Vanish

Hermione hurried through her schoolwork in record time. It was amazing how much faster she worked freshly shagged, on unwise levels of caffeine, and without having to do Ron and Harry's work as well. Never mind that she had the library entirely to herself.

That morning, after Pansy and Draco left, she'd snuck easily out of the Slytherin common room. As she was already in the dungeons, she'd stopped by the kitchens to grab a scone and thermos of coffee from a weepy Winky and thrilled Dobby. Then, up in the prefect's bathroom, she'd run a bath with her favorite tap that emitted lush grey bubbles, which smelled like fir trees and pumpkin cider when they popped. As she'd luxuriated and brainstormed on her essays, she summoned fresh robes for the day, wondering if anyone left in the castle would notice her knickers and skirt zooming through the halls from Gryffindor Tower. Apparently, all of Slytherin had seen them, so what if a few more people also saw them too?

By the time she'd scrubbed, gelled, dried, and scrunched her hair, her clothes had floated just outside the bathroom door.

Now it was only noon, she'd finished all her schoolwork, and she had a full day of nothing else ahead of her. Her new invisibility cloak shimmered from within her bag, and she ran her fingers along the delicate fabric. She hadn't even properly thanked Malfoy. 

The match must have just ended as she whispered "Parseltongue" at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. She slipped in, and only a single first or second year boy furrowed their brow at the mysterious nothing that came through the door. He shook his head and returned to his reading.

Mercifully, the sixth-year boy's dormitory was empty, but she had no idea which bed was Draco's. 

One bed was simply made, plain but for a blanket with a symbol of a shield encasing two crossed bullrushes. Hermione was certain it was a Quidditch emblem, but couldn't remember which one. A framed photograph of a young skinny boy standing beside a pretty witch was on the bedside table, pushed to the back by discarded quills, an old drinking glass, and knickknacks. The photo brought a lump into Hermione's throat, although she couldn't outright say why, only that Teddy Nott had been one of the few besides Harry to see the Thestrals in Care of Magical Creatures last year. 

She approached a pair of beds that seemed simple enough to be one of Malfoy's, but when she got within a foot of the beds, she was so overcome by a wave of body odor so foul that she had to step back. She felt profound gratitude that she roomed with Lavender and Pavarti, not Crabbe and Goyle.

She'd instantly identified Blaise Zabini's bed by the sheer number of pictures of himself and friends in various states of undress and gaudy makeup pinned up around his wall. Blaise had been an avid member of the Hogwarts choir, and from the looks of the photos pinned around his four poster, he performed in burlesques of some sort as well.

At last, she found Draco's bed in the far corner of the room, with the curtains drawn shut. His bedside table was clean and tidy, and he had no pictures of any kind. Given his frequent use of "my father" when taunting Harry, she would have expected at least a single family photo. She ran her finger along the wall by his bed and found a few remnants of sticking charms. Perhaps he had hung photos at one time.

She opened the curtain to find something both surprising and damning - Herpo the bloody Foul: a twisted and altogether unhelpful life. She'd returned the sodden book to the library after giving up on learning more about why the library kept recommending it to her, and to her relief, it hadn't ended up back on her shelf. But the last time she'd read it, she'd been waiting on top of the vanishing cabinet for Malfoy to return, so perhaps he'd seen it and checked it out because of her. She crawled into Malfoy's bed and drew the curtains closed.

The smell of him surrounded her, causing every tense muscle or frayed nerve to immediately soothe and a heat to coil in her lower belly. She leaned against the pinstripe sheets and pressed her face into the goose-down pillow. Her fingers trailed along her thighs before she pulled back. Her pleasure was his today.

Instead, she flipped through the book and saw new words written in the margins of the basilisk chapter. 

Nagini.

Father's diary.

She flipped through again and saw one other note - 

Aunt Bella's cup. 

Father's diary - did he mean the riddle diary? She couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy keeping a journal about his day. Harry had used a basilisk fang to destroy it, so he must be equating the two. Perhaps that's why he wrote Nagini as well. She had no idea what kind of snake Nagini was- she'd never seen the beast. She'd have to ask Harry - but could Voldemort really have a pet basilisk? Aunt Bella's cup was a mystery.

Perhaps she could catch Malfoy off guard when he returned from his match and ask him about it. She removed her clothes, hid them beneath the bed, and cast a light-warming charm on the comforter, careful not to set it ablaze. Then she held her wrist against the rung of his four-poster headboard.

"Incarcerous," she whispered, and thin cords erupted from the tip of her wand, binding her to the wood. She gingerly loosened them so they were comfortable and then placed her wand in the bound hand. 

"Incarcerous," she said again, binding her other wrist on the other rung of the headboard.

After thirty minutes or so of dozing, she snapped to attention as the door opened.

"Quiggly played rubbish today. I dunno why Ravenclaw puts up with him," said Draco.

"His brother was captain before he graduated two years ago, remember?" said another voice Hermione believed belonged to Theodore Nott.

Bollocks. If Draco pulled open the curtains, she'd give his mate a clear view of her completely starkers, and she'd already shown her tits to enough Slytherins for one twenty-four hour period.

She'd be embarrassed but not entirely mortified if she could at least get under the covers.

Hermione gingerly sat up. She'd have to perform a carnival contortion to get under the comforter without releasing her hands. There was nothing for it.

"Emancipare," she thought, but nothing happened. Her heart raced. 

"Emancipare," she thought again, but apparently her anxiety interfered with her ability to cast nonverbally.

"Emancipare," she whispered, but not quietly enough.

"Is there someone in your bed?!" Teddy asked. A moment later, as the complicated knot continued to unravel, the curtain swung open, and Teddy Nott's great brown eyes gazed down at her and then widened.

"Well, hello lover!" He said, his west country accent thick with surprise, "That's your mystery shag? Hermione bloody Granger? Draco I'm impress…"

“Confundu…” Malfoy cried.

"Protego!" Teddy interrupted. "Oy! The hell are you hexing me for?!"

Malfoy closed the curtains against Hermione. 

"Cause it's none of your bloody business!"

"Does Pans know?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Does Potter know?"

"Not totally sure, maybe?"

"Well, sounds like your best-kept bloody secret. Certainly worth hexing your oldest friend over."

"To be fair, the last bloke who caught us got a concussion."

There was a pause that seemed to Hermione to stretch for eternity.

"Finders keepers?" Teddy asked.

"Goodbye, Teddy!" Hermione cried from behind the curtain.

"Well, that answers my question of whether she's as bossy in bed as she is in class."

"Theodore, Please," Draco begged.

"Alright alright, but if she's staying the night, remember to muffle, yeah? I don't want to be woken up at 3am like last time."

The door slammed shut, and Hermione heard Draco sigh. A moment later, he swung the curtains open and gazed down at her, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"So, how was your match?" Hermione asked.

"Good, we won."

"Oh, well done."

Draco hung his outer robe on his bedpost and kicked off his shoes.

"I should go wash up," he said.

"Don't you dare," she retorted, pulling on his robes with her free hand.

"But I'm filthy!"

"You smell amazing," she said, breathing deeply. "Freshly mowed grass, remember?"

"Right, right, she has a thing for Quidditch players, yet hates Quidditch."

"It's really not that complicated."

He gazed at her bound hand.

"So, how did you tie yourself up?" 

"The incarceration spell."

"Nothing stops Hermione blo…Jean Granger."

"He reached over her head and retrieved a school tie.

"May I?" He asked, and she nodded. He slowly and gingerly worked the fabric around her free wrist and the headboard. 

"Too tight?" He asked, checking the space between her pulse point and her fabric.

"Perfect," she swallowed.

Draco took a deep breath before closing the curtains back. He pressed his hands to her neck and moved them down her collarbone, breasts, and stomach, seeming to count every rib and glide over each freckle as though making a map of her. He squeezed her waist tight and pushed down on her hip bones.  When he gripped her belly with both hands, he let out a guttural groan.

"Teddy is right," he mused. "I'm an impressive git to have Hermione Granger tied up in my bed."

"I know usually your partner ties you up, but I just wanted to be…"

"Efficient?" He asked.

"Yours, actually," she said, and he smirked.

He trailed his firm grasp down her hips, and his thumbs drew a thin line down her inner thighs. She arched into every movement. 

"So, did you have fun with Pans last night?" He asked, his eyes lidded as he ran his hands back up her curves and flicked a thumb over each nipple.

"Yes, Astoria too."

"Astoria joined you? So that's why she never came to bed." He ran his fingers over her knuckles and down along the bindings of her wrist, her arm, and her elbow. "I'm not so sure how I feel about you stealing my girls."

"Well, it's not my fault you got all pouty," she retorted, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Pouty?" He asked, leaning close and nibbling the offended lip. "I'll bloody show you pouty." He reached over her and retrieved a second school tie. He wrapped it around her eyes and secured it behind her head.

"This alright?" 

She nodded.

"Words, Granger,"

"Yes, it's good."

"So what happened with Parks and Astoria then?" He asked, reaching down and drawing slow circles around her clit.

"What do you mean?" She breathed.

"I mean, who came first? Or I guess that was Astoria, so who came second, or was that Astoria as well?"

"If I recall, you came first," she moaned.

"Careful with that mouth, pet," he warned and gripped her thigh harder but continued his slow circles. She heard an unzipping noise.

"And anyway. I can't tell you all that."  

Something smooth and hard brushed her lips.

"Open," he said, and she obeyed.

He pushed his length into her mouth, and without her sight or use of her hands, his taste and smell dominated her senses.

"This alright?" He asked.

"Mhm," she mumbled.

"Words, Granger," he said, pulling out.

"Call me Hermione," she whispered. 

"Call me Draco," he taunted, and in a swift movement, he was deep in her mouth again.

"Draco," she garbled around him. He groaned.

"Again."

"Draco!" She slurred.

"Cheers," he chuckled and pushed in and out of her for several strokes. She lazed into her immobility and passive pleasure.

"Say his name," he said.

"Whose name?" She asked. 

"That's my girl."

It took her a moment to even realize who he meant. Whatever he did, whatever had happened in the last twenty-four hours, for one moment, Harry Potter hadn't been on her mind.

"Bloody insatiable," he muttered. "Look at yourself, you vixen," he said, and she felt her mind flip, and she saw the image of her bound eyes and mouth wide with his length moving between her lips.

"Draco," she began and couldn't deny liking the image of how her lips formed the word around him, "what are you looking for?" She mumbled. The image of herself played at the front of her mind, but she felt him sink deeper.

"You and Pans, of course," he said, but when she followed him, he wasn't looking at those memories - instead, he flipped through her recent memories with Harry and Ron like a book. Was he looking to see if she was shagging them, too? She moved her head to the side so he fell out of her mouth. He bounced against her cheek.

"You say I'm obsessed with Harry, and yet you're the one fucking me but looking for him," she challenged. "Maybe you wanted me to say his name with your cock in my mouth, hm?" 

He sighed, "I miss the days when you wanted to please me." 

"I think you're imagining those days," she grumbled, and he pulled from her mind and sat back.

Her heart quickened. "I'm...I'm sorry, please don't stop."

"Oh pet," he growled, "I'm just getting started."

In truth, she opened her legs, and he moved within her for only a few minutes before he fell asleep on her chest, and she dozed off moments after. She had been awake for over 24 hours, after all.

She dreamed she stood before the veil in the department of mysteries. She could hear Harry and Weasleys singing Celestina Warbeck's Christmas Carols, giggling and carrying on, but she couldn't see them. 

Revelio," she said, but her wand only stung in her hands.

She woke with her fingers tingling, unable to see, and a heavy weight on her chest. But when she smelled him and felt him inside her, her panic flitted away. She kissed the top of his head.

"Salazar's cock," he muttered, "can I wake up inside you every day for the rest of my bloody life?"

"Draco," she laughed sleepily, "are you proposing?" 

He rocked for a few strokes, and she felt him harden inside her. "Yes." 

She laughed. "Your mother would love that."

"Yes, well, I'm not trying to wake up inside my mother every day…" Hermione snapped awake.

"Merlin's…please forget I said that. Where's my bloody wand? I need to obliviate you…"

He fumbled around, and Hermione squirmed beneath him. 

"Don't you dare! Could you be a dear and untie me, though? I'm losing feeling in my fingers." 

"Oh! Bollocks, here," he hissed and untied her with two flicks of his wand and brought her hands between his. He rubbed his thumbs along her palms - seemingly so engrossed in making sure she was alright, he'd forgotten he was inside her.

"Are your hands alright? Do you need the hospital wing?" He asked. She pulled her hands free and pulled up the tie from her eyes. The sun had set outside the castle, and she could see his concerned face lit by the faint candlelight outside the bed curtains.

"More than alright," she said, wrapping her arms and legs around him and pushing him deeper. He moaned and buried his face in her neck.

He began to move in her again, and she whispered in his ear.

"Draco, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Why are you volunteering?"

"Oh, stop."

He sighed. "I'll be getting pissed at the pub near the Manor, you?"

"Really? You won't be with your family?"

"No, we have some unexpected guests coming that I'd rather not spend my holiday with."

"Your aunt?"

"I notice you didn't answer my question," he said, pulling from her and moving down her body.

"I notice you never answer mine," she said but quickly forgot what she'd asked when his tongue grazed her clit.

"I did, and I was proposing," he smirked, brushing his lips against her core and sending a shiver up her body. 

She bit her lip. "Oh, shut it."

He moved his tongue quickly back and forth against her. She scoffed.

"Well, I know one thing you and Pans did, then," he said.

"You are foul!" She cried.

Then his tongue grazed lower until it circled her arsehole. She whimpered and rolled against him.

"Does this feel good?" He asked, lightly stroking the contracting skin.

"It really does. I never knew it would, but it feels bloody great."

"So I take it Bulgaria's finest never found his way in here?" He asked, replacing his tongue with the pad of his finger. "Broomstick or otherwise."

"That's a poor entendre, even for you," she snapped.

"Oh, I'm being very literal if we're speaking of unanswered questions that haunt my every waking moment."

She bit her lip and smiled down at him. 

He rubbed circles with one long finger. 

"Can I?" He asked.

She nodded before squeaking, "Yes."

He curled his fingertip and just barely entered her.

"No, I don't, no, Buckbeak!" She cried, starting to writhe, and he pulled his hand away.

"That's my good girl," he soothed, sitting back on his heels between her knees. He waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts, the lamplight casting shadows on his bedhead and wrinkled shirt. She took a deep breath.

"I like it- that was just - it felt like a lot." She set her jaw. "I want to try again."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Don't let your Gryffindor sensibilities ruin buggery. We can try again another time."

"No, no, it felt really good. I want to try again. I just panicked."

"Anything for my future wife," he smirked before lowering his mouth.

"Did you ever figure out that vibration charm?" He asked in between casting lazy circles with his tongue. She nodded.

"Of course you did, clever little thing." He looked up at her, tongue still out, before cocking his head.  "Care to do the honors, or am I doing everything tonight?"

"Oh! Right, yes," she grabbed her wand from behind the pillow and placed the tip on her clit.

"If I burn off your fringe, will your family sue me for defamation?" She asked as the vibration began creeping into her core.

He replaced his tongue with his fingertip, and the two sensations danced together this time.

"Pretty sure you have enough on my family to wriggle out of that one."

Her breath caught in her throat, even as pleasure coiled in her from her wand and the second knuckle of his finger. His sexy little forays into her mind had always been a part of their foreplay, but tonight he was checking through her memories to see her moments alone with Harry and Ron, but not to know if she was shagging them.

"Draco?" she swallowed.

"Hermione," he said.

"You can just ask me."

"Ask you what, pet?"

"Ask whether I've told anyone your secret."

He pulled out of her.

"You don't need to keep searching my mind. It's like I said before, I haven't told anyone."

She looked down her body at him, and her wand stopped vibrating. She thought about all the times he'd entered her mind since finding out she knew about his mark - how he'd kept her caught up in a fantasy, but never added to it himself. He pulled his hands together, in between his thighs, and looked into his lap - stiff as though afraid or ashamed or just without words. Hermione sat up on her knees.

"It's not fair that I'm always the one who has to be naked," she whispered, and she gripped the hem of his long-sleeved shirt.

"Don't," he said, but she began to pull up.

"No, stop," he said, pushing on her hands.

When she didn't let up, he said, "I stopped when you asked me to."

She halted. "I guess you need a safeword," she smiled nervously and dropped her hands. He pulled her head to his chest and she breathed in deep.

"I'm ready," she said, pulling away and lying back, "for more than your finger."

"You don't have to. I'm not upset about what just happened, and Granger, Hermione, I won't be upset if we don't do this either. I won't, you know, kick you out," he said. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth hung open. 

"Well no, naturally...I'm starkers and your roommates are out there," she said finally, although she could hear Harry's condescending voice, all the times he told her in so many words that she was clever at school but not at people.

Harry would have tittered at her self-ignorance, but Malfoy's mouth only quirked. 

"I want it," she said.

Draco searched her face, and then he sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his shirt over his head. She drank in all of him - the expanse of his chest, his lean stomach, wide shoulders, even the horrid black ink on his arm.

"I want that, but also the other thing, but also, Merlin's beard you're hot," she breathed, sinking into the pillow. He cast a lubricating charm on himself.

"This might hurt at first, pet. We'll go really slow, and we can stop anytime."

"I know, I know," she breathed, "I just want you in me." The vibration on her clit revved awake, stronger than before.

Draco steadied at her entrance.

"Relax, alright?"

"Mhm, yes," she said before he could remind her to use her words.

His smooth, broad tip pushed against her entrance, and just when it felt like a fool's errand, he slipped in.

"Oh, fuck!" She said, pushing on him, and he slipped out. 

"Did that hurt?"

"A little. Mostly, I just haven't felt anything like it before. Losing my virginity felt different somehow." He waited for her breath to calm.

"Ok," she said, "let's go again."

He pushed in, and she felt herself stretch to fit him. She breathed through the tightness, waiting out the discomfort until it turned to pleasure.

She rolled her hips as the new sensation overwhelmed her.

"Fuck yes, Hermione, you're doing so well," Draco soothed, and he began stroking in and out of her. She couldn't tell how much of him filled her, but in that moment, it felt like more than she'd ever had. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the vibration on her wand strengthened.

He pushed in further, and she wailed.

A ball of something hit the side of the bed curtain.

"Oy! Keep it down in there!" Came a muffled cry.

He leaned down and kissed her neck, and all thoughts of roommates vanished from her pleasure.

She wrapped her legs around him, giving him deeper access. For the first time, they pressed chest to chest as he took her. His warmth sank into her, compounding with every thrust, winding her up, binding them closer, and not long after she came apart. After the final wave of her orgasm crashed over her, Draco pulled out and came across her stomach in long, luxurious spurts. He ran his hands along her sides, and she reached and gripped handfuls of his bare arms and chest. They gasped for air, and she watched a smile play on his lips.

"Well done, pet," he smirked.

"Thank you, although I thought you may have muffled your bed before we started!" She chided.

"I did!" He retorted.

"Oh, whoops," she said, and he broke into laughter, followed by a fit of giggles from her.

"I'm gonna go wash up," he said. 

"I'll come with you. I should get back to my dorm."

"You certainly shouldn't!" He said, banishing the mess from her. "There are at least six hours between now and class. That's what… 72 orgasms you'd be missing out on?"

"Maybe for you," she chided, but she yawned wide.

"I'll grab your cloak. You look knackered," he resigned.

Once entirely invisible, she followed Draco out of bed to applause and a standing ovation from all four roommates. Goyle wiped a fake tear, and Teddy demanded an encore.