Dirty deeds

29 December

Dear god, I have just lived through the worst night of my life - including the day we faced down Voldermort. Not one, not two, but three episodes of acute embarrassment. Ron is sleeping in his own room tonight, the bastard.

It seems he has noticed the lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom, but has decided that the fault lies with me. I am apparently frigid, and any other \'normal\' woman would be appreciative of the physical pleasures that are bestowed on them. By normal, I think he means someone with bigger breasts, blonde hair and no inconvenient accessories such as brains and opinions.

I had nipped off to the loo after dinner, and was just on the way to the Drawing Room when I head Ron mention my name. He apparently felt the need to air this most delicate of issues in front of everyone. Harry, Draco and Ginny would have been bad enough, but Lucius and Snape!

\'I don\'t know what\'s wrong with her,\' he said. \'I\'ve tried everything, but she just lies there.\' And there was a general snort of laughter from the younger generation. That\'s right have a good laugh.

And then Harry says, \'but does she put her book down long enough to notice.\' More laughter.

So there I am standing in the doorway, determined not to cry in front of my friends, when up pipes Snape. \'Usually when a young man claims that a woman is frigid it is a reflection on his own performance.\'

Silence.

And whilst I should be feeling grateful that someone has put my side of things, what I am chiefly thinking is, Bugger me, even Snape feels sorry for me. Snape, a man so far down on the socially desirable stakes that people prefer to spend time with flobberworms actually feels sorry for me.

So that was my second moment of acute embarrassment, against which everyone\'s horrified stares as they realised I had heard everything they had said paled into insignificance.

I did the only sensible thing a girl can do in a situation like that, and went to find the Malfoy library. It was either that or hex the bastards, and I didn\'t fancy a couple of years in Azkaban.

Which was, of course, the place where the third most acutely embarrassing moment of my life occurred. And when I say third, I mean third in date order, because it ranks up there as numero uno.

Malfoy senior followed me to the library. I was sitting at the long table reading The Darke Artes: A Practitioners Guide, and wondering which of the many illegal spells in it I could use to curse Ron with when I suddenly became aware of the man standing behind me. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck in reaction.

He didn\'t say anything about what had happened, but merely suggested that I might find another book moreereseresting which he put in front of me. It was the most indecent collection of pornographic pictures I have ever seen. Which isn\'t saying a lot I grant you, but they were RUDE. At first I thought he was rubbing salt in the wound, but then it became clear that he was rubbing something else entirely.

My breast.

My left breast to be exact.

I could pretend that I froze with shock or horror, but as this is an entirely private diary that no one will ever read, I will admit that at no point did I think of doing anything that would stop that hand working its magic. The nipple furled, and I couldn\'t help compare his delicate touches to Ron\'s desperate attempts to find Radio 4.

Taking the fact that I hadn\'t slapped his face or run screaming out of the library as encouragement, the other hand then ventured along my shoulder and down to the other breast. It didn\'t stop there either. Leaning forward, the hand tracked down and came to rest on my leg. Slowly, inch by inch he pleated the fabric beneath his fingers. I watched in fascination as the hem of my robe rose above my knee and exposed my thigh.

Nothing was said, he moved his fingers in swirling circles along the length of my thigh getting closer and closer to my knickers. The other hand continued to tease my breast, alternately pinching and soothing my nipples, and his hot breath was ruffling my hair. Then he reached his destination, one long finger slid under the knicker elastic and began to tease me. He circled, he dipped, he delved, and he nipped. It was exquisite. I kept as quiet as I could - we didn\'t want to be caught after all - but couldn\'t help moaning softly as my excitement grew.

I came once, shivering and whimpering against those marvellous talented fingers, but he kept going until I came again. This time he had to put his hand over my mouth to stifle my cries. As my breathing slowed, he removed his fingers and his hand, and twitched my robes back into place. He moved to stand more to the sid me, me, and turned my face round to him. He placed his fingers on my lips and I could smell my scent on them. He moved them to his own mouth and proceeded to lick them clean, his eyes closed in evident enjoyment.

The he simply turned and left the Library, leaving me to stare after him with all the aplomb of a bunny staring at the headlights. Hermione Granger, lost for words. As Harry would say, there\'s a first time for everything. And that was my first (and second) orgasm in the presence of another man.

So there we have it - I\'ve been insulted and betrayed by Ron, pitied by Snape and finger-fucked into oblivion by Lucius Malfoy.

Can it get any worse?

I can\'t say I am looking forward to breakfast tomorrow.