July 2nd:

Well, I'd like to be able to say that I, Hermione Granger, was bigger than this.  That I could still look down my nose at those who did this regularly, and that I could feel that I was something better.

Naturally, I still feel as if I'm something better, but I've always felt that way about common prostitutes.  Merlin, even Ginny feels that she's better than your common whore, when she's really not much better herself.

Anyway, I suppose, Diary, that I should explain my situation to you.  You see, as you well know, dear Diary, I am Muggle born.  The exchange rate between Muggle money and Wizard currency has been fluctuating lately, and my parents, though I love them, cannot afford to send me to college.  I don't blame them.  Paying for me to go to a Wizarding college would be like paying to send five of me to a regular Muggle university.

Of course, I've come up with the perfect solution.  I could have written books, or articles for magazines.  I could have worked at a coffee shop, or at Flourish and Blotts, but no.  Here I am, in Malfoy Manor, being paid for my services.  What are my services, you ask?  It's very simple.  I will explain to you what I do.

Step 1: Lay down.  It doesn't matter where; anywhere will do for dear Mr. Malfoy and his protégé. 

Step 2:  Spread my legs.

Step 3:  Make halfhearted moaning noises as they fumble around with my womanly form.

Step 4:  Scurry away to my rooms when they're done to wait to repeat the process all over again.

So you see, Diary, every time they require a performance, I make five hundred Galleons.  It's perfect.  I'm going to be independently wealthy by the time this summer is over, and I can't wait.  I'll be able to afford sending five of me to college, and then some.  If you could hear me now diary, I'd be laughing.  Laughing until I cried, and then just crying.

July 31st:

Today is Harry's birthday.  He still thinks I'm with my family.  I haven't had the heart to tell him that my summer isn't as light hearted as his.  I'm not shopping for books and supplies, sipping lattes on park benches, or going to the beach.  In fact, most of the time I'm sitting here, in this dark, dank room that they gave to me.  Luckily, it comes complete with its own little library, and here I sit, reading, for most of my days, and then dreading my nights. 

Usually, this room of mine is private.  Lucius gave it to me to keep me out of the way, not to be kind, but it's been an unspoken rule that no one comes in here but me.  If I'm wanted, I'm summoned.  So you can imagine my surprise last night when I awoke to someone, none too gently, prodding at my most sensitive parts.  I had expected Lucius to be gone all night at a revel.  Unfortunately, it appears he was back early.

"Roll over," he told me.  The smell of hard liquor and blood was on his breath.  It took all my power not to vomit on him as he climbed on top of me.

As he thrust into me I thought about what he had been doing that night, but then I realized that I didn't really want to pursue that train of thought any further. 

I felt him release inside of me, and that was my cue to feign pleasure.  He rolled off of me, crushing my hips in the process, and left my rooms.  I laid awake the rest of the night, afraid of what else might be coming to my chambers.

August 2nd:

Oh. Good. Gods.

I cannot even begin to explain this day, Diary.  I am at Whetherby Manor, the estate of the one, the only, Severus Snape.  Here's how this happened.

Apparently Snape had an appointment yesterday at one o'clock, sharp, with Lucius Malfoy, who had waited impatiently for his son to be done with me so he could have a go.  It was while he was in the beginning stages of "pleasuring" me, biting, scratching, things of that nature, that the door burst open, and there stood my old, infamous, Potions Master.

He was equally as shocked to see me as I was to see him.  Although I was the worse off, what with my skirt up and over my hips, and my panties dangling from a bed post.  I was bleeding in several places were Lucius had put his ghastly lips, and I was relieved for the respite. 

"Well, I was going to come here to blackmail you, Lucius," Snape began, awfully frankly, I thought.  "But instead, how about I just take the girl and we call it even."

"How about I hex you, and then I can get on with my business."

"Or, I could file a report on you.  I'm sure the Ministry would be glad to have the nearest and dearest to the late Voldemort in custody."

Put that way, Lucius readily agreed, and I wondered what it was he had done that he was so terrified of.  I didn't want to think about it.

My head was spinning as my things were quickly gathered.  "Where'd my panties go?" I asked the nearest house elf.   Eventually my panties were put back into place, and a carriage was called.  Snape bundled me, my bags, and my bulging change purse into his carriage, and we were out of there without a backwards look.

"I believe I should thank you," I told him.

"Silence.  I'm trying to forget what I saw and why."

We rode in silence to his estate, and I was shuffled into another dank, dark room, this time there were tapestries trying to disguise the dreariness though, and that was the last I saw of Snape.  For the past day or so, the meals have been brought to me.  I wonder when I'll see him again.  I'm going stir crazy in here.  There's nothing to do but sleep and eat, and I need more than that.  I need more.

August 5th:

I've seen Snape again.  He came into my room with my mid-day meal.  Cautiously, he sat on the edge of my bed, as the house elf arranged my meal on a table near the big window. 

"I don't want to know what you were doing there, but I'd like to know why," he said as soon as the house elf had left.

"Money.  Money for university," I told him simply. 

"You are incredibly stupid," he said after a pause.  "You are also going to owe me for this.  I'm not used to company, particularly because I don't like it."

"What would you like in return?" I asked, and he raised his eyebrow at me.  I took that to mean what I had been doing for the past month, and I started to unbutton my shirt.

"Stop that!" he said.  "I meant maybe you could help in the garden or something.  Merlin's Beard, you tart, how thick can you get?"

His lips were shouting at me, but his eyes never left my partially exposed breasts.  I knew what he really wanted.  I wonder if he knew how much I wanted to give it to him right then.

August 12th:

I've been working in the expansive gardens with some of the house elves.  They don't seem to want my company, and resent the fact that I'm digging around in the dirt with them, but I need something to do.  Snape has already told me that he would be glad to give me any books from his library that I requested, but that I was not, under any circumstances, to go in there myself.

I rarely see him.  I've taken to eating my evening meals with him in the large dining room.  The house elves revel in the fact that there's company to wait on, but I can tell Snape would rather take his meals in solitude.  It's only old aristocratic politeness that keeps me in his presence for at least two hours a day.

"You're lucky, you know," he told me one evening.  "The Malfoys and the Snapes have never gotten along until this generation.  You might still be at the Malfoys if I weren't such a personable gentleman."

"Just like the mob!" I commented.

"Something of that nature," he drawled, breaking his bread and dipping it in the broth.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence, but when he got up, he came over to my chair and whispered in my ear, "There's nothing more I'd like to do right now than take you on this table, but we both know that such a thing must never, ever happen.  Correct?"

"Yes, Sir," I told him, shivers running through my body.  I wonder if he's trying to make me want him more by denying me.  He wouldn't be that much of a bastard…would he?

August 23rd:

I want him.  He's driving me insane with his whispered comments, and suggestive stares.  I can't take it anymore.  We've taken to spending evenings in the drawing room, both of us reading.  I try to send him signals.  You know, subtle ones such as, "Do me now!" or "For the love of Merlin, screw me on this floor."  Unfortunately, he's very good at ignoring me.

It's almost time to start heading for university, and for him to head back to Hogwarts.  He's already told me he'll give me a lift as far as the Express, for which I'm grateful.  I hadn't wanted to walk or call the Knight Bus.  I'm finding it hard to face people, knowing what I've spent my summer doing.

September 1st:

Here I am at university.  Slowly, I'm putting this summer behind me.  The Galleons are helping, I can assure you.  The other thing that helped to cleanse me, was what occurred on the way to the train station.  The carriage had just started away from the main gates when Snape said, oh so quietly, "You have no idea how much I want you."

"What stopped you?" I asked him. 

"The fact that sometimes, when I look at you, I still see the eleven year old girl I taught seven years ago."

We both paused, and then I slowly, oh so slowly, unbuttoned my shirt.  I pushed my chest out, to make my breasts look bigger. 

"Does this remind you of that eleven year old girl?" I asked him suggestively.

"Hermione," he gulped.  "If you had done this when there was still time…"

"There is time," I told him.  "Fancy a fuck in a carriage?"

He smiled at me, and pulled me onto his lap.

I'll tell you one thing, Diary; it wasn't just the gravel roads making the carriage rock on the way to the train station.  And thank Merlin for that.

El Fin