Note: I made some changes to this chapter, so I deleted it and added a bunch (over 2k words). Only a few people had read it by that time, so I'm not too worried. If you're one of those 25, most of the chapter isn't changed, just a few things Dumbledore does to make him seem more in character. Mostly I added more after Hermione's shows up, instead of putting it into the next chapter. It's still unbeta'd, and I would like to see more reviews from those reading.

Chapter 05
• Gifts •

Time. The thing he kept recalling, the word that repeated over and over in his head.

Time what? Harry wondered. Was there some sort of time, something that would happen soon? Was he to wait for something?

"Harry," a voice came, breaking him from his thoughts. He looked up surprised to see Dumbledore looming over his bed looking sad, disappointed almost. He blinked, wondering what it was that was wrong. There was a buzzing every time he looked at the headmasters eyes, as if a part of his brain wasn't working right.

Time. It echoed in his head again. Making him blink and pull away from the look the headmaster was giving him.

"Yes?" Harry asked, finding it difficult to focus.

"We must speak about what happened before you lapsed into magical comatose."

"What happened..." Harry repeated the words, trying to think, to understand the reason Dumbledore was coming to him. "What happened?" he asked, not sure what it was that had happened. He avoided looking into the headmasters eyes so that his mind wouldn't buzz again, it was very uncomfortable.

Time. The word repeated. It will soon be time.

"You do not recall anything that happened to you between now and four days ago when you were brought to the Medical Wing for collapsing?"

"There was a girl..." Harry said, stretching his mind to remember, thinking as hard as he could. "No, there was more than one, several of them. But there was a girl too..."

"Ms. Zabini, yes. She brought you to Poppy almost three nights ago, said you'd collapsed in front of her."

"Blaise?" Harry asked, blinking. He knew Blaise Zabini, he'd seen her before. It wasn't Blaise, she was thinner, with long hair and small breasts, it wasn't her. This woman was older, with much shorter hair. She was not fat, but she wasn't thin either, and she was very well developed.

"There was a report of several Slytherin girls coming in contact you a few hours before Blaise brought you in. One of them was quite ill, they said you kissed her."

"Kissed?" Harry repeated, racking his brain to remember. "Yes..." he whispered with a sigh, remembering kissing the girls. But it hadn't been one girl, it had been many of them, many woman, and he'd done so much more, things that made him shiver with pleasure.

"What was it you did to her?"

Time.

"I..." Harry said, closing his eyes. Flashes appeared, glimpses of things he was sure he hadn't imagined. "I don't..."

"Bella!" he screamed, grabbing his head with his hands, trying to crush his skull. He remembered her, a strong image, a frame from a memory he didn't have. He remembered punishing her. But, for what? What had she done? When had he punished her? How had she been in the same room as him? Had he had another dream with her in it? Was she trying to seduce him? Was Voldemort forcing her to do this?

"Headmaster," a voice said, and Harry looked beyond, eyes wide and unfocused. There was a woman there and it took a moment before he recognized her as Professor McGonagall. She seemed blurred, stretched and squashed. Her mouth contorted in a look of horror that he was unsure about. It was almost like a smile, a smile that was directed at him. Why was she smiling? What had he done? She was too far, too far to be happy for him, and he didn't understand, didn't understand why she was smiling.

"Professor," The headmaster said, turning and acknowledging her presence.

Harry shook his head, the headmaster shouldn't be acknowledging her, because he was already talking, they'd been having a conversation. It didn't make sense, why hadn't they finished the conversation? Why was the headmaster ignoring him?

Time. The word pulsed in his head. It is time to receive my gift.

"A gift," Harry repeated slowly. "A gift?" he asked, a little louder, finding that the conversation in his head was much more revealing, easier to follow.

Professor McGonagall was staring at him when he looked up, wide mouth, large enough that he could fit his head into it. He reached for it, unsure how it had gotten so big, curious to see if he could crawl into it. He couldn't understand how her eye had turned to slits and her hands stretched like huge spiders. He blinked again, finding it was difficult to keep track of her as she stretched and changed over and over again.

Gift. The word pulsed through his head. Your gift.

Two more people entered, one of them was a squat little man. Professor Flitwick his mind told him, The second was a woman, floating behind, wrapped in a cloak. She was naked underneath, he could tell from the way they'd wrapped her up to keep her from being naked. But he could see her, see her tanned complexion and short-black hair.

"My gift!" he said, startled, knowing that was what she was. "But why a gift?"

He stood up and stumbled to the floor, finding that his feet didn't work like they were suppose to. His left foot was on his left side, and his right on his right, and he didn't understand how they were on the wrong side, because they were on the right side. He shook his head and stared at his foot, flexing one and then the other. He thought hard, focusing, pulling himself to his feet again and taking a step forward, and then another.

The protests of the Matron went unnoticed, as if his ears had turned off for a minute. Dumbledore quieted her, watching Harry curiously, trying to decide what he was doing and why. Professor Flitwick stopped in front of a bed and laid the woman to rest there, securing the robe around her better so that it was difficult to see anything. Harry stepped to the other side of the bed, reaching down to the mattress and putting a hand there to balance himself.

He stared at the woman, focusing in on her face for a long moment until his eyes straightened out and her features formed correctly instead of stretching out. He knew this woman, He knew her name.

Leaning over, he brushed the short hair away from her face, looking at her closed eyes, brushing away the bits of dirt that were there. She was sleeping, so quietly, sleeping so peacefully. He knew her and yet he had never seen her in his life

Kiss her.

Harry blinked, pulling back.

Kiss me. The word pulsed, as if it she were saying it. He knew she wanted him to do it, and he knew he wanted to do it, it made sense. So, he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers.

Harry pulled back, smiling, knowing her name; it floated in the back of his mind, waiting for him to open his mouth. "Christine," he whispered, softly, feeling secure even though he'd never kissed a woman, really kissed one. Her eyes flickered open, looking at him as if she knew him. Her eyes were pale, even paler than he remember them being. It was only a flash, but he remembered that flash completely, like a huge portrait painted in his mind. A perfect imagine of her standing before him, her smooth skin covered in beads of water. But her eyes were different, not so different, but different..

Time.

"Time for what?" he asked aloud.

Time.

"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, as if inquiring what was wrong.

Harry turned to look at him, not understanding. His mind began to buzz again and he stepped began to step forward, but her hand grabbed his with a vice like grip. He turned back to her. She stared at him, eyes pleading, he nodded, understanding even if he wasn't sure how.

"She is mine," he said. "He gave her to me."

"He, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't know, he gave her to me, said it was a gift."

Her grip tightened. Harry nodded, looking back to the headmaster. His mind buzzed as soon as they made eye contact, so he stared at the headmaster's nose, keeping from looking in the eyes. "She doesn't want me to leave."

"Albus," Professor McGonagall said, offering him a note as a way of explanation.

The headmaster's eyes dropped, scanning the note at least twice. He reluctantly stepped forward and handed it to Harry, his eyes loosing a little bit of sparkle.

Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter,

This woman, a gift, is herby presented to Harry Potter on the Seventeenth day of January, Nineteen Hundred, Eighty Eight. Steps have been taken to insure she is the property of Harry Potter, and a notice has been given to the Ministry of Magic.

According to the fourteenth section of the Stainer Treaty, Eighteen Hundred Thirty Two, she has been titled as the Chattel of Lord Potter. Therefore, as soon as he accepts this gift, she will be considered the property of Lord Potter. Control of the gift cannot be handed over, and is only released upon the event of his death, should there be no heir. The property, known as Christine, unless another name shall be given by Lord Potter, is therein given the rights of a serf, serving under Lord Potter.

My Condolences

There was a gap, where the name was suppose to be, and as Harry's eyes looked for the name more words scrawled across the paper as if they were being written right in front of him. It was talking to him, it was odd that a piece of paper was talking to him, but he listened, and read what it contained.

Harry,

This portion of the letter can be read by your eyes only. I have bestowed upon you such a gift so that you may understand how much you and I can become, together. We have been sharing things you and I, and you've come to enjoy this woman in our brief time together. She will serve you, help you find yourself, that is all she knows now, that she must serve you in all things. Already she bears you mark at the top of her neck, a mark we placed on her.
Enjoy her, discover what you have forgotten. The time will soon come when we shall meet face to face and I will ask you to join me. For now, discover your true boundaries, do not let others hold you back. Once she has come to you, you need but kiss her once as a sign of acceptance, then all the laws shall come full force and she'll remain forever yours, no matter the path in life you choose to take.

There was no name, nothing to call the person by, and as soon as he finished reading the words the faded away. Harry looked up, not understanding. She was a gift, but why? what had he done? Why was she his property? Were people not people, did they not have there own rights? Did she want to be his property? Why would she want such a thing?

"I don't understand," he said, looking to Dumbledore. The buzz intensified again and he focused on the nose.

Some part of the twinkle returned, as if had expected Harry to accept her immediately. He didn't realize he had accepted her, unwittingly. "The Stainer treaty was a treaty dealing with the goblins," he explained. "The full contents do not matter, as they are several hundred pages dealing with goblin rights. However, it allowed for woman, specifically goblin woman, to be considered property. As Goblins do not consider the females to have the same rights as the males do, just as house-elves have no rights. The catch was that one had to undergo a spell to prove they were property.

"While the writers of the treaty implied goblin woman, they never wrote it out in words, never said it specifically, thereby leaving a loophole in the law allowing for a human woman to undergo the same spell. Once this spell was used and accepted, it meant the owner was entitled to the woman in all ways, for she became his property, a slave. It works among several species that have similar intelligence levels. The spell that was created to do the magic has been kept a secret, only used when a Goblin brings his wife before a court and has need to prove she is his property for some reason.

"While a few do know the spell, it is not as simple as just casting it. The spell must be met with a willingness from within, and no manner of magic can force a woman to allow the spell to take hold of her. She must want it, and give herself freely or the magic does not work."

"I don't understand though," Harry repeated. "Why is she mine?"

The letter had said that the person had been sharing things with him, and she was one of them, but he didn't remember who he was sharing things with, or how she had come to know him, or how he knew her.

"She is not yours." Dumbledore said with a nod. "Not unless you accept the gift."

"But I did..." Harry said slowly, "...the kiss..."

Dumbledore frowned. Trying to catch Harry's eye again, trying to see something within.

It was obvious he didn't understand, Harry knew it was because he hadn't read the rest of the letter. The letter had told him it was only for him, so the headmaster must not have read it.

Watching carefully, the headmaster though about what was happening. The boy had been different lately, and not just during the past few days. The past few weeks had shown Harry becoming somewhat of a recluse, keeping away from people in general. Tonks had reported him to be in a deep emotional state again, likely having flashbacks of one of the prior battles he'd witnessed. Then, the boy had gone berserk, escaping the hospital wing and running through the halls, performing feats of magic that the headmaster had only seen performed a few times in his life, when he had performed them. He didn't even know of Voldemort could use such magic, and Harry was using it without even realizing. Then Harry had returned once more, in a state of magical comatose.

"The kiss was a means of accepting her?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "How is it you know that?"

"The letter told me," Harry said, pointing it out, wondering why the headmaster just didn't know this. The headmaster always knew everything, it was his job. He must be having problems if he was forgetting things he should know.

"It said you wouldn't be able to read it," he offered, hoping to offer Dumbledore a way out of forgetting what he knew. He handed the letter to Dumbledore, who took it quickly. Removing his wand from his pocket, Dumbledore tapped the letter to reveal the hidden message, only to have the whole thing burst into flames. Harry ignored it, turning back to the woman.

"You are mine?" he asked, feeling an odd tingling from inside, he possessed very little, and he'd never owned a person before, it was comforting and strange even if it was odd.

She nodded, not saying anything, but he could tell she was frightened. "I will not hurt you," he assured her. "You will be safe here."

"How does the castle rebuild?" she asked in a voice that was so quiet, it was barely a whisper, but Harry heard it without even trying to listen. "It was broken," she said, confused, "ruined, and it rebuilt itself."

"A muggle?" Madam Pomfrey inquired from the side, having appeared the moment the girl spoke "But how did she get here?"

"She just appeared beside me," Professor Flitwick revealed, "as Minerva and I were taking a stroll along the lake, discussing some of the students. Minerva though it important for Albus to see the note immediately while I checked the woman to insure she was in good medical condition prior to moving her here.

"And you could not tell she was a muggle?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.

"No, she had no wand, but she had magic inside her, if only a little, I didn't realize it was from a spell being performed on her."

"Something must be done about this," Professor McGonagall said, angrily. Her lips thinned out and Harry tilted his head, remembering lips thinning from bright puffy lips, beautiful lips that were so kissable.

He turned to look at Christine's lips. While they weren't the lips he remembered, they were thicker, with a little more pout to them. They were almost too puffy, almost. Still, they were quite kissable. Harry leaned over again, and pecked them softly again, deciding he liked her lips, they were too soft not to like.

None of the teachers were watching, he could hear them talking behind him and he smiled at Christine. She loosened her grip just enough that she was still in contact, but no longer holding him as if he'd go.

"If he has accepted the gift with a kiss, as he said, then nothing can be done," Dumbledore said gravely. "The woman is bound to Harry. As a serf she is even given the right to follow him through the school to insure to his needs. It is one of the more archaic rules of the school. A rule that has gone unchanged for far too long. It has been unused for more than one hundred and fifty years now, and even then it was only to purebloods who still maintained slaves other than house-elves. It is a rule, used or unused, and the gift giver has sighted it, no doubt sighting it in the letter that was sent to the ministry offices. This woman, Christine, has every right to be here now, and there is nothing we can do about it."

He looked to Harry, who was waiting patiently, enjoying the feeling of Christine rubbing her head against his arm. "I do not understand how you could accept such a gift without thinking about it."

"I only kissed her," Harry said simply. "She wanted me to, she told me to. I did not know it meant she would be my slave. I did not read the letter until after."

"Harry!" said a female voice. Two people entered the Hospital, his friends. The teachers froze, and Hermione looked concerned. "What's happening?" she asked before seeing Christine clutching onto Harry as if he were a life-preserver.

"Harry?" Ron managed to choke out as he stared at Christine. His mouth was slightly parted slightly, unsure of what else to say.

Harry nodded, unsure how to reply. He felt so lightheaded, and nothing was bothering him. It felt odd, but he was alright with it, alright with everything.

Hermione stepped forward, give Ron a meaningful stare and then placing herself between Ron and Christine. "Who is she?" she asked, trying to sound as nice as possible, but her voice betrayed her jealousy. She couldn't see all of Christine, but she was still wrapped in a cloak, and it didn't take much imagination to decide she was likely naked underneath it.

"Christine," Harry said simply, not feeling the need to explain any more than the question.

"Why is she here?" Hermione asked. "I don't recognize her, and she doesn't look like a Hogwarts student anyway."

"Mrs. Granger," Dumbledore said, stepping forward.

Harry answered. He didn't see any reason not to. "She was a gift to me."

"Gift?" Hermione asked.

Harry could tell, even in his odd state of being, she was thinking about it, trying to work out exactly what he was saying. He thought it might be better to just tell her, she always thought too hard about things, and it would make it much easier if someone simply explained everything to her. Dumbledore was moving forward, saying something, but Harry didn't hear him because he didn't want to hear him, he had decided it would be best not to make Hermione think so hard. "She is my property."

"Harry!" Dumbledore snapped, "Please do not speak further on this matter. I will escort Mrs. Granger and explain..."

"Property? Like a slave?" Hermione asked, her voice tinted with anger. "You have a slave Harry?"

"Yes, of course," he said, wondering why she was asking him again, he'd just explained it to her. "She is a Chattel," he said, remember the word the letter had said.

"Mrs. Granger..." Dumbledore said, but he didn't have any further say. Hermione burst.

"You're accepting slaves now!? What is wrong with you! You can't have a slave, no one deserves to be treated as a slave, not house-elves, not trolls, and especially not people. How can you say that she's just your slave without even thinking about what she wants?!!!"

"She wants to be my slave," Harry said, not really understanding why Hermione was yelling at him.

Turning, he glanced to Christine, as if asking her without words to confirm what he'd said. She nodded several times, pulling herself closer to his arm, coming into a sitting position as she did. The robe that had been covering her slipped away, and her breasts were bared. She didn't move to cover herself, instead looking to Harry, as if asking him what to do.

Harry stared, blinking at her, unsure. He began to reach up, to cover her, when there was a screech. He heard voices, words, and then something struck him in the back of the head, knocking him to the floor.

Professor Dumbledore shouted, followed by the stern voice of Professor McGonagall. Something exploded and dirt showered Harry as he lay on the floor, his senses finally clearing. He pulled himself up, turning around to see the scene.

Christine had jumped from the bed, and was on top of Hermione, hands wrapped around her neck. The cloak lay halfway between her and the bed she'd been laying on. Ron was staring, completely enamored by the scene, not even realizing his best friend was being choked to death by the naked girl on top of her. Three beds had been blown into the wall, and looked as if they were now a part of it. Dumbledore was lying on his side while Professor McGonagall shook him.

"STOP!" Harry roared. "STOP NOW!"

Christine stopped, looking up, bewildered. She pulled herself to her feet and backed away slowly, letting Hermione catch her breath. "Put some clothing on," he snapped at her, realizing how truly naked she was now that his mind had cleared. "Ron, help Hermione," he commanded, seeing that Hermione wasn't doing well and knowing that the Matron would go for Dumbledore first.

For the first time since he'd appeared, Ron's attention was dragged away from Christine. He looked up to Harry for a second, and then down to Hermione. He dropped to his knees immediately and tried to help Hermione sit up. She was breathing hard, finding that her throat still partially constricted. She stared, eyes blazing, at Christine while Harry turned to look at Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Madam Pomfrey had taken over for McGonagall, tending to whatever had happened to the headmaster. Harry watched McGonagall glance, stricken up at Harry.

"I'm sorry," Professor Flitwick said, moving forward from where he'd disappeared to. "I was only trying to incapacitate Mrs. Granger from doing any harm. I didn't realize she would use such a strong reflection spell so quickly. It was only a freezing charm, but I'm afraid that when combined with the charm that the headmaster used against her it much more harmful."

Harry couldn't put together what happened, but, Christine was next to him, and when she touched him he knew, almost as if he drew the answer from her. The vision was silent, like watching a movie without sound. He could see Hermione raising her wand and open her mouth as if to fire a curse at Harry. Professor Flitwick and Headmaster Dumbledore bother raised their wands simultaneously to stop her, but Hermione changed her mind, using another spell first, a blue shield rose around her as the two spells struck. Both struck at the same time, almost next to each other. But, because of the position they'd been fired from, Flitwick's bounced away from him, mixing with Dumbledores as it reflected back at him. Dumbledore had no time to do anything but dodge. He started to move, and was struck in the shoulder by the mixed curse, sending him flying. The curse continued on until it struck the ground behind him, blowing away a good portion of the medical wing. Then the next thing he saw was Hermione's face underneath him, choking.

The memory faded and he looked to Christine, who was kneeling now, almost as if apologizing. "It's alright," he said, noticing she had put the cloak on properly, even buttoning it up so that it didn't hang open and leave her exposed.

"I am going to leave now." Harry growled angrily, no longer feeling he slightest bit sick or woozy. He didn't look to anyone else, just said it to the room. Then he looked to Christine, who nodded slightly. "She's coming with me," he said. He helped her to her feet, made sure the robe was closed fully, and marched out of the Medical Wing, leaving his two best friends and several teachers in complete confusion.

• Edited 2004.12.17 •

BabyRuth - I'm not going to tell if I'm a guy or girl, but it should be obvious, seeing as it's in my profile. One of the very first things in itI believe. Oh, and I know dominant and submisive girls, so it's not just a guy thing. Some of the more dominant girls i know are actually pretty damned scary when they want to be. But, the thing with BDSM is that it's not something to cause pain in the sense that most people understand. Some people (I have no personal preference of this sort of sex - but i know more than a few people into it) enjoy it a great deal. Thanks for reading, hope to see more reviews.