Harry Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling. Thanks to her for allowing me to play on her playground.

Plot: Granger is Professor at Hogwarts, and Harry and Draco, who work as Aurors, need her help solving a case. But, can she be saved from an accidental slave bond to Bellatrix's daughter? How did the bond even happen? Why is the child growing so fast? Can the child be saved? I don't own Harry Potter, that belongs to JK Rowling. Rated M for dark themes

A/N The first three chapters bring us forward rapidly to the time of the story. Sorry, I just didn't know how to do that gracefully. This is my first fanfiction, my first fiction ever, and my first non-scientific paper. Constructive criticism is very welcome. However, I must warn you, this is not a fluff story. There are some very dark themes in here.

Chapter 1: The War, and Bellatrix.

Malfoy Manor: Voldemort and Bellatrix have been in the brewing room now for three hours. Draco wonders what they are brewing in there. It is a fully stocked potions laboratory. He can smell strange odors, ones he hasn't smelled before. And, that of itself is odd. Between his mother, father, and the various death eaters, he has had a lot of exposure to potion brewing and the odors of various brews. The two went into that room with a book, three red candles they had made out in the yard last night at midnight, and a basket with something that was bleeding.

He couldn't lurk at the doorway, though. If he was caught, he would be punished. He went to the library, to see if he could figure out which book they had taken in with them. He had seen Aunt Bellatrix perusing the library yesterday, and she had taken a book with her. He hadn't had a chance to look, but now seemed like a good time.

As he looked carefully through the shelves, he spotted the gap between the two books, and looked up the missing title in the inventory. The book was an ancient one, written over a thousand years ago, regarding old blood rituals. What the bloody hell were they up to? That book was full of spells dating from the early days of dark magic, when everything was allowed, and nothing was controlled.

Ever since Draco had been forced to take the Dark Mark, he had been frustrated and angry. He had to participate in disgusting rituals, watching the raping and killing of muggles and wizards and witches alike. He had to watch them being killed. He had been ordered to kill. He hadn't been able to kill Dumbledork. He didn't like the old wizard, but he didn't want to kill him, either. But, he had participated in the torture. You couldn't not do it. He had seen first-hand what happened to even the death eaters that failed or hesitated to follow orders and participate.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and he slipped the inventory sheet back into the desk, and left through the door leading from the library into his father's den. It wouldn't due to be caught being curious.

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"We will need to complete this at exactly 2:00 am, tonight, my dear." Voldemort informed Bellatrix. "It will hurt you, so you need to prepare yourself not to scream, not to make any noise. A silence charm cannot be cast, for this to work. The magic has to permeate through everything, the grounds, the soil, the house, you, me, everything."

"Yes, my lord. I will meet you at Chateaux Lestrange, tonight. Would you like to hold onto the potion, or would you like me to bring it?" Bellatrix kept her eyes on him, gazing in abject adoration, bordering on insanity."

"I will keep it safe. See you there."

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Draco waited till they left the library, and thought about looking at the book, but there was a chance they would linger. He didn't want to be caught being nosy. But, he had learned that it paid to be informed. His father was weak, and not in favor any longer. It was up to him to protect his mother and himself, as best he could.

He disapparated to Chateaux Lestrange, and hiding under his invisibility cloak that he had made himself, he walked around, looking for clues. He could apparate to the grounds without triggering the wards. His mother and he were both added to the wards. He couldn't see anything unusual, though, and he knew better than to stick around for long. Aunt Bellatrix was a very powerful witch, and she could often sense people. Voldemort was not as powerful at sensing people. Over the last few years, Draco had realized Voldemort had his limitations. He wasn't as powerful as people thought. His power came from his willingness to hurt people, to use dark magic without regard to the consequences to himself. He would cast an unforgivable without hesitation, and he used a lot of fear and intimidation.

He was a strong wizard, but he wasn't undefeatable, if you could separate him from his followers. Draco kept walking around, wondering what they were planning. As he walked into the antechamber room, he felt the twitching of magic, and cautiously, he started opening the connecting rooms. And, found what he was looking for. The antechamber room was one of the places where Voldemort and the Death Eaters performed a lot of the rituals and magic. They had brought soil from various places, and it was in bowls and pots everywhere. There were dry herbal mixes everywhere, and special candles. In the third room, he saw a pedestal, about 7 feet by 3 feet, surrounded by red candles, unlit, and a bowl on the floor at one end. On the pedestal was a red cloth that looked like it was draped over pillows, red pillows, and a jeweled ritual knife. Something was going down.

He had been here a few hours, and he needed to get back. Maybe he would get a chance to look at the book in the library. He apparated back, straight to his wing, and walked down the steps. When he walked into the drawing room, he realized his research would have to wait. Everyone was getting ready to sit down around the table. He put a blank look on his face, cleared his mind of dangerous thoughts, put his mental walls up, and walked in. He felt the blast from Aunt Bellatrix immediately, and gave her a few false memories to focus on. Severus was missing, but everyone else was there. It was going to be a long night. He carefully kept that blank look on his face.

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A few days later, he got the opportunity to look in the book, but he couldn't find any sure indication of what they had been brewing. The book was huge, written in Old Norse, and had many notations written in the margins. It was one of six volumes, and this was an original set, handed down through the ages. It was full of blood rituals, bonding rituals, dark magic, and blood magic. But, that pedestal he had seen was a marriage bed ritual. What would they be doing with a marriage ritual? Aunt Bellatrix was blood-bonded to Uncle Rudolphus. A triad, maybe?

But, over the next few weeks, he didn't notice them acting like a triad had been formed. What he did notice was that Uncle Rudolphus was cold to Aunt Bellatrix. He would glare at her, when no one was looking. And Aunt Bellatrix would twitch, and her face would pinch. But, it didn't make sense.

But, all that red. What did that signify? He looked it up. Red was the color of blood, the color of life, the color of bonding. He wished he trusted Severus enough to ask. But, he trusted no one.

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Malfoy Manor: Bellatrix has Hermione pinned to the floor. She has been hitting her with curse after curse. Hermione can feel every one of them. There is no relief from the pain. The pain of the curses and the pain of her body twisting and bending into unnatural positions that she could never assume if she wasn't trying to escape the pain.

Bellatrix pulls out a dagger, and, muttering something that Hermione can't make out, starts carving into Hermione's arm. She can still feel the pain from the curses, and is still jerking in reflex response. Hermione's head is thrashing back and forth, from this new pain and the old pains. Hermione can't focus on anything, feels everything, can't distinguish one pain from another. As Bellatrix withdraws the knife, then applies it again, a fresh new type of pain hits Hermione, a burning heat that starts at her arm, and spreads quickly, taking over her entire body in one massive ball of pain that hits her everywhere at once. Bellatrix starts muttering again, something, and leans over to whisper to Hermione.

"You're mine, now, mudblood, my very own personal slave. That's going to be your name from now on, Mudblood. When I call you, you will answer, 'Yes, mistress, you called your Mudblood. And you will say it on your knees, with your head bowed in respect."

Then, she stands up and starts laughing. It is a maniacal laugh, from a person who is drunk on power, not quite sane. Hermione turns her head, she sees nothing, blissfully feels nothing, and a tear rolls from her eyes. The heat is burning. The pain is unbelievable.

Bellatrix starts to complete one last ritual, to complete the blood bond. And finally that mudblood will be HERS! And then the chandelier crashes to the floor, Harry Potter appears on the stairs, and her wand is snatched from her. And, she watches in disbelief as the Mudblood is snatched from her, disapparated by the traitor, Dobby. She throws the knife.

Chateaux Lestrange: 7 months after the events at Malfoy Manor. Events are taking place that will have far-reaching effects. Bellatrix gives birth to a baby. It is a difficult birth, painful, long, and debilitating. But Bellatrix is used to pain. She has served the Dark Lord for years, and although she has been a faithful servant, every time she failed him, she was punished. During her time in Askaban, the prison guards weren't kind. They had often rewarded their favorite prisoners with a "free-time" session with her or other prisoners who were not in favor. It was brutal in Askaban.

Not even her and Voldemort's combined powerful magic could prevent the pain. She was blood-bonded to her husband and to the Dark Lord, in two separate marriage bonds. This violated the original marriage bond, and was layered on top of it, not replacing it. Voldemort had given Bellatrix a special conception potion, and impregnated her. The only people present at this birthing are her slaves, blood-bonded to serve her, loyal always to her. They are only people who know of this child's existence.

Bellatrix picks up a vial of potion, saved from a year ago, when Voldemort was regenerated. She looks over at the witch tied in the corner. Struggling, she points her wand at the witch and weakly says the Avada Kedavra curse. She doesn't have much strength but she means the curse, and the witch dies. She quickly swallows a drop of the potion, and pours a drop into the baby's mouth, her baby.

She falls asleep, weakened by the birth.

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12 Grimmauld Place: Kreacher stares at the Tree of the House of Black. He watches the new face burned into the paint, and at the single line showing the parentage of a new babe. The line to Bellatrix, and a dotted line to a printed name, with no face: Thomas Marvolo Riddle. His brow furrows. He understands what has happened, but not the importance. He likes Bellatrix. Her husband gaining knowledge of this would harm her. He keeps the secrets of Black. He turns out the light and shuts the door.

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The Battle of Hogwarts

Bellatrix was keeping track of Hermione. She had been present inside the mudblood's mind since Hermione's adventure at Malfoy Manor. She hadn't been able to complete the blood bond with her new slave yet, but she would. But she could still enter her mind, read her emotions. And, when this battle was over, she would complete the bond and own this bitch.

Bellatrix saw a flash of Hermione going by, and lost her focus for a moment. It was her last mistake ever. She felt the spell cast by the blood traitor enter her body, felt the pain spread throughout her, felt the last split second of her life, felt the connection to her slaves and her husband rip out of her and sever, and then felt nothing.

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Hermione is running with Ron, back up the stairs, trying to get away from Nagini. She suddenly feels a ripping, starting at her left arm, and spreading through her, burning her from the inside out. She stumbles, clutching her arm, but her whole body feels on fire. The pain doesn't last, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it.

Nagini is poised to strike, and as she prepares herself to die, Neville steps forward and slices Nagini's head off with the sword of Gryffindor.

Grateful to be alive, they all start running to concentrate on the battle.