Vanish

Harry knocked down a crate of home canned tomatoes when Hermione welcomed him into her throat. She swallowed a few times, making sure to breathe through her nose, and he groaned and reached out again for something to hold on to as tomato sauce seeped into their shoes and her pants, and the smell filled her nose.

"If you do that, you're gonna make me cu.."

She moved her lips down to his tip and then back up, her tongue stiff against the thick vein beneath him. This time, when she swallowed, she tasted salt and warmth.

"You are too good at that," he gasped. "Sorry I came so quickly, again." She laughed.

"I wanted you to! We have to get to the train."

He reached down to help her stand, and she felt her own warm wetness slick in her knickers.

At this point, Harry knew better than to offer her anything in return except, in this case, cleaning the sauce from the floor and her trousers.

Their arrangement was not entirely selfless. The night before, she'd reached between her legs and thought about him slanting down her throat, about the desperate noises he made when she stripped before him.

But then, in the moments before she came, her traitorous mind thought about Draco's finger circling her clit. She'd panted herself down to sanity and then guilt. What he'd done was disgusting, and he was vile. It must just be some strange fluke. She couldn't be the only person who saw things they couldn't control before coming.

That following day she found that while she'd hoped sucking off Harry in the broom shed would satiate her, instead, it made her more desperate. They'd been sitting at breakfast for barely a minute before she bent in her chair in a way that showed him her mint-colored knickers.

Ten minutes later, they stumbled out of the pantry and saw Ron sitting at the counter.

"What were you two doing in there?" He asked, snacking on a piece of bacon and drumming his fingers on the table.

"Just, um, looking for something for your mum," she said lamely, wiping her lips across the back of her hand just in case. He traced the movement.

"Mum knows where everything is, especially in the pantry."

Hermione couldn't think of any logical excuse, so she burst into laughter and looked at Harry, but he had the same guilty look on his face he'd had when Ginny caught them in his room. She looked back at Ron to see his face had gone redder than the tomatoes. Harry tousled his hair.

"Whatever," Ron said, standing up fast, the stool screeching. She looked back at Harry who watched after him.

"What's up with him?" She asked. He turned to her and sighed with exasperation.

"You know, Hermione, for someone so smart, you really don't have a clue sometimes." He stalked off after Ron and Hermione stood in the burrow kitchen for an unheard-of moment alone. She climbed the stairs to her room and slammed the door behind her. It didn't make sense for him to be upset - it wasn't fair. After the Yule Ball, Ron ignored her for weeks. Why would he get territorial now?

They didn't have time or privacy to talk as they made their way to Kings Cross that afternoon, not that she had any particular desire to assuage Ron's fear of his two best friends hooking up.

"This is pretty cool, eh?" Ron asked her as they made their way to the front of the train for their Prefect debrief. He flashed his badge.

"Oh yeah, really cool," she said, keeping her eyes on the front of the train.

"Look," he said, reaching for her arm and turning her toward him. A group of first-years jostled past them.

"I don't know what's up with you and Harry, but I'm fine with it." She sighed. Despite her indignation, relief flooded her.

"It's nothing, Ron, really, we were just, I was giving him…a birthday present."

It sounded perfectly logical in her head, but coming out of her mouth, watching Ron's eyebrows disappear into his hair, she was suddenly mortified.

"A birthday present," he said.

"Well, yeah,"

"Is that something you…give to all your friends on their birthdays?"

No," she laughed.

"Cause you know, if you'd rather not wait 'til March,"

She smacked his arm, and he blushed.

"I mostly just did it to get his mind off Malfoy."

He nodded.

"Yeah. It's pretty bad this time, huh? Dad told me to try and keep them separated this year, along with a load of rubbish about keeping his nose clean."

"He said the same to me. I get it. They want to show he's stable."

"Yeah, but in every bitch fit he threw last year, he was right. He was right about all of it. Except, of course..."

"I know." She looked away.

"But it's kind of on all of us, right?" He asked, "I mean we should have stopped him. There was just so much going on between Umbridge, and Dumbledore being gone."

"You're absolutely right." She wished she'd thought to say that to Harry. Maybe she really wasn't great at this sort of stuff. Comforting her friends so often felt like a test she couldn't study for.

"Hey, Ron, can you try to get him to open up about last year? I've tried but he's pretty determined not to talk about it." Ron shrugged.

"He'll talk when he's ready."

She nodded. He looked at her and narrowed his blue eyes.

"A birthday present?"

"Oh shut up," she said, and she smacked his arm.

They shuffled into the tight compartment with the other prefects, and she waved to Hannah and Ernie. Last to arrive were Malfoy and Pansy. He'd changed into his uniform, impeccably tailored by Twillfit and Tattings. His finger grazed her arm ever so slightly as they passed to an empty space in the compartment, and she felt a shock go up to her brain and down to her core. Was it the same finger he'd sucked on in front of her? It didn't matter. He was vile, and he had no right to stick his hands down her pants and make her feel so…"

"Being a Prefect is a privilege, not an excuse to go docking points from those you don't like or hooking up in the Prefect's bathroom," said Snape, and several students laughed. She darted her eyes towards Malfoy, who looked down at Pansy. Ron caught her eye and stuck his tongue into his cheek. She focused on Snape. 

"Alright, go and patrol the corridors. But again, don't go crazy docking points. Your prefect status is a privilege and can be taken away."

The prefects shuffled into the corridor. Malfoy and Pansy returned to their compartment, apparently not intending to patrol. That was fine with Hermione - it made them less likely to run into him.

"Snape is such a freak for making that joke about the bathroom!" Ron said. "According to Fred and George, Percy said there is a horny little mermaid that you can get to take off her shells for you if you show her yours if you know what I mean."

"Harry's been in the Prefect's bathroom. We'll have to ask him," she said, but she wasn't listening much. She could still feel Malfoys finger on her arm - still feel it between her thighs.

After telling off a third year for unwrapping a hundred chocolate frogs and letting them hop into the aisles, they found Harry's compartment, which he shared with Neville and Luna. Harry read the quibbler over Luna's shoulder, with his arm around the back of her seat, while Neville poured over a herbology textbook. They sat down across from the trio.

"Malfoy's not even doing his prefect duty," Ron said, lighting Harry's eyes up. Ron never could resist an opportunity to get Harry's full attention. Hermione picked up one of Neville's herbology books and thumbed through it while the boys talked.

When a girl opened the compartment door and told Harry and Neville they were welcome in Slughorn's compartment, Harry seemed excited to go, which made Hermione's Harry Potter bullshit sneak-o-scope begin to twirl.

"Great, I have to hit the loo, I'll come with you," she said.

She waited outside Slughorn's door for no more than five seconds before Harry appeared again.

"I just had to…" he started to say, but she pulled him by the tie into an empty compartment.

"Harry James Potter, where were you sneaking off to?" She asked, standing on her toes as she pressed him against the wall, pulling down on the tie for balance.

"Nowhere! I just..."

"You were going to try to go see what Malfoy's doing if he's not patrolling."

"Hermione," he said, pressing his hands against her shoulders to push her back onto her feet, "Slughorn wanted me to grab Hannah. That's it. I wasn't going after Mafloy." He smiled down at her.

"I need to get back to his lunch thing. Dumbledore wants me to get close to him, remember?"

He smirked a little, unable to hide his pride at being Dumbledore's agent.

"You know," he said, running his hand through his hair and giving her a half-lidded smirk,

"I saw your knickers this morning, and they were very cute. But I didn't get to see your bra." She sighed.

"I'm just trying to be a good friend," he said, putting his hands up, "attentive. "

Hermione bit her cheek and rolled her eyes but still backed herself against the compartment wall to hide from the door. She lifted her shirt to show off a mint and white gingham bra.

"Ooh, I like this one," he said, and he reached his hand beneath the cup of her bra and grazed her nipple with his thumb. Need flooded her, and she pulled her shirt from her head before fumbling for his jeans.

"Hermione," he purred in her ear, grabbing her wrist and moving it back to her side. His hard length pressed into her from beneath his trousers.

"I have to go. It's important."

"Yes, right, for Dumbledore." She muttered, swallowing the heat that crept along her chest and neck.

"But I owe you one." He said, and he adjusted his stiff cock into his waistband before checking her out one last time and slipping from the compartment.

She took a minute to collect herself before peeking into Slughorn's compartment. Harry charmed the professor and made him snort into his butterbeer.

She turned to walk back but found herself taking turns toward the Slytherin section. She told herself it was because she knew Malfoy was not patrolling and someone needed to.

She turned the corner to see him leaning against the far wall. He looked worried, frustrated. She tried to turn away, but he'd already seen her.

"Oy, Granger," he drawled, and she turned back to see him brush that long finger along his lips, his tongue. It filled her with a brash inhibition.

"What were you buying in Bourgin and Burkes, Malfoy?" She closed the space between them, this time pressing him against the wall. He grinned down at her.

"And I thought following me was just a one-time thing," he said, pulling her closer by the back of her thigh, "careful, Granger, I'll start to think you're obsessed."

"Malfoy," she hissed, "not here."

His eyebrow rose, and she realized what she'd said. Her mouth opened without a way to fix it.

"Well then, you tell me where, and it's a date. Prefect's bathroom, maybe? I hear there's a bathtub big enough for an orgy."

He knocked her wand, which she held loosely in her hand, and it fell to her feet.

He kneeled to retrieve it and looked up at her, not unlike how she'd been looking up at Harry just a few hours ago.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to share even in a crowd. I'd just have you."

He ran his hands slowly up her calves, her knees, her thighs, beneath her skirt.

"I'd sit you on the side of the tub and lather up every inch, from your feet to your tits to your hair."

One of his rings left a cold trail that made her feel like she'd forgotten stockings.

"And then I'd bury my face in your pretty pink…" She grabbed his chin.

"You tell me what you bought in Borgin and Burkes right now, and I'll let you eat my pussy for the start of term feast, Sir ."

" Legilimens ," he muttered, and Hermione was flooded with the image of him kneeling beneath the Slytherin table, looking up from between her legs with his haunting gray eyes. He'd bunched up her school skirt and moved her knickers to the side to flick his tongue up and down her folds. He sucked her clit between his teeth and massaged it with his lips and tongue. His long fingers spread her thighs wider.

She was overcome with the pleasure she'd been desperate for since their encounter in Knockturn Alley. It was too much, and her skin sang and shrieked with each rough lick, each plunge of his tongue into her, each nip at her thighs. She ripped off her tie and flung it in a vat of pumpkin juice, knocking the sugar bowl onto the Great Hall floor with a clang. She ripped her blouse open, the silver buttons scattering along the great hall floor to reveal her breasts, dewed with sweat and caged within her lacey black bra.

It wasn't until she started to come that she noticed the school around her watching. Pansy Parkinson sat to her left with her tongue between her teeth, and Blaise Zabini touched himself over his trousers to her right as he watched her throw her head back and scream. A second orgasm came over her, and she looked down to see Malfoy's wicked grin as he flicked his tongue with seeker speed beneath her.

She looked up through dazed, half-lidded eyes at Harry across the room, staring at her with horror, anger, disgust, and unmistakable lust. She wanted his cock in her mouth to stifle the scream of her third orgasm, and for just a moment, in her mind's eye, she could see it, feel it, taste it.

A door opened along the corridor, and the vision vanished. Draco handed her her wand.

He looked down at her with a self-satisfied smirk. Hermione's clit was swollen and sore, her face flushed, her chest breathless, and her legs shaky and weak. What had he done to her? What had he seen in the vision, and most terrifying, what had he seen here, in this corridor?

"There you are," said Pansy Parkinson, and Malfoy stalked away from Hermione.

"What did she want?" She asked, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Who knows," he said, "I don't speak mudblood."