Softness

Disclaimer #2: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, and I DO NOT make any profit from writing this.

Author's Note: A response to a few reviews:

Ayden: No, this is no longer just a one-shot. lol.. It started that way, as a way to test the waters around here. Having gotten positive reviews, and lots of hits on the story, I decided to continue it. =D

Everyone else: Thank you so much for reviewing, and letting me know what you thought. I'm glad you guys enjoy it--I'm actually having fun writing it. For something randomly thrown together as a "hey, i should test this site out" piece, I like how it's developing as well. Please, keep the reviews coming! =D

* * * * * *

“Get out of my bloody face, Blaise, before you really regret it,” I snarled, and he actually did back up a step, though the look of disdain didn't leave his face whatsoever. “I have said all I will say on the subject, and that is enough.”

“You're down here, with that mudblood girl, and don't expect us to ask you questions?” Blaise demanded, his voice incredulous.

“Yeah, Draco, you have some explain-”

“Shut up, Crabbe, before I hex you so badly that you end up walking backwards for the next thirty years!” I snapped. His eyes widened, and then he shook his head and walked away, grumbling to himself.

“You shouldn't take this out on us.” Goyle began, but I rounded on him next.

“Take it out on you?! You three blundering morons walk in on me with her, and dare spin this around on me?!” I could feel my face twisting in rage. It had been like this—endless arguing with the three of them since Hermione had left, red-faced, through them, re-clothed, but still wearing my cloak. I didn't mind. I knew the next day was going to be even worse. Sitting in the Great Hall with everyone knowing, everyone watching, everyone analyzing...

I stormed away, slamming the door behind me as I reached my dorm rooms. Again, the benefits of being a Malfoy—I didn't have to share the room with several others, as most others in the castle did. Once inside, I sat on the edge of my bed, and glared at the door, breathing hard, trying to calm myself. Hermione would not approve of this; she would not want me getting mad over her, but it was hard. She wanted to let people know, then so be it. We would let people know. But gods help me if this wasn't going to be hard.

* * *

Breakfast. I sat at the table, my friends carefully sitting around me. They had not mentioned Hermione yet, and a part of me was grateful. “Draco, quidditch practice tonight,” I heard, and nodded absently. I was silent, and Blaise had remarked on it more than once. I shrugged it off, watching for the Golden Boy. I had to see how he reacted to this. Hermione had told me when she was leaving the night before she would tell him last night, because she didn't want him and Ron Weasel finding out from someone else. She owed it to them, she had said. I didn't agree, but...

The door opened, and the two boys in question entered. Hermione was not with them. I turned away, hiding my scrutiny before one of those with me noticed. Pansy flounced over and sat next to me, smiling brightly.

“Hi, Draco,” she said, and patted my thigh. I scowled at her. “Blaise said he caught you with a girl last night but he wouldn't tell me who,” she went on. A few eyes around the table were drawn towards us.

I glanced at Blaise, who stared back at me impassively. I nodded slightly, a slight dip of my head that was barely perceptible, but I noted the small quirk to the corners of his mouth, the smile of acknowledgment. This small token from him would go a long way to seal any rift between us—that was to say, any rift in loyalties.

“Did he,” I drawled, resorting back to myself almost immediately. “And why would you care, Parkinson?”

“You never know who might want to be caught with you, Draco,” she replied in a breathless whisper. There was no doubt she meant herself. I had had her more than once, whenever I had been restless, and she had been handy. She was not my choice, nor my type. She was willing to crawl into bed with anyone she saw as “in power” and was more in love with the Malfoy name than anything else.

“We shall see, Pansy,” I said, my silken voice offering the hint of a promise. The doors opened again, and finally in came Hermione. She had her head down, her arms crossed around a couple of books clutched to her chest, her hair hanging down, covering her face, but even so, even across the hall from her, I could feel the aura of misery she was bleeding off.

I swallowed hard, and noticed Blaise studying me intensely. I locked eyes with him, daring him to say a single word, daring him to act. His lips quirked. “Looks like you might be out of luck, Pansy,” he said with a small laugh.

“What do you mean?” she demanded immediately.

“Malfoy's chosen someone else. You know him. Once he sets his mind on something...”

I did it. Once my mind was set, they were not going to dissuade me, and I lead this group with an iron hand. We were loyal to each other, because there was no other choice. We were a tightly woven group. If Blaise were to bring in someone else, they would be scrutinized by the others until judged worthy, then accepted. Everyone had their uses—we were not as ruthless as we could be, but that was from necessity.

Or so I had liked to believe. Hermione was making me see things in a different light. Could we, my group of “friends”, actually be exactly that? Friends? Could this loyalty be something as simple as friendship?

“Who?” Pansy demanded, glancing between me and Blaise quickly.

Crabbe rubbed a hand over his mouth and smirked. “Granger.” I shot him a glance and he shrugged. “Hey, man. She's your chick. You want her, you say she's worth it, let's give her a shot.”

This was more than I had expected, from this group, and I was surprised to feel a certain gratitude welling up within me. “You... GRANGER?” Pansy demanded, looking completely out of sorts.

“She's my choice,” I confirmed, and stood.

Right at that moment, Hermione had reached her friends, and went to sit next to them. I heard Weasel's voice raise above the din of the Great Hall far too clearly: “Sorry, Granger, there's no room for Slytherin-loving scum at this table!”

Rage surged through me, and I found myself striding over there quickly. There was laughing coming from their table, and Hermione had turned to flee. I quickened my pace, rounding the edge of the table, and Hermione looked up only just before she ran smack into me.

“Oh,” she whispered, seeing the fury plain on my face, but then threw herself at me. I wrapped my arms around her protectively, and kissed the top of her head.

“Wait here,” I whispered into her hair, and then moved around her. I was startled to realize that there were others following me. Blaise was at my right hand, Goyle at my left, Crabbe just behind, a couple other Slytherins following us all.

Golden Boy looked up at us coming, and stood hastily. A couple others scrambled to their feet, Weasel among them. His face was a highly amusing shade of red. It made my lips curl in my usual sneer. “Potter,” I spat. “Slytherin-loving scum, was it?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Weasel growled.

I flickered a glance to him, then waved a hand dismissively. “You're not worth the air you breath, so do us all a favor and hold your breath when in the presence of your betters.” I cocked my head at Harry, who was glaring daggers at me. If looks could kill... “Honestly, how do you stand having this red-haired, pimply, red-faced imbecile as a sidekick, Potter? Would it not have been better for you to just take my hand so many years ago? Your friends are miserable in your presence. They all fear you. The entire school knows it.”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Harry growled.

Blaise laughed openly. “Watch out, Draco, he may get someone else to take you out, then show up at the last possible second to take the credit!”

I smiled. “Possible. But I don't think Potter consorts with the right kind of people.” I leaned in close to Potter. “And if I ever hear either of you ever insult Hermione again, ever, I will rip out your guts and use them to hang you with.” My voice was ice cold, and forced a couple others that overheard to step back in surprise.

I spun on my heel, not waiting for a response, and stalked off.

The rest followed me, leaving a shell-shocked grouped of Gryffindor students behind.

* * *

“You fought for me,” Hermione said, smiling up at me.

We were alone, finally, resting in the prefect's bathroom again. “I didn't really fight,” I said honestly. “I just.... let them know that I will if I need to.”

“My hero,” she said, with one of her familiar coy smiles. “You're amazing. Truly. I didn't expect... I didn't think... how did you...”

I laughed at her ramble, and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her against me as I leaned back against the counter. She laid both her hands flat on my chest, and studied her fingers for a moment.

“I just don't get it,” she said finally. “Last night they seemed angry at finding us together. Today they stood with you.”

“Perhaps it's one of those things you talk about so much,” I said with a shrug. “I'm not sure I understand it either.”

“What do you mean, one of those thins I talk about? What do I talk about?”

“Friendship, love, those things,” I said, shrugging a little, feeling uncomfortable. “They were a little upset. I let them know I wouldn't have it, that I wasn't going to explain myself to them. They accepted it.”

“Because they're friends with you?”

“Because I don't give them a choice. They either accept it, and we continue being a group, or they don't, in which case they are removed from the group.”

“Harsh friends,” Hermione mused.

I shook my head. “It wasn't today that I even realized that's what they are,” I admitted. “We've been together for so long because it was proper to be so; to be alone meant weakness. Gathering those with strength around us, however, we become strong ourselves.”

“You never saw this as friendship?” Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

“Unfortuntely, no,” I admitted. “Hermione, I didn't know what friends were until you explained it to me. Malfoys do not have friends, or lovers. We have tools, and pawns. We are a higher sort of wizard than others, held to higher standards, so to speak, and so we cannot let ourselves develop weak attachments.”

“Friendships are not weak, Draco. Friendships are strong. Friends will stand with you against anything; tools will run the first chance they get.”

“Then I am glad, my love, that you have come to me to teach me this,” I murmured, and kissed her, drawing her hard against me. She moaned at the urgency of my kiss, her mouth opening under mine. Her hands slowly fisted in my shirt as I devoured her, my tongue plunging into her mouth, dominating her own, swirling around hers, sweeping behind her teeth, along the roof of her mouth, exploring every hidden crevice, every inch...

She stretched up on her tip-toes, wrapping one arm around my neck, pulling me tighter against her. I slid one hand up her side to cup a breast through her shirt, and she arched into my touch. She pulled back long enough to shrug out of her cloak—my cloak—and pull my shirt out of my pants, undoing the buttons as she pressed her lips back against mine.

“I've wanted you so bad... all day... classes were torture,” she muttered. “I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about last night, sitting on your lap, and then this morning, you coming for me... I love you, Draco, so much. Don't... don't make me wait...”

Who was I to deny her? My hands flew down her shirt and pushed it back off of her shoulders, then slid down her back to her bra, unsnapping it and pulling it off. She shrugged out of the straps and let it fall, then I spun us around, once again sitting her up on the counter, my lips moving down her pale, slender throat, her hands on my head. I nipped lightly at her collar bone, my hands resting on her hips, teased the hollow of her throat with a small lick and a light exhalation. She shuddered as I licked back up her neck, then blew softly across her now-wet skin, raising goosebumps all down her arms. She shivered again as I trailed one hand up her side with a feather-light touch. She closed her eyes and leaned back as I gently urged her too, kissing my way down her throat again, past her collarbone, down to the depression between her breasts.

She was breathing hard, and I gently placed one hand on her thigh, on her skirt, gently massaging as I kissed my way all the way around one breast, then the other, then slowly, oh so slowly licked up from the bottom of her breast until my met met the rougher texture of her areola. She stiffened in anticipation, then I attacked her nipple, already hard from my ministrations, sucking it into my mouth, my tongue flicking over it. She moaned loudly, and I switched breasts, attacking the other just as vigorously.

I licked and sucked on them in turns, forcing small mewling noises from her, my hand pushing up her skirt slowly as it delved higher on her thigh, caressing her silken smooth skin. I felt the heat radiating from her core, and smiled as I gently bit one nipple, causing her to gasp, then slid one finger suddenly, and deliberately, along her sex.

“Draco, please...” she panted.

I pulled her off the counter and to her feet, turning her around, so her back was pressed to me. She immediately pressed her hips back, grinding her shapely bottom against my groin. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation as she ground against me for a moment, then slipped one hand around her waist and pushed it down her knickers, cupping her wet sex. She pressed back against me even harder as I slipped my middle finger between her wet folds and found her clit, pressing it roughly, causing her to bend forwards, placing her forearms on the counter, her bottom still pressed hard against me. I stepped back enough to undo my pants and push them down, then flipped her skirt up on her back, and pulled her knickers to the side.

For a long moment, I just enjoyed the view—her round bottom so perfectly displayed, her white knickers pulled to the left, revealing her hairless, wet, pink sex, the proof of her arousal evident in the way her lips glistened wetly. Mesmerized, I went to my knees behind her, leaned forward, and gave her a long, slow lick, causing her to cry out as my tongue brushed over her clit, flicking it lightly. She moaned as I pushed my tongue into her hot sex, savoring her tangy taste, the smell of her, every ounce of the experience. But then I was rising, giving her one last kiss on her cheek before standing and pushing my cock between her legs.

Her hand went to me at once, her fingers wrapping around me, pulling me, placing me just so, so I could feel the hot wet of her sex... “Now,” she whimpered, and I pushed forward gently, savoring the feel of her silken hot flesh swallowing my length.

There was no better feeling in the world than penetrating her, the way she gripped me like a tight glove, the searing liquid heat engulfing me slowly... I bit my lip to keep my own cry in, then I was sheathed in her, and began to move, slowly, pulling back out, a long stroke that went so slowly, so smoothly... she moaned and thrust back agaisnt me, re-sheathing me within her tight depths.

“Draco, I'm.. I'm, ahhh,” she cried out as I bucked against her, forcing her orgasm, making her cum hard on my cock. She squeezed me hard as she did, and I began to fuck her in earnest.

Like before, I thrust hard and fast, slamming into her, our flesh meeting with a loud slap each time. She cried out as she came again, barely down from her first orgasmic high—it had been an awesome thing to discover with her. She was multi-orgasmic, when she was very much in the mood. Right now, she was very, very much in the mood.

I rode her hard, wrapping one hand in her hair and pulling her back up, nearly so she was standing upright as we fucked, her back arched as she panted, her tight flesh driving me wild...

I exploded within her, pushing her down again as I came, holding her hips tightly, spasming hard against her...

I slumped as it ended, sliding down to sit on the floor, my back agasint the wall. She slipped down next to me, curling up against my side., resting her head on my heaving chest as I panted for breath.

“I needed that,” she said.

“Me too,” I admitted, closing my eyes. “Me too.”