Vanish

Harry hadn't gotten off the train when they pulled into Hogwarts, and he was nowhere to be found when they sat down at the Gryffindor table for the start of term feast. Hermione felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She hadn't even gotten to Hogwarts before failing her mission to keep him safe.

"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione," Ron soothed. "There's no way he's just going to disappear without being found when we're surrounded by security. Stupid git probably got himself attacked by the whomping willow again." She nodded and laughed, remembering Ron and Harry's suicidal ride to Hogwarts. She wished the supposedly ample security would make themselves known, but this was just another example of the adults refusing to communicate to keep them all 'safe.'

Her sense of control peeled like bark from the willow itself, and she kept sneaking glances at Malfoy across the Great Hall. She could all but feel his tongue between her legs, his love bites on her thighs. She knew it hadn't been real, but it felt better than anything she'd experienced in ages. If she hadn't been broken apart and put back together not even an hour ago, she'd probably be a puddle on the floor.

"We don't know if that idiot had anything to do with it," Ron said, following her gaze.

"Still would love to take a pop at him, look how smug he looks, the bloody piece of..."

But Malfoy only looked smug with pride at having Pansy on his arm. He looked down at her with pure adoration, and watched her lips as she talked, and laughed when she did. When he drew in close and smiled a whisper into the shell of her ear, she giggled and slapped his arm.

Finally, Harry burst into the Great Hall with blood running down his face.

She could kill him. What a brilliant start to him looking stable. Still, several Ravenclaw girls swooned as he passed, and she almost laughed. They weren't wrong - he was beautiful even with a bloody nose.

He sat down, and she cleaned up his face with a quick spell. Malfoy started miming wildly to his friends, and she put two and two together. They hadn't even made it to Hogwarts before they fought, and just as she suspected, Harry came back with a bloody nose, and Malfoy didn't have a scratch on him. What could possibly have happened? When did this happen? Before or after Malfoy made her come three times in the train corridor?

"Later," Harry murmured, which meant he'd never tell them or more likely that he'd only tell Ron to skirt her disapproval.

"Legilimens," she whispered.

An image appeared in Hermione's head as though looking through a keyhole. It was from the train, but she couldn't make sense of any details. Harry's eyes snapped to hers, and she looked away, the connection severed. Harry, of course, knew what it felt like to have someone rummage through his brain. Her recklessness was becoming carelessness.

She changed the subject to the sorting, and Harry luckily took the bait.

Not long after, Dumbledore interrupted them for his traditional start-of-term speech. She gasped, along with half of the Great Hall, when he waved his hand to draw their attention. His fingers down to his wrist had turned nearly black, as though belonging to a Draugr or any number of reanimated monsters.

What could have possibly caused that? And why would he display it so brazenly to the school? If Harry was supposed to put on a pulled-together visage, what was Dumbledore's playing at?

She looked away, and her traitorous eyes caught the Slytherin table again, where Malfoy had pulled Pansy into a deep kiss, his hand disappearing beneath her part of the table. He pulled back and whispered something in her ear, and Pansy stared straight at Hermione. She couldn't look away from the girl's fluttering gaze, her widening smile. Was he telling her about Knockturn Alley? About the train? Was Hermione imagining the whole thing?

She tried to replay Dumbledore's speech in her head, anxious for any clue as to what was happening with him, but she could hardly remember what he'd said.

After all that Hermione had endured over the years, it was unacceptable that she felt this unraveled by two idiot boys before the term started.

She stood quickly, anxious to shepherd the first years and get to her bed with Crookshanks and a book, but this only gave both boys a chance to look her up and down from across the room.

"Hey, Hermione!" Lavender Brown said as she entered the girl's dormitory. Hermione lounged on her bed in her pajamas, bonnet, and moisturizer, reading the same sentence of The Healing Arts over and over while Crookshanks purred in her lap.

"Hey, Lav, did you have a nice summer?" She asked. Lavender had indeed gotten prettier since last year. She'd grown into curves Hermione only dreamed of, and her curls were shiny, voluminous, and defined. She remembered fondly how Lavender had struggled to heat style Hermione's hair the night of the Yule ball. How excited she'd been for Hermione to start dating the international quidditch player.

"It was alright. Usually we go to the coast, but we stayed home since, you know," Lavender sat and scratched Crookshanks behind his ears, and Crookshanks ran his face along her hand. Hermione sometimes wondered who the haughty cat loved more.

"Yeah, I do. My parents are safe now, but who knows how long that will last. I feel so helpless being here and knowing they can't defend themselves, being muggle and all…"

"Hermione, most of our parents can't defend themselves," Lav tried to reassure. "My mum hasn't jinxed anything more than a garden gnome since school, and my dad builds time turners. They're not prepared to fight. They couldn't do half of the stuff we learned in the DA last year."

They sat in silence for a minute, and Crookshanks rolled onto his back for easier access to belly rubs. The door burst open, and Pavarti barreled in.

"I'm so happy to see you both! This is going to be the best year ever!" Hermione laughed. Not even the world falling apart could dull Pavarti.

They talked until the moon was high in the sky, although Hermione mostly listened. Lavender and Pavarti were like one mind in two bodies - their conversations deep and raw. Listening always helped Hermione understand herself in ways Ron and Harry couldn't. She fell asleep while they continued to jabber, and for the first night in a while, neither Harry nor Draco haunted her dreams.

The next morning she left the common room early for breakfast with the boys and silently vowed she would not be bothered by or even think about Malfoy.

"Yesterday on the train, Malfoy said he won't be at Hogwarts next year," Harry said, and Hermione groaned.

"We should be so lucky," murmured Ron.

"And he said he had a job to do for Voldemort," Harry said. Hermione hushed him as a group of first-years walked past.

"He said that - 'I have a job to do for Voldemort,' Hermione asked, her voice flat.

"Well, something like that,"

"Can we go back to him not being here next year? Maybe we can call up old Tom and see if he can promote Malfoy faster," Ron asked.

"Who was he saying all this to?" Asked Hermione.

"Blaise Zabini, he was in Slughorns compartment yesterday too, oh and Pansy Parkinson. He was lying in her lap, I think they're dating." Ron made a retching noise.

Hermione swallowed. Of course, she'd seen Malfoy and Pansy flirt in the past, but if he was openly with her, then what did that make Hermione?

Ron maneuvered the subject away from Malfoy, and Hermione looked at him gratefully behind Harry's head. She mouthed a silent "thank you," and he furrowed his brow and nodded before giving her an adorable, dimpled smile.

Every once in a while she and Ron were on the same page and it felt magical. He could always diffuse Harry, and when he made her laugh, her fears left with the sound. She craved it all the time, but more often than not, he took Harry's side, trading her allyship for a shot at the brotherly love so denied by his own brothers.

She and Ron took away a Fanged Frisbee from a fourth-year student outside the Great Hall, and she pulled him back.

"Thanks for that," she said.

"No sweat," he said, miming throwing the frisbee. "I really have always wanted one of these, but Mum always said no."

"I meant with Harry."

"Oh yeah, of course. You know I always have your back, Hermione." She smiled and couldn't quite hide her grimace.

"Still, Malfoy said he had a job to do? And Harry's buddying up with Slughorn per Dumbledore's orders? If Malfoy is getting jobs from Voldemort, and Harry's getting jobs from Dumbledore, then the two most powerful wizards in the world are relying on sixteen-year-old proteges, no devotees , to do their dirty work for them."

"Or maybe Malfoy's just a git."

"Maybe, or Harry was just coloring the story with his perspective. I don't know I…" But Ron's attention had fallen to Lavender walking by them into the Great Hall. She kept sneaking glances back, a blush forming on her cheeks.

And this was the problem with Ron. On the surface, he was right there with her, but he could not go deeper. Then again, she was too distracted by boys to think straight, so who was she to throw stones?

A weary owl swooped down to her at breakfast with the morning paper and something else tied to its leg. She unfolded the letter, grateful that her friends talked animatedly about Quidditch and no one expected her to care.

Hermione,

I'm going to do another raid on the Malfoys, not because I think I'll find anything but because Harry asked me to. We both know that when Harry doesn't feel listened to, he does drastic things. Remember what we talked about.

See you at Christmas,

Arthur

She looked at the Slytherin table, but Malfoy hadn't arrived for breakfast. Hermione prayed they'd find something this time but knew they wouldn't. Whatever Malfoy was up to, he'd already survived a raid and a pat down coming into the school. He was far too clever.

She didn't see Harry, Ron, or Malfoy until her third period of Defense against the Dark Arts. Snape had redecorated the classroom to emulate the dungeon he'd long taught potions in. It occurred to her that he was probably as nervous and anxious to succeed as Harry was to see him fail.

Malfoy and Pansy strolled in and sat at the table in front of her and Harry. He was now in arms' reach of Hermione but didn't pass a glance her way.

Five minutes into class, she saw Pansy spread her legs wide beneath her desk. Malfoy shifted his weight in his seat to move his wand between her knees and stroke up to her inner thigh. Hermione looked at Harry, expecting a disgusted reaction, but he was too busy watching Snape with utter loathing. She could hear the quiet vibration in Malfoy's wand tip, and it buzzed in her brain like an army of puffskeins.

She wondered if Pansy got an O in Defense against the Dark Arts - By the look of her, she was about to. She squirmed to move the tip of his wand closer to her core, but Malfoy moved it quickly away, back down to her knee.

Please," Pansy mouthed, and Malfoy smirked, his eyes trained forward, not looking at her.

Hermione answered question after question, desperate to ignore the show before her, the double E on her OWL like a brand on her esteem. As she spouted off the merits of nonverbal spells, Malfoy moved his wand up Pansy's thigh, slipped past her core, and drew a path down to her other knee. She squeaked, and Malfoy shushed her, giving her a brief look of disapproval before looking back attentively to Snape and trailing his wand back up her.

Hermione sat on her foot to satiate her need, but it only worsened. Snape accused her of answering the questions with standard answers, and he was right. She knew better, but she was so distracted. So beside herself with Malfoy's audacity.

"Be my partner for nonverbal spells?" Asked Neville, and she jumped. She hadn't noticed groups pairing off, only the sweat percolating on the back of Pansy's hairline.

"Of course," she said to Neville, trying to smile.

Facing Pansy emboldened Malfoy. He leaned his head against his hand with his elbow propped on the desk. He performed nonverbal incantations on Pansy with ease. One flick of his wand blew air up the front of her skirt, showing him and Hermione her panties. Another made her grab her neck as though an invisible hand choked her lightly. She gasped and licked her front teeth.

When the class was over, Hermione stalked past the couple to the front of the class and gave them both what she hoped was a withering stare. The two looked back at her with growing smirks.

"Professor Snape?" She asked.

"Ms. Granger," he said, organizing papers.

"I'm sorry about my answers today. You were right - I can do better."

"As I've said before, I simply expect more from you."

"I know." She cleared her throat and shifted her legs.

She didn't share Harry and Ron's hatred of the professor. Snape was rude to Harry, sure, but Harry also had become accustomed to a level of adoration that Snape and herself had never been afforded. Snape was no more rude than everyone else who looked down on her for being a muggle, but he was also brilliant, and she owed any and all success in potions to him.

"I just wondered if you'd maybe be willing to teach me Occlumency this year like you did with Harry." Snape sighed.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I don't think I will have the time to do that this year, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," she said, wondering if it was time or secrets he hoarded.

"In the meantime, I'm sure Mr. Potter would be happy to show you what he knows."

She made a face that made him struggle not to cackle, and she followed suit, giggling into her hand.

"Mr. Malfoy is also a capable Occlumens and Legilimens. You two don't exactly get along, but you could try him as a resource. You can also try some techniques from books in the library."

"Thank you, Professor," she said.

"Of course, and Ms. Granger."

"Yes, professor?"

"Your answers were fine today,"

"Respectfully, professor, you docked points." He smiled and looked to the ceiling.

"Yes, well, thank you for showing an interest in Occlumency. Five points to Gryffindor."

Those words were music to Hermione's ears, and any annoyance at Malfoy or Pansy fled from her brain.

That was until she got to Potions. She hadn't realized Pansy was such a good student - she hadn't thought much about her at all until now.

Hermione wanted to make a good impression on Slughorn. He was a powerfully connected wizard, and she meant to get into the Slug Club, so when he asked who could identify three potions, she raised her hand without a clue as to what they were.

The first two were easy - veritaserum and poly juice potion. But to identify amortentia she had to smell it, and her mouth got away from her.

Harry always smelled like fresh-cut grass from the Quidditch pitch, and Krum's estate had one of the biggest libraries in Bulgaria. That summer, they'd gotten a new shipment of advanced copies, and she'd made her way through all of them - lying on her stomach in the annals of the library, with frequent breaks to roll on her back for him.

When she turned back from the potions, Harry and Ron stared at her with different expressions of befuddlement. Draco and Pansy, however, looked like wolves that had found a rabbit.

She'd been so distracted by her confessions that it wasn't until Harry and Ron returned from the book cupboard she realized she'd be staring at Draco and Pansy for the entirety of the class, again. Given their frequent glances at her, Hermione was sure it had not been an accident.

They all stood before their cauldrons, which meant Malfoy's wand found its way to Pansy's thighs from behind. Malfoy and Pansy made their potions in tandem, with Pansy doing the prep work while Malfoy gave her instructions and stirred the cauldron. Some instructions he said allowed, and others he whispered in her ear. Slughorn looked on in disapproval, but there was no rule they couldn't work together, and as Slytherins, they found every loophole.

Meanwhile, Hermione's potion suffered her distraction, but Harry's cauldron bubbled with a clear, lilac liquid. She peered over to his book. His best friend was like a toddler who never learned to stop poking at an electrical outlet - he was once again taking handwritten instructions from a book.

She heard Malfoy's drawl as he tried to connect with Slughorn, and looked up to see Pansy trying not to writhe. He held his hand just above the ladle's handle, his finger stirring the potion as well as her pleasure. Pansy caught Hermione's eye and bit her smirking lip.

Hermione made it several minutes without looking up and mourned her self-control. Malfoy looked at her and twirled his wand in his fingers. He told Pansy to add lacewing flies, and as she did, he leaned down behind her and returned without his wand in hand. The lacewing flies bubbled so loudly they masked Pansy's moan. Still, he covered her mouth and shushed into her ear. He whispered something into her ear that looked to Hermione like,

"You can take it. Just a second longer."

He bent again and retrieved his wand. He pulled out a handkerchief with the Malfoy insignia and cleaned the tip. He leered at Hermione.

They were almost out of time when Pansy caught her eye again. Hermione couldn't break eye contact, couldn't do anything but stir counterclockwise and watch Pansy come undone. Malfoy busied himself with bottling up their potion as Pansy pressed her lips together to contain her wails. Hermione wasn't even sure what Malfoy was doing to cause this. He just smiled to himself until she shuddered still, her gaze all but begging Hermione for release.

Malfoy kissed Pansy's neck and whispered something that looked like "That's my girl," before passing the vials to Slughorn.

After class, Hermione dragged Harry back away from the rest of the Gryffindors and pulled him into a broom closet.

"Let me see that book," she said and looked through the instructions from that day's lesson.

"Why was this bloke making so much Draught of the Living Dead that he made detailed notes?" She murmured.

"Hermione, it's nothing,"

"Harry, don't be an idiot." She smacked him in the shoulder with the book and then threw it across the closet.

"You know better than this by now."

She couldn't think. She was so wound up from that morning that she pushed her lips to Harry's and fumbled with his trousers. She felt him smile beneath her kiss.

"Now?"

"Is that a problem?" She chided, and he laughed.

"Merlin, no, of course not."

Harry reached under her skirt and found her clit, but she batted his hand away. This was about him. Keeping him calm and safe. Away from doing anything reckless.

She kissed down his neck, fell to her knees, and pulled him into her mouth in a frenzy. She rolled her body with each pull of him. Not bothering with hands, or teasing, but shoving her anger down with every plunge of his cock into her throat.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he croaked.

She used one hand to squeeze his ass and the other to cup his balls and rub the space behind them. She pulled one into her mouth and sucked gently, and then the other, and then both, all the while pumping him ferociously with her hand. She speared herself back on him as white hot cum slipped down her throat.

But she'd miscalculated. She'd been so focused on exploring every inch of him that she hadn't noticed the friction of her swollen clit against her knickers. She hid her moan on his cock, pressing her lips hard against him as she rode her own wave to shore.

He helped her to her feet. She tried to hide her shakiness.

"Hermione," he said, and he kissed her swollen lips - the quiet of the closet in stark contrast to the energy that had just consumed her.

"That's three days in a row. Not that I'm complaining - this is probably the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said, and she smiled and rolled her eyes. "But what's going on? You can talk to me."

She couldn't. She couldn't tell Harry he was right, that she believed him, that they should all believe him. Malfoy was a Death Eater, and they had every reason to fear him. And she definitely couldn't say that Malfoy had set his sights on her. And that she seemed powerless to stop his hostile takeover of her body, her mind.

"This is what friends do," she said, straightening his tie, "They take care of each other."

Harry burst into a laughing fit that took tens of seconds to recover.

"I'm serious," she said, brushing dust off his shoulders.

"Hermione, this is not what friends do for each other."

"Fine, friends with benefits then."

"I guess that's fair. You'll tell me, though, right? If something's going on."

"Mhm. Of course," she lied, and she watched him retrieve the book, his green eyes electric.