Soo...Let's start it off again shall we?I'm aiming for 200 reviews this time around! As before, this is mega AU with loads of OOCness, so please give it a try before judging! Despite its cannon, there are a load of spinoffs and my own personal takes on things! Err, also, before I start, apologies for its lateness, exams etc, really don't help my creativity, so please enjoy it, criticism is welcomed providing they are constructive, and Happy Reading!

Disclaimer: It all belongs to J K Rowling, apart from the obvious changes :P

Chapter One: Muggleborn

The breeze was cold against her bare skin, but it did not detract from the warm glow of the sun as it bore down upon her, as if shining specifically for her, just for that little Hermione Granger as she held her father's hand, laughing and giggling as she went, not a care in the world to be placed upon her small, innocent shoulders. The grass around her was almost her own jungle, somewhere she could lose herself, and where her parents could easily enough lose her in the summer heat. Her head had suddenly turned, her face lit as she released her father, running as fast as her small legs could carry her, shrieking playfully, "Mama! Mama!" Before being enveloped in warm and caring arms, a careful smile raining down onto her, like the sunshine that was billowing into the meadow. Memories. Opening her eyes, she could still feel that same warmth, and the cold that came with it, as she sat, alone, looking around as if searching for those faded images of her childhood. Yet now all that she saw before her was an old, disused field, a rickety rotting card going to waste in one corner, and a smouldering pile of once burning rubbish in another. There seemed no hope of her once treasured place returning to its former glory, no chance of restoration or revival. She could simply not understand how everything in her life was evolving into shame and misery, her freedom being drained, even the countryside around her disintegrating. Her eyes folding once more all she could remember was pain, such pain, more than she had felt in her life, her mind taking her back to the castle, to the tallest tower, to the place where her life had shifted so unexpectedly, so suddenly, drawing her very breath from her so violently. Master Higgs had stood before her, that dreaded box in his hands once more, and she knew what lay deep within its sacred carvings before he even had had the chance to open it, before he had even reached out and dragged her earrings straight from her ears, overpowering the enchantment upon them instantly, and severing her ties with Ronald Weasley. As they had fallen into her lap, she had prepared herself for what was to come, and as they were replaced with the silvery spiralled snakes, emeralds glinting from their eyes, she had screamed, never having knowing such pain, such grievance in her life, the opportunity for such a hideous infliction having never been presented so plainly to her before. Opening her eyes, she could now barely control the swell of tears that pooled in her eyes as she thought back to the face of her dear friend on that day, Carla Whittacker, her hurt and confused features burned into her memory, the suffering of their contactless relationship smouldering in her heart. She had left that poor innocent girl, a girl so similar to her own person in her youth, left her to fend for herself, open to the darkening world, wounded so deeply by its cruelty. Forgiveness was something that she could not allow herself, not unless she could find a way back to her beloved friend, back to her side to protect her from the wrong doings of the magical world, from all those who were not Muggleborn. Yet there was him. That flaming haired, fiery tempered Pureblooded boy who terrorised her so for many a year, taking her life in his hands and thinking nothing of her wellbeing. Yet she had trusted him with her life, would have laid it down to save his, to help and not hinder, only to serve and be close to him, and he had destroyed that. Even now he still hurt her. His eyes looking back at her that day. Knowing deep within himself that she was being taken, never to be returned, and he had watched her scream. Watched her be dragged away in agony, in humiliation from the Hospital Wing where she had been meant to be recovering from the terrifying blow she had received deep within the Department of Mysteries, running to his aid. The deep welts marking his skin had terrified her, her heart raced even now as she thought back to them, his bulging eyes, and his breath lessened and gasping as he had struggled for what little air his lungs could grasp. She had been amazed that he had made it back to Hogwarts alive, had not been strangled to death and left lifeless upon the cold Ministry floor, waiting to be taken away like a piece of meat fresh from slaughter. She shook her head, trying not to think about it, but it was all she had thought about, those few hours that had changed her life forever. She could not hide from the horrors of her own mind, could not shield herself from closing her eyes and remembering what she had been subject to after she had left that room. The hurt and the pain she felt only reminded her of that day, only dragged her back, almost as painfully as she had been dragged, screaming and sobbing down the Grand Staircase, directly to the very bottom floor, and down into the Dungeons. It had been so cold there, colder than she had ever known the castle to be, a bone chilling bitter frost that seeped through her skin, freezing her to her core. Her chilled arms burned as she was dragged by both Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, against her will, deeper and deeper from the bright lights of the castle. The nails of her toes bent back, her heels stripped of their skin and on fire, her feet burning with the cold as she was taken to the very end of the Dungeon Corridors and brought before a large stone wall, seemingly their end, or a wrong turn of her captor, the son of the Deputy Minister Malfoy, Draco. He had turned to her dramatically, bending to her crumpled form and snatching at her chin viciously. His fingernails had left such painful dints as he had squeezed at her skin, glaring at her with his cold grey eyes and only his pale skin and blond hair glowing softly in the darkness as he whispered to her dangerously,

"You, girl, are mine now. You do not enter or leave this Common Room without my permission, and you shall not enter Gryffindor Tower unless I say. Ever." Never to enter her tower again. Even now she could not believe she would not enter her warm and light living quarters again, did not like thinking about the Slytherin Common Room, despite it being of greater standard than her expectation. That day had been the first time she had seen another house's common room, having missed the chance in her second year after demanding her former Master allow her to infiltrate the Slytherin's Dungeons by drinking a Polyjuice Potion, supposedly to transform her into one of their own, only to find herself a disfigured cat-like human, embarrassed and ashamed. Yet that day, as her Master Malfoy had turned to the stone before then, declaring loudly, "Pureblood." She had been entranced as the wall had melted away and allowed them entrance to a passage, of which they walked and found themselves in a dungeon-like room that extended far under the Great Lake, lit only by greenish lamps which flickered lazily through the darkness illuminating the cold walls. Several chairs and low backed black and dark green sofas littered the room, its strangely grand atmosphere darkened by the scattering of skulls, freezing the air ever more so the longer she looked to them. The entire room had made her feel increasingly sick as she had been dragged towards the slowly dying fire and slammed into the floor. She could still feel its coldness, even now, as she sat in the dimmed fading warmth of the sun. Even the sound of the lake still filled her ears, the sight of the giant squid flashing before her as it sailed past the windows, its long tentacles and giant suckers caressing the glass, threatening to shatter it and drown them all. She had not felt safe, not for a moment whilst she had stayed there, had only wanted to run, run for her life and not return to such an awful place, seek comfort in her friends and even from her betrayer, Master Weasley. For that was all he was to her now, another Master of the school, even perhaps a hated one, his family looked down upon by the Malfoy's as bloodtraitors, known for their once kindness to Muggleborns. Though how he had shown her an extended amount of kindness she could not fathom. Yes, he had never shown her cruelty, but he has never truly done her favour or looked after her in the face of tyranny. But still he made her stomach turn, those dull freckles dotting his face, that lopsided grin he held when telling those unfortunate jokes over great gulping of various meals, and that stupid apple. Always that apple. Why he should ever feel that offering her a half eaten piece of fruit should make light of their situation was beyond her, and why, more often than not, they had shared a kiss because of it. If only a year ago she had been given the chance for a new Master, she would have leapt at the chance, and now, all she wanted was to serve him, to make sure he was happy and well looked after. If only she had not kissed his cheek, so long passed that previous year, then her attraction to him would have remained dormant, never surfacing, never causing an issue for either of them. She sat still, looking towards her feet and sighing heavily as the sun dipped lower in the dying sky. Attraction. That's all it was. Simple attraction. Attraction that could be overrode, forgotten and abandoned as a new life is begun. It was now merely weeks away, her return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her return to her new Master and her new life. Abandoned was the ways of the old, the glint of red and gold, the skimpy maids outfit and the constant demand for food by a warm and loving fire, laughing with Carla and her friends from the other houses, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Kevin Enthwhistle, the people who made her lonely or desperately disastrous days more bearable. Even her clothing would now differ, her normal school uniform now bearing the serpentine badge of Slytherin, her chosen uniform almost as bad as it had been before, with only thin pieces of silver material covering her sufficiently, her legs, shoulders and stomach on show for all to see. She felt as though she were some kind of warrior, a feathered mask upon her face, hair pulled back as tightly as it could be onto a French Twist. Yet it had only heightened her suspicious as to what the Slytherin's did to their slaves, what they made them do, made them compete, maybe even fight to the death. She shuddered, suddenly despising that punishing uniform; hoping that she would never, ever have to wear such a degrading piece of clothing, if that is what it could be called to any sane and normal human being. She stood suddenly, trying to push the awful image from her mind, but it only encouraged more to come flooding to her as she began crossing the field slowly, intent upon hurrying home as soon as she could and retreating to the comforting folds of her bed. Eyes glued to the floor, watching only her feet shuffle through the burned out, tattered grass, she could see only her Master's eyes looking back at her, quietly telling her to hurry, pulling her swiftly through a small door by one of the windows and into a circular chamber which reminder her so suddenly of the Department of Mysteries. Yet the room here did not revolve and she was led towards the nearest and pushed into an empty bedroom. It had not been so different from what she had known, the only difference in the Slytherin Boy's Dormitory had been that no heater had been in the centre of the room, instead large silver lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving off a faint glow, a small light penetrating the darkness and giving as little heat to them as possible. In that moment, she had been eleven once more, left alone in a bedroom with her new Master, not knowing what she should expect from such a cruel and heartless man. As had immediately run to his side as he sat leisurely upon his own bed, falling to her knees and bending her head, gritting her teeth in an attempt to restrain herself from lashing out at him in desperation. Yet as he looked down to her and she had felt his gaze pierce into her back, she had dared a small glance upwards. With a raised eyebrow he had handed her a small bundle, ordering her to change into it immediately. Hermione had felt so confused as she moved onto his bed and he shut the curtains around her, giving her some privacy. His eyes, in that moment, had not seemed so cold, had seemed a little lost and more embarrassed than anything, as if he was a little unsure of what to do with a female slave. True, Hermione had never known him to have such a slave, had seen many a male follow him around his daily business, but felt certain that he must have, at least at one point owned a female Muggleborn. It had made her uneasy, once again unsure of her future, and as her stomach had quivered, she had wondered why her of all people, had been taken by such a boy, and what her use could have possibly been. She had given a loud sigh of despair and then looked at the material she had been given, beginning to hastily change into it, noting how snugly it fit, as if it had been made specifically for her, something that had been being planned for weeks. She had shook her head violently, pushing the thought from her, drawing back the curtain and stepping from the bed, only to find a mirror now facing her. Dressed in a floor length green garment that held a slit up to her thigh and sleeves that came only to her elbows and revealed her shoulders, she had felt slightly uplifted, somewhat more pleased with her general attire, a silver sash pulling at her waist tightly, cutting into her ever so slightly but matching the spider web like silver hair piece her Master had then attached to her fallen hair. In that moment, her transformation had been completed, she had become a Slytherin. The weight of such a burden placed upon her, she could not comprehend, even now, that she would have to board the Hogwarts Express as usual, yet disembark into a new life, into the darkness of the castle and into the power of her Master.

~x~x~x~

Tumbling down the stairs, Hermione came to a steady halt at its foot, her hand still clutching the balustrade tightly. She still felt increasingly strange, more so than any other time she had come home for the summer. Now found it odd to be dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and not in her Gryffindor dress, not to be surrounded by red and gold, to be normal. She felt as though she were in mourning for her House, pining to return to her safest place. Yet she could not forget, the constant reminders dragging her earlobes downwards, the same silvery, emerald encrusted snakes twisting around one wrist and another around her opposite upper arm. She hated them, hated what they stood for, who they tied her to, covering them hastily with cardigans and jackets, trying to block them from her sight. She gave herself a shake, blinking several times and breathing deeply, walking through her hall and into the kitchen where her parents sat, her father casually reading the morning paper whilst her mother rushed about with a pan in her hand, smiling to herself and spotting her daughter hurriedly. As she pulled out a chair and sat comfortably in it, reaching out for a piece of toast, her mother bustled forwards hurriedly, now empty handed and plopped herself into a chair opposite, clasping her hands together tightly. Her mouth half open, toast inches from her lips, she raised a casual eyebrow to her mother, who appeared to be inching ever forwards, shuffling awkwardly, "Mama?" She asked, earning a large response as her mother straightened erratically, pulling upon her husband's arm wildly, dragging the paper from his hands and discarding it upon the floor, ignoring his silent protests. "Darling," She began, smiling widely and giving Hermione a rather odd sense of foreboding, knowing that she would not be pleased with the conversation her mother was about to begin, "Is there something you'd like to tell us?" Slowly lowering her uneaten toast, she gulped, looking back at her mother, unsure of what she should say, unsure of whether lies would save her, or the truth could free her from the further lies that she would have to tell in the future.

"No. Of course not." Shaking her head and giving a small smile, she began to eat, hoping that the subject would be dropped immediately, allowing them to lapse into silence. Yet her mother persisted, shuffling ever forward in her chair, squishing herself into the table and dragging her husband with her, reminding Hermione ferociously of Carla, who possessed the child like nature of her mother, both of whom were unable to drop an obviously sensitive subject.

"We can't help but wonder, you're not yourself lately. Why don't you write that lovely young Weasley boy you're friends with? Or perhaps Harry? I know how close you are." Smiling sweetly, she took little notice of Hermione, whose eyes closed a little, suddenly saddened and helpless. The Weasley boy. She had lied far too much to her parents, so much that they even believed her to be her once Master's friend, even Master Harry's friend, when really, she was just a slave, just a servant to them who had no choice in anything and no chance of magic. She had often found herself cornered by her parents as they asked why she would not perform spells for them, why her friends never visited or why she was never asked to theirs. Usually able to fob them off with various excuses, her mind had now failed her, leaving her practically unable to respond to her parents, instead staring at the table before her in a transfixed state.

"Or...is that the problem?" Her father said softly, reaching out a hand and placing it upon her arm. As they looked at one another, she felt her father connect to her instantly, both knowing that what he had said was true, neither wanting to admit nor confirm it. She pulled away, smiling a little and shaking her head fully,

"No! I...no. Just, next year will be important! I'll have lots of exams coming up; it's going to be difficult." Hermione dithered away, laughing a little, a high pitched, clearly forced cackling, which slowly died out into an awkward silence. Yet once more, her father spoke, ever so softly,

"You have weeks before that." Her mother, however, seemed not to notice the change in atmosphere, instead throwing her hands up into the air wildly and clapping a little before rushing to her feet and around the table, throwing her arms around her neck. She gave a tight squeeze and then moved towards the sink, throwing her comments backwards as she went,

"Our little girl...so clever. You'll make a wonderful witch darling!"

"Yes...I hope so..." Hermione replied quietly, not looking backwards, but eyeing her father as his brows furrowed a little, clearly thinking hard. Snapping his fingers he pulled a briefcase towards him quickly,

"Which reminds me!" He smiled, suddenly gleeful,

"Dad?" She asked, a little apprehensive, wanting to move away slightly, not wanting to know what was hidden inside of the case. Yet as his hands opened the case and reached inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, a small, black leather bound book making an appearance.

"We got you this, a little present, since we didn't recall ever having seen you with this one." He handed it to his daughter, who accepted it gratefully, trailing her fingers over the fresh, crisp cover of Confronting the Faceless. Yet another book that she could never read, that she could never learn from, that she could never use to her full advantage. She smiled nonetheless,

"Thank you." Taking a finger to the cover, she slid it down, caressing the edge, seemingly tempting herself into opening it. She loved the feel of new books, loved their smell and the exhilaration of the unknown knowledge that they possessed, the secrets that they could share. A sudden loud knocking caused her to jump a little and swivel in her chair, looking back down the hallway and towards the front door. Another knock and she stood, walking swiftly towards the wooden opening, hearing her mother's faint voice echoing behind her,

"I wonder who..." Placing a hand upon the handle, she could not think what she should do, who she should expect to see upon the other side. She felt this moment an important one, one that she should engage in, no matter who was outside her house. Pulling open the door, she gasped and placed her hand securely over her mouth as she was enveloped tightly by a short, mousy haired, bespectacled girl whose vice-like grip played with her throat,

"'Hermione!"

"Carla?" She stuttered, barely able to believe that her small friend was now clinging desperately to her neck, not even able to draw her arms around her in response, to reciprocate the emotion pouring from her friend. Her face titled upwards as her name was spoken, beaming widely, almost looking as though she were about to launch herself at Hermione, perhaps floor and try to kiss her in an unbelievably unwanted way.

"Yes?" She squeaked happily, shaking the two of them vigorously from side to side and then jumping up and down.

"Wha...What are you doing here?" Hermione asked confusedly, feeling slightly motion sick, her brain refusing to comprehend that such a figure was stood before her. She could barely remember the last time this girl had shook her within an inch of her life, the last time such glee had entered her household filling her body with it also.

"I came to see you! Shall we go out? Shall we walk?" Carla rambled off, looking extremely strange to Hermione in a large blue overcoat and knee length purple skirt, bouncing around her hallway like some kind of deranged psychopath, threatening to destroy her entire house with one mighty sweep of her arms. Pushing her out of the door with a great shove, she replied quietly,

"Yeah" As she struggled to push her mad friend outside, "I'm going out! I'll be back later..." She called backwards, not waiting for a response from her parents, shutting the door tightly behind her. Carla was already waiting at the end of the garden path, holding the small wooden gate open for Hermione, beaming as she waited. The two of them began walking along the pavement, steadily passing the rows of houses which were surrounded by high bushes, and various trees by the roadside which offered them shade from the glaring sun. They walked in silence, Carla clearly unaware of where she was going, Hermione deep in thought, the only noise being that of the infrequent passing of cars that grumbled past every so often, . As the two of them reached the end of the road, they crossed from pavement to pavement, then passing onto grass as they reached a large playing field where many children were busily whiling away their Saturday morning playing various ball games and running around after one another. Hermione did not often come to such a place. It gave her such lonely feelings, a place she wanted to run and hide from, a place where she had not been accepted, just as she had not been at Hogwarts. As a rather lonely, know-it-all child, Hermione had had barely any friends, only bullies that had tormented her ridiculously, pushed her into solitude. She hated thinking about such times, did not know if she preferred the torture of her life before Hogwarts, or the darkness and evil that possessed the castle secretly, hiding behind such wonderful bouts of magic. At least at Hogwarts she had friends, some people that she could rely on, despite any situation that could possibly occur. And here Carla was, proof of that. Breathing heavily, she shook her head violently and instead gave a smile towards her now friend, her Carla, her first true friend.

"How have you been?" Carla had taken her cue, asking Hermione such a question with a wide grin plastered upon her face, filled with excitement as she twiddled her fingers eagerly. Hermione gave a little chuckle and then gestured towards a bench by a small pond in which a few ducks swam around upon its surface lazily.

"Fine...You?" She replied as they began walking towards the small wooden seat, the giggles of children still audible to them even as they fell away from the main crowd of people and towards a quieter area of the park.

"Yeah. Not bad. Just, you know, it was hard in the last few weeks with you gone." Carla took a hold of Hermione's arm and slipped both of her own around it, clinging tightly and pushing her head into her shoulder. Hermione could only feel sorry for the young girl, for despite whatever Hermione had faced, she had always had the strength to pull her through. She knew Carla was unlike her, knew that she needed her to carry them both when the time called for it. She was like a very small, very dependent child who needed Hermione, almost gave her a purpose to live for, someone to protect. Patting her gently upon the arm, she pulled her in front of the pond, pushing her down gently into a seated position.

"I came home. I was sent home the day after I was...Was..." Hermione was still stood, struggling to find any words to complete her sentence, not knowing how really she should phrase an expression regarding such a delicate subject matter. Yet it seemed that Carla knew in herself exactly how she should end her utterance,

"Stolen." She said bitterly as Hermione sat next to her with a sigh, giving Carla an exasperated look,

"Not stolen...Just...Moved." She decided definitely, nodding to herself in a self assurance, trying to persuade Carla at the same time. Smiling a little, her face fell and her face contorted in confusion, "Why did you come here?" Carla's head shot up and looked to Hermione questioningly, seemingly offended that such a question had been asked.

"To see you!" She cried outrageously, flapping her arms around wildly, affirming to Hermione that she had some kind of ulterior motive and had just given herself away as plainly as she ever had in all of their years of friendship. Hermione winced a little, almost ashamed that any negative thoughts would ever dare to cross her mind,

"As much as I'd love to believe that, you never have before. I've never even received so much as a letter. So why are you here now?" Carla looked to her feet, playing with her hands busily, glancing nervously to and from Hermione, making her incredibly uneasy about whatever it was Carla was about to tell her. She shuffled a little closer to her, placing a hand on her back, seemingly relieving her of a little pressure as she looked upwards, her eyes wide and staring,

"I was asked." Carla reasoned, nodding as she did so, clearly wanting to avoid giving clear detail to her friend, perhaps in shame, perhaps in fear,

"Asked by who?" Hermione was becoming ever more apprehensive, eyeing her suspiciously, almost regretting that she had asked, now no longer wanting to know who had taken Carla and then sent her to Hermione, with some mysterious and underhanded objective.

"Well, he told me to, really, I didn't have any other options." She again tried to reason, wafting her arms about a little more despite Hermione trying to pull them downwards and get her to look into her eyes, even though she seemingly could not.

"Carla..." Hermione whispered, a little anger evident in her voice, even as it trembled slightly as she spoke, her eyes widening as she saw Carla's gaze shift over the top of her head, staring directly behind her.

"Don't be angry with me?" Carla looked back into her eyes and Hermione's back suddenly stiffened as a shiver shot through her. "It's nothing...bad...though, I don't even know if it's allowed anymore..." Hermione's arms fell from her friend limply and she could barely force herself to turn around, to look at who or what stood behind her, the fear of the unknown taking over her body instinctively. All she wanted to do was run, run away from the mysterious figure, from Carla, from the park, from her own life. The nerves within her were causing her insides to shake and quiver as she breathed heavily; urging herself to tear her terrified gaze from her friends saddened one. Yet as a voice reached her, she froze indefinitely. That profound voice, that deep familiar booming voice echoed over towards her, resonating within her. She knew that voice, knew it only too well,

"She came because I told her to."

Japan's Arc Angel x