Not All that Glitters is Gold

========================================================================================
I Own You, You Belong to Me
========================================================================================


She waited anxiously, for the first time, for Lucius to return from his daily musings with the Dark Lord. Either she was going to go through with this completely, or she was going to lose her mind. She opted for the latter but knew she needed to complete the former. If there was one thing she knew, she could put on a happy face and pretend everything is fine when it most definitely is not. Her world was crashing down around her and she needed to grasp some control.

Hermione looked up from the center of the bed, the sheets newly changed by a different house-elf, as the door clicked open. She could feel the wards shift and bend around Lucius as he entered. Their eyes met and for a brief second, she thought she saw his eyes quiver. Something bad had happened. She could tell that much.

“You’re up,” he said huskily, removing his long emerald velvet cloak, “I expected you to pretend to be sleeping, like always.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Hermione replied, bringing her hands to her legs as she sat Indian style.

“Mhm,” Lucius nodded, sauntering to his liquor cabinet.

The thing was gigantic and filled with every kind of alcohol one could imagine. She thought she even saw wine that was as old a Dumbledore in there when she looked earlier that day. Lucius rummaged through the cabinet and pulled out a full bottle of firewhiskey. He slumped into his seat and didn’t bother removing his gloves as he poured the golden colored liquid into a small glass.

Hermione watched in silence as he drank heavily. Shot after shot, glass after glass, it was amazing that he could still stand by the time he had guzzled the entire bottle. Three hours she sat there staring at him drinking himself to oblivion. Random glasses were littered across his desk, missives fallen to the ground, and half of his hair draped over his face. Hermione heard him groan and slip onto the desk, his head resting on his forearm with one hand grasping onto the empty bottle.

“You’re drunk,” Hermione noted, watching his shoulders roll back as he laughed.

“An astute observation, my pet,” his voice was slurred but not so much that she couldn’t tell what he was saying, just enough to prove that he was, in fact, drunk.

Lucius rolled his head back; strands of hair flew from his tight pony tail and covered his face. Hermione stared into his gray eyes defiantly and merely watched him. The blonde stood, wobbling a little and running into his desk, as he sauntered over to the bed.

“C’mere,” he rasped, grasping onto the four poster bed, “Come to your…” he hiccupped and she stifled a laugh, “Come to your master.”

“No,” Hermione replied, tilting her head back.

Lucius’ eyes bore into her, throwing so many daggers that she was sure she would be a pin cushion by the end of the night if that were possible. He brought his hands to the clasp of his robes, pulling it from his form and letting it pool around his feet.

“Get over here,” he growled, reaching out for her.

“You’re pissed and I don’t feel like it,” Hermione sniffed, bringing her legs to her chest.

His nose twitched with irritation but he remained grasping onto the bed post, probably afraid to move in fear that he’d topple over. He looked down at her with a menacing gaze. Hermione glared back at him with defiance and tilted her head back.

“You will do what I say,” Lucius barked, bringing a hand to the zipper of his trousers and roughly pulled it down. “I own you…you’re mine.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Hermione snapped, moving slowly away from him.

She could tell that she was making him irritated. His face was flushed, brows raised, and nose flared. If she could, she would be doing the Snoopy dance for how angry she made him at that moment. Hermione traced her toe along the seams of the bedding, watching him watch her toe. He licked his lips and traced his eyes over her small soft legs, settling between her thighs for a second before traveling up the swell of her hips, stomach, breasts and to her face. Her eyes flickered with deviance, causing him to snap at that moment.

“Bitch!” he snarled, launching himself at her.

Hermione didn’t exactly move as he grasped onto her wrists and pinned her down. His breath reeked of alcohol and because of such intoxication, he was panting heavily. She cringed when he lowered his mouth over hers, devouring her lips with his own. Hermione pulled her wrist free and brought his to his shoulder, giving a half hearted shove but the big lug wouldn’t move. His lips lazily ate at her lips, saliva dripped from the corner of his lips. He grunted, thrusting hip hips wantonly against her thighs. It literally reminded her of a dog trying to hump the stuffing out of a large teddy bear.

He squinted and stopped all movement. The sound of his gurgling stomach echoed across the room and Hermione knew exactly what was about to happen. Damn. Lucius groaned and rolled from Hermione, vomit spilling from his throat onto the bed. Hermione jumped to her knees and moved quickly as Lucius let out a choking sound. More vomit. The smell was utterly repulsive but what could she do? Well, she could let him wallow in his filth and cackle in the corner, but that wasn’t her plan.

Hermione moved to Lucius and pulled the hairs that had fallen from his que and brought a hand to his cheek. He groaned and pulled himself up by his hands, swaying a little. The curly-haired witch pulled him up against her, wrapping her arm around his waist as he tried to lift himself from the bed and stumble back.

“Oh gods,” Hermione groaned, pulling him with her, “You’re so sodding heavy.”

“What are you doing?” Lucius asked in a grumble, leaning most of his weight on her.

“What does it look like you idiot?” she replied, knowing he would hardly remember this in the future.

She brought him to one of his large dragon hide chairs and plopped him there, taking several breaths. Her strength was definitely not what it used to be, but it was good enough. Lucius’ head rolled back against the chair and he let out a loud groan.

“The world hates me,” he grumbled while Hermione pulled the sheets from the bed and wrapped them up into a ball. “I’m pathetic.”

“Yes, yes you are,” Hermione replied, prying back another layer of sheets.

“My son hates me. My Lord thinks I’m weak. And you,” he looked at her under his lids, “You despise me.”

“Nice observation, Mr. Malfoy,” she muttered, pulling a large knit blanket from the edge of the bed over the white sheets.

She turned and looked to Lucius, who was sprawled out on the chair with his mouth gaping open. His legs were spread eagle, hardened bits sticking straight against his taut stomach, a line of silvery blond hair trailing from his chest to a nest of hair surrounding his penis. Hermione sniffed and moved into the bathroom.

She pulled a towel from the rack and shoved it into the sink. Letting the water run, Hermione heard him groan in the other room and she felt a small pang of pity for him. If she wasn’t in this situation, her pity for him would be ten fold, but being as she hated the git and everything he stood for…she wasn’t all that sorry for him. Pulling and ringing the towel out, Hermione reentered his bedroom and brought it to his face.

More like tossing it onto his face, but it worked none the less. She rubbed his face clean and wiped his neck free of all vomit before working herself over. Lucius was watching her intently, his silver eyes tracing over her nude form. Hermione had gotten used to it by now; she was never really uncomfortable by her naked form. It was natural after all.

Plopping the towel into the bathroom, Hermione made her way to the drunken Lucius and pulled him to his feet by holding onto his hands. He moved willingly, almost like Frankenstein, in small little steps with his hands held out. Hermione climbed onto the bed and pulled him with her. With a loud crunch, Lucius was planted face first into the bed, groaning softly.

She sighed and pulled him further onto the bed, first his feet and then rolling his body a little further onto it. By the time she was finished positioning him, she was exhausted and had worked up a sweat. Leaning back against her designated side of the bed, Hermione stared down at the pissed man and felt her nose twitch. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought. Damnit.

Hermione shimmied under the blanket and pulled it over Lucius’ snoring form. She stared up at the ceiling and jumped when she felt his arm snake around her and pull her closer to him. His breath was warm and still reeked of stomach acid and alcohol, but she was able to turn her head to the side. Eventually settling on her side, Hermione felt him push up against her, spooning her from behind.

It took her a long, long time before she felt her eyes droop. Lucius’ snores softened until they were quiet, humming against her own beating heart. His face buried into her curly brown hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. His fingers danced along her sides, sending unwanted shivers up her spine but she allowed it. Hermione fell to a slight slumber, never truly asleep.