by the lake.

Draco stilled and felt a calm dread settle on his shoulders.

Hermione Granger was a Mudblood and might not appreciate fine robes and regard anything beyond the absolute necessary as frippery, but even he had to admit that she was magical. And no witch in her right mind would run away and discard her wand while doing so.


***


As he had foreseen, his father was in the study, pacing at a frantic speed between the fire place and the portrait of Severus Snape.

He stopped abruptly when he became aware of his son in the doorway.

Draco took the opportunity to walk into the room without haste. He was very aware of the two pairs of eyes following his every move. When he reached the desk, he placed the slim piece of vine on its shiny surface.

“I do not think she has left voluntarily.”

His calm demeanour gave his words more force than agitated yelling and screaming could have ever done.

He was aware of movement in his peripheral vision as his godfather slumped in his painted armchair, his face covered with his hands.

“This is not good.”

Lucius looked no longer pale and aristocratic. His skin had taken on a greyish, sickly colour.

Severus’ portrait raised his head and with urgency and determination in his voice addressed his friend.

“Go to him. Go now, before whoever has taken her informs him. Be upfront, be enraged, offer yourself up for punishment.”

Lucius had already started dressing in his dark cloak and summoned his mask.

“Buy us some time, Lucius.”

He inclined his head in a jerky fashion, as if the dread he was feeling upon the situation they found themselves suddenly in had stiffened his bones and joints.

Even his Apparating sounded subdued.

As soon as the head of house had left the manor, Severus Snape jolted into action.

“Draco, have a comfortable portrait taken to the lab, something with a table and a chair in it will do.”

Draco snorted.

“Of course, an oil painting with table and chair to the lab. Anything else? Painted wine and fruit?”

“Don’t dawdle, boy! Let the elves look for something appropriate and then meet me in the lab with some of Hermione’s hair.”

“Will the lock that I carry in a locket above my heart suffice?”

Snape’s portrait was quite clearly not amused.

“Alright, alright. I’ll check her room. I’ll send a house elf to inform you, when your office painting has been installed in the lab.”

With that he swiftly left the study, calling for an elf to look through stored away paintings, as he was certain that no such picture adorned the walls of the manor.

Her room was not far and he felt a strange pang when entering. The open books on her vanity that was obviously not used for its intended purpose, the strewn-about quills and a half-eaten browning apple made the room — sad.

Shaking himself out of this unfamiliar mindset, he started for the bathroom in search of a bit of Hermione Granger.

Hair.

Hairhairhair.

Her hair was everywhere. Always.

It stuck to her robe, accumulated in the corners of rooms with marble or parquet flooring and got into his way while trying to study a particularly rare book with her.

She was shedding hair like a bloody cat.

Why was there no hair when he needed it?

He had searched the bathroom for her hairbrush.

Every woman had a hairbrush, right?

Apparently not this one.

All he could find was a wide-toothed comb made of horn.

And not a single hair.

The next second he could have hit himself. There he was, mocking the witch for forgetting her magic once in a while.

“Accio Hermione’s hair.”

Three single, brown hairs floated from her pillow into his hand and he left her room with long strides in the direction of the manor’s potions laboratorium.

It did not even occur to him that he had used her first name.

***


The ropes bit into her numb flesh, sending small sparks of pain into her hands and arms.

Her mouth was dry and sticky as if she had been ill without proper care for a long time.

She remembered the small parchment origami bird that had desperately flung itself against her window last night. Had it been last night? Probably. She did not feel bad enough for having been unconscious for several days. But one never knew with magic...

She had opened the window and seen Ginny in front of the gates, obviously in great distress.

Hermione had grabbed her wand and ran down the stairs and out of the house.

Seeing Ginny like this, only hours after they had averted a new breakout of war had Hermione in a panic. If Ginny had lost her nerve and run away from the Zabinis, all hope was lost.

Or maybe the Zabinis had hurt Ginny? Some followers might be overeager to please their Lord and punish her on their own volition.

Stupidly she had swung open the gate and stepped out of the wards.

And then nothing.

She was lying directly on a hard stone surface and where her arms and legs had not gone lifeless from lack of blood flow, she could feel her flesh growing unresponsive from cold.

Forcing herself not to panic, she took in her surroundings. It was a rather large cave; bones, rotting leftovers from week-old meals and ashes from burnt wood made it apparent that somebody or something lived in the inhospitable place.

There was a clatter of loose stones on stone, rolling down or sliding a short distance after being stirred by footsteps.

Fenrir Greyback rounded the corner and his mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile when he saw that Hermione was awake.

“There you are! And I thought you might have decided to die before we could have our fun.”

Hermione could not disguise her shock, when a woman rounded the corner of the cave’s entrance. Nymphadora Tonks. She latched onto Greyback’s arm.

“You promised she would not get hurt!”

“Get away from me, Metamorphmagus! You have served your purpose, now hold your tongue!”

“You said we would simply end the armistice and I would find justice for Remus’ death!” Her voice rose to hysterical heights. “You said she would not be hurt, that you wanted revenge for Remus as well!” She started tugging on his arm and he turned around, snarling in annoyance.

“I lied.”

He flung her from his arm and against the stone wall of the cave, where she hit her head with a sickening crunch.

Then she was still.

Hermione felt sick, no matter that Tonks must have impersonated Ginny in order for her to leave the manor of her own choice.

Greyback crouched down in front of Hermione, taking her chin in his filthy hand, yellow, ragged nails digging into her skin.

With a sudden movement of her head she dislodged his grip.

“What do you want, Greyback?”

“What I want? Many things. I want the promises the Dark Lord made for my pack to be fulfilled.”

He roughly rolled her onto her back and trailed a hand over the front of her nightgown.

“You have grown since I last had the pleasure to feel you, Mudblood.”

She fervently wished that she’d have worn one of her warm flannel pyjamas instead of the knee length nightgown.

“I want this ridiculous truce to end and have free reign to hunt on the battlefield.”

He straddled her and ripped her nightgown in half.

“It’s all your fault, you know? First you save the day by so eagerly stepping forward to suck cock and then you run away, overcome by shame. Or maybe the mean, mean Malfoys treated you badly?”

Although he was not in wolf form, his teeth felt dangerously sharp against her skin.

“But fret not, by the end of the week, the world as you know it will have ceased to exist.”

“Bastard!”

She tried to struggle, but the restraints and his weight on her made it impossible for her to have any effect on him.

He lunged forward, his upper body burying her and knocking the air from her lungs.

Hermione braced herself for a vicious attack, anticipating teeth to break her skin, paws to break bones and claws to rip flesh from flesh.

She could hardly breathe for all the stench that he was emanating. The attack did not come. Instead, his stiff body was heaved aside and Draco Malfoy stood over her.

“You look a mess, Granger.”

A quick Finite Incantatem let the ropes fall away from her wrists and ankles and blood rushed back into her hands and feet.

And a bit friendlier:

“Can you stand?”

Hermione tried to make her useless hands for grasp the lapels of her thin dressing gown to draw it closed and cover herself.

Unsuccessful, she looks up at Draco.

“I am afraid not any time soon.”

He bent down, took the dressing gown in hand and secured it firmly with the tie around her waist. He quickly crossed the cave and performed a spell over Tonks’ still form, shaking his head to her unspoken question and returned to her side.

“You are really more trouble than anything else, Granger.

His voice belied his relief. If the guided Apparating potion would have taken any longer to brew... Seeing her underneath the beast after the strange dark tunnel had first sucked him in and then spit him out not three yards from her, had been horrifying.

“How do I know that you are you? I have been fooled by someone impersonating somebody I trust, only hours ago.”

He looked at her silently. Then he smiled.

“Good morning, Philippine!”

“You are annoying.” She gave him a relieved smile. “And I never thought I would ever say this, but I am glad it’s you!”

He held onto her limp hand and Apparated them away.

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A/N: A big thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! Review responses can be found here:

http://lady-of-clunn. livejournal. com/84198.html

Just take out the spaces as usual :)