Chapter 11
Love Is In Bloom


Author's Note: I've been gone for quite a while, and for that I apologize. But as promised, this story won't be abandoned. If you'd like more information about my new update schedule, what I'm doing now, and how to keep up to date on my stories, please read the author's note at the end of the chapter.


Hermione felt a tingle again just above her slit, and her hand moved to rest there gently. It was a phantom sensation, as the magical tattoo hadn't actually caused any kind of pain or discomfort, but it seemed her mind was on the marking even when she wasn't thinking about it. It had only been a few hours, and Harry had set her the task of cleaning the apartment and creating a list of anything else the dwelling needed. Considering that this was originally envisioned as a sort of magical safe-house for her parents, Hermione was intent to be thorough in her list.

While she was doing this Harry had sat down at the desk in their bedroom and begun working on something. She supposed it might be his summer homework, but she doubted that possibility. While Harry wasn't a poor student, he'd never really been studious in the way that she had, and he seemed far more focused than he was usually able to stay with school work.

In any case, Hermione felt her lips fall into a soft smile as she ran her fingers over the place where her tattoo was. It made her happy. She looked down at it as she approached the bedroom door, watching the ink shift colors. She'd elected to remain naked after it had been applied. Well, Harry hadn't given her instructions to put clothes on, so she'd decided that meant he wanted her naked.

She looked up and took a breath before knocking on the door.

"Master?" she called out, hesitant like she was testing the word. She'd called him that before, but it felt different to use it now that their standing with each other was so clearly defined.

"Come in," Harry's muffled voice answered from the other side of the door.

Hermione opened the door and saw him hunched over the desk writing on a piece of parchment. She froze for a second. Should she interrupt him? He did tell her to come in. Should she wait to speak? Should she walk over and wait next to him? Perhaps that would make him feel rushed. Her thoughts froze as Harry turned and glanced at her standing the doorway. His eyes moved over her body, a kind of surprise and reverence in them, and Hermione remembered that she was naked.

He can look, Hermione thought to herself, pulling up her resolve. My… body belongs to him now anyway. It was what she wanted, but that didn't mean she was quite used to it.

"Come over here," Harry finally said. He motioned to another empty chair that was next to the desk. "There's an extra chair."

Hermione watched him for a few moments as he turned back to the parchment and resumed his concentration. Seeing him so focused, and so… well, he was writing something, studying something, that was clear. And even though Hermione knew it was rather silly, a part of her couldn't help but be turned on at the idea that he was doing something like that. It wasn't actually that she found studying sexy, although she was sure many of the people at school might jump to that conclusion. It was that she wanted a partner who was smart. One who could challenge her mentally as much as they could physically, and this was exactly the sort of thing she imagined such a person would be doing.

"Pet!" Harry called out sharply without looking up, causing Hermione to jump slightly. "Sit."

If the sight of him studying had been arousing, that had nearly made her legs buckle, but she still made it over to the chair and sat in it promptly, the cool, rough surface somewhat uncomfortable on her bare cheeks. At the same time though, the discomfort felt… comforting. Not in its physical sensation, but in that it felt like she was being controlled, and being reminded of her place, and being owned.

The scratch of the quill against the parchment was the only sound for several seconds, and Harry continued looking at his work. Hermione might be able to see what he was writing if she leaned forward in her chair, but somehow that felt like it would be wrong.

"What was it that you wanted?" Harry asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Oh, uh…" Hermione flustered for a second. "I'm finished." A beat passed. "With the task you gave me, I mean." Another beat. "Master."

Hermione felt her face light up. That had been an embarrassingly awkward delivery. Harry paused his writing and looked up at her with a grin.

"I don't think I've ever heard you stumble over your words that much," Harry said with a chuckle. "Are you nervous?"

"No!" she responded immediately. "Well… maybe a little."

"That's alright," Harry told her, his face softening into something much more understanding. "This is all still new, and we had that whole… misunderstanding the first night. Today has been an emotional day, and we both sort of need to figure out what our new natural place with each other is. I understand." Harry pointed towards the parchment. "That's actually what I've been working on. If I understand our, er, arrangement correctly now, what you need is some structure and some rules. For us, I mean. Some rules on how to be my perfect little slave."

Hermione felt the most delicious chill travel up her spine.

"Yes… Master," she nearly whispered.

"Excellent," Harry nodded. "Well, I have a general idea of what I want on that front now, but I learned a lot of things from Michael over the last week. One of them is that I can't really be what you want if I don't understand what drives you, what motivates you. So I would like you to tell me a few things, and then we will discuss the rules I propose. I'll want your honest feedback on them, how they actually make you feel."

"Master?" Hermione ventured, getting more comfortable now using the title with him. "You know you don't have to… propose them. You can just decide them."

"I know," Harry answered. "I think, after your little display this morning I quite fully understand that." Harry grinned at her. "I want to go over the rules to give you the chance to decide it isn't for you, but if you say nothing, we'll go forward with the rules I picked. More important, though, is that you know what the rules are. If you don't know the rules, you can't follow them."

Hermione looked at him for several moments, not really having any way to refute that logic.

"What did you want me to tell you, Master?" she asked.

"I wanted to hear how you discovered this part of yourself. You mentioned something about past fantasies, or having thought about it for a long time, but I don't know much about the history behind all of this for you." Harry gave her a serious look. "Clearly your parents have been practicing this kind of lifestyle for quite a while. Did they introduce you to it originally?"

Hermione grimaced at the question and the memory it brought up.

"Not… exactly." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I accidentally walked in on my parents when I was 10, and they were… engaged in some activities. I think my father was using a flogger of some kind. I ran out of room terrified that he was beating my mother, and furious at them." Hermione let out a short giggle. "It was very awkward. My mother explained that it was something they both wanted to do, that it was an adult thing, but… you know me. I can't let myself go without understanding something so foreign."

"Yeah, that's true," Harry agreed, nodding.

"Well, she gave me some books that explained the basics of what BDSM is, and it was one of the most awkward conversations I've ever suffered through."

"Did they… uh… demonstrate any of it for you afterward?" Harry asked.

"No," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "They very much kept me away from their private lives together."

"Then… how?"

"Well, I wasn't terribly interested in it at that time," Hermione explained. "I understood that they weren't doing anything wrong, but it wasn't something that interested me. I mean… I was 10." Hermione's eyes dropped to her hands for a few moments. "That changed when you and Ron saved me from the troll."

"What?" Harry said, perplexed. "How does that fit in?"

"I was terrified after you two rescued me. You see, with how backward parts of the magical world are, I thought that perhaps saving my life at the risk of your own had made me your magical slave or something. As if I owed you a debt for my life, and magic would force me to pay it back."

Harry's eyes widened and several seconds passed before he spoke up.

"It… it doesn't, right?"

"No," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "There used to be an old custom of 'life debts' in the magical world for such situations, but it was just a social custom, and it was usually resolved with gold, not… slavery."

"Well that's good," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. He was happy with the arrangement that they'd found, but one of the things he was happy with was that they both chose it. "I still don't understand then how it relates to any of this."

"Well…" Hermione looked down at her hands again and her face started to turn red. "After I knew I wasn't in danger, I started to… fantasize about what it would be like. If you… owned me, and made me… do things."

"Oh," Harry said, his eyebrows quirking. "A bit young, weren't we?"

"It was just a fantasy!" Hermione said with a furious blush. "Besides, that's around the age that most people start to explore their own bodies."

"I suppose," Harry allowed, a hesitant nod.

"In any case, I realized that the situations I was fantasizing about were similar in idea to some of the things I'd read about in the books my mother had given me, so during the winter holidays I read them again, and it… started to fill up my imagination."

Harry nodded, considering what she was telling him. He didn't think about it often, but Hermione was almost a full year older than him, and this was one place where it was definitely showing. That sort of thing would never have entered his mind in first year, regardless of the circumstances.

"So you decided in first year that you wanted… this?" Harry asked, his hand gesturing towards the parchment he'd been writing on.

"No, it was still just fantasies. I was putting myself under a huge amount of stress—"

"You don't say," Harry interrupted sarcastically. Hermione just looked sheepish for a moment before continuing.

"I, er, asked my parents that summer if they would show me what it was like."

"This has been going on for two years?" Harry asked in a surprised tone.

"No, they refused," Hermione told him. "Which was the right decision at the time, I suppose. I just wanted something to help deal with all the stress, and this seemed to fit the bill, but that isn't really a healthy reason to get into it on its own. And then there's the whole, I'm their daughter aspect. They were more than a little put off by that. But I got them to agree to at least help me find someone that could be my Dom after fourth year, if I was still interested then." Hermione paused for a second, organizing her thoughts. "I wasn't looking for a Master at that point, just someone to be in control at times. They promised they would help me find the right person, presumably someone my own age, if I still felt the same way going into fifth year, since fifth year would be a huge step up in stress, what with the O.W.L.'s and all."

"But we just completed third year, not fourth," Harry pointed out. "And you most certainly wanted a Master now… what changed?"

"I got petrified," Hermione provided. "In second year I was petrified for several weeks, and it was the most terrifying, confining thing. I could still hear, and see, and think. It was like… you read the books I gave you right?" Hermione watched Harry nod in response. "It was like the ultimate confinement bondage, only I wasn't allowed any breaks, and I didn't know it was coming."

"That sounds awful," Harry commented. "I would think that would turn you off to the whole idea, not turn it into this."

"It might have," Hermione replied softly. "If you hadn't come and talked to me." They were both silent for a few seconds. "When I was petrified, every time you came to talk to me it made me feel safe, and it made the experience bearable."

"Wait," Harry said, frowning. "You were traumatized into wanting me?"

"No!" Hermione declared immediately, looking repulsed by the suggestion. "Other people came to talk to me as well, Harry. I didn't end up wanting Ron, or Madam Pomphrey. Your voice made me feel better because of how I already felt about you." She looked down, some of her emphasis leaving her. "Even then."

"I'm sorry," Harry said uncomfortably.

"For what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"For not noticing," he replied. "I'm sorry you were trying to deal with that stress all on your own. Even without the BDSM aspect, I imagine that I could have done more to help."

"It's not your fault, Master," Hermione insisted. "My brain… it goes in circles when I'm stressed. It starts to look at every side of everything that could be related to something that bothers me and follows every single tangent down every little path until I'm a total mess. That's one of the things that I like so much about this, and about having you as my Master. You…" Hermione bit her lip, "You can turn my brain off, just let me relax."

"Really?" Harry asked, a bit surprised. "You, Hermione Granger, enjoy not thinking?"

"Yes, you prat!" she responded hotly. As soon as the words left her mouth her eyes widened and she looked down at her bare legs. "I'm sorry Master, I didn't mean to disrespect you."

"That's okay," Harry said with a chuckle. "I think life would get boring if you never told me when I was being a prat again." Harry leaned in next to her ear as she continued looking down stiffly and whispered. "You might just have to do it with my cock in your mouth sometimes."

Hermione shivered at the words and squirmed a bit in her seat, feeling herself getting wet at just the suggestion.

"I think that was what I needed to finish the rules," Harry said. He made a few more marks on the paper before looking up at his… well, his willing slave. "Slut," he said briskly, causing her to jump in her seat. "Look at me." She looked up into his eyes and for a moment he saw such depth in them. Hunger, and desire, and comfort, and even fear. "Go sit in front of the mirror near the door with your legs spread and stare at your tattoo while I finish this."

"Yes, Master," Hermione replied immediately, standing up and moving as he'd instructed.

At first, she felt somewhat ridiculous sitting there with her cunt bared to the mirror, staring at the shimmering words in the mirror. But as time passed, she began to feel almost hypnotized by the shimmering, color changing text, and felt her mind falling deeper and deeper into her own sub space. She was property. She was to be used. She was a slave.

As moments turned to minutes the ruminations moved beyond little phrases and words in her mind and into ideas that couldn't be easily described.

"Slut!"

That's Master's voice. You need to respond.

"Yes, Master," she said, not moving her body or eyes from their place.

"That's the third time I called to you," she heard him say.

"I'm sorry, Master, my brain was off."

There were a few moments of silence, then a bit of rustling from the other side of the room.

"Come over here and sit down," Harry instructed.

She pulled her legs in and attempted to stand but didn't realize just how sore her muscles had gotten holding that position and fell backward, saved only by the bed a few feet away. Giving each leg a quick stretch, she jumped back to her feet, this time successfully, and moved to sit in the chair next to him.

"Your brain was off?" Harry asked her questioningly. Hermione looked at him, confused for a second before nodding.

"I… didn't need it," she offered, still not completely out of her trance but trying her best to make sense for him.

"You really do get off from the humiliation," Harry muttered, though it didn't appear he was really saying it to her. "I apologize, as I know coming in and out of that headspace is… jarring at best, but I need you to take several breaths and come back to me as Hermione. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," she said with a frown. She started to look around the room, taking deep breaths as she did, and picked out things that made her think of school. The books they used; her uniform which was hanging in the closet. The feeling of coming out, slowly, from her deep submissive headspace was decidedly unpleasant. It had been so comfortable there, and she didn't understand why she had to leave. Hermione let out a sigh. "What did you need, Master?"

"First, I'd like to know what happened there," Harry said. "You seemed… far away almost."

"I was, I suppose," she agreed, still feeling a slight loss. "You had me go sit in front of the mirror, and the position was so… lewd. Just sitting there, displaying myself to the mirror. And because of your instructions, I was staring at how… degrading and lewd it was. I just kept reading the words on the tattoo over and over, and… I'm not really sure." Hermione sighed again. "Maybe it was the way the colors were shifting, but all of it together my mind started to… narrow I guess? It's like the rest of the world became further away, and more and more of my mind was occupied with what I was reading. That I was your slave. That I was your property."

She paused, and when Harry didn't respond she continued her explanation.

"It was a strange feeling. I've felt very submissive before because of how aroused I was, or how degraded I felt, but this was more like… more like my mind switched into a different mode where other types of thoughts didn't happen at all. It was like meditating, or being hypnotized, only I was meditating on being your property."

"Hmm…" Harry watched her face with a small amount of concern. "Was it unpleasant? Or scary at all?"

"No," Hermione answered slowly. "I wouldn't say it was either of those things. It was… comfortable. Simple. I felt… more submissive than I've ever been before, but not at all aroused. It felt less like something exciting, and more like my simple purpose." She frowned. "It's actually strange thinking back at it. I wasn't thinking much at the time, because with your instructions I didn't have much to think about."

"Sorry," Harry told her with a frown.

"No Master," she replied, "it's not… it's difficult to explain, but that wasn't a complaint, just something I've never experienced before." She paused and thought for a few seconds. "I think if I were allowed to come out of it slower, it would actually be a thoroughly relaxing experience, it was just, as you said, jarring to come out of it so quickly."

"It's something you want to experience again then?"

Hermione thought on that. She couldn't possibly be productive in that mindset, but perhaps at a time where she wasn't supposed to be productive but couldn't seem to calm down, it would be just what she needed.

"Yes, I think so, Master."

"What sort of situations do you think that kind of headspace would help with?" Harry asked her. She frowned a bit and he spoke again. "I really do need your input on this, as I have no experience with that kind of headspace myself, so to make good decisions I need honest information."

"When you want to truly use me as a slave," Hermione told him. "As…" She paused, the words sort of getting stuck in her throat for a second because of how foreign they were. "As a body that you own. When you want to command me in a way where I… don't even think about your instructions, just do them."

"I see," Harry said, considering her words. "And what sort of things would that help you with?"

Hermione thought about this for a moment, considering again the situation she had a few moments before.

"When I can't calm myself down… but there's nothing that I can do about what's worrying me."

Harry nodded then looked down at the parchment in his hands and cleared his throat. He looked up and frowned as he noticed how blank Hermione's face still looked. Setting the parchment aside, he held out his arms.

"Come here, Hermione."

She looked at him quizzically, not really sure what he wanted, but got off the chair and stepped into his arms. He pulled her into his lap firmly and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Her face was locked in a look of surprise for a few moments before a warm, content smile spread across her features and she pulled her legs up, cuddling into his lap.

"I care about you," Harry whispered into her hair. "You know that right?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but no words seemed to come out.

"I'm not just doing this because I'm a bloke and every young guy dreams of having a looker of a girl get naked whenever they want," he continued with a soft chuckle. "This means more to me than just the rules. Or just the… sex." Hermione's breathing was becoming slightly ragged and she realized that she was starting to cry silently. "I've never had someone that I can… feel this way about. Not family, or a close friend… nothing in my life has really been good without exception other than you and Ron. He's like the brother I never had, and you… are something special to me."

Hermione couldn't hold it back any more and started to openly sob into his chest.

"I don't want you to think that I've dived into this reluctantly, or that I'm just going through the motions with you, Hermione."

Hermione let out a few more sobs as Harry gently rubbed his hands across her body, holding her close. After a few moments she sniffed and pulled herself tighter against him.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, her words muffled into his body. "I… a part of me never really expected… to hear that kind of thing from anyone."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I…" She sniffed. "I know it's silly, but since I've never really had any true friends, a part of me felt like… I would never find someone that cared. Not like that."

"You didn't," Harry said softly. She pulled back and looked up at him confused, and a smile crossed his face. "I found you, remember? In the girl's bathroom."

"Yes," she said, a faint smile on her face as well, "I suppose you did."

Harry froze for a moment, as if he were considering something, then leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't the first time they had kissed, but it certainly felt different. It felt like their bodies were much more connected to each other now than they had been the other night while they were having sex, even though the contact was far more chaste, and unlike the out-of-place tenderness that Harry had been exhibiting then, this felt raw, and honest, and correct. They held each other close as they kissed, the soft contact of their lips giving way to a more forceful and needy energy. But inexperience won out in the end, and after only a few more seconds they pulled away, gasping for air.

"Well…" Harry said, breathing heavily, "How about we go over those rules?"

Hermione smiled widely and buried her face back into his chest.

"Yes, Master, that sounds wonderful."

Harry chuckled and patted her on the head before grabbing the parchment.

"Alright, so… first rule," he started. "If you need anything, or anything is bothering you, you must tell me, so I can decide how to address it."

"Yes, Master," Hermione replied, smiling, her voice muffled still.

"Second rule: you can't tell anyone about this without my permission."

There was a pause this time before the answer came.

"Yes, Master."

"Did you have something to say about that one?" Harry asked her.

"I guess," Hermione said slowly, "I just don't understand the point of it. It's not as if I was going to start telling everyone that I'm your slave."

"I know," Harry replied, "but… Hermione, you know how quickly rumors travel at Hogwarts, the true ones and the false ones. And you know how much people like talking about me. I just… don't need that complicating things. So that means no one without my permission. Not Ginny, not Lavender… no one. None of it."

"Yes, Master," she replied, this time more confidently, "But what about the tattoo, won't that sort of give it away?"

"Only if you wanted it to," Harry told her. "The kit came with instructions, and one of the features is that the whole tattoo can be made the same color as your skin with a simple spell, effectively making it invisible."

"Oh," Hermione let out in surprise, pulling back so that she could look at him. "That's… really useful."

"You didn't think I'd mark you with something like that if you couldn't ever hide it, even when it was really inconvenient, did you?" Harry asked, more confused than anything. "I thought for sure you'd have read the booklet that came with the kit. I mean… you're Hermione."

She looked at him a bit sheepish.

"Yes, well." She felt a blush form on her cheeks. "Being… this," she motioned to her naked body, "is what helps me curb the more, ah, obsessive impulses I have."

"I see," Harry said, blinking owlishly a few times before turning back to his parchment. "Umm… Third rule: you can't masturbate without my permission."

"But—" Hermione stopped herself mid-protest, realizing the role she wanted to have didn't really allow for that kind of arguing. "Erm, what's the purpose of that rule, Master?" she asked carefully.

For his part, Harry simply looked amused.

"You have impressed on me several times that you want to be owned. To be used. But Michael made a point last week that stuck with me. If I own you… if you are my property… then this—" Harry reached down and pressed against her clit gently, causing her to gasp "—belongs to me, and you need to ask before, ah, 'using' my property."

That explanation did something strange to Hermione inside. She felt at once affronted for the first time at the prospect of belonging to him, while also feeling terribly turned on and happy that he was actually following through on what she wanted. A part of her knew that she wanted everything this entailed, it was just… difficult to imagine not being able to relieve herself of being pent up whenever she wanted.

The previous week with her mother had used a rule much like this one, but that had been for the week, not… forever. Hermione hadn't found any issue with the rule when there was some future stopping point, even if it wasn't well defined, but the gravity of knowing that would be her life from now on was much greater.

It also felt… easier to accept that from her parents, whom she had always respected as authority figures. At the same time… she knew that it would be difficult to view Harry as something other than an authority figure with a rule like this in place.

But that was rather the point. She wanted to feel controlled, and this certainly did that.

"Yes, Master," she mumbled.

"Don't worry," Harry told her with a chuckle. "I'm not likely to say 'no' often." He gave her a wink. "Though I might want to watch."

Hermione blushed again furiously.

"As you wish, Master," she said, though this time her voice was tinged with a hint of excitement.

"Good girl," he said, causing a warm feeling to spread through her. "Fourth rule," he continued, looking back at the parchment. "You're not allowed to orgasm without my permission."

Hermione looked at him confused.

"Isn't that pretty much the same as rule three?" she asked.

"Not really," Harry replied. "Think about it. I could give you permission to masturbate, but not let you cum." Hermione's eyes widened, which made Harry smile mischievously. "And the fourth rule doesn't say you need permission to 'orgasm while masturbating', it says you need permission to orgasm period."

"You mean…" Hermione started, beginning to grasp the importance of the rule, "even during sex? Or when you're… playing with me yourself?"

"That's right," Harry told her. She was sure that if his arms weren't wrapped around her, he'd be rubbing his hands together. He looked back at the parchment, moving on to the next new facet of her life. "Fifth rule: you need my permission to wear any clothes, besides what's necessary for health or other reasons." He looked up from the parchment and elaborated. "Basically, you don't need permission to wear something warm if you need to go outside when it's freezing cold, but wearing that type of clothing without permission is limited to when it is needed. So if you came back inside from the cold, you'd need to immediately remove them." Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry quickly continued. "You also don't need my permission to wear your uniform at school, seeing as that's part of the rules for the school. I also am not particularly keen on other people seeing my slut in all her glory." Hermione's mouth snapped shut and her face reddened. "But… you do need permission to wear anything other than the exact school uniform."

"But…" Hermione gaped for a few seconds. "The uniform is only the cloak and a hat."

"Correct," Harry agreed with barely concealed glee. "Though I think shoes would fall under the necessity aspect as well."

"How will I get permission every day at school though?" she asked. Her face went pale as a new thought occurred to her. "What about on the weekends?"

"If you want to wear something under your uniform, or on the weekend, I'd suggest you ask permission the night before," Harry offered in a reasonable voice.

"I…" Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, "Yes, Master." Harry looked down and was about to move on, when another thought occurred to her. "What about over the summer? We don't have a way to communicate fast enough during the summer."

"Hermione," Harry admonished. "I know you're more intelligent than this. I already explained you could ask ahead of time, didn't I? Unless of course we figure out a reliable way to communicate instantly. I'd suggest the phone, but the Dursleys would go spare if I were making regular phone calls."

Hermione looked pensive for a moment, before becoming determined.

"I'll find something," she said simply.

"I don't doubt it," Harry replied, his confidence in her success clear in his voice. "But until then, I'd suggest you think ahead." He looked once more at the parchment. "Sixth rule…" Harry paused at this before looking up at her squarely. "For every three hours studying, you will have one hour being only a slave."

"But— that's not— how can I—" Hermione stammered. "Does that include classes?"

"Oh," Harry let out, glancing at the paper, "Erm, no, I meant actual studying on your own."

"Yes, Master," Hermione said, a frown forming on her face. "What do you mean 'being only a slave' though? I thought… well, I thought I was always your slave. That you could interrupt me at any time."

"I mean that after three hours of studying, you will have one hour where you're not allowed to do anything except be a slave."

"Do…" Hermione's eyes widened, "Do you mean that for every three hours of studying I'm going to have one hour of sex?"

"You really are a slut, aren't you?" Harry asked with a chuckle. "I said nothing about sex. No, that's not what I mean. Sometimes that will be the case, but especially once we get back to Hogwarts it would be difficult to find that kind of privacy all the time, don't you think?" Hermione nodded in agreement. "No, what I mean is much more simple than you're thinking. You get three hours of applying yourself, and thinking, and learning. And then you get one hour where you don't do anything unless you are told. No thinking, no working. Just doing as you're told.

"Now, I might not have something in mind every night. You might get done with your studying and I'll be busy with something I can't put off. If that's the case that you'll kneel and wait. For the whole hour if necessary.

"This is why I wanted to know more about why you gravitated towards this lifestyle and how it happened, Hermione. You want this to help you control your stress and obsessive behavior." Harry paused, his face becoming slightly unsure. "I wrote this rule after listening to your story of how you got to this place, and it seems to me like the kind of thing that will help you achieve exactly what you're looking for."

Hermione was stunned for a few seconds. He was right. This rule was almost tailor made to address one of her core concerns, and the fact that she couldn't seem to manage this on her own was why she had sought relief from their dynamic. It was the same fact that was driving her to immediately object, even though it would greatly reduce her stress without significantly harming her ability to achieve.

"Yes, Master." Her expression softened into a gracious smile. "Thank you Master." In a way, having this decision taken away from her felt like a relief now that she had accepted it.

"Do you think these rules will work?" Harry asked her curiously.

"You mean… do I consent to them?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said with a nod, "You haven't set any limits yet."

Hermione shifted in his arms.

"Can I, Master?" she asked him uncomfortably.

"That's not how limits work," Harry told her with a frown. "I don't get to have input on your limits. That's why they're a limit."

"Then…" Hermione frowned as well. "Then I don't want to set a limit, I want to… let you know about a preference, Master."

"Er…" Harry looked at her confused, "Alright then."

"I don't handle pain that well," Hermione said. "I mean… I've had fantasies about you choking me, or slapping me, or using a flogger, but my preference would be for the more painful activities to be reserved for punishments."

"What do you mean by more painful activities?"

"I guess…" Hermione thought for a moment. "I guess I mean anything that would leave a bruise."

"I see," Harry responded, searching her face. "What about the mental aspects? Punishments reinforce behavior," Harry observed. "How comfortable are you with me altering your behavior like that?"

"You mean, changing me?" she asked.

"That's part of what punishments do," Harry explained to her. "They teach. They create little seeds in your mind that make you go, 'no wait, I don't want to do that actually' the next time you think about doing it. The way Michael explained it, over a long enough period of time, that kind of conditioning can actually change the way that you think."

"I'd read something about that," Hermione observed.

"So then, how comfortable are you with that?"

Hermione thought for several moments.

"Truthfully, it's both terrifying and exciting. I like the person that I am—"

"I do too," Harry interjected, causing her to smile.

"Thank you, Master. Having you… train me, change how I think… a part of that is terrifying because I have no idea what I might change into. But another part of it is exciting, because as much as I love being yours to the very core of my soul… I've only really been living a life like that for the last week or so." She reached up a hand and placed it on Harry's arm. "It's exciting to think about this kind of life feeling… normal. Feeling like the kind of normal that I've been living until now. And for that to happen I would definitely have to change the way that I think." She paused. "Or rather, you would have to change the way that I think."

"That makes sense," Harry agreed.

"I think…" Hermione glanced to the side, internally debating, "I want you to train me. To change me. However you like. And if it starts to be something that I don't want, I can talk about it then. As it is, I don't really have a good way to answer, so 'cautiously forward' seems like the best route."

Harry nodding, pulling her in for a hug.

I hope I never get used to how wonderful her body feels against mine.

Harry pulled back and gently shifted Hermione off his lap.

"I'm sure the last week was a whole lot of things you're not used to, but no version of Hermione would ever fail at her studies." Harry stood, a confidence in his body language that was honestly quite breathtaking to Hermione. "If you're mine, then everything you do is a reflection of me, so I'm going to make sure you maintain that same standard of coursework." Harry motioned towards the chair he had been sitting in at the desk. "Sit, pet."

Hermione got into the chair promptly, her excitement building quickly.

"You," Harry started, leaning in close to her face, "are going to spend the next three hours studying at this desk. And then?" Harry leaned in further and whispered in her ear. "Rule Six."


"How do you think they're doing?" Elizabeth asked as she was finishing with the dishes. The question came out conversationally, but it was clear to Michael that she was concerned by her inflection and body language. He had spent decades becoming familiar with her body language, now that he thought about it. At times, she wasn't allowed to speak with words, and he had learned to be very good at reading her non-verbal cues.

"They're managing, I'm sure," Michael told her. "Harry and Hermione are both mature for their age, and they both have a pretty good idea of what they want. Harry learned quite a bit last week." Michael walked over and wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, pulling her close. "What's bothering you, pet?"

"It's just…" She let out a long sigh. "Did we do the right thing?"

"With Hermione, you mean?"

"With both of them."

Michael sighed, avoiding his instinct to make a joke as he understood she was expressing a serious concern.

"I honestly don't know, pet," he said softly. "Harry didn't get as much of a choice as I would have liked. Sure, we didn't push him really, and we made sure that he had the chance to say 'no' at every point, but… from what I've heard about Harry from Hermione, and what I've seen the last week… I worry that maybe he didn't know how to say no to an adult when he got here." Michael released his arms from Elizabeth and she turned around to face him. "You know I was already uncomfortable with this," Michael paused, "I know you were too, Liz."

Elizabeth's eyes softened at hearing her name.

"Hermione didn't give us much time to make a decision," she said.

"No," Michael agreed, "I suppose she didn't." Michael thought for a few moments. "Hermione forced our hand a bit. I was terrified that if we didn't do something she would act on her own urges eventually in an unhealthy way. But…" Michael frowned, "I still would have preferred to not be so involved in my daughter's teenage sex life."

"Michael, teenagers have sex with each other… we both knew that was probably going to happen eventually with Hermione off at her school, away from her parents for ten months a year."

"I know, Liz." Michael was quiet for a few seconds before letting out a chuckle. "Harry is pretty lucky."

"To have Hermione?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Well, that too," Michael agreed, "but I was actually thinking that he is lucky he's such a good kid. I don't know if I could have spent a whole week training a teenage boy on how to, uh, please Hermione if he'd been a little shit."

Elizabeth gawked for a few seconds before letting out a clipped laugh.

"Michael, you know luck had nothing to do with it," she told him. "He was the one Hermione chose. You know that she wouldn't choose a bad one. Not bad like that."

"No, you're right," Michael said with a grin. "In the end… I guess it's ultimately up to them to make it work."

"As it should be," Elizabeth agreed with a nod.

Another silence passed and Michael's eyes widened as he suddenly looked around the room.

"The house is empty," Michael said, sounding bewildered.

"Yes… since yesterday."

"No, pet," Michael said, the emphasis straightening Elizabeth's spine automatically. "The house is empty."

"Oh," Elizabeth responded softly, "Of course, Sir."


Bertha Jorkins was not described by very many people as intelligent. She didn't always keep her wits about her, and was notoriously forgetful and aloof, but despite that, she was quite observant. It's part of what made her so nosy in fact. She couldn't just leave something alone once she noticed it, and she noticed quite a lot.

So it wasn't too surprising to Peter that only seconds after the witch happened to walk into the same inn while traveling Albania that he was at, she look at him and recognized his face. The only thing that didn't send Peter immediately into the panic he was all too familiar with these days was that her need to know would make her walk over and question him instead of immediately contacting the Ministry like many other officials would have done.

"Peter Pettigrew?" she asked, walking up to him. She looked at him with a mix of self-importance and curiosity. "What are you doing here? Or anywhere. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I—I was afraid for my l-life!" Peter declared, thinking quickly. His master was waiting in the forest for him to bring back supplies. The inn was too crowded and public for him to attempt to overpower her, but perhaps if he could convince her to follow him… "Sirius went mad!" he said, deciding to lean on the same lie he'd thought up during his time as a rat. "Once I'd heard he'd escaped, I knew Britain wasn't safe for me." Peter leaned in, as if about to share a great secret. It had the desired effect, as Bertha leaned in as well. "He followed me here," Peter told her. "Murdering scoundrel tried to finish the job, but I knocked him out. I was in town to owl the Ministry, but since I have an official of the Ministry here right now, I could just take you to him."

Nearly any other witch or wizard in this situation would have had some important questions. Where were you the last 13 years? Why were you afraid for your life while Sirius was still in Azkaban? How did Sirius find you? But not Bertha. Not poor, simple Bertha.

She hadn't always been this way. In Hogwarts many of her teachers would have described her as rather sharp, and she'd advanced in the Ministry early on through her effectiveness at her position. But a fateful encounter long ago had left her mind half-broken, and though he didn't know it, Peter was about to benefit from that.

Bertha had flashes of what it would be like to be the one to bring in Sirius, while on holiday no less, run through her head, and the sensible questions others might have asked deserted her.

"Take me to him," she declared importantly. "You've done an excellent thing here Peter. I'll make sure to pass on a good word for you at the Ministry."

Peter nodded agreeably and stood up to leave.

The barkeep, who had noticed the rather strange looking woman walk in wearing some funny clothes, watched once more as she left almost immediately with the shifty looking man who had just picked up some food and drink to go. He blanched at the thought that the odd pair might be engaging in some 'activities' together, and tried to put it out of his mind.

It was fitting in a way. The last person to see Bertha Jorkins alive as she walked out the door and into the night tried to forget about her, a talent that seemed to come to her naturally.


Hermione's brows were furrowed as she looked between three different tomes she had spread out. What she was looking for wasn't strictly part of the assignment, but the topic didn't make much sense to her without this piece. Most of her 'extra' work was of that nature. She didn't do extra work for its own sake. She didn't like work, she liked understanding. She liked knowing.

When she went beyond the required reading, it was usually because she needed to in order to learn it to her own satisfaction. After three years of assignments, Hermione was beginning to wonder if the assignments were secretly designed that way on purpose, so that a lazy study could get by, but only the students who truly wanted to learn would actually gain the knowledge itself.

"Time's up," Harry's voice called out from the door. The voice startled Hermione a bit, but then she realized what he'd said.

"One minute, I'm almost finished," she said, scanning the pages.

The sound of approaching footsteps grabbed her attention, and when she turned Harry was standing next to her looking displeased. She watched, perplexed, as he reached towards her head as if he was going pet her. But as his hand trailed through her bushy hair, his fingers closed, and he gently, but firmly, pulled her head back by the mane.

"Rule six," Harry said slowly, "was three hours of studying. Not three hours and one minute. What you want from me, what you've asked me to do, is to own you completely. That's why I wanted to make absolutely sure that you agreed to the rules before. But you agreed to them fully, and you asked me to train you and discipline you. To change you. We'll start now."

Harry slowly pulled upward, her hair still in his fingers.

"Stand up, slut."

Hermione shot to her feet, her books entirely forgotten. Never in her life had Hermione gone from feeling normal to feeling aroused so quickly. What had her father done during that week to give Harry this kind of confidence and resolve? She attempted to drop her head and look down, which was her natural reaction to be chided by an authority figure, but Harry held her head back still so that her eyes were facing him.

He didn't look angry, or even disappointed. He looked… determined.

Oh Merlin, that's the face he gets when he's about to go off and do something courageous.

Nothing had ever made Hermione feel so small and powerless as being looked at by Harry with that expression.

"How much time are you allowed to study in one sitting, slut?" Harry asked evenly.

"Three hours, Master," she replied breathlessly. She could feel the heat and moistness starting to pool in her center. Oh please… let him be about to fuck me.

"Not three hours and one minute?" Harry asked her, using a voice that would be patronizing in some situations, but felt delightfully in control now.

"No, Master."

Harry's eyes darted back and forth between her own for several seconds, before his free hand came up and gave her a slap across the face. It wasn't that hard, it barely even stung, but it was surprising. And it was exactly the kind of thing she had fantasized about.

She was sure he could see the appreciation in her face, but her mind had quickly calibrated to the situation, to her role as the slave, and she knew what she needed to say next.

"Thank you, Master. Please punish me as you see fit."

"Punish you?" Harry asked, sounding amused. "No, slut. I'm going to use you."

He started walking towards the bed, and Hermione realized too late that he was still holding her hair. She stumbled, but kept herself from falling, and a few steps later when they got to the bed Harry tossed her onto it.

"Position One."

Wrong. Everything felt wrong. Hermione quickly got herself into the correct position, though it meant she couldn't see his face any more. She could hear him though, and it seemed like he bent down and inspected her exposed and spread cunt.

"If you were any more wet, you'd be ruining the sheets," Harry commented. Hermione's face flared in embarrassment. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes, Master," she answered with a groan.

"Being slapped?"

"Yes, Master."

"Having your hair pulled?"

"Yes, Master!"

"Being put in your place?"

"Yes, Master!"

"Being treated like a slave?"

"Yes, Master!"

His words were only egging on her need, but the collar made her hold the position, unable to do anything about it.

"Good girl."

She heard Harry step away and grab something, and then her heart practically sang as she heard him remove his clothes. When he returned, the plug was thrust in front of her face.

"Get it wet," he commanded. She opened her mouth and Harry pushed it in, not being entirely gentle about it to her surprise and satisfaction. After a few seconds he yanked it out of her mouth, and she drew a gasping breath. She got about three lung fulls before she felt the plug being pressed against her hole.

Where was this last night!? That was all she could think before Harry pushed the plug in, drawing a yelp from her throat.

"Don't forget to ask permission," Harry said.

Permission? For wh—

"Ahhh!" Hermione half shouted and half moaned as Harry pushed his cock inside her in a single thrust. She felt like she could almost cum right there.

Permission to cum… he meant permission to cum…

Harry reached up and put one of his hands around her throat, not really applying pressure, more using it as a way to keep some leverage, and began to thrust in and out.

"This is what you wanted slut," Harry told her, grunting as he kept a steady pace. "Not to have sex… To be fucked. To be used. To be a glorified sex toy."

"Yesss MASTer!" Hermione agreed deliriously. Her eyes widened as she felt his hand start to tighten around her throat ever so slightly.

"To be degraded." The pressure was enough to be distracting. "To be humiliated." Now her breaths were coming in a little more difficult. "To be owned."

"Yes… Master…" Hermione agreed in a raspy, strained voice. Harry buried himself and leaned forward so that she could see his face. He stared directly into her eyes with an intensity that made it difficult for Hermione to hold back her orgasm.

"Are you close?"

"Yes… Master…"

"You better not fucking cum until I tell you to," Harry warned her. He started thrusting again, holding her throat at this point where she could only just breathe. Hermione put all of her focus into holding back the approaching wave, but to her dismay she didn't think she'd be able to hold on much longer. Just as she was about to beg, truly and honestly beg, to be allowed to orgasm, she felt his movements start to get more jerky.

"Please…" was all she could get out.

"Cum on my cock, you whore."

Hermione didn't just cum on demand, she lost all control over her body and briefly blacked out. Surely the hand around her throat contributed to that, but the experience was nearly as intense as the edging session she'd had on her first day with her mother. Her body had fallen out of position, and there was that wrongness in the back of her mind, but the pleasure was too intense for her to care.

As the waves crashed over her, she felt Harry jerk, and seize. When she finally came back to her senses and was able to pull her body back into position, Harry was laying on top of her breathing heavily.

"T-Thank you… M-Master-r," she said, a goofy grin on her face, her body still twitching occasionally.

Harry pushed himself up and pulled out slowly, leaving Hermione feeling empty. Incomplete, almost.

"Open your mouth," Harry instructed. She did so without even thinking.

She felt his fingers run along her cunt before he brought them up and pushed them between her waiting lips. They were slimy, and tasted…

He's… he's feeding me his cum… his cum that's dripping out of my… my used cunt…

After swallowing, Harry reached down to scoop up some more, and Hermione smiled before opening her mouth again, with only one thought left on her mind.

This slave is the property of Harry Potter.

"I love you, slut," Harry said, his voice full of affection. Hermione felt tears welling in her eyes. She never would have imagined hearing those words for the first time in a situation like this, but it was perfect.

"I love you too, Master."


Author's Note: First of all, apologies again for the gap in chapters. Going forward, this story will be updated on the first Saturday of every month. My new update schedule is explained here:

patr eon -dot- com (slash) posts (slash) update-schedule-24008341

(You'll have to remove the space in the domain name, FFN is shitty.) Updates will be on Saturdays, with each story getting one chapter per month.

I'll be posting little updates on my and using it as something like a blog, so even if you don't want to or simply can't sign up for one of the subscriptions, you can still follow it for free and keep up to date on what's going on.

Another good place to keep up on things is on my Discord server, where I have been hanging out again since the beginning of the year. You can join it here:

Server Code: TQ25x5u

To all of those who are reading again after months of waiting, I love you. My most sincere appreciation goes out to you for finding something of value in the things that I write.

Special Thanks: A special thanks to Valter and MatrimKnotai over at [Pat reon] who very generously signed up to support my work before I'd even officially returned with a new chapter.