Casting a locking spell on the door with a Muffliato charm added for good measure, Hermione's flats tapped against the wooden floor as she strode across the room to her four-poster bed. Flinging you onto the plush comforter, she gave an oddly sadistic giggle, watching as you skittered across the fabric, struggling to find your footing. As you steadied yourself, her eyes narrowed with a predatory mischief as she stood at the foot of the mattress, arms crossed over her chest. You had never felt so small, so insignificant in your entire life. You were completely at her mercy, and the thought made you shudder.
"So, let's see..." she mused, voice dripping with vindictive humor as she twirled her wand idly between her fingers. She glanced around her room as if searching for inspiration. "I could turn you into a pretty dress, or maybe a nice push-up bra, with a bit of green and silver lace to remind me of you?" She grinned at your reddening face. "Or how about a cute pair of panties? Being the little weasel you are, you might enjoy that too much though."
You gulped, feeling a surge of humiliation and fear. "No, please, Hermione," you begged, earnestly. "Anything but that." Hermione was never like this before. She was always just a studious, rule-following, know-it-all bookworm. Sure, you and the other Slytherins had made your share of jokes at her expense, but this - she was toying with you like a cat with a mouse, relishing your vulnerability.
Hermione hummed in thought, tapping her wand against her chin as she considered her options. "No, I think the panties do suit you best, Malfoy," she said finally, with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Since superiority and inferiority are the only terms you seem capable of dealing in, this should be a good lesson in your true place beneath me and other far more talented witches and wizards like me, Muggle-born or not."
You shuddered as she uttered the incantation, the world around you warping and distorting as you underwent the transformation. You felt your limbs melding together, your body contorting into a flat, soft form. The sensation was both surreal and terrifying, and you could do nothing to resist as your former body was replaced by a pair of silky green and silver panties.
Hermione picked you up between two fingers, examining you closely. Satisfied, a smug smirk appeared on her face. "Perfect – you make quite the fetching pair of knickers after all, Draco. Too bad that's all you turned out to be good for..."
You were frozen in place, unable to move or speak as she held you up to her face. Her breath was warm and humid against your fabric, making you feel even more trapped and helpless. You wanted to scream at her, to tell her that this wasn't right, that she couldn't just turn you into a piece of clothing and wear you around. But of course, you couldn't do anything of the sort. All you could do was lay there, silent and powerless, as she taunted and teased you.
Turning, Hermione set you down on her desk and then removed her school robe, setting it aside. You couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion as you watched her movements, wondering just how far she was willing to take this twisted game of hers.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, she made a show of reaching up under her knee-length black skirt, tugging her existing panties down before tossing them into a hamper. "Don't worry, Draco," she said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "I'll be sure to keep you very close by. After all, I wouldn't want my new favorite pair of panties going missing now, would I?"
You cringed at the lewd implication, feeling utterly helpless as she picked you up once more, running her delicate fingers over you. You had to admi however, that the sensation was electrifying. "Now, let's see how you fit," she said, reality truly beginning to crash home for you as a sly smirk spread across her lips. "You might be a bit snug on me, but I'm sure you'll manage. It's not like you have a choice, do you, Pureblood?"
Bending down, she slowly began to slip you on over her smooth legs, and you couldn't help but marvel at how soft and supple her skin felt against your fabric. It was a strangely arousing experience, being so intimately close to her in this way, or it would have been if your body were capable any longer. You were nothing more than a piece of clothing to her now, a skimpy garment to be worn like a secret memento of your subjugation. The realization was beyond humiliating, it was crushing.
Hermione adjusted you carefully, settling your silky waistband on her pale hips. What seemed from a sensory perspective to be your 'face' was quickly smothered against her womanhood, pressed snugly between her perky and goose-pimpled cheeks. "There, that's much better," she sighed, straightening up and lifting her skirt to admire her handiwork in the mirror. "Hah! You've given me quite a striking rump, Draco," she jabbed tauntingly, "It's almost like you were made for this..."
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