Prisoners of Azkaban, Probationary Diaries August 2009, Prisoners #19-09-1979 and #09-01-1960
Please note: this chapter contains "diverse" sexual situations according to the story's rating.
oooOooo
August 26, 2009
—write this—
Yes…exactly…every single word.
Write it down! Yes. Just like that.
Ex-cell-ent.
No, write that DOWN. Down.
What am I doing?
You said you didn't know what to write. So I'm helping you. I'm giving you dictation.
…there's nothing in those rules that says it's not allowed. You must write every day; you must use the blood-quill; you must write where you are and what you did.
That's all.
So: Hermione Jean Granger spent August 26 at home. To be precise, she spent the day in bed. In the ridiculous four poster bed that has been squeezed into the first floor bedroom of the Lake House in Hogsmeade, Scotland—
and she was not alone.
She is not alone now.
Because I, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, and Severus Snape, are in bed with her.
While Hermione Granger lies naked on her stomach, her nipples just touching the sheets, and fills her diary with truth and blood, I kneel next to her and slowly lick the fresh blood from the quill cuts on the back of her left hand. While Severus Snape sits with his back against the headboard and watches my naked arse. And, dare I make you write that? My wicked little tongue, as it flicks over your skin, slides in glistening trails up your arm, over your shoulder, down your back, to your arse—
Pervert!
Didn't I say that you're to write only what I say? But I'll indulge you.
Pervert!
Yes!
That's what my father screamed at me when he discovered the truth.
But you called me and Harry that, too, once or twice.
Don't cry, love.
You had little reason to trust me. And we were—
…less than friends…
Yes.
I don't even know if we are friends now. Certainly we are more than friends: lovers in adversity. But also less than friends because friendship is a sane relationship. Which we are not.
Don't start counting floorboards now. You're proving my point.
Very well.
But let me count for you.
Let me count…
How often I kissed you today. How often Severus kissed you. How long we held you, seconds, minutes, hours. How often you moaned in our arms. How often you gasped as he or I or both of us entered you. How often we fucked. How often we made love.
I arrived in time for breakfast and a thorough scolding.
—You shouldn't have come, Draco. It's dangerous!
Of course it is. But you both need looking after. Dear me, Severus can scowl again? That must be a good sign.
…will you look at that! I've made you smile.
I'm not in as much danger as you think. Your diaries told the Ministry that I'm alive and where I live on August 4. The Snatchers could have grabbed me every day, every night, every hour since then. They didn't.
And we had to celebrate! You've fulfilled the conditions of your probation, Hermione! You have a house, a job, and someone to vouch for you.
—But Severus doesn't.
oooOooo
A/N: Many thanks to Ayerf for looking this over.
Further notes:
# As he explained, Draco dictated this entry to Hermione. But the italicized lines that start with an em-dash are her reactions, which she wrote down as well.