Clean Sheets for a Streetwalker
By the Emperor's Sister
There is no positive joy in the wizarding world. There hasn't been for some years. He-who-must-not-be-named is now Voldimort, Dark Lord and Master over most; for thankfully there is a small regiment of survivors and freedom fighters still left.
But She wasn't one of them. No, she was among the number of muddy-blooded slaves of Lord Voldimort, and his followers. Dressed in a tight red pleather tube, with gaudy yellow plastic zipper, from neck to knickers down the front, and black fishnet stockings, Hermione Granger was now nothing more than a $10 whore.
She stared un-becomingly at the mirror, not quite looking at the smug blonde standing behind her. The young man grinned, saucily, and ran his hands possessively down her seated form. Hermione didn't so much as wince at the un-wanted contact. She didn't do that anymore.
"Mmm.. you're wearing the gift I got you." He chuckled, tugging at her netting, playfully.
"Oh? Was it you Draco? I hardly remember anymore." She replied flatly. Over the years of forced prostitution, she'd picked up a few survival techniques. Such as how to think things that Never showed up on your face. 'Lousy Prick!'
Draco Malfoy shrugged and nibbled the u-caring brunette's shoulder. "Your skin tastes salty. Have you had your shower yet?" he asked, the smirk never leaving his face.
"No. I usually leave that till the end of the week." She answered. 'You disgusting little maggot! Liked I'd risk having to share my once solace with YOU!'
"Good! I like it when you're dirty." He whispered huskily, "Busy?"
"I've got a customer." Hermione told him. 'Sod off will you!'
"But that's tonight. You're free right now, I checked."
Hermione didn't roll her eyes, though she was sorely tempted to. 'Then why ask you idiot.' She thought darkly as the young Malfoy dragged her from her seat to the tiny flat's bedroom.
The satisfied Draco lounged comfortably in the tangled bed, studding a half smoked cigarette in his hand.
"So tell me. Why don't you smoke after like all the other mud bloods?"
'Draco bloody Malfoy is too damn strange after sex.' She thought before answering honestly. "I've too many bad habits already. I don't need anymore."
"Humph. My father.. Lucius hasn't been coming around anymore has he?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?" she countered, thinking about her owners the Malfoy males, "… sniffing after me like a dog … " she stopped herself, realizing her slip. 'Oh God! That was out loud! OhMerlinOhShitOhHell!'
Draco frowned and stubbed out his smoke on her dresser. "I'll have another talk with him then." She didn't dare sigh her relief. He usually didn't take her comments so well.
She slipped on some cleaner underwear and got back into her work clothes, this time adding a pair of knee high red boots and dangly yellow earrings. Her trademark. Her old house colours. The only thing that gave her enough strength to walk through the door every awful day.
"I've got to go. I'll be late otherwise. You going to stay there all night?" she asked, halfway through the door.
"Hn, possibly. Why?"
"Oh, only that you weren't the first is all." She smirked on the other side of the door, as she heard the sounds of someone yelping and dashing out of bed so fast they tripped and fell. Hermione had few, if any, joys left in her dismal life. So she took what small revenges she could get. 'And who knows. I may get my sheets washed after this.'
Hermione arrived at the appropriate place, right on time. 'Some things never change Granger.' She thought and opened the front door.
The caretaker, who reminded her of old Mr. Filch from Hogwarts, gave her a gloomy and suspicious look. "I've a customer." She informed him. The ornery old man just nodded and grunted towards the far door.
"That's the way, there. Room 606. E's expecting yeh."
Hermione marched over to the door and walked through to the hallways behind it. She slowed her step somewhat, as she read the numbers on the flat doors. Her heels clicking ominously in the dank passage, until she found it. Flat 606. Taking a fortifying breath, she wrapped smartly upon the door.
It opened only a second later.
To the most surprising sight she'd ever seen.
The man who'd bought her for the night was none other than her ex-professor, Severus Snape.
"Ah yes.. come in then." He said allowing her to sashay into his apartment. "Would you care for something Miss? A Drink?"
Shaking her head, she just smirked. 'And he has NO idea who I am.'
"Let's go into the bedroom then." And they did.
Tired and sweaty, Hermione lay on her back, beside her equally exhausted partner. She couldn't help feeling a tad smug. 'All those schoolgirl fantasies of mine. They seemed so silly. Who'd have thought doing the nasty with my wicked potions master would've been so much fun.'
Having caught her breath, she sat up and leaned over him, balanced on one elbow. "So professor Snape. Was it good for you too?" The look on his face was priceless.
Severus Snape hadn't had it easy. Since Voldimort took over, his double agent job had become more complicated. He'd struggled to deliver Death Eater inside information to the side of good before. Now that things had gone worse, and the resistance only had the-boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, to lead them, getting the goods and delivered on time was one hell of a pain. He couldn't afford to get caught, especially now, when triumph was nearly at hand. So needless to say, he was feeling quite stressed out, and in layman's words, in desperate need of a good lay.
He was only human after all. A currently single, warm blooded, though many would argue otherwise, male. He only had one option open to him, and that was to buy himself a hooker for the evening. So he did. It was surprisingly easier than he'd anticipated, and his companion was amazingly prompt.
She was also plain amazing, in his opinion. She had long toned legs, he always fancied himself a 'legs' man, and a strong supple body that his palms itched to touch. He wasn't thrilled with her choice of fashion, but seeing as how she was his first prostitute, who was he to judge. For all he knew, trollops had a specific dress code, and it wasn't like she'd be wearing it for long anyhow.
She had sashayed into his home. Severus hadn't been aware that people could actually walk that way. It instantly made him feel young and immature, and very turned on. That walk. Like a nervous boy on his first date he'd offered her a drink. She wasn't interested. She WAS interested in sleeping with him though. Which despite the fact that that was what he was paying her to do in the first place, gave his ego quite the boost.
In fact, he'd been laying there in the afterglow of what was probably some of the best sex he's had in a while, when she did it. Professor Snape, was it good for you to? He couldn't have been more shocked.
He opened his eyes, feeling much like he'd just been nailed by a rogue bludger escaped from a Quidditch match. He looked again at his woman of the night. At her face, a face of an ex-student, and realized..
He'd just slept with one of Hogwart's finest minds.
Ms. Hermione Granger.
"Again? My you are the un-satiable one Sir." She grinned, though all he saw was dark shadows in her eyes.
'Much like mine.' He thought. "Not what I meant."
There'd been many great losses over time. Particularly those of muggle birth. Most of the muggle borns had been captured and enslaved by Voldimort. Others were simply tortured and slain. Granger's fate had been the one iota of information that had eluded him. Harry Potter had been desolate over the loss, though in the end it turned him into the leader they all needed. Everyone had been sure that Hermione had been tortured and executed, simply because of her relationship with Harry.
'Apparently her torture is an everlasting one.' Snape concluded and finally asked, "What happened."
"I was awarded to the Malfoys." She sighed, laying back down and staring grimly at the ceiling. "They forced me into this life, and burned my wand, robes, everything."
Snape could fairly well imagine how the Malfoys had treated her. He was surprised to note that neither of his 'fellow' death eaters had bragged about their 'coup' though.
"Draco acts like he's my pimp or my boyfriend or both. I figure his brain melted after one to many crucios to the head or something." She snorted, "Lucius is worse. He likes to use me for.. practice."
"Ms. Granger I.."
"Hey, don't you think we're past all that." She butt in.
"Yes of course. My apologies." Severus agreed, "You .. know about .. my.. position?"
"Course. I knew since Hogwarts. Same as I figured out Professor Lupin being a werewolf." She told him. "I never told."
"I'd be dead now if you'd had. How much do you know? About what's going on now?"
"Quite a bit actually. Draco likes to vent, and he also gets down right chatty after sex."
Snape winced at this information, even though he expected it. "You knew, but you never said anything. Why is that?"
She thought about that. She had known Snape wasn't just another randy death eater. That he was helping the fight against Voldimort. So why exactly did she go ahead and do it? "Because to the first time I wanted to."
"I'll confess something Snape. I've pretty much given up on everything. Sure I get high hearing about the triumphs of good over evil, but I'm still mostly broken. Life, hope, and Harry don't mean the same to me anymore." She mused, "The only thing I actually dream about is that maybe one day, I'd get to sleep on some nice clean sheets."
"Hermione we Are going to win this war. Make no mistake about that. We're practically already there." He told her, bringing her closer to his side. She seemed content to stay there for the time being. "What can I do, right now, to make you comfortable and make you feel better?"
"Hmm? I'd really like right now, is to pretend nothing exists. Just sleep and dream about good things for a change." She answered.
"Sleep then. You'll be safe here, Tomorrow things will begin to be different. In a Good way." He subtly informed her.
"What do you mean, Severus Snape?" she wondered, intrigued.
"Well, I may have arranged to have you here all night, but I've a few errands to do." He smirked.
"Ah, I get it. You not only seriously needed to get laid; you also bought yourself an alibi." She smiled cheekily, pleased with having figured out the little puzzle. "Works for me. If I close my eyes now, and when I open them later, you're here, as far as anyone needs to know, you were here all that time in between."
Snape nodded and kissed hi partner gently. He watched as she slowly drifted off to sleep, making sure it was un-troubled and restful. Before he left, he conjured up some clean sheets for her to sleep on.
Hermione came to with mixed feelings of confusion, unease, and comfort. The warm scent of the laundered covers sent her senses on a soothing trip. She almost felt completely relaxed. She was afraid of opening her eyes though. Of what would happen should she awaken to see it all and know the dream had ended. She didn't want to see her miserable room. She didn't want to open her eyes to her god-awful life. She didn't want to see a particular blonde hovering over her and smirking like some evil omen. She particularly didn't want to see herself alone, in bed with soiled sheets.
There was another smell though, teasing her nostrils. It was strong and pleasant, sort of lemony and cathartic. She liked that smell, it reminded her of him. So she opened her eye, and wasn't sorry.