Pureblood, Halfbreed

Pureblood, Halfbreed

Draco rubbed his eyes and gave up the notion of sleep. His mind would not slow down, thoughts flickering and swirling and denying him the rest he craved. He tore away the sheets that were snarled around his legs and swung out of his bed. The cool air played across his bare chest, and he pulled on his dressing gown. It matched his pyjama trousers; black silk embroidered with tiny silver serpents along the cuffs and collar, and lifted his wand from the nightstand into its pocket.

The floor was cold under his bare feet as left the rug beside his bed but he welcomed the cold, trying to shock himself awake since sleep was a lost cause. Maybe he could get a few hours peace while the rest of the household was sleeping. He walked through Malfoy Manor in darkness; a life spent in its unchanging halls meant he needed no light. He reached the sitting room, the fire glowed dully in the wide hearth, and with a flick of his wand lit the candelabra behind on of the armchairs.

Crossing to the wall of shelves he flicked his wand across the books spines seeking a distraction. He was reaching for a biography of Grindelwald when he heard a noise behind him and a voice. He nearly bit his lip. This wasn't fair. It was a middle of the night, why could he not get a few minutes peace in the middle of the night? He could not sleep because of her and now he apparently could not be awake either. He grit his teeth, and turned around, and barely stopped his jaw dropping.

"Heya, Draco."

The girl, the creature, his newfound half sister was standing in the doorway, softly lit by the candlelight. Her tawny skin seemed to glow a rich gold, and her thick dark hair swept around her pointed cats ears to hang down over her pert breasts. Her worn-thin too-small tank top revealed toned stomach muscles and a string bikini bottom made her legs seem to stretch forever. She was holding a bowl of popcorn balanced against her hip and sauntered across the room towards him. Her eyes were huge and golden over a tiny pointed nose and arcing whiskers.

Draco swallowed and felt his eye twitch. His eye didn't twitch! But she made it damn her. His mouth went dry as he watched her perfect bust strain against the threadbare fabric of her top with every step. ("It was my moms! She had it at Woodstock!") What was she doing now...?

Oh No...

She hugged him. Her lithe, taut, insanely tempting body rubbing against his, nothing but a thickness of cotton and silk between them. Her heady scent flooded his senses and it was an effort of will to keep his hands by his side until she released him.

"You English need to loosen up, relax a little!"

Her sultry voice and American accent purred in Draco's ear as she turned and walked over toward the armchairs by the fire. He first instinct, to lift his wand and blow her away with a Reducto curse, dissolved as his eyes dropped to the hypnotic motion of her ass as she walked away, tail arcing up and twitching from side to side. A tiny triangle of cloth hung low under her tail, leaving nothing to the imagination. His eye twitched again. She stopped in front of the fireplace and looked around, then curled up in the armchair across from his.

Draco turned back to the bookshelf and pulled down his book. Why? What did he ever do? He had never been that nasty to Potter, truth be told the lucky little prat had won more than he'd lost against Draco. Come to think of it, Draco though wistfully, he almost wished the prat and his pauper friend were here, if only for the distraction. Anything but this torture.

He remembered her arrival a week ago. In a flurry of bags she had arrived while his father had been away, the same day as his letter from Hogwarts. His mother had welcomed her into the manor until the strange cat-girl had cheerfully greeted her as "step-mom". Draco had never seen the icy fury in his mothers' eyes before. The sixteen-year-old catgirl stepdaughter. Not just half-human, but the same age as Draco.

With a hasty excuse Narcissa had all but dragged Draco bodily into her solarium, and instructed him in clipped tones to "notify your father that his wife will be at the Chateaux, waiting eagerly for an explanation on how he has two children the same age and was faithful to me at the same time. I am especially looking forward to hearing his reasoning behind befouling his house with this half-blood. And American! In fact, Draco, tell your father to write because if I lay eyes on him, I'll kill him."

His mother had kissed him on the cheek. "Come visit me when you can, darling, you'll always be welcome in my home." A moue of disgust crossed her lips. "Look after your sister, if she is your sister. Try to show her how to comport herself appropriately. I doubt her mother took the trouble." She had looted the family safe and his fathers' desk, and sealed her solarium with Conflagration curses before taking a Portkey to their estate in the Loire valley.

Leaving Draco alone in the house with his half-sister.

He couldn't let her out in case anyone from the Ministry spotted her and she had the infuriating habit of following him around so he couldn't leave himself. The past week had been the two of them alone in the house. He was reasonably certain this was what his own private hell would be like when he got there.

He had been holding the book half off the shelf for a while before he drifted back. I could run for it. Put the book back and just go back to bed. And lie there with her twisting through my thoughts. Sighing internally he took it and sat into his armchair. At least here she was wearing some clothes. Not much, he could see the darker skin around her.... Stop! Tearing his eyes away, Draco flipped the book open randomly and tried to distract himself with an account of one of Grindelwald's more grisly exploits.

"Draco, dear..."

Her hand was on his book and she pulled it down as she knelt beside his chair. He could see right down her.... Draco wrenched his head back so hard it bumped against the seat back.

"I can sense you're troubled."

Oh bugger. He had only known her a week but he knew the signs of imminent annoyance well by now. She was going to use her 'ancestral powers' on him. Her low voice purred in a way he would normally have adored to have purring to him in the middle of the night, except that it was attached to his half-sister, who was about to be irritating. Anyone could have seen he was troubled. His eye was twitching!

"I know it must be hard having no one to talk to, and I wanted you to know you could always talk to me."

Draco couldn't stop his jaw dropping this time. He had his mother. He had Pansy Parkinson for what worth she was, he had Crabbe and Goyle if he just wanted a listening audience, and there was... had been... Nott if he needed a sounding board...well, there had been not before he had been killed. Anyway, why would he want to talk to this stranger who was in the middle of splitting up his parents?

"I don't need you to talk to, I'm quite alright. Thanks."

She put her hand on his knee, he flinched and she looked at him with a look of what he was sure she thought of as deep compassion. And started.

"Draco, according to the ancestral wisdom of the cat people, of which I Lucille Marianna Suzanne Malfoy am the last, its unhealthy for you to deny your feelings..."

Draco let his eyes glaze over and he stared over her should at the fire. He should get up, he should just get up and leave but he could not. She kept talking, speaking the most idiotic nonsense with the voice of an angel. Ancient wisdom of the cat people? Second class psychological tricks strung together with a little pseudo mythological nonsense was all he had gathered from the week of impromptu speeches. He should leave but he could not tear himself away from her, her allure tugged at him like gravity, her scent, her voice, her sinful body. His knuckle found his way to his mouth and he bit down.

His sister. She was his sister! He was not lusting after his sister, and a half-blood to boot! He was not going to defile thousands of years of family honour by succumbing to his desires; despite the fact that her very existence seemed to indicate his father had done just that.

But he was sixteen! And she was the most beautiful, sexy, viscerally alluring girl he had ever seen. She had hooked into every one of his senses and he couldn't escape. His only comparisons were his tepid fumblings with Pansy Parkinson, which despite her eagerness, he could not enthuse himself over. This, however, this was torture. This was evil.

His mind spun barely noticing that she had finished talking. He started and was her looking at him with a wide-eyed expression of understanding. He figured that she had him pegged as some sort of tragic wounded hero who needed the tender ministrations of a selfless carer. Before she had turned up there had been nothing wrong with him, now he was treading the borders of madness. He hadn't slept properly in a week and sleep and wakefulness were blurring together.

"I'm going to bed, Draco. If you want anything, just wake me up. My door's open."

Draco smiled a desperate grin and then squeezed his eyes shut as she stood up then leaned over to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight then, sweet dreams."

"Yeah, you too."

Why did she have to be his sister? If she had been anything but family, and immediate family at that, he would have told his father to stuff his pure-blood rules and eloped with her. Maybe she talked the most appalling nonsense but even without ever having touched her with his hands, he knew what she felt like from those terribly close hugs. Soft, in all the right places, firm, where she should be, supple and lithe and...

This was not fair.

Draco offered a prayer to whatever was listening, just let him cope until his father came back, then he was gone. If he had Blast off his leg and spend the time in St. Mungos, he was not spending a second longer than he had to in her company. And if his mother divorced Lucius, he was going with her and to hell with the family fortune.

His father could keep his daughter and see how he liked it. Draco grinned a bitter smile. If he was having trouble with her, so would his father. Draco had at least gotten some of his mothers reserve, she would be the luscious apple that Lucius' serpent constantly tempted him with, and his father deserved no less after leaving him here with here, and siring her in the first place.

Draco came to a decision. Until then, he would make sure he was unfit for any action, lustful or not. A cabinet in the corner was well stocked with spirits and Draco fetched himself a bottle of firewhiskey, tore off the top and started drinking.