Hermione's clothing has vanished

This was also why she was sleeping alone. Her bunkmates would have nothing to do with Hermione's squeamishness, so she was to sleep alone, in an unheated dungeon apartment down the hall from the rest of the fourth year girls. "It's just as well" Hermione snorted "I won't have anything to do with labor." But guiltily she regretted the fading embers of the fire, there was no more wood to put on it, and the nearest stack was out in the hall.

Though she could see a thin seam of lantern light through the door to her chamber, she could hardly see anything on the floor of her chamber, much less the wood-pile or her wand, so she could relight the fire and go back to sleep.

A shiver overcame her for a moment, and she clutched her arms to her chest, startled by the touch of skin, pearls of sweat dripping between her tiny breasts, her pouting nipples erect and sensitive in the cold breath of the dungeons. Shivering again, but not with the cold, she apprehensively ran her hands down under the covers, gathered at her waist.

Nothing. Not a stitch. She felt around in bed, but she knew she would find nothing. Her bedclothes had vanished. "Don't panic. There's no reason to be worried." She told herself, wondering deep inside if she was only kidding herself.

Reaching down she tugged the blanket up, to wrap over her shoulders, but discovered that they wouldn't come off the bed. She could wrap them around her, but no amount of would get them to come away from the foot of the bed where they appeared to have been nailed in place.