A/N: This is set at the end of the fifth year after the battle at the ministry and will be somewhat AU. This is a bellamione story. If you have a moment it would mean a lot if you let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe.

I sighed as I looked around the empty dormitory, afternoon sunlight sparkled through the windows revealing softly falling motes of dust. The sunshine pushed back the shadows, making it easier for my peers to forget the rising war. Ron and Harry were probably out there enjoying the grounds during their last day at Hogwarts. My teeth nibbled on my lip as I thought of Harry. Sirius death was hitting him hard, and now when he most needed support, he was being sent back to his uncaring aunt and uncle. I looked at my half full trunk and sighed again. I was never sure how it was I managed to fit everything in. I was tempted to shrink some of my books, however if I did that I wouldn't be able to unshrink them till I started my sixth year in September.

I had plans to reread several of them over the summer. The last thing I wanted was to try and explain to my parents that I needed a magnifying glass to read my textbooks. They were having enough trouble coming to terms with the idea I would be consider to be an adult in a few weeks' time when I turned 17.

Bending down, I picked up an errant sock, pain lanced through my chest and I rubbed at the scar that now dominated my body, running from my shoulder to belly button. It was a result of curse used on me by Dolohov a few days ago, during the battle in the Department of Mysteries. It had only been yesterday that Madam Pomfrey finally released me from the hospital wing, declaring the wound healed. Although she thought it unlikely that I would ever be free of the scar, I was planning to do some research over the summer to see if I could find anything which might improve it. And she had given me a bottle of Dr Ubbley's Oblivious Unction, which had proved to be effective against the scars left on Ron by the brain.

The door to the dormitory swung open with a protesting squeak. Turning, I found the tartan clad head of Gryffindor house leaning on her walking stick staring at me. For a heartbeat we stood looking at each other in silence before she cleared her throat with a shake of her elegant head.

"Miss Granger, the headmaster would like to speak with you before the end of term feast. If you would follow me please." Her Scottish burr filled the empty room and I smiled in response.

Quickly I dropped the lid on my trunk, and began racking my brains for a reason Dumbledore would want to see me. The walk to his office was silent, the cool stone corridors empty, save for the portraits and the odd few giggling students who fell silent at the sight of McGonagall. A knot of worry began to coil and grow in my stomach as we made our way through the castle.

Finally the stone gargoyle stood in front of us, as unmoving and as intimidating as any other. But I knew it would soon come to life, and leap aside granting me access to the most powerful wizard alive.

"Miss, Hermione." Surprised she hadn't given the password, I turned to look at my mentor, her hand reached for my shoulder and before I could blink I was pulled into a hug. "You have a choice Hermione, remember that. You don't have to say yes."

"My parents are they.." She pulled back, her hand staying on my shoulder, and smiled sadly at me.

"They are both perfectly fine. Well, I had best let you go before Albus comes looking for you." My chest seemed to ease at learning this wasn't about my parents. Her hand squeezed my shoulder one last time before falling away. What was going on to make the most stoic woman in Hogwarts act like this?

"Terry's Chocolate Orange."

The gargoyle smirked and moved aside replying "It's not Terry's, it's mine."

I did a double take, how on earth did a statue in the middle of Hogwarts know the line from a muggle TV advert? Shaking it off, I started up the stairs. Turning, I smiled tightly at McGonagall. She nodded.

"Don't forget you can say no." There was such sadness and regret on her face, that the relief I had felt at hearing my parents were well, disappeared. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on. But it was too late. The gargoyle moved back into place cutting me off, and the stairs moved ever upwards.

.

I stared at the headmaster. A brass knick-knack on the wooden desk slowly puffed purple smoke and the portraits muttered and shuffled in the unnatural silence. For the first time in my life I had no idea how to reply. Nothing I had ever read prepared me for this. Dumbledore smiled sadly at me, his body language screamed regret. And yet, I couldn't help but feel it was somehow less genuine then the regret I had seen in McGonagall's eye's a short while ago.

"If you fail to agree then she will not switch sides, this war will be long and bloody but having her on our side could change that. I never imagined having to ask so much of a student. Your sacrifice could save hundreds of lives including those of Misters Weasley and Potter."

"But I'm only sixteen." As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back. But it was too late my childish whine had already been set free.

"Due to the effects of the time turner you're body turned seventeen on the 30th of May, this of course is not widely known. The date was confirmed by ministry records showing the trace on your magic was automatically removed on that date. Of course the 19th of September will remain listed as your official date of birth. I realise that this is all rather a shock, however I have every faith that you will adapt to this turn of events. You have never lacked for courage and determination when faced with change." He was talking as if I had already agreed, and there were no longer any traces of that regret which had been so prominent before.

"How would, I mean after the war if I was still," I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. My whole body felt light, as if at any moment I would float away on a stray breeze. "Should I survive to the end of the war, would I be set free?"

His head shook slowly, the sliver of this hair glinting in the soft lamp light. "I am sorry to say that the answer is no. The contract would remain legally binding, she insisted on it. Under wizarding law such contracts are legal if unusual, due to the conditions which need to be met. Once you sign then the only one who could release you from it would be her."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. His hand reaching up to remove his spectacles. "You need to understand this will be the rest of your life, there will be no legal recourse available to you." The thought of what would happen if she died first wandered through my mind. Seeming to read my mind he carried on. "Should she die, then your fate would be determined by her will. You may well find your contract passing to her chosen heir."

I shuddered at that thought.

"I am confident that this deal will shorten the war, and vastly reduce the chances of those you love dying. As you know Professor Snape does his best to provide us with information on the inner circle. However his position remains precarious. This would mean access to vital information and secure Professor Snape's position."

I wanted to cry, I wanted to rage and shout and scream. Instead I had to swallow it all down. I thought of the dead look in Harry's eyes, I remembered the terror of the ministry of magic and how close we had all come to dying. My hand rubbed at my chest, the scar from the spell Dolohov had cursed me with ached at the memories. I wasn't going to do it for Snape.

But the images of Ron covered in burns from the brain, of Luna, Ginny, and Neville fighting for their lives, of Harry crying as he told me Sirius was dead, all flooded my mind. We had lost so much to Voldemort. I had vowed to do anything I could to make sure I could help Harry more in the future. And here I was, barely a few days later being given the chance to make a real difference to the war, and thinking of turning it down.

I opened my mouth to say something, to ask for more time, to demand details of what would happen to me. But the words stuck in my mouth. "I...do you have any alcohol?"

The headmaster's eyebrows rose as he looked at me, I felt my cheeks flush but I didn't drop my gaze. I was 17 it was legal and I didn't think I could agree to what he wanted sober. I had always wanted to know what it tasted like, my father was planning to take me for my first drink when I turned 18, but under the circumstances I figured he would understand. McGonagall had said I had a choice, but I didn't really. I could never live with myself hearing of people who had been killed, knowing I might have been able to stop it. Besides, there were plenty of ways Dumbledore could force me to sign and I know he would. After all, what is the life of one teenage girl compared to hundreds? If he refused me a glass of alcohol I would probably never get a chance to taste it.

His expression soften slightly, and he opened a drawer in his desk. "As it happens I do have a rather nice bottle of Ogden's firewhiskey." A green glass goblet, delicately decorated with glittering gems appeared in front of him, plucking it out of the air. He poured a generous amount before a second goblet appeared, and the first floated its way across to me. Dumbledore looked across his desk at me, and I thought I could detect pity in his eyes as he raised his glass. "To courage"

I nodded, trying not to hate him for daring to pity me, and took a large swig. The liquid burned like hot sauce. I don't know what my face looked like but given the soft chuckle that the headmaster released I guessed it was amusing. Trying not to cough, I placed the half empty goblet on the desk.

"I would like to read the contract, please"

"Of course." I looked at the small scroll held in his wrinkled, aged hand. It looked so normal, like any other scroll, it could hold an essay or a letter from a loved one. Instead it was the end of my freedom, and maybe my life. My hand trembled as I took the parchment from him. Taking another drink of the firewhiskey I steeled myself and unfurled the contract.

I laughed. Contract ha it was barely a paragraph. No more than half a dozen sentences. It seemed unreal, how could so few words legally turn me into a slave? I read it through again trying to see if I had missed anything.

I, Hermione Jean Granger, agree to give everything I own to Bellatrix Black, head of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and further accept Her ownership over my physical body, heart, soul, and mind. I understand that I will be commanded, trained and punished as a slave. I promise to be true and to fulfil the pleasures and desires of my Mistress, and serve Her to the best of my abilities. I understand that I am not a human but a possession of the mistress. Thus I am not entitled to any rights outside of those listed in this contract, or those which my Mistress deems fit to allow me. Any rights and privileges provided to me, which are not listed in this document, are entirely at her discretion.

I understand that I cannot withdraw from this Contract.

This contract of ownership is legally binding and approved by the Minister for Magic and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

There was a place for six signatures mine, Dumbledore's, the Minister's, two witnesses and hers.

I understand I am not a human but a possession. A possession, I'd be lower than a house elf, they are at least acknowledged as living creatures. Maybe Dobby would start HRH - Human Rights for Hermione? My chest swelled as hysterical laughter bubbled up.

I grabbed for the goblet and swallowed the rest of the firewhiskey. The burn pushed the laughter back down and I took a deep breath, trying to ground myself. "If she kills me it won't be murder, will it?"

"No it will not be murder" It was definitely pity in his eyes I decided, pity and determination. "As I am sure you have already deduced, it will not be possible for Miss Black to commit any crime against you. In the event that a third party harmed you, then it would be her decision to file a complaint or not. Even then it would most likely be classed not as a crime, but treated as a civil dispute." His voice was flat, no different than it had been when he gave the speech at the start of term.

"The feast will be starting soon. Afterwards you will need to return here for the signing of the contract. You may wish to write a letter to your parents during the feast."

God, my parents. I had been so wrapped up in thoughts of what this would mean for me that I hadn't even considered them. "What are you going to tell them?" I hated the way my voice sounded, I hated feeling so powerless.

"I will inform them that you have gone into protective custody due to the war, and it will not be possible for them to communicate with you." I knew eventually he would tell them I was dead, perhaps he would even give them a fake body to bury.

"No, I can't never see them again. Please, if she agrees to let me write to them and receive their replies I'll sign it." He frowned and I felt like I was seconds away from being placed under the Imperious curse. "Please sir, it's not much, can we at least ask?"

Dumbledore crumbled slightly, his face smoothing out. "You deserve at least the chance to ask her for this. If you can get her to agree to it being in the contract then it will be a right she cannot deprive you off without potentially breaking the contract."

Immediately I began trying to think of the best strategy to get her to agree. Maybe if I asked for something bigger, such as visits, then letters would seem more reasonable maybe? I would have to try not to lose my temper, it could cost me everything.

Dumbledore turned to Fawkes, and with a nod of his head the phoenix disappeared with a flash of golden red light.

"He should return momentarily, and if she is willing to negotiate, I expect she will be with him. Ah here they are now." But instead it was just the phoenix. "Well it seems Bellatrix ha-" the fire burst in to green flames and the unruly curls of Bellatrix Black seemed to blend effortlessly with the flames. Her head seeming like I hallucinogenic induced vision of death amongst the fire, and not the living visage of one of the most feared and powerful women in the world. "It seems I spoke to soon."

"You're insane if you think I am going to let some featherbrained oversized bird, ferry me around Dumbledore. What do you want. I hope you aren't trying to weasel out of our agreement?"

My heart seemed to be trying to sprint away from the rest of me, as I looked at the face of the woman who intended to own me. The years at Azkaban had left their mark on her, teeth blacken and broken, skin gaunt and eyes which hinted at madness. Yet signs of the beauty she had been lay tantalisingly close to the surface. It was easy to tell that just a few spells would radically improve her appearance.

"Miss Granger would like a word with you about the contract." His words sent her eyes spinning around the room until they locked with mine. A deep hunger seemed to fill them, and I felt as though I had made the mistake of meeting the eyes of a wolf. One that had decided I was perfect for its dinner.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and I jumped, while Bellatrix scowled at him. I had no idea how long I had been staring, but I knew it had to have been several long seconds. Gathering my courage I met those dark eyes again.

"I would like to be allowed to visit my parents and write to people."

She cackled and goosebumps broke out across my arms. "If the wittle muddy is a good girl, I might let her write to her filthy parents."

I felt my face flush red hot with anger and humiliation but I thought of never seeing my mum again. "Please Miss Black, I want it in the contract. I want to be allowed to write to them and my friends every day. And to read their replies. And to visit for one weekend every month."

She scoffed. "My, the wittle muddy is persistent, so stubborn and determined." Her startlingly pink tongue ran across her lips, seeming to caress the velvet skin. "I think I would like it much more if you were on your knees calling me Mistress. Yes, I think that would be much better, don't you wittle muddy?" The mockingly playful tone seemed to make my cheeks burn brighter.

Swallowing back tears, I clenched my fists as I stood up and walked to the rug before sinking to my knees. I tried to keep my back ramrod straight, I didn't want her to see how this was getting to me.

"Much better, but you haven't answered the question." Her eyes glinted in the firelight as she stared unblinkingly at me.

"Yes Mistress." I tried to keep my tone empty and blank even as I seemed to choke on the title. Her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth parted slightly as she drank it in. As her eyes opened they caught mine and there was something, indefinable in them.

"Ask me properly now pet." Her voice had changed, it was soft, the words gentle and intimate. I ducked my head momentarily to escape her eyes, they seemed to see every inch of me.

"Please Mistress, may I have the right to visit my parents once a month for a weekend and write to people every day." My body seemed to burn with the effort of not releasing my anger at having to beg.

"Hmmmm, it seems like an awful lot." I fought not to grind my teeth, I wasn't even going to be considered a person, and she thought letting me talk to my parents was a lot? "I don't even know if you're going to be a good little pet."

I knew what she wanted and the humiliation of it all overwhelmed my anger. "I promise I'll be a good pet Mistress." The words were a whisper and my vision blurred, as tears filled my eyes. My stomach tingled and fluttered as I debased myself.

"Oooo, the poor wittle kitty. Don't be sad wittle kitty." Tears streamed down my face as she cooed. "I'll make it all better. I will allow you one visit a year with your parents, but I decide when, and how long for. Aren't I a kind Mistress?"

I choked back a scoff at the idea of her being kind. I knew how a good 'slave' was meant to answer that question. "Yes mistress, but please let the visit be at least 24 hours long?" She gave me a sly smile, and I knew my visions of minute long visits had been right. I shuffled slightly, my knees beginning to feel the strain of kneeling on the hard floor for so long.

She sighed heavily "Fine. One visit, of at least one day, every year, on a day of my choosing. Is my pet happy now?"

"Thank you. But what about the letters?"

"I'm sorry who were you taking to mudblood?" the fire threatened to freeze with the ice in her tone.

I blanched anger suffused her words and I had gone from pet to mudblood. "I'm sorry mistress."

"You will have to be punished for that later. But now I'm not so sure you're going to be a good pet, I don't think you deserve any more rights muddy." Gone were the soft gentle words and I kicked myself, she had been so close to letting me write them.

"Please mistress I won't forget again."

"Hmm. Good girls are virgins before marriage." Her eyes raked over me, measuring me. "Are you a virgin muddy?"

My face flamed red once more and my eyes flicked to the headmaster but he tilted his head at me as if curious of the answer himself, there would be no help from that quarter. I couldn't bear to look at either of them as I answered, my gaze moving to rest on the rug in front of me instead. "Yes mistress."

"I want to hear you say it." Eagerness laced the husky voice, and I imagined her leaning forwards, wallowing in my humiliation.

"I'm a virgin mistress." I felt tears falling from my eyes again I didn't want to tell her anything, I didn't want to call her anything other than a bitch. But I wanted to be able to hear from my parents and friends more than anything.

"You've never let a boy touch you down there?" I could feel her charcoal eyes burning into me, I wanted to hold my head to not be ashamed of talking about this. But I couldn't, my head felt like a lead weight and the idea of seeing her sent icy fingers down my spine.

"I have never let anyone touch me down there mistress." I kept my eyes on the rug, the reds and blues of the in the pattern were oddly pretty.

"And what about those fingers of yours, have you ever used them on yourself muddy? I bet filth like you is only too eager to defile its self."

I shook my head, I could hear the mutters of the paintings on the wall, reminding me just how many people were watching this. "I haven't..., I haven't ever masturbated mistress." I thought I could hear a titter of laughter from the portraits and I just wanted to drop dead. How was I meant to manage if this was to be the rest of my life? A life of humiliation and torture for the greater good.

"Good pet, I'm pleased you have been such a good girl. How far has my wittle kitty gone with someone? Has my pet had her first kiss?" The mirth was back in her voice and I felt relieved, maybe this conversation would be worth it. Last time she had sounded like that she agreed to me seeing my parents.

"I'm not sure if it counts mistress, I was pulling away when he tried to kiss me and our lips only briefly touched." As soon as Viktor started to lean into kiss me I had known it was a mistake, I just didn't have any interest in him like that. "He did put his hand briefly on my bottom when we were dancing."

"Hmmmmmm" The noise was disapproving and my head snapped up as I tried to read her facial expression "who was this boy? Some filthy mud-"

"I'm sorry Bella we need to finish this now." Dumbledore's calm voice cut across her rant. For a moment I thought she would argue, but then she looked away from Dumbledore and back to me.

"Fine if the muddy really is a virgin she can have one hour a week to write to people, but I will decide if she gets the replies or not." I started to open my mouth to protest. "Quiet muddy, I am being more than generous and as long as you are a good pet, you will get your letters." With that her head disappeared into the flames. I knelt there shell shocked, staring at the fire as my knees ached.

"Well that went better than expected. However we're going to be late for the feast." He held out his hand and helped me up off the floor before turning towards the door.

"Wait, what did she mean by if I really am a virgin?"

He turned to face me, his expression that of carved stone. "I believe she probably plans on checking."

My knees wobbled and I nearly fell, but Dumbledore grabbed my arm steadying me. "I, I hadn't, I didn't think. Oh god of course 'to fulfil the pleasures and desires of my Mistress' she's going to..." I couldn't say it if I said it then it would be real.

"You don't know that for sure, the wording is the standard for these contracts. She might do nothing more than check, she may even simply use Legilimency to ascertain the truth. You could lie down if you like, however I think you would be better spending the time with your friends and eating a hearty meal."

I knew he didn't believe that she would do nothing else anymore than I did, but he was moving us forwards towards the door of his office. And it was a nice lie to believe that the next time I stepped in this office I wouldn't be signing the document that allowed me to be raped and tortured.