Dangerous Games

Chapter 7: Halloween- Trick or Treat?

The Halloween feast was perfect with tarts, ice cream, ham, candied apples and carrots, bowls of assorted candies, and jugs of iced pumpkin juice every two meters down the table. Wizards and witches were laughing and talking loudly, relishing the rare festivity of the eerie floating Jack-o'-lanterns and the occasional ghost appearing from the ham. A rather younger, more handsome Flitwick had charmed the columns to spout orange and black sparks when it got too quiet. And to add to the atmosphere, the enchanted ceiling above showed a bright full moon. Almost everyone was in high spirits; everyone, of course, but Hermione.

She had been shunted to the end of the Gryffindor table and those who sat next to her pointedly pretended she didn't exist. She was left alone with Time and Its Questionable Ethics.

Suddenly, she felt a finger poking her on the shoulder. Hermione turned. The leader of the girls that usually surrounded Riddle, the girl who she now knew as Cenia, was focusing her eyes about three inches above her head with a contorted face.

"Join us," Cenia said emotionlessly.

"Beg pardon?"

"You don't seem to be having a good time on this august occasion," Cenia muttered sardonically, "so I want you to join us at our table." Cenia gestured to the Slytherin table.

"You, or someone else?" Hermione retorted, twisting around to give Riddle her most evil glare. Riddle did not even look up from his meal, but Hermione could tell that he sensed her gaze. He was laughing into his plate.

Hermione whipped back to her seat and eyed Cenia suspiciously, ready to dismiss her, but stopped as she noticed the whole Hall was looking at her. In particular, her own table was practically malicious.

"Fine!" Hermione snapped at them. "If my fate has already been decided, why not? I'm condemned anyway!"

She stood up in a huff. Her chair screeched against the floor. She gathered her book and her sack and headed toward the Slytherin table.

"Traitor," spat Minerva.

"That's what you've said from the beginning, McGonagall!" Hermione yelled, not caring about the attention she was attracting. "But now I've been called that so often, I might as well live up to your expectations!"

And she stalked away, slamming her book onto the Slytherin table next to Riddle where he had reserved a seat. Hermione did not even ask him how he knew she would come.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," murmured Riddle as he passed a piece of ham to Hermione's plate.

"You can shut up, too," she snapped. "You haven't helped the situation at all. And stop it, I can serve myself; I have two hands."

"Fine," Riddle said, unfazed. He dropped the serving bowl of candied carrots onto the plate, causing the ham already served to her to flip off to the floor.

"I didn't mean for you to drop the bowl onto the side of my plate," said Hermione exasperatedly.

"Oh, my mistake."

As the Hall slowly lapsed back into its usual chatter after a few fountains of sparks, Hermione settled into Slytherin's rhthym.

"You're Charlotte, aren't you?" asked the boy to her right, a thin, withering young man. "You're really smart, aren't you? Smarter than Tom?"

Hermione stared at the boy.

Tom gave a throaty chuckle. "That's Nott. It will please you to know that you're rather popular in Slytherin common room conversation. Anyone who can earn more points than I from answers in the classroom merits gossip. Of course, your year coursework for the NEWTs has inspired some debate. And your dismissal of Animagism hasn't helped."

"I didn't dismiss, I-"

A hand creeped onto her upper thigh and squeezed.

Hermione squealed and kicked. The boy adjacent to her winced.

"That's Avery," Riddle introduced. "He's loyal to a friend, but never be a female and alone in the same room with him."

"If you touch me again," Hermione threatened, "I'll stab you with my fork and lick the blood from it. I'm in a vile mood." Indeed, she hadn't felt this awful since her third-year experience with the Time Turner.

Avery just grinned and slid his hand onto her leg again.

Hermione, to the shock of everyone, and more to herself, proved to be true to her word. The Slytherins, including Riddle, gaped at her as she caught Avery's other hand with her fork, almost impaling it. Then, with a satisfying, painful wiggle, she retrieved her utensil, dripping with a few drops of blood. And again true to her word, she let her tongue run along the front and back of the prongs.

"That's disgusting," commented Cenia, pulling a face.

Hermione grimaced, astounded at her own audacity. "You're right. I pity the vampire."

Riddle, who had been staring at Hermione's bloodstained mouth, suddenly broke into laughter.

Avery was mumbling a weak healing spell onto his wound with two bright red spots on his cheeks from being laughed at by his friend.

"One thing I've learned about Slytherins is that violence is the only thing you'll pay attention to," Hermione stated matter-of-factly in way of explanation. "If it works on Malfoy, it'll work on-" Realizing what she had said, she abruptly shut her mouth.

"You were saying?" Riddle goaded, his voice suddenly as smooth as honey. Hermione's eyes flickered to his, and she remembered suddenly that she was sitting next to Lord Voldemort.

"I have to leave," Hermione said quickly.

"Oh, no, stay," Riddle purred, his hand grasping her arm.

Hermione unsheathed her wand and pointed it at Riddle.

"Let me go."

Riddle slowly released her, his eyes burning.

"I don't know why I'm here," said Hermione, "but next time, let me be alone."

Riddle hissed, "As you wish. But I think you belong here, with us."

"I'm in Gryffindor, Riddle," Hermione articulated. "I'm wearing red; you're wearing green. That should tell you enough."

Riddle laughed again, but this time there was no mirth. "Why don't you set aside all these pretenses? You know this" -he spread his arms as if to embrace the entire Slytherin table- "is everything you've always wanted. To be accepted as you are instead of what others want you to be."

Hermione hesitated, then fixed her thoughts on the Gryffindors she remembered before, when she, Ron, and Harry had been the best of friends.

"No. I'm Gryffindor, whether you or I like it or not. And I'm going."

She began to stride out of the Hall when she felt her shoulder taken into the grasp of a strong hand. She wheeled around to stare straight into the black eyes of Riddle.

"So you aren't content in your own House." It was not a question.

She wrenched herself away and ran out.

~888~

That night, Hermione could not even get to sleep at all. She had quickly retreated behind the curtains of her four-poster. No one had even noticed her.

She mused over the events of the day, from the words she had exchanged with Minerva and the Gryffindors, then with Riddle and the Slytherins. As her thoughts slowed, she realized she did not really belong anywhere in Hogwarts. When she had had someone who was a good friend, who cared for her, about her, and for whom she could care, she had been so much more content with herself and where she had been Sorted.

She remembered the countless times she had covered for Harry and Ron, beginning with the close encounter with the mountain troll. Then she remembered when Harry and Ron had been personally affronted whenever Malfoy had taunted her about her parentage; when both the boys had protested when she had had that short, uneventful, foolish fling with Viktor Krum; then when she had gone through the year of the O.W.L.s, they had dragged her away from her books almost constantly despite her insistant protests.

Hemrione laughed softly. She had not really needed to study for those levels. She had already known everything on the exams and had passed with flying colors.

Suddenly, she sighed. She might as well do her swim now. She grabbed her bathing suit and quickly removed her nightdress to change.

In a few minutes, she had supplied herself with her Warming Charm and towels and was already halfway down the hill on which the castle was perched.

With the Warm Charm, the water was refreshing, cool, and reassuring. In the full moonlight, almost everything was visible in a silver muted color. Her strokes were swift and smooth; she could feel the bubbles under her that betrayed the presence of the squid.

"It's after curfew, you know. I wouldn't have thought you Gryffindors would break the rule so blatantly."

Hermione spluttered, breathing in a mouthful of lakewater in her surprise. The squid helped her regain her balance.

"Riddle!" she exclaimed.

Chapter 8: Quid pro quo

"Who did you think I was?" Riddle asked, bemusedly raking his eyes over the singular situation in which Hemrione had found herself. "Your face, it was positively delighted. Who did you think you saw?"

"None of your business," snapped Hermione, dipping neck-deep into the water. "What are you doing here?"

Riddle stiffened in mock pompousness. "Fulfilling my duty as Head Boy. When someone is out of bed after hours, I have an obligation to investigate."

"Oh, get off your high horse and answer my question." Hermione was in a bad position, half-naked, Gryffindor, pariah, and already under Riddle's scrutinization and (she hated to admit it) influence.

Riddle shrugged off his casual, joking demeanor for a cruel, somber countenance, unnervingly perceptive and constantly searching. "Fine," he said coldly, "but you didn't answer my question."

Hermione locked eyes with Riddle and began trembling, rippling the water slightly. She did not know how Harry did it. Harry!

"I thought you were Harry," she said, surprised at her own self-awareness and at the comparison between the two.

Riddle narrowed his eyes.

"You thought I was Harry on the train as well. Why?"

"You look alike," Hermione answered truthfully. "Sort of. I guess I just hoped beyond hope that you were he. But then I had to come back to cruel reality." She glared at him.

Riddle's face broke into a more comfortable expression. "They say you have the Sight, Charlotte," he said, almost to himself. "I'm curious about what you said about a Malfoy."

Hermione looked away and began to swim along the shore, ignoring him.

Riddle flanked her mercilessly, his honey-sweet words boring into her brain as easily as if he were right next to her, whispering in her ear.

"I'm aware that you say you're a transfer from Mab's Circle, but you'd also said you knew a Malfoy who was in Slytherin. While all Malfoys have indeed been Slytherins, the last Malfoy graduated from Hogwarts seven years ago, and his child, Lucius, has only just been born. So it strikes me as suspicious that you should know a Malfoy. Tell me, Charlotte, dear, how would you have had an actual encounter with one of the Malfoy family in Hogwarts?"

Hermione tried to swim faster, but Riddle kept pace.

"Who is this Harry?" Riddle asked softly. "I hope it's not a pet name for that oaf, Hagrid."

"You leave Hagrid out of this, Riddle," Hermione snarled. "You've done enough to him by framing him for setting loose the basilisk of Slytherin and shattering every single dream he had. And me, you sent the basilisk after people like me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't curse you out of existence."

In fury, she dived into the opaque shroud of the water and stayed under as long as she could, then broke the surface of the water, the moon sparkling against her slick, wet skin. When she had brushed the water out of her eyes, she looked up to see Riddle's mouth slightly open, staring intently at her. He licked his lips self-consciously.

"You are truly an enigma, Charlotte Shannen. A pendulum, swinging from facade to truth, Gryffindor to Slytherin, studious to violent, friends to solitude, serenity to anger, and" -he grinned- "from nothing extraordinary to a beautiful nymph in the moonlight."

Hermione gaped, shocked speechless.

"Who is Harry?" he asked, taking advantage of her state.

"A friend from my old school. A great wizard." Hermione tried to add a little venom into the 'great,' but the venom was weak against this experienced serpent.

"Glad to hear he's not Hagrid," Riddle said, shuddering. "I can't see you kissing him without imagining how big your baby would be."

Hermione began spluttering, "Wha-? You conceited, audacious snake! For one, Hagrid is just a great friend, better than anyone else here, that's for sure, and he didn't deserve any of the judgement you or everyone else gave him. Second, my personal and sex life is none of your business, as I said. Third, Harry doesn't like me that way, and the feeling is mutual-"

Riddle interrupted, "I don't pity him if he doesn't recognize the treasure he had right in front of him."

"And fourth, I don't appreciate your flirtation. In case you haven't noticed, I don't care to have you around me. I hate you, for what you are and what you're going to be." Hermione nearly bit her tongue after that. She was going to have to be very careful what she said to him when she was angry. It was too easy to slip when she began yelling at him all the things she had always wanted to say to him.

''You didn't mind this evening."

"I don't know what demon possessed me," Hermione snarled snippily, "but I don't want you to ever pull a stunt like that again."

Riddle smirked incredulously. "I pulled the stunt? I only invited you. You decided to explode over Minerva; you came to sit with us; you stabbed Avery and licked his blood from your fork; you answered all the difficult question I couldn't answer; you're the one who is using the Sight as an excuse. I did nothing, only observed."

Hermione lunged at Riddle in her urgency; he was too close to deducing her predicament. He unsheathed his wand and shouted a spell. She felt the fabric of her bathing suit slowly receding.

"Stop it!" she screamed, frantic.

"Relax, and I will, or else you'll find your virginal self completely naked in front of me."

Hermione let go of his throat, seething with rage, but not really able to do anything about it. Riddle had everything to his advantage.

"Better," he purred, looking over his workmanship. "You know, your robes don't do you enough credit."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, which was considerably more revealed than before.

"Now, Charlotte, my dear, I have a theory. Indulge me, and listen closely." He stepped closer, and she ran back into the water, concealing herself completely. "Oh, please, after what I just saw, there's little left to imagination. Not that the image hadn't crossed my mind before this. Now, are you going to humor me?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good girl. Then I'll begin:

"Your supposed cousin, Ivory, spilled to me that you came to her home two weeks before from distant family, but I heard quite an intriguing story from Hagrid. If you slip enough mead in his goblet, that oaf will tell you anything. He informed me that, contrary to the information from your little 'cousin,' you suddenly appeared out of nowhere near the third floor corridor stairs with bits of glass and sand in your hair. Interesting, the very objects that make up an hourglass. And then, the excuse of Sight and your NEWTs year coursework were dead-obvious giveaways. A forward Time Turner? Could be practical, especially for someone who has been trapped in the past. You've been very messy." He raised his eyebrows emphatically and waited for Hermione's reply.

"Are you jumping to conclusions?" she asked quietly, clinging to hope like a sieve to sand.

"Of course, Charlotte," Riddle said, shrugging. "I've developed an odd habit of guessing. The only thing preventing myself from relinquishing it is that I'm usually right. And am I correct in thinking your real name isn't Charlotte?"

"It's my middle name," she whispered.

"'I hate you for what you are and what you're going to be,' you said. What am I going to be, girl? Specify."

"I can't tell," said Hermione, swimming backward toward the middle of the lake.

"You can't run from me, girl. If you're not going to answer any of my other accusations, at least tell me you real name! It would be better than calling you 'girl' all the time!" He had to shout now as Hermione reached the center of the water. "I won't tell anyone else! I just want to know!"

Hermione abruptly stopped swimming and tread water while watching him shout. She sighed, thinking quickly, then, deciding there was no reason to continue to hide it from him, she yelled back her name, "Hermione!"

Riddle smiled. Then, without warning, he pointed his wand at his feet, then walked out onto the water.

"The Bubble-Foot charm," Hermione hissed to herself. "Should have know he would be that resourceful."

"Then, Hermione, are you going to confirm any of my other suspicions?" Riddle inquired hopefully.

"You wish," Hermione replied. She turned away, gasped. "Oh, look!"

Riddle complied, and his eyes widened.

A unicorn, sparkling white and chaste, was staring at them from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"I haven't seen a unicorn since third year," Hermione whispered in awe.

"I don't reckon that one's going to come closer, even if you are a young virgin maiden. I've got two strikes against me already."

"Eww," Hermione squealed. "That's a picture I did not want to see. Who would be that stupid?"

"I resent that," said Riddle goodnaturedly. "Lydia, Cenia, and Jezebel didn't seem to mind."

~~

...we were keeping the women off him as best we could, for they were as wild as harpies.

-Robert Louis Stevenson DR. JEYLL AND MR. HYDE

~~

Hermione gagged. "I told you that was a picture I didn't want to see."

"And that's my problem, why?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Oh, never mind."

They were silent for a minute, watching the unicorn. The pure creature leaned down to the water drink.

"You were right about almost everything," Hermione confessed abruptly, grabbing hold of Tom's ankle so she could stop treading water. "Let's go back."

Riddle looked down tenderly and reached out, offering Hermione a hand. She took it gratefully, and he pulled her up until she was out of the water. He applied the Bubble-Foot charm to her feet, then gave her his own outer robes. Hermione was shocked at this new nobility, and she remained wary, but accepted the gifts willingly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She did not have long to wait. The minute her foot touched dry ground, Riddle had whipped her around.

"What do you know of my future?" he growled.

Hermione took his face sharping in her hands, her nails digging into his flesh. He winced.

"You tell me, Riddle. Why do you want to know?"

His skin flushed a bright red and in retaliation, he gripped her shoulders in his long thin fingers and answered with unaccustomed truthfulness.

"Ever since I first came to Hogwarts and saw what I can do, this magic, this power, I've wanted more. And it's been given to me, more and more and more every year. It never stops. Above all, I want the world to know my name as the most powerful wizard since my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. What's wrong with power? Everyone wants a little power, even those weak people who have no more ambition than a doorknob. I just want to reach my climax, where my power will stop coming to me. I want to know where that is. I have not arrived there yet, the power just keeps amassing. Light, practical magic isn't enough to satisfy my hunger, my need for power. You don't understand, none of you Gryffindors do. You look down on anyone with even a speck of ambition as inferior because we work, oh yes, we work for what we want. Have you ever looked around your common room and just seen a lump of good-for-nothings, who, when they can, prefer pleasure to power? What you people like you live for, I might ask." He seemed keen to continue, but he composed himself.

"And now, Riddle," Hermione interjected, "what did you plan to accomplish from a wizard's duplication of Dr. Jekyll's experiment? What personality do you desire to bring forward?"

Riddle grinned, rubbing his thumbs along her collarbone. "So you know the reference from where I acquired my idea. I think you know my intentions, Hermione. I really think you know."

Hermione sighed, releasing his face. The skin had broken where she had held him, and small drops of blood welled there.

"Then, I think you'll understand why I can't tell you from what time I am, and anything about yourself. If you know, things could happen as they aren't supposed to happen. People might die when they're supposed to live. People might not meet when they're supposed to meet. It's just too dangerous. You know this."

Riddle caressed her cheek. "You're beautiful when you're concerned. And angry."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Viktor tried that already."

He let go of her shoulders, and Hermione finally realized how roughly he had touched her as she rolled her shoulders to take away the ache.

"Viktor. You must tell me more."

"It was a one-time insanity, and he appreciated me, but we did not get any farther than a kiss on my hand," Hermione explained. "Though I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Riddle chuckled. "My natural charm. Let me help you get back to your time. I'll research the special, hidden Slytherin library if I can."

"Help? Since when did a Slytherin ever help a Gryffindor? What do you want from me?"

Riddle stroked his chin, watched Hermione shiver as the Warming Charm began to wear off. He knew what he really wanted, but he felt that might have to wait. "Well, if I help you with your graduation project, I'd like help with mine. Quid pro quo, after all."

Hermione peered at him from under her lashes. "What help do you need?"

"Well," he said casually, "I've determined the ingredients for the potion and the procedure. So far, the effects of the potion will only be ephemeral, but that's all I want for now. I just need an extra pair of hands for the potion. If you'll be that other pair of hands, I'll aid your return to your own time."

"Could you... a year Turner?" Hermione asked.

Riddle nodded.

Hemrione looked at loss of what to say, but then she flung her arms around his neck and burst into tears.

"You'll help me?" she sobbed.

He patted her back awkwardly, unfamiliar with the position, though he found he rather liked it. "If you help me," he murmured softly into her hair. Suddenly, Hermione realized exactly who she was embracig and backed away quickly, fisting her tears from her eyes. She stared at him, battling between her knowledge of exactly what Riddle would become and what he seemed to be here.

Riddle began to step backward, and Hermione turned to see the cause. The unicorn had approached them and had aimed her horn at Riddle. It shook its head in mild anger, and Riddle continued his retreat. When the unicorn was sure that Riddle was a safe distance away, she squarely faced Hermione, gazing at the human girl with violet eyes.

The message was clear.

Be careful.

"I'll try," Hermione whispered. The unicorn bowed, then galloped away, a flash of almost incorporeal silver, supple strength.

Hermione smiled, then proceded to follow Riddle, Summoning her towel from the edge of the lake. She slid Riddle's outer robes and returned them back, slightly damper than before.

Riddle didn't mind.

"Why don't you just use a Drying Spell and get it over with quickly?" Riddle asked, stepping alongside her.

"One of its side effects," Hermione explained, "succeeds in making my hair bushier than it already it, so I don't bother."

Riddle laughed. "Why not perform an anti-frizz charm while you're at it then?"

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Anti-frizz charm?"

"When you sleep with three girls, you learn some of their cosmetic secrets." He twisted his face slightly. "Why do they ramble on about carnal pleasure when there isn't any really?"

"Can we change the subject?" pleaded Hermione.

"Ah, yes, let's protect those virgin ears," Riddle mocked, smirking.

"There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, Tom Riddle," she snapped. "What's the anti-frizz charm?"

"It's Inrizado, but my question was sincere. What is the talk implying while I've felt nothing but an annoying itch? All that touching and stroking, it seems like unnecessary friction."

Hermione grimaced and muttered, "I can't believe I'm going to explain sexual pleasure to the most evil wizard since Grindelwald." She sighed. "Let me try and describe this." She chewed on a nail for a moment. "If two people find that they enjoy each others' touch, their bodies will respond in a certain way, appealing to their more primeval nature. If they take pleasure in that response, their individual sexual centers will react in such a way that they... fit together, I suppose, you might say."

"And you're such a genius, are you?" Riddle grinned at Hermione's blushing.

"Dad had the 'birds and the bees' talk with me when I was ten."

Hermione pretended to be interested in a small rock along the hill to Hogwarts. She shivered, holding the towel closer to keep out the chill. It still had not occurred to her to reapply the Warming Charm, then following Riddle's advice. Above all, she was astonished by the basic camaraderie with which they conversed. Riddle noticed her neglect and he performed the Drying, Warming, then, to his own surprise, the anti-frizz Charm. She did not even realize his gesture, but opened the front doors to the Entrance Hall.

When she did so, she squealed slightly at the sight before her. Apollyon Pringle was standing there with more malice than Filch ever had.

"Ah, Pringle, have you had a successful night?" Riddle inquired easily.

"Riddle," Pringle growed, "I didn't see you."

Riddle added a little steel under his words as he said, "This girl is with me. Head Boy immunity."

Pringle gave Hermione a once-over, suspicous, but secretly pleased with her obvious half-nakedness. He waved them on silently, his eyes lingering on Hermione's curls, the result of Riddle's generous spell.

After they were out of earshot, Riddle rolled his eyes. "Lecherous old fool."

"Well, if you ask me, he may be lecherous, but at least he's not impotent," Hermione said nastily. This time she did bite her tongue, tasting blood, as he deliberately pressed her against the wall, eyes boring into her with fury, his face inches from hers.

"Don't... you... ever say that again, Hermione," Riddle seethed. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. I'm not impotent, I...just don't... feel anything." He let her go and averted his eyes. The vulnerability was an astonishing change that made Hermione look twice.

Hermione stored this into her memory; it might be the only time she would ever see Voldemort uncomfortable- embarrassed even. But she also made the mental note not to insult his masculinity again.

Really, what has gotten into you, Hermione, she asked herself, shocked at her own behavior lately.

"Well," said Riddle shiftily, "I guess I should let you go back to Gryffindor tower and sleep. I hope they don't give you too much trouble."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but replied, "Don't worry about me. I'm going to apologize profusely to them for that outburst."

"Fine then," said Riddle, and he stalked off.

Hermione stood there for a minute, watching him leave.

And she thought, What was that?

But, on a side note, she began using the anti-frizz charm ever after with a gracious heart.

~888~

Hitherto it had touched him on the intellectual side alone; but now his imagination also was engaged, or rather, enslaved[.]

-Robert Louis Stevenson DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

~888888~