Word Count: 1179

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome / Captivity / Murder

Loss of Control

She'll be coming to visit me again soon. I think. I hope. Time goes by differently now. I don't even know if it's night or daytime. I don't know if it's Monday or Thursday. I don't know if it's May or December.

I don't know how long it's been since I was brought here. I don't care any more. I've long since accepted that this is the life I'll always lead.

And… It's not so bad. I think, in her own way, she really loves me.

I fought her at first. I bit, I scratched, I kicked. Everything and anything that I could think of to keep her away from me. She liked it, I think. Maybe that's why she's kept me for so long.

She told me that she'd break me, and I think that she enjoyed every second of it. Not that I am broken.

Far from it, in fact.

She… I fell in love with her.

That's why I stopped fighting her.

…

I hear footsteps in the room above me, and excitement courses through my very veins. She's here. I kneel by the door, just the way that I know she likes me to, and I await her with my head bowed, my chin almost touching my chest.

I hear the door creak, and I can feel her. She fills the room with her presence every time. She's so strong, so dominant.

She's amazing.

She strokes my head, before she tells me to rise. I stand in front of her, my head still bowed. I long to look at her, to let my eyes roam over the sheer perfection that is her, but I'm not allowed, and I know that.

Not until she gives me permission.

"Hermione."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You may raise your eyes."

"Thank you, Mistress."

She looks beautiful. Her dark eyes are filled with lust and amusement as she stares at me. I can see specks of something else in her eyes, and while nobody else would even dare to think it, I know that it's love.

She loves me. I know she does.

She leads me to the small sofa that sits in the middle of my room, and she sits down. I sit on the floor at her feet, and she pats me on the head in approval.

I smile slightly. I love to please her, because when she is happy, I am happy. My life, my love, everything I am depends on her happiness.

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

I look at her curiously. She's holding a small package in her hand, and I'm not sure what to do. She's never fetched me a gift before, and I don't know how to react.

Her presence alone is a gift for me, and she knows that.

"Mistress?"

"Take it, Hermione. It is a gift. It's yours."

"Thank you, Mistress."

I take the package, and try to quell the shake in my hands to no avail. With care, I unwrap the gift slowly; I don't want to rip the paper. If she took the time to wrap it, then I must not be careless with it.

Any time that she spends on me is to be cherished.

A book. An old book, filled with Wizarding Folklore.

A flash of memory of the life that I lived before she fetched me here rushes through my mind, rocking me slightly. I push it away before it can pull me deeper. I have no need for such thoughts.

"Thank you, Mistress. I love it."

"Hmm. I am… pleased that you like it, my pet. Perhaps you should thank me properly?"

She is being wonderful to me, today. Perhaps it truly is my birthday. Either way, I am not stupid, and I will take advantage of any kindness that she sees fit to bestow upon me.

As her hard kiss presses against my own, soft lips, flushes of pleasure fill my entire body.

…

She allows me to lie with her afterwards. A rarity to be sure, and I'll make sure to memorise every moment of it. She strokes her hand through my hair as we pant slightly in the aftermath of the wonderful pleasure we shared.

This is what I am here for. This… closeness, and the pleasure that comes before it. This is why I no longer wish for escape.

She leans to the side, and my heart clenches. She's going to leave me alone again now. My life comes in flashes of colour, with long periods of black and white as I wait for her to come.

She isn't leaving though. She is picking up the book that she gifted me. She's opening it, and she's reading it to me.

She… she loves me. My eyes fall closed as her voice washes over me, and sleep claims me as its own.

…

Bella stopped reading as Hermione's breathing evened out. She had fallen asleep, and Bella smiled slightly. Careful not to wake her, Bella moved slowly from the bed, taking her time to get dressed.

It had been ten years since she'd taken Hermione from the battleground. She'd been injured badly, and had Bella left her in the grass, there was no doubt that she would have died.

Nobody would have found her in time.

Bella had felt an odd pull to the Mudblood, and in a spur of the moment decision, had whisked her away.

Of course, at first, Hermione had fought tooth and nail to escape. It had been fun. Somewhere in that time though, Bella had felt the hardness around her own heart softening, and without warning, she'd found herself in love with her prey.

She kept Hermione in the basement of a long forgotten Black property. An elf provided her with water and food. Bella stayed away for as long as she could, only returning when the pull became too hard to deny.

She would visit whenever that happened, and she'd take her anger out on Hermione. The lack of control was particularly galling. Insane though people believed her to be, she'd always had control over herself.

Occasionally, on days such as today, she would be tender in her lovemaking with the young witch. As tender as she could be. Today, there was an additional reason.

Bella was sick and tired of feeling so out of control. She'd tried every other way that she could think of to stop herself from feeling such… things, but nothing seemed to work.

Hermione had buried herself into Bella, and she refused to leave.

Walking to the door, she paused when she reached it and then turned back slipping her wand into her hand. She watched as Hermione stirred, stretching herself out. The small smile on her face disappeared, when she realised that Bella was no longer beside her.

As Hermione opened her soft brown eyes, Bella watched as a tear fell to her dewy cheek.

A flash of green lit up the room, and the reason for Bella's lack of control was no more.

Now she could live as she was supposed to.

Alone.