Not All that Glitters is Gold

I'm going to attempt a new format. Tell me if it's better than what I had previously. If not I'll upload the other format (I wrote two different kinds). I'm thinking of structuring each chapter to be based on the character's POV (in third person because I suck at writing in first person :( ). (i.e. chapter 5 = Draco's POV. chapter 6 = Lucius, so forth.)

THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!

margaritama - My Draco tends to be an extremely flawed character who is constantly overshadowed in every aspect of his life. His father and Hermione respectably. It's only natural, for him, to want to let his anger out in a more destructive way and now that he can - he plans to do it as often as possible. But yes, there are some redeemable qualities of Draco in the story - it's just not evident right now.

scarletwitchextreme - Yes, it would be extremely odd if that happens - then again there's always that newfangled term "Stockholm Syndrome." But, she's going to be one tough cookie to crack and I don't really like the idea of an obedient Hermione. She's a Gryffindor for a reason ya know! Lol.


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He stood in the doorway of his father's room, watching the former Gryffindor mudblood crouch over with her hands covering her face. He broke her nose and scraped up her pretty little face. Yet, somehow he felt disgusted in himself. He had stooped so low as to hit a woman, a mudblood at that. He knew what his father would say. 'Draco, don't lower yourself to their primitive level.' But he couldn't help it. He hated her.

Absolutely hated her. For what she was and what she was capable of. For years, she outshone him. For years he was put against every expectation of success his father placed on his shoulders. Overbearing and volatile. He hated it. He hated her.

Her sobs grew louder as she hunched over, apparently trying to stop the bleeding he had inflicted. His face shone with a kind of smugness for a few moments before he realized that the bleeding hadn't stopped. He had broken Goyle's nose plenty of times and it usually stopped within a few minutes but not Hermione. She sat there as blood pooled over her hands, dripping into large puddles on the floor.

"Granger," Draco managed to say, breaking the silence and her sobs. He strode over to her side, unsure if he should bend down or stay standing. He thought, for a second, of what his father would do and gripped his wand tightly. He wasn't his father, he had to remind himself.

Draco bent down and batted Hermione's hands from her face. She raised her hand and slapped him, splattering his blood across his cheek. "How does it feel now? Having the blood of a fucking disgusting mudblood on you!?" She cried loudly, watching with a little terror in her eyes at what she had just done.

His nose twitched, very much like his father would when he's angry, be he did nothing. He'd have plenty of time to get back at her, but first things first. He needed to keep her alive. "Sod it." Draco mumbled to himself, wrapping his arms under Hermione and lifting her from the ground.

She struggled. Oh how she struggled. He wondered if she did that when his father brought her in here. He didn't want to think about it. Her father between her legs, rutting and panting. Her face covered in sweat as she moaned and cried his name out. He might have been exaggerating at that moment, but he knew it would be possible. His father was notorious for being very well in bed. Even a common bed slave, such as her, would soon appreciate sharing his bed. Draco didn't want that. He didn't want to share.

Hermione eventually settled into his arms. He knew it was because she didn't have a choice, or because she was losing so much blood at this point that she was slipping into unconsciousness. The latter part was correct. By the time he reached the end of the hallway, Hermione's head was resting lightly on his arm, her hand grasped his shirt for dear life. Draco wanted to pause to look at her but decided against it. He stood in front of his door as it magically opened for him, the fireplace instantly catching fire, emitting a low green hue to the room.

Placing her down onto his bed, Draco watched as her limp body molded into his sheets. She was so helpless when she was unconscious. He rather liked it. It beat the slaps and bruises he got from her any day. Rolling his sleeves up, Draco pulled open the drawer beside his bed and rummaged through various nudity magazines, toffees and empty potions bottles. He finally found the one he was looking for and uncorked it, sniffing the contents slightly before shrugging. He'd have to ask Snape for more, just in case incidents like this happened again.

Draco moved onto his bed, sitting next to Hermione, and reached for her. His fingers traced down her heart shaped face, grasping onto a lock of her muddy brown hair. It felt soft to the touch and he hadn't noticed before but it wasn't bushy or full of tangles, it was very curly. He smirked for a second as he felt the silky strands of her hair, cupping her head with his hand.

He brought the bottle to her lips and watched as they automatically parted for him. With the bottle empty, Draco tossed it back into the drawer and shut it with his foot. He watched Hermione's wounds heal. Merlin, he loved magic. Her eyes fluttered but remained closed. She let out a small sigh and seemed to fall into a deep slumber. He was tempted to wake her up, annoy her more, but she looked oddly at peace. It was far more comforting than he had expected. Sneering at the gentle thoughts that plagued his mind, Draco backed away from Hermione and brought his hands to his hair.

What in the world was he doing? She's a slave. A bed slave at that! He shouldn't be thinking about her pouty pink lips, her soft skin and silky hair! What was wrong with him? Draco gripped onto his hair and tugged just a little before storming into the bathroom. He was covered in head to toe with the mudblood's blood. Imagine what Zabini or Parkinson would say if they saw that. Bloody ridiculous!

He didn't sleep well that night. Instead of kicking the filthy Gryffindor to the floor, like he ought to, Draco sat at his desk and merely stared at her. She hardly moved but he knew she was breathing by how her chest quietly rose before falling. He tried to occupy himself with reading, planning, charting, whatever he could. It was useless. The stupid Granger girl was on his mind. He wondered what in Merlin's name was she doing, acting as if nothing had changed. Everything had changed. She belonged to him. She was a possession. No longer human. But no. She held firm to that belief that she was still Mudblood Granger, former prefect and member of Potter's silly Golden Trio.

Disgusting. He wanted to teach her where her place was. Secretly, he wished she never changed. It would've been far too surreal for him. Having her act like a zombie. No flair, no fire, no passion. His lip twitched as his eyes followed the curves of her body. She had changed and for the better. Those silly school robes hid the fascinating beauty of her body. He would've never guessed that Granger even had breasts, let alone an arse that looked delicious.

Draco shook those thoughts from his mind and went back to his papers. In a matter of minutes, he had fallen asleep at his desk. His mind occupied with the fantasies of the girl he loved to hate. Hermione Granger. His slave. Now and forever.

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When he woke, he nearly shot up from his desk. Parchment was stuck to his cheek and his back cracked noisily. He quickly tore the paper from him, wiped his mouth and looked instantly at the spot where Hermione lay. She had moved, onto her side, sleeping still. He had a vivid dream and what sickened him was that she was involved. She was craving him, yearning for him, and he only obliged. Disgusting thoughts.

He rosed from his seat and ran his fingers through his messy blond locks as he approached the bed. Her eyes fluttered open as his shadow was cast over her pale form. Staring up at him with his big brown doe eyes, Draco would have thought this was a different girl. A different girl who just happened to look like the annoying know-it-all from school. She seemed to grasp the situation as the fire in her eyes came back, a nod at which Draco could only smirk mentally at. She sat up and brought her hand to her nose feeling that it was healed and no longer broken.

"Glad you've finally decided to join the world of the living," he sneered, watching her look at the bed beside her. He scoffed and shoved his hands into his pocket, "Like I'd share a bed with *you* Filthy Mudblood."

"Are those the only words you know?" Hermione snapped up at him. Merlin, he loved her little witty quips. It gave him reason to punish her.Put her in her place. "I'm surprised for such a scary Death Eater you think Filthy Mudblood is something that will make me quiver in my spot, Malfoy."

Draco slapped her. Hard. He never got tired of hitting her and she didn't seem to want him to stop. Hermione brought her hand to her cheek and reached across the space between them, slapping him. Draco growled. She sure knew how to get on his wrong side. Just after he had let her bleed all over him and messed up his perfectly good evening. He reached out for her as she raised her hand to slap him again but snatched onto her wrist. In a hard yank, Draco pulled her off of the bed and flung her across the room. He didn't throw her as hard as he liked but only with enough force to cause her to reel into the wall.

"I could've let you died yesterday. I could've left you to bleed on the fucking floor!" He growled, pushing her back against the wall as she tried to move away. He placed his hands on either side of her, boxing her in.

"I wish you did," Hermione snapped back, looking at him with defiant eyes. "I wouldn't have to stare at your pathetic face! Treating those you deem below you in such a filthy, disgusting manner. You say that Mudbloods are unintelligent and barbaric. Look who the barbarian is!"

His nose twitched. She knew she was getting under his skin, he knew that she knew. Draco brought his hand to her neck, gripping onto it tightly. She gasped for a breath and held it, yet her eyes never looked at him with terror, horror, or at least anything other than hatred. "I'll show you barbaric, Granger." He purred into her ear, grasping onto her wrist as he threw her behind him, knocking her to the ground with his foot.

"I'll show you exactly how we ought to treat whores like you." He pulled his shirt off, standing over Hermione. Her eyes changed now. No longer fiery. They were terrified. She was terrified. Good.

Hermione rolled onto her hands and feet, attempting to bolt for the door. Draco's hand shot out, grabbing onto a thick patch of her long brown locks and hurling her to the ground. She brought her hands to his, attempting to free her hair from his grasp. He didn't care about civility any longer. He wanted...needed...to show her what she had gotten herself into with that big mouth of hers.

He brought his hand to her mouth to quiet her as she blasted expletives at him and let out a yell when her teeth sank into his hand. Draco twisted her to face him and brought his hand up, slapping her hard. He had learned that punches would knock her out cold quicker than an open hand slap. She wasn't worthy of his fists. Hermione let out a cry as he struggled to pin her down onto the floor.

It was ironic how he first took her. On that very same spot, in the very same fashion. She was proving to be a very difficult person and he loved it. He loved showing her how strong and powerful he was. Not with his words, but with his actions. Draco pushed her back against the ground, hitting her head hard on the wooden floor below him. She cried out again, her nails raking down his arms as he pried her legs apart. He was frantic at this point. Throbbing so painfully for her.

Her screams echoed across the room as Draco forced himself on her, thrusting like a mad man. A House-Elf stopped at the edge of the door and listened, its eyes growing wide with each of Hermione's cries and Draco's grunts. "Do you like it Granger?" He breathed, slamming his hips against hers. "Fucking you like the dog that you are. Is this barbaric enough?"

She said nothing beyond her strangled cries and shouts. It was over just as fast as it hard started. He felt himself readying for his release as her fingers dug into his arms, leaving them red and raw. With one final thrust, grunt and breath, Draco filled her with his warmth. He leaned over her, his hands holding onto her thighs close to his hips. They panted heavily, Hermione's eyes still watering from the cries. Leaning over, Draco kissed her tears and buried his head into her brown locks. He released her thighs and heard them drop to the floor.

"I hate you," he heard her whisper. She always had to have the last say, didn't she. He would let her, just this once. Draco pulled himself from her and straightened his trousers, pulling his shirt back on, and mucking up his hair.

He opened the door and looked down at the House-Elf, carrying a tray of food. "M-Master Lu-ucius says Wikly m-must bring Misses s-some food."

He narrowed his eyes and stepped aside, allowing the elf entrance to his room before closing it. What was his father playing at?