Vanish

"I'm headed to the library," Hermione told Ron and Harry as soon as they settled by the fire of the Gryffindor common room. She dried off her clothes from their disastrous trip to Hogsmeade and set out through the Fat Lady's portrait before either could protest. 

She was so frustrated that she nearly knocked over a suit of armor as she rounded a corner. How could Harry be so brazen as to blame Malfoy for Katie Bell getting hurt in front of McGonagall? It seemed as though everyone downplaying his concerns and trying to keep him on the straight and narrow was doing the opposite of assuaging his fears. He had always been obsessed, but this was a new level of rashness. Had there ever been a time when he could think strategically, or had he always been this way?

The problem was that Hermione agreed with him, but he was crying wolf again. No one ever took him seriously because, even after all these years, he hadn't learned that his hammer approach didn't work. Harry had one strategy for getting what he wanted - temper tantrums. It wasn't effective when he accused Snape first year of trying to steal the Philosopher's stone, nor in fourth year when he insisted over and over that he hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. She'd even tried to talk to him about his delivery, but he'd just insisted that he was 'telling the truth, and that's all he can do.' As usual, it fell to Hermione to plan around his misguided heroism. Maybe even McGonagall knew there was merit to his accusations, but what could she do if Malfoy had an alibi? 

But still, he was absolutely right - that had been the necklace Malfoy had been looking at in Borgin and Burkes. It wasn't too far to think he'd convinced one of his cronies to confound someone like Madame Rosmerta into giving Katie the package and then Katie to bring it to the castle. 

Or, like Leanne said, the imperious curse. 

Malfoy had clearly been tutored over the summer, given his skills in Occlumency and nonverbal spells. If he had someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, or even Voldemort himself teaching him, then the unforgivable would be required learning. But giving the necklace to Madame Rosmerta, to give to Katie, and finally to someone else was sloppy at best. There were so many ways it could have gone wrong.

One thing was certain - whatever he was trying to do, Malfoy was in over his head. Whoever trained him wasn't helping him now, and if someone didn't intervene soon, he was going to get someone - the wrong person - killed. Because what other reason would he go to this trouble unless he was trying to murder someone? Was this the job Voldemort assigned him? 

She'd reached Magonagall's classroom, but he was nowhere in sight. His detention was over, so where could he be? She checked the library but found no sign. If only she'd thought to grab the marauder's map. Why had no one invented a scrying spell?

Well, she knew he would end up back at his common room one way or another.

After half an hour of waiting in the shadows and flipping through Herpo the foul again, she heard voices.

"I'll see you all later," Came Malfoy's drawl.

"Where are you going?" Asked Pansy, her eyes narrowing, "You're always slinking off. What are you up to?" Hermione unhooked a pair of extendable ears and fell back further into the shadows. If this group found her eavesdropping outside their common room, there's no doubt she'd be in a world of pain. 

"Come on, Pans, let the boy brood if he wants to," said Blaise.

"Fine, whatever, I'd like a nap anyway," Pansy yawned. "Will you meet us for dinner, then?" She asked.

"Maybe, yeah, whatever," Draco said, but he had already gone far enough away down the hall that he was barely audible. 

Hermione waited until she thought the Slytherins were safely in their common room before she hurried out from the shadows.

"Hey, mudblood! Where you running off to?" Cried Crab, still loitering with Pansy in the doorway. She picked up her pace.

"Oh, let her be. You don't need another detention, nor do you need a face full of bat bogies," Pansy said.

She broke into a run. That was the problem with the climate set by Voldemort and his supporters - arseholes like Crab had become emboldened. 

She followed Malfoy as they ascended flight after flight of stairs,. and realized they were headed to the Room of Requirement when they approached the astronomy tower. She fumbled for her wand as the door to the Room of Requirement began to close behind him.

Arresto momentum

The door to the room halted, and she slipped through. 

She'd never seen the Room of Requirement like this. During the DA, it changed weekly to attend to their needs, but now it was filled with endless objects. She even saw the knitting needles she'd misplaced third year on a nearby table, gathering dust. She crept through narrow passages of junk toward a light tinkering sound until she found him with his back to her, focused on an old cabinet.

"This was cute at first, Granger, but now you stalking me is becoming a real problem," he said.

"Why did you curse Katie Bell?" She asked, louder than she meant to. He turned to her, and she could see the pronounced dark circles under his eyes through the dusty light filtering through the room's high windows. It hadn't had windows when they used it last year. 

"Always straight to the point with you," he said, gray eyes narrowed. "But honestly, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." He turned back around, and she moved to his side. 

"Katie tried to bring the same cursed necklace you were looking at in Borgin and Burkes into the castle. She got it from Madam Rosmerta."

"Sounds like Madam Rosmerta tried to curse someone. Why don't you go bother her?"

"It wasn't her. It was you. She nearly died, Malfoy." she said. 

He rounded on her and pushed her back against the cabinet so hard it shook.

"Are you trying to attack Harry? Is that what this is all about?" She spat, her chest heaving against his arm.

"Salazar's heart, Granger, you accuse me of obsessing over Potter, yet you cannot stop talking about him."

"No, it's not Harry. Katie had gotten halfway up the path ahead of him," she mused. She had to think quickly - had to strip him bare with the right answer before he became furious.

"I've really enjoyed teasing you, fucking you, but you are treading a line I can't let you…" He grabbed her wrists.

"Let me go, Malfoy," she said, struggling.

"Do you know what this cabinet does? It puts you into time and space, a black void of nothing. Seems like a good place for nosey mubloods."

"Draco, if you just told me what was happening, maybe I could help you."

He looked back and forth into her eyes and then sneered with a look of loathing she hadn't seen from him in years.

Malfoy opened the door of the cabinet and shoved her inside.

Hermione felt the blackness close in on her. There was simultaneously too much space and not enough of it.

She felt all understanding of where she'd been or who she'd been fall away like a dream, as though she'd woken up to the reality of the void. She didn't feel calm or afraid, but that she'd be content to stay in there forever. Who cared about a wizarding war when she was safe, and maybe even loved? Why would she fight when she was already at peace?

The door opened and a blinding light made her cower. Had it really only been seconds? Draco's wide gray eyes filled her view.

He had to reach in deep to pull her out, his clammy hand shaking in hers.

"I am so, so sorry," he said, releasing her and backing away, his whole body shaking.

"What was that?" She asked, her mind spinning. It reminded her of the time her father had to give her anesthesia. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. I just, Granger, you need to go."

She felt her feet move to the pathway she'd come from.

"No," she said, and she turned back towards him. He looked to the ceiling and balled his hands into fists.

"You beg a mudblood once, and she thinks she can just say no whenever she likes," he grumbled, but she wouldn't be baited.

"What did you just do? What was that?"

"She followed his gaze to a dead white dove lying prostrate on a nearby shelf.

"You tried to kill me," she said. When Malfoy didn't respond, she approached him again. She reached out for his arm, but he pulled away.

"Hey!" she yelled, "Now I know you've never liked me, but this is a new low, even for you." She shook her head, "I can't be your target, can I?" 

He sneered at her.

"No, Granger, I'm not trying to kill you, even though I think now and always that having you gone would solve many of my problems. He sighed. "Graham Montague was stuck in there for a week, and he didn't die."

"It's…" she wracked her brain. Something Fred Weasley had said last year, or was it George? It didn't matter. "It's a vanishing cabinet. Malfoy…Draco. " His name fell from her lips as though she'd been eating ton-tongue taffy.  He looked up at her with curiosity.

"What is going on?" She asked. "What are you doing in here?"

He slumped into a nearby armchair and put his head in his hands.

"I am so sick of you boys refusing to answer my bloody questions," she muttered.

Hermione approached him cautiously. She straddled his lap and lowered herself to meet his gave. He squirmed away from her, lifting his hands as though afraid to touch her. 

"Granger, don't."

"Is that a command, Sir?" She asked. He closed his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smirk. She took his hands and placed them on her thighs.

"I, um, I liked watching you and Pansy the other night," she said, and he laughed - the lines of worry scrubbed out on his boyish face. 

"I told her I found you," he said. "She was mad you didn't pipe up. She liked having you watch in class, too."

"You told her?"

"Of course. I tell Parks everything."

"Did you tell her what you're doing in here?"

"Well, almost everything," he sighed. So even Pansy didn't know. She couldn't imagine he'd trusted someone to confound Madame Rosmerta then. It must have been the imperius curse. 

"I…I liked what you did to her, how you commanded her," Hermione said.

"Did you now?" He asked, and he rubbed both hands along her thighs.

"I'm surprised you didn't know I'd like that. I figured you knew everything about me since you've been in and out of my head so many times."

"Just the once, if you recall. And I was a little distracted." He licked his bottom lip and looked into her eyes. She looked down.

"Well, and Victor, well, he…"

So he wasn't a perfect gentleman?" He began to ride her skirt up. 

"Depends on your definition."

"What would he have you do?"

"Why are you so interested in him?"

"Well," he drawled, "if I'm going to be the best you've ever had or will have, then I need to know what filthy things others have done with you. I need to know what you like, and more importantly what you can take. Now you can tell me, or I can look in that pretty little brain for myself."

"It doesn't make you jealous?"

"Does watching Pans and I make you jealous?"

"A little," she blushed.

"Good to know," he smiled and brought his lips to her ear. "Now, tell me what the big bad Bulgarian did to you."

"He'd um," she reddened, "he'd tell me what he wanted but in Bulgarian, and I'd have to guess."

"And what happened if you guessed wrong?" He asked, kissing her jaw.

"He'd you know..."

"What?"

"He'd punish me."

"How?" He looked her in the eyes.

She bit her lip and turned her head.

She felt a slight tilt in her head, almost like she was about to fall asleep, and woke herself back up. She pulled up her Occlumency walls around the memory of Victor tying her to his bed.

"Ah, Granger, very good!" Malfoy said, and she beamed.

"I couldn't give you any more for free, now could I?" she retorted.

"Well, just because you hid that memory doesn't mean I can't find other things."

She kissed him. 

"You taste different," she said, "not bad, just..."

"Well, I'd had Pans on my tongue the first time we kissed, didn't I?"

"Oh, right."

"You've had your mouth full lately," he said with a laugh, and she felt her skin sear. "But Legilimency isn't just about seeing memories - it's experiencing them too." She felt him pull the memory of her going down on Ron.

"Blimey, I always knew you were intense, but I had no idea a person could feel this level of loyalty, obligation." He reached up under her skirt.

"It must be addicting to have you as a friend, to have you." He smiled into a kiss.  

"What are these?" He asked, snapping the thick black straps that held up her stockings.

I'm wearing garters," she said, "I thought they were sexy."

"You weren't wrong," he said, and he felt up until he traced the leg of her knickers.

He caught her shiver in his mouth.

"Are you saying," she asked against his lips, "that my friends, that…Harry," He rubbed the lace of her knickers between his thumb and finger.

"Will always up the stakes," he finished, "will make a deal with the devil if it means you'll follow him to hell. I'd end the world if it got your attention, too." 

She looked down. The heat in her legs blossomed into something else, like shame, even as his thumb stroked her core.

"That's not a very nice thing to say," she whispered.

"Well, I'm not a nice person."

"I know," she whispered.

They stayed like that for a moment, as though Malfoy was eager to see what she'd do, whether she'd get up and leave.

"Sometimes when I touch myself," she said, pulling off her tie and beginning to unbutton her shirt, "right before I come, I think of Knockturn Alley and the library."

"Oh yeah?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I can't help it. I try to think of anything else, of Harry, of Victor, but I think of you." He sneered and rolled his eyes.

"See, this is what I mean, Granger!" He rested his head on his fist as he stroked her thigh.

"You can't ever just say 'fuck me, Draco,' instead you have to tease me with your oh-so most shameful secret." 

"Fuck me, Draco," she said, leaning into a kiss, and he barked a laugh and turned his head. 

"No, that's not what you need," he said, and he slipped one long finger inside her, and she felt her knickers vanish. She moaned.

"That's what you took last time, remember? And how well did that work out?" 

"It's not my fault you didn't like me riding you," she breathed, resting her head on his shoulder as he crooked his finger along the bundle of nerves inside her.

"Is that what you think, pet?" He asked, turning his head toward her. "I loved it. Of course I did. At this point, I could make a scrapbook of what you look like when you come. But let me ask you, how did that compare to when I was in your mind on the train?"

She looked up and narrowed her brown eyes at him.

"It didn't."

"Exactly."

"Fine, what would you suggest I do?" He lifted his chin to whisper in her ear.

"Exactly as I say."

"Up," he said, still crooking that treacherous, wet finger inside her. It felt so good, and she didn't want to, but when he smirked she stood and felt him slide from her.

"Take off your top and bra," She shimmied it from her shoulders and unhooked her bra so she was only in her skirt, stockings, and Mary Janes.

"Bend over the cabinet," he said, nodding toward the vanishing cabinet. Hermione approached it and walked around its entirety. It was easily seven feet tall.

"This cabinet?" she asked, whirling around, very aware of the cold peaking her nipples. When Malfoy nodded, she pointed at the structure he'd pushed her into not minutes before.

"I can't, it's too tall."

"Granger, I can't make you come unless you do what I say first, remember?"

"Yes, Sir," she grumbled. He watched as she put her hands on her hips and stalked around the furniture. 

"Accio desk," she muttered without looking, and a small single student desk flew from above the stacks of discarded furniture in the room. She dropped it in front of the cabinet and clambered up on top of it. She looked back to see Malfoy's head bent in an attempt to peek up her skirt. She rolled her eyes and carefully stood. She was still far from reaching the top of the cabinet, but from this height, she had a better view of the rest of the furniture around her. The room really did seem to hold every discarded item at the school, with no discernable filing system. Hermione imagined that if she ever used Legilimency on Ron, she'd find a similar standard for organization. She folded her arms over her chest.

"Come now, none of that," Malfoy called, and she glared at him before returning her hands to her hips. She did a double take.

He'd pulled himself from his trousers to give himself slow, elegant strokes.

She shook her head of the distraction and saw a large metal cage surrounded by a heap of Victorian furniture. It had probably been used to hold werewolves or some other beast, but it looked to be the perfect height.

"Accio cage," she said, and as it rose in the air, a box that had rested on it fell and split open to reveal a heap of spiders.

The cage flew to her, and she dropped it to the side of the cabinet with a crash. She climbed from the desk to the cage but found the cabinet was still just barely too tall. However, it was almost certainly the perfect height for Malfoy's long legs. She measured the height with her wand.

After making her way back down, she stood between his legs and watched him make lazy strokes.

"Enjoying yourself?" She asked.

"Like you aren't," he sneered, and she knelt before him.

"I'm not sure what you think you're doing," he said as he positioned his tip inches from her lips.

"Just measuring." 

She couldn't help herself. As she used her wand to measure the length of his legs, she gave him one long, slow pull into her mouth, bottoming out into her throat. He hissed. She released him and stood before turning on her heel.

"That's the only one you get," he called, but she was already circling the cage.

"I know, I know. Difindo."

She circled twice, cutting two inches from its height, and resealed the metal. Perfect for him - still too tall for her. She moved a step stool from under a lethal looking tea set and levitated it to the top of the cage. 

She felt proud of her work, and she climbed back up and hoisted herself onto the top of the cabinet, belly down, arse in the air.

"Well?" She said, looking down at him.

"That's too bad," he called, cock still in his hand, "I was looking forward to fucking your mouth some more."

She groaned, but Malfoy was right. From this angle, he could only access her backside.

"Fine," she said, standing back on the cage and measuring the length and width of the cabinet with her wand. She difindoed a rectangular hole into the cage and levitated the cabinet into its center. As she suspected, the cage was charmed to keep its shape, even as she stood on it.  She resumed her position on top of the cabinet.

"Happy, Sir?"

"I am. I've always liked watching your brain work."

He stood and stowed himself away, and didn't need to use his hands to climb up to stand behind her. He flipped up her skirt so the Room of Requirement air flushed her backside. He snapped the garters again and ran his fingers along the top of her thighs.

"Hold on here," he said softly and moved her hand to grip the top lip of the cabinet. 

"If you let go, then this stops, no matter how close you are to coming."

Hermione braced her hands and looked up with fluttering eyelashes.

"Then what stops?" She asked.

"Hmmm," he said with a smile, but he'd already turned from her. With her hands braced, she couldn't twist to see what had happened behind her. She felt his warm hands slide down the center of her arse and felt the metal of each garter hit her thighs again with a snap. 

"Alright, there?" He asked and she nodded.

"Words, Granger, how do you feel?"

She felt his fingertip on her tailbone.

"Good, fine, nervous," she said.

He returned to her front, and she looked up at him.. He unzipped his fly and pulled himself free. She sighed deeply - something she knew she was good at.

"Open," he said.

He pushed himself in just enough to fill her mouth and began stroking himself along her tongue. She bobbed with him as much as she could. After a moment, he pulled out and ran his tip around her lips.

"Why are you nervous?" He asked, and she took a second to think. 

But when she opened her mouth to finally speak, he pushed himself between her open lips. She squeaked in indignation, and he snorted.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." He twitched a smile and pulled out. 

Hermione watched as he stroked himself inches from her lips. Finally, she said, "I'm…I don't know what you're going to do to me. And for some reason, I think you could do anything. I think if you left me here all night, I'd wait for you, with my pussy on display for all the junk in this room to see until you came back for me." He laughed.

"Now I think I might do just that. Open," he said again, and she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. He pushed himself in deeper than before.

"Like I said, if you lift your hands, this stops. Alright?"

She nodded.

"Words, Granger," he corrected.

"Yeth, thir," she said and started to bob her head along him.

He moaned and bit his lip. She felt a calm rush from her moment of control, and she squirmed to pull him into her throat.

"Stop," he said, and she relaxed back down onto the cabinet, but he didn't pull out or even move, just filled her. 

"You're very giving. I could tell that what happened in the library wasn't exactly your style." She grunted in agreement.

"But I admire the lengths you'll go to try and prove me wrong, even if it means riding me like it's your first time in the English countryside."

She laughed a little around him. He pushed deeper.

"Tell me, did the international Quidditch player ever go down on you?"

She shook her head.

"Words, Granger."

"No, thir," she said.

"Figures," he said, and he pumped against her tongue.

"And Potter certainly hasn't, nor the Weasel." She shook her head again, and he pumped harder.

"No, thir." she spluttered against his movement.

"Bloody Gryffindors," he muttered. "Anyone?"

"Just you. In the vision."

He pulled out from her mouth. and moved behind her and touched her tailbone. He circled his fingertip around her arsehole before a quick plunge into her pussy.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Ok, I um, I just really want you to start."

"I have started," he argued, and he pulled out to circle her clit.

"But you're teasing me."

"Yes, but I like teasing you," he drawled as his fingers left her, and he gripped her thighs, pulling her apart. 

She squirmed against him, desperate for his touch.

He swatted her backside, and Hermione whined at the sting of the crack that rang through the lofty room.

"You're not trusting me, Granger. I will give you everything you've thought of when you're in bed at night with your curtains drawn, hoping your roommates don't hear you screaming my name into your pillow."

She nodded.

"Words, Granger."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Then show me," he said.

She felt him enter her mind. And simultaneously, Hermione was in the Room of Requirement and in her her nightgown in her bed, dreaming of the fantasy where she swallowed down Harry's cock.

"I didn't want to think of you," she thought, "I couldn't help it."

"I know, pet, I know," he soothed. She felt him nip at her thighs. Her fantasy changed as she squirmed in her bed. The image of Malfoy in the alley, his long fingers pushing into her underware, came into view.

"You were upset here. Why?" Knockturn Malfoy asked.

"You called me a mudblood," she said. 

"Yes, but that's not the only reason."

"I wanted to come so badly. I thought if I wasn't so needy, I could understand what was going on with you."

He pulled down her jeans and ripped apart her shirt to reveal the black knickers and bra. None of the softness he'd since gained lingered in his face. He looked at her with pure aristocratic amusement, like she was an expensive toy.

"You love these, don't you?" Hermione asked, looking down at her lacy black undergarments.  He hoisted her up against the wall, the rough brick scratching against her back. 

"I'd like them better gone," he sneered. He snapped his fingers, and the bra and knickers vanished.

Knockturn Malfoy released himself from his trousers with seeker speed and plunged into her. It dawned on her that he was clothed while she was entirely naked. Then again, that's how it had felt that day in the alley. She circled her hips with his thrusts and kissed his cruel sneer.

His cock pinned her again and again to the brick wall while he whispered into her neck.

"Is this all for him?"

In the Room of Requirement, Malfoy pulled her clit between his tongue and teeth and sucked. He licked up her and danced his tongue around her core before plunging in. His tongue went even higher and circled around her arsehole.

"Is this ok?" He asked.

"Yes, she said, but she wasn't sure which version of her said it - her in the room, her in her bed, or her in the alleyway.

He plunged his tongue into her arsehole.

"I know the last thing you need," said any one of the Malfoys. 

As she touched herself in her dormitory, the four poster curtains swung open, and Harry stood above her bed, his silhouette marked by moonlight. 

"God, Hermione, is there anything you're not amazing at?"

She crawled across the bed on all fours, her knees getting caught up in her nightgown until her trembling fingers found the buttons of his trousers. She couldn't think, couldn't get him free - she was too distracted by Malfoy pinning her to the wall and fucking her with his tongue in a place no one had been before. Finally, she pulled Harry's trousers open, and without using her hands, she took him into her mouth.

"Good girl," said one or both or all of them.

"Look at you," they said. And suddenly, she could only see herself.

Her sex completely on display in the Room of Requirement, bucking and squirming with and against Draco. 

Her frenzy as she bobbed up and down Harry, the look of her throat getting wider, tears pooling in her eyes. 

Her lips parting as her hair matted against the brick wall, and her tits bounced in the afternoon sunlight. Malfoy's arm beside her head, the clear serpent and skull tattoo peering through the sheer shirt.

"Please, let me help." She heard the words escape her lips, although she wasn't sure from which version of herself, perhaps all three, or to which boy she spoke.

Suddenly, the visions stopped, and Malfoy stood behind her in the room of requirement. He stumbled back.

"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to look back without moving her hands. 

"You've known?" He asked, his voice breaking in his throat. She heard him clamber down to the floor, and realized what she'd revealed and let go of the cabinet. She grabbed her wand from her skirt pocket.

“Petrificus totalus!” She called, and he stopped, inches from escaping her. She followed down after him as he fell backward onto the floor. She approached slowly, scared, as she moved to stand above him. Only his eyes could move, and they shone with fury and even fear.

Hermione knelt beside him and moved her leg to straddle him. She swallowed as she took his arm in her hands and began to roll up his sleeve. He huffed beneath her, but still, she revealed the serpent and skull tattoo.

She ran her fingers along its intricate design. She thought about Harry - who fought her love at every turn, who thrilled in getting 'no strings attached head from his best friend.' There were strings. With Harry Potter, there were always strings.

She thought about Ron, who lusted after her roommate but still begged her to suck his cock, simply because he wanted what Harry had. They had all of her, and she got so little in return. 

She pressed her lips to the tattoo.