Not All that Glitters is Gold

Hopefully I won't have to explain Draco's feelings. He's been 'in love' with Hermione since their third year (after she slapped him). As for his sadistic behavior, he is sadistic but might have played up the part because he doesn't want to appear weak and knew she expected him to be like that (kinda cliched I know, but whatever).

Next Chapter will be a combo of Hermione and then Lucius!

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He didn't know what had come over him. His mouth was aching for her touch. Their lips intertwined with one another and he knew for sure that she wasn't fighting. Not this time. He held her close to him, feeling her warm breath bathe across his icy flesh. He had felt so cold up until now. Like ice melting in an inferno of lust, of obsession, Draco was melting under Hermione's touch. And he was the one in control.

She was playing tricks with his mind. He hated it. He loathed her. Yet, she had become so permanent in his memory that he was aching to be around her. He'd endure a thousand punches, insults, hell she could even Crucio him to oblivion as long as she was in the room. All he wanted was to touch her, claim her as his own. Never share her with any one. What was wrong with him?

His trip to Romania had been fruitful. Along with the Carrows, Draco tracked down Potter and Weasley. It wasn't hard to find the pair. Ron's red hair was visible through a sea of people. Soon he had cornered them and with a flick of his wand, they had been disarmed. He could remember the smirk that played along his lips when Ron's eyes widened. They were completely unaware of how dangerous he had become. No longer the spoiled brat who relied on other people. He relied on himself.

Of course, Potter was quick to demand the whereabouts of Hermione. He was always smarter than Weasel but just as emotional. Draco feigned innocence but the look Ron gave him changed his mind. He mentioned Hermione being in a 'safe place' for mudbloods and received a heavy punch from Ron, who was unarmed. Stupid mistake in his opinion. Draco was not beyond Crucioing Ron several times before Harry's shouts and eventual tackle shook him from his devilish thoughts.

It was an all out brawl. Punches and kicks flew everywhere. Their wands lay forgotten on the ground. Only then did Draco show what he was really made of. He triumphed and was close, so close to giving Harry to Voldemort. But what had stopped him. He didn't know. His mind was returned to Hermione and her frail form. Writhing under him. Her words. Her gaze.

He knew what would happen if Harry was brought in. Everything associated with Scarhead would perish and that meant the Gryffindor know-it-all. What had possessed him to even contemplate what he did next?

Kicking their wands to them, Draco lowered his own. "I suggest you leave. The south will be unguarded." He vanished from sight and appeared where the Carrows were. They questioned him about Potter and Weasley. It was easy for Draco to lie. He had done it way too many times and he sometimes found it difficult not to believe his own words. Of course, the scratches on his face and forming black eye (thanks to Weasel) proved enough evidence to spare him for the time being.

They had captured the twins, Frank and Greg, he remembered. Or maybe it was something else. Like he cared. They still joked, even after being captured, but Draco knew their smiles would fade with time. Crucio would make even the most affable characters dead and zombie like.

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He was standing here now. His lips pressed against the bane of his existence. Her form trembling beneath him. Finally breaking the kiss, Draco wasn't surprised when she balled her fist up and attempted to punch him. She was predictable to a fault.

"That'd be enough of that, Hermione." Her name trailed off his lips like dew drops and it felt good. Actually good to say her name.

His apparent words shocked even her. She stood there looking at him, blinking. Blinking. And more blinking. Draco dropped her hand, after realizing that he had been holding onto it for quite some time. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he brushed past her and strolled into the bathroom. Running the water, Draco bathed his face in its icy feel. His skin was on fire and he was sure he had turned red before leaving her.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Draco's eyes crawled over his own imperfect features. He looked like his father in every aspect. It sickened him to think that he would become a man who couldn't even keep his wife. Who used a girl for his sick twisted pleasures. Not that he wasn't guilty of it all his own.

He wanted Hermione. He wanted her bad. And for so many years. Ever since she slapped him their third year, he had wanted her. It was an obsession and it was sickening. She hated him, everything about him. He had accepted that and gave her exactly what she expected of him. A crude, brash young man who rather use fists than words to get his point across. Of course, at one point in his life he was quite able to bring her to tears by words. Now that he was older, everything was different.

By the time Draco returned to his room, Hermione stood awkwardly in the same place he had left her. He expected her to make herself at home, regardless of whether he cared or not. Draco paused by the foot of the bed before plopping onto the mattress. Removing his dragon hide boots from his feet, his eyes glanced to Hermione. Her eyes darted between him and the door.

"Gra-Her-Granger..." he tried to speak but his throat was burning with an odd sensation.

Parting his lips to speak again but was interrupted by the annoying pop of the house-elf. Wilky, he thought the elf's name was, carried a tray of sandwich meats and bread. His mind reeled instantly to his father and scowled.

"Get out of here," he commanded the elf, "Tell my father that I'm perfectly capable of feeding my pet."

He raised his hand to slap it but was stopped when Hermione finally moved and grabbed onto his wrist. Her eyebrows where pointed downward, she was frowning at him, daring him to make a move.

"Your father didn't ask for anything. I asked Wilky." She said in a matter-of-fact tone. Draco wrenched his arm from her and rose.

He towered over her, thanks to the added height of his pureblood genes, and looked between the elf and Hermione. "Fine, whatever."

Draco strolled to his desk and sat at his expensive chair, his feet resting on the table. He pulled out a random book that sat forgotten on his desk and tried to busy himself while Hermione gabbed on with the elf. She thanked the servant and held the tray to her, looking around for somewhere to eat.

He watched as she sat on his bed and crossed her legs. "You better not get any crumbs on my bed," he said lightly, flipping a page.

Hermione seemed to want to be more defiant and held out a piece of bread, crumbling it in her hand and letting it slip through her fingers. His eyes widened slightly as the crumbs bounced as they touched the bed. He was tempted to run to his bed and clean it, smack her, and have his way, but he held himself.

She was testing him and he wasn't going to fold. He was great at wizard chess and she was just a novice. Draco went back to his book and began humming with appreciation of good reading. Hermione's eyes burned into him, almost longing to know what he was reading.

"Interesting," Draco said quietly, flipping a page as Hermione watched him intently.

After a few moments, Hermione had finished her meal and sat on the bed looking around idly. Draco flipped the page loudly, watching in the corner of his eye as Hermione fidgeted. She was dying to make herself feel normal again. He knew it oh too well.

Lowering his book, Draco took a page from his father's life (as much as it pained him) and smiled at her. "Do you want to read something?"

She looked at him like he was crazy, but somewhere in her big brown eyes she was hoping he wasn't lying. Draco leaned over and pulled a thick book from the shelf to his side and held it out. "It's not going to eat you, Granger."

Hermione moved slowly until she was standing beside his desk. He handed her the book and went back to his reading. He secretly watched her hands slide over the cover of the book and saw her smile, actually smile. It made him want to see her smile more. She moved back to the bed and sat with her back to him. His eyes traced over her smooth back, the lack of nutrition making her spine a little more prominent but she was still unusually attractive.

Draco and Hermione sat in silence for what seemed eternity for him. His book was left forgotten in his lap as his eyes were glued to her back, listening to the pages turn. The book she had wasn't that interesting, basics of cooking or something stupid like that. He got it from one of the many family members on his father's side.

He decided that he couldn't just sit there any longer. Draco closed the book, slamming the cover. He half hoped that she would look at him, but she didn't. He sneered. Rising from his seat, Draco approached the bed, resting a knee on the mattress. He was so close to her. He could smell her sweet scent. Whatever she washed her hair with was making him crazy.

His hands reached out to her shoulders, lightly caressing them. She jumped, of course, and tore her eyes from the book. Draco moved a lock of her hair from her face and planted his lips against the curve of her neck.

"Keep reading," he whispered into her skin, feeling her head turn shakingly back to the book.

Her breathing was growing faster each time he touched her, as was his. His hands moved down her shoulders and around her waist, slowly following up to her soft mounds. Hermione gasped when his cupped each breast with his hands, he smirked of course. His left hand trailed lower, between her legs.

She tried to clamp them shut but his hand had already snaked its way between her velvety thighs. Hermione gripped onto the edge of the book, her eyes never leaving the page, from what he could tell. Draco's fingers danced along the inner folds of her womanhood, parting them slightly as his index finger rubbed against her nub. Hermione's hips arched forward slightly as her head rolled back.

Draco reached out and grabbed the book from her, tossing it off the bed. He continued stroking and pressing his fingers between her legs, listening to her soft moans. He wanted to hear that. Not her screams. He wanted to her his name. His real name.

"I've been a prat. A fucking spoiled bastard." He whispered into her ear, leaning his chest against her back.

She moved almost automatically, her hands coming in front of her to stop her from hitting the bed. Draco followed her and shifted slightly behind her. He brushed his fingers along her warmth, pistoning them in slowly. Her legs where shaking, he could feel it against his own growing need for her.

With one hand Draco pulled his cloak off, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his belt. Why he wore so much clothing was beyond him. Romania was quite cold but even then. Hermione's hands grasped onto the bed sheets as the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled down echoed in the room.

"You're not going to say anything?" He asked, a little bewildered that she hadn't had anything mean to say, let alone say anything. It was maddening.

Hermione turned her head and looked at him, her brown eyes filled with fury yet her face as cold as stone. "You've pretty much said everything yourself. Although I might want to add a killer, torturer, sadist and rapist to that equation."

Draco smiled, "Fair enough."

He grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her to him, both sitting on their knees. "I'm a fucking spoiled bastard who delights in torturing and killing people."

"And..." her breath was warm and smelled like peppermint.

"And I love having my filthy way with you," he couldn't help but grin as a slight blush crawled over her face.

She had a dark bruise forming on her cheek, thanks to that blow he gave her earlier. He bent down and kissed it gingerly, trailing kisses to her lips. "I'm obsessed with you. Truly, utterly, obsessed." He whispered, pushing her back against the bed.

Hermione's hair fanned out like a beautiful halo, her bright brown eyes stared up at him. He flinched when she brought her hand to his chest, running her fingers over his skin. Draco stared into her eyes, both of their lips parted. He moved, diving in for the kiss he wanted.

"Five years," he breathed between kisses. "Five years I've wanted you."

He pulled her thighs apart and trailed kisses down her body, stopping to circle his tongue around her pert nipples. Hermione arched her back when his mouth found her heat, tasting her sweet juices. His fingers moved quickly inside her, wanting more of what she had to offer. Hermione's hands were in his hair, gripping onto it as she let out a cry.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, nibbling at her nub which caused her hips to buck against him. She was breath taking in every way and he hated that. He hated how she made him feel just by what she did.He knew she was about to come, her hands gripped tightly into his hair as body shook wildly.

A rush of her warm honey filled his mouth and he eagerly pulled her to him. One arm was snaked behind her back and the other held onto her wrist. They stared at each other for a moment before she leaned forward. Their lips crashing into one another. Her arms moved around his shoulders, pressing her body against his.

He wanted this. He'd always wanted this. Her. Willing. Everything about this was what he wanted. Hermione tilted her head back when she felt his length penetrate her, filling her up. Draco bucked upward, moving her thighs to either side of him. Her hips magically moved with him, her moans filling the room.

Draco brought his lips to her exposed neck, nipping and biting as he took in breaths. It felt amazing. She felt amazing. They ground against each other, their pace growing frantic and wild. He winced when her fingers dug into his back, feeling the warm ooze of his blood dribble from her scratches.

Snaking his hand to the nape of her neck, Draco's thrusts grew more dominant, pushing up into her hard. Her voice shivered with each moan and he loved it. She brought her lips back down to his, both trying to maintain control. He wanted control of her but she had all the control. In the back of his mind, he knew that and he hoped that she didn't.

It was simultaneous. Both let out one final moan before finishing together. Draco leaned against her, falling onto the bed. He held himself up with one elbow and watched her glazed over chocolate eyes stare at him. Her lips were red and she had a sheen of beautiful sweat over her skin.

She parted her lips to speak, but Draco already knew what she was going to say. "I know. You hate me. I'll live with that."

She raised her hand and slapped him, lightly but just enough to cause his head to turn. "I hate you too." He replied. He didn't. He was in love with her. All of her.