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nauticalparamour · 7 years

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Strangers on a Train Tom x Hermione Rated M-ish. Warning: Character Death

Well, here is my contribution for @dulce-de-leche-go‘s Spooky Scary DulceWeen. If you’d like to read last year’s, you can click here.

Huge thank you to @hollowg1rl for alpha reading! Tagging some people who liked the sneak peek or I think just might be interested, but feel free to ignore if it’s not your cup of tea: @weestarmeggie17@sindhooora @perf-patricia @colubrina @katsitting @feelingsinvitae @ash-castle @nerysdax @kreeblimsabs @madziayeon @kakashizzle @evcrythings @tomriddlesnonexistentheart @holysheepfan @svalle099 @snipandsnail @calebski @jheeley @jasperandgemma @meowmerson @kristeristerin @littleredsiren3101 @browneyesandhair @bluecurls8 @bonafake @for-witchcraft-and-wizardry @geekmom13 @imsonick @itisariddle @katemaplebranch @littlemulattokitten @mechengmama @primruesabcd @queenvulca @sableunstable @synoir @thriftycrimson @worthfull1 @xxdustnight88 @ashenrenee

Stomping down the long hallway of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione Granger could feel her irritation only rising higher. She had hoped that walking away from Ron for a while might help her clear her head and keep her from hexing him. She wasn’t entirely sure how, but after only two hours of being in his presence again after a Weasley-free summer, Ronald had already made her flee for a bit of solitude.

Looking into the glass panels of the doors, she knew that she would be beyond lucky to find an empty compartment this late in the train journey, but she was willing to do basically anything at this point to put some space between her and her friend.

To her dismay, she was nearing the very end of the train, and had only one carriage left to find sanctuary. Pushing through the doors to the very last car, she paused for a moment, noticing that the overhead lights seemed to be flickering in time with the steady turn of the locomotive’s wheels. It was a bit eerie, to say the least, but she pressed on, hoping that she would turn up something. Unfortunately, this part of the train was just as full as the rest of it.

That was, until, she came to the very last compartment on the left. Looking inside, she saw just one occupant, a boy that she didn’t recognize. Biting her lower lip, Hermione waffled for a moment, before moving to open the door. Sticking her head in, she gave him a cautious look. “Erm, sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if I could join you for a while? All the others are full,” she lied, knowing that there was a perfectly good compartment further up the train holding her trunk that she could rejoin at any time.

The boy – or young man, really – looked up from the book that he was reading, and gave her a charming smile. “Of course, come in,” he said with a sweep of his hand to the empty bench opposite him.

Hermione cautiously returned the smile. “Cheers. I won’t disturb your reading, I promise,” she thanked him before taking her own seat and staring out the window. Watching the scenery rush by did little to distract her though, and before long she was sighing and grumbling, imagining all the ways that she could hurt Ron Weasley if she wanted.

After she sighed for what must have been the 100th time, the young man coughed, catching her attention, and she found him staring at her with intense blue eyes, a smirk on his face. “Sorry, but is everything alright? You seem quite upset.”

He seemed so sincere that she almost opened up without hesitation. But then, she really looked at him and Hermione realized that she actually had no idea who he was at all. He seemed that he might be about her age, but he hadn’t changed into his uniform yet, and his nondescript grey robes didn’t help to place him. Confusion on her face, she sat up a bit straighter. “I – I’m sorry, I don’t believe that we’ve actually met yet. I’m Hermione Granger,” she introduced, hoping that her shiny prefect’s badge would be it’s own introduction.

“I’m Tom,” he replied, still smiling, but not elaborating further. With his jet black hair, slightly tousled, he was really quite handsome. She was positive that she would have recognized him if she’d seen him before.

“What year are you, Tom?” she asked, hoping that she wasn’t coming across as rude.

“I’m a seventh year,” he said, eyeing up her Gryffindor tie. “Though, I am in Slytherin, so I doubt that we’ve had a reason to cross paths in the past,” he told her smoothly.

Hermione nibbled her lower lip, thinking that his explanation did seem to make sense. Perhaps he had just gone through an impressive growth spurt over the summer? Was he a late bloomer, the same as she had been? It felt a little bit uncomfortable to be sitting with him, knowing so little about him. “Hm, I suppose that’s true,” she conceded, eventually.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she decided that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if she opened up to this mysterious Slytherin about her issues. It would be good to get them off of her chest and he’d been decent so far. “I am a bit upset if I’m honest. My good friend Ron is the other Gryffindor prefect in our year, and he’s already slacking off. More or less told me that I could do all of the work for the pair of us, and then skived off our meeting so he could chat to Lavender Brown.” Hermione crossed her hands over her chest, really feeling quite annoyed still that he hadn’t even bothered to show up. “Sometimes he makes me so mad, I could just…ugh…kill him!”

Tom chuckled at her seeming to understand where she was coming from. “I completely know what you mean,” he said, his white teeth glinting perfectly behind an equally perfect smile. Merlin, he was so handsome. “I have had similar experiences.”

Hermione thought that was a bit of a weird thing to say, but she contented herself with looking back out the window, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on her. It was making her hair stand on end, and when her eyes finally darted back to his face, he was staring at her with a wide grin.

She was shocked when he suddenly stood up, stretching his long legs, before moving to sit in the seat next to her. “You know, Hermione, I had the funniest idea just right now,” he said, his voice having dropped an octave, making her shiver. She was uncomfortable having him sitting so close to her body, feeling his heat seep into her skin, being unused to this kind of male attention. “You and I both have someone that makes us mad enough that we could kill them,” he whispered conspiratorially, his nose scrunched up as if he were telling her a delightful joke. “But of course we couldn’t actually do it…we’d be the first suspects.”

“I didn’t actually mean that I wanted-”

Tom cut her off. “But there is a way around that, isn’t there? I could kill your Ronald, and you could kill someone for me. Both of our problems would be solved, and neither one of us would be traced back to the crime,” his voice was seductive and gravely, his hot breath trailing over her neck while he played with the ends of her hair.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, turning so that she could look at him. “Who do you want killed anyway?” she questioned, not entirely sure how to deflect from the topic at hand. Of course, he couldn’t be serious about killing someone, could he?

“Dumbledore,” he said, viciously, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She burst our laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Hahaha, yes, Tom. You kill Ron for me, and I will kill Dumbledore for you.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, standing up. “You know, Tom, you’ve cheered me right up. I am sure I can return to my friends now that I’ve had a laugh.”

He just smirked at her while she stood up, leaving the carriage, and Tom, behind her.

After her unusual meeting, Hermione didn’t see Tom again. She’d nearly convinced herself that she’d daydreamed the handsome seventh year Slytherin, a figment of her imagination to burn off some homicidal thoughts.

That was, of course, until Ronald Weasley wound up dead in the Great Hall.

It was well into October when it happened. She had waited in the Gryffindor common room for Harry and Ron, wanting to walk down to breakfast with them. Harry had come down confused, telling her that Ron’s bed was made, and he wasn’t anywhere to be found in the boy’s dorm.

“Well, maybe he got so hungry, he decided to go down early,” Hermione had quipped, knowing about their friend’s legendary appetite.

They’d walked down to the Great Hall together, chatting about their upcoming potions essay that Professor Slughorn had assigned. Harry was generally much more excited about potions now that he had his textbook, margins filled to the brim with notes and changes. It irritated Hermione to no end, partly because she thought it was cheating, and partly because he was doing better than her at the subject.

In retrospect, they should have known something was up when they entered the Great Hall. All of the other tables were empty, and everyone was crowded around the Gryffindor table. Upon seeing Harry and Hermione approaching, student parted, whispering, giving them access to the scene in front of them.

Hermione gasped when she saw it, her face transformed by the horror. Ron was laid out on the table, his face a horrifying shape of purple. His bright blue eyes were wide with horror, snot and dried tears covering his face. There was some shape lodged in his throat and a red apple had been forced between his lips. There was no hiding what had happened – he’d choked to death, but someone had done this to him.

Unable to look at it a moment longer, she felt tears spring to her eyes, and pressed her face into Harry’s shoulder. His arms wrapped around her provided her little comfort. She could still hear Lavender, Ron’s girlfriend, wailing. Before long, the Professors were shuffling everyone aside, telling them to return to their common rooms. In the jostling, Hermione was separated from Harry.

Immediately, she could feel dread settle in her stomach. She’d been positive that the mysterious Slytherin from the train had been joking…he hadn’t really intended that they kill people for one another, had he? An icy hand clenched itself around her heart when she realized she’d sarcastically agreed to the plan. Merlin, just what had she gotten herself into?

Scanning the crowd, she easily caught sight of him, leaning against one of the far walls, completely by himself. He was smirking at her, having just taken a bite of bright red apple, the same shade as the one in Ron’s mouth. Hermione stomped over him, feeling more and more nauseous with each step. When she got to his side, he was fully grinning at her. “Admiring my handiwork?” he quipped, clearly enjoying himself and the chaos that was unfolding before them.

“No! I can’t believe you killed my friend!” Hermione said, shoving her hand against his rather solid chest.

He gave her a patronizing little frown. “Oh, but Hermione, we had a deal. I kill your problem, and you kill mine, remember?” Before she could blink, his hand was pressing her hair away from her face, his fingers cupping her jaw lovingly….except for the thumb that was digging into her throat, just nearly cutting off her airway. Her eyes searched the room, hoping that anyone would see what was happening to her, but they were all still caught up in tumult of discovering Ron’s body. His face was transformed to something handsome to something much more sinister. “Now, I’ve held up my end of the bargain, Hermione,” he whispered into her ear.

Again, she looked around for anyone to help her, and she caught Ginny’s watery, shocked eyes. She tried to convey that she needed assistance, but to her dismay, Ginny was pulled into a hug by Luna Lovegood.

Another squeeze of her neck had Hermione’s attention snapped back to Tom’s face. “Now it’s time for you to do your part. Don’t disappoint me,” he demanded.

“I’m not going to kill Dumbledore,” she insisted weakly, bringing her hand up to his wrist, hoping to pry it off, but not getting very far with his iron grip.

“You will,” he said confidently. “You’ve seen what a convincing scene I’ve created here. Don’t you think that I could frame you just as easily?” His voice raised up a pitch, mocking some giddy school girl. “Of course Granger just snapped. Everyone knows how jealous she was that Weasley was dating Lavender Brown.” Another smile slipped on his face, as though he was positive he was going to get his way. Suddenly, her earlier joke about him being too hungry to wait for food tasted like ash in her mouth. “And if that’s not enough incentive, I’ll kill you next if you don’t.”

Pressing her further into the wall, Tom eventually released her from his hold, before walking out of the Great Hall. Hermione rubbed at her neck and wondered if she might have bruises. Knowing she didn’t have time to think on it, she paced over to where her friends were standing, Ginny now wrapped up in Harry’s arms.

“Ginny!” Hermione called, her eyes wild. “Did you recognize that boy I was just talking to? I think he might have had something to do with Ron’s…murder?” She questioned eagerly, before trailing off, hating the way that she’d just stomped all over social norms. Ginny was shocked, grieving, and here she’d just blurted out that Ron was murdered.

The redhead looked horrified, and then concerned. “Hermione, maybe you ought to go lie down…or talk to Madame Pomfrey,” Ginny sniffled. “I didn’t see you talking with anyone.”

The school was unequipped to handle a student death, especially one that was covered so publicly. Harry had stayed with Ginny until the Weasley’s could arrive, and the Professors had fluttered around them, trying to field their grief. Hermione had slipped through the cracks, having been told by the Head Girl to go to Madame Pomfrey for a calming draught and maybe a dreamless sleep potion.

She didn’t go.

Hermione had lied awake in her bed, unable to keep with the memory of Ron’s face still in her mind. Tom’s threats were heavy on her mind, and she was spinning different possible outcomes, many not looking too good for her. She’d thought about telling Harry for about thirty seconds before dismissing that idea out of hand.

In the darkness of her dorm room, one answer sprang to mind. Unfortunately, it meant reaching out to just about the last person that she wanted to: Professor Dumbledore. She just had to hope that he would listen to her and realize that she didn’t promise to kill him. Maybe he would have more information about just who Tom was, too.

Slippers on her feet, she crept down from Gryffindor tower through the halls of Hogwarts. The castle become increasingly terrifying the later it got at night. She navigated her way, avoiding Professors and ghosts alike, down moving staircases until she got to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office.

“Bertie Botts? Licorice wands? Pepper Imps?” Hermione tried offering up every wizarding confection that she could think of, but to no avail. Biting her lower lip, she knew it was imperative that she speak with Dumbledore as quickly as possible, but she was getting nowhere this way. Of course, it was against the rules to break into a professor’s office, but she needed to speak with him. Raising her wand, she shut her eyes tight. “Confundus.”

Her eyes opened back up at hearing the sound of the stone scraping against the wall, unable to believe that it had actually worked. Still, she eagerly raced up the stairs into the darkness of the Headmaster’s office, finding it empty. Another spell had the room bathed in the unnatural light from the tip of her wand.

Cursing another time, Hermione realized that Dumbledore wasn’t here, and she didn’t actually have any idea of where he slept so that she could wake him up. She had to let him know that his life was in danger, and worse that she knew exactly who was behind Ron’s murder. She wondered if he would understand how she’d gotten involved in the first place, or if he would understand that she’d all thought it was a big joke.

Before she was able to plan her next steps, the floo was flaring bright green and eerie. Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace, brushing his robes of any imaginary ash, before he was startled by Hermione’s presence. “Miss Granger, what are you doing here?” He asked.

She was unable to see his eyes, as the light of her wand was reflecting off of his half moon spectacles. “Professor, I am sorry for barging in here in the middle of the night, but I had something I had to tell you,” she bit her lower lip, hoping that she had made the correct assumption about the Headmaster. “Your life is in grave danger.”

A cool sensation slid down her spine like ice water. She could sense his presence before he even spoke. There was no second guessing who it was that had pressed their body against her’s, his hand coming around her wand arm, covering her hand. His breath tickled against her ear when he spoke. “I am so proud of you, Hermione. I didn’t think that you’d actually do it.”

“I’m not here to kill him, Tom!” She hissed, wondering how he’d gotten up to the office in the first place. “I’m here to stop you.”

“Who are you talking to Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked, his normally calm tone betrayed by a slight waver in his voice.

“Don’t you recognize him, Professor?” she questioned, hoping that he’d still be able to see the other boy, even in the darkness of the room. “He’s a Slytherin called Tom.” Belatedly, Hermione realized that she’d never gotten his last name…

“Miss Granger, Hermione…” Dumbledore continued, concern evident on his ghostly features. “There is no one else there, except you and me. Now, why don’t you put down your wand.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she shut her eyes closed tightly. How could Dumbledore say that there was no one else there? She could feel the hard wall of muscle behind her, she could feel the heat of Tom’s body seeping into her skin, she could feel his grip on her hand, pointing her wand at her Headmaster. Shaking her head back and forth, she tried to clear out her thoughts. “No!” she said firmly.

“Come on, Hermione, let’s do it together,” Tom whispered, and she could practically feel his smirk, even if she couldn’t see it. “You know the words, you know the wand movement. It would be so simple, and you’d just be holding up our end of the bargain.” She could feel him moving her arm, a quick zigzag pattern, refusing the let up.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The spell echoed in her head, along with Tom’s laughter, long after Dumbledore had fallen in a heap to the floor. She wasn’t sure if it was her or Tom who had said the words in the end, but she dropped her wand the same, feeling as though it had scalded her. What had she done? How had this happened? She’d only wanted to help Professor Dumbledore and in the end, she’d….

Her heart was pounding against her chest, a wild rhythm that she couldn’t see to gain control of. “What did you do?” She questioned, turning around and facing the young man who was supposed to be just another Hogwarts student. At this point, she knew that there was more than meets the eye.

“What did I do?” Tom laughed again, giving her a cheeky smirk. “Well, my dear, sweet Hermione, let me tell you. I’d been living at Hogwarts – a sad, hollow, remnant of a spirit – ever since Harry Potter tried to destroy my diary, biding my time. I’d gained some strength from Ginny Weasley’s soul, but never enough to become corporeal again.”

Hermione stared at him in absolute horror, the wheels in her mind turning rapidly while she pieced together what he was saying. “But that means…you can’t be…”

“Tom Riddle,” he pronounced with a self-satisfied smile. “Or as you might know me, Lord Voldemort.”

She pushed back from him, trying to get out of her grasp, only to nearly trip backwards over Dumbledore’s robes. Tom caught her, pulling her to rest against his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair, and his nose pressed to the crown of her head. It would have been a reassuring and welcoming gesture had it come from anyone but him. “Please let me go,” she begged, trying to get free, but to no avail.

“Your spirit called to me on the Express. You were so angry, and my spirit fed on that, allowing me to appear for you,” he whispered, and she could practically feel his proudness radiating into her. “And now that Dumbledore is dead, well, I’ve absorbed his energy, and I’m fully corporeal again. A second chance at life, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“No, no, no!” Hermione begged, knowing deep down that what he said was true, but not wanting to face the facts. She was ashamed that it was her anger at her friends that had allowed him to get a foothold in her mind. She never would have killed if it hadn’t been for him.

“Yes, Hermione,” Tom said indulgently, as if she were a misbehaving child. “Now the question is, what are you going to do? No one else has seen me, except for you, and everyone will think you’ve gone mad and killed Dumbledore. It was your wand, after all, that cast the fatal spell.”

As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that what he was saying was true. There was no way that she could explain the situation without ending up in Azkaban, as she didn’t think the Ministry would believe that she was possessed by the spirit of Tom Riddle. All they would see was someone who’d snapped and killed her best friend, and then her Headmaster. They would probably even use it as some kind of propaganda against muggleborns. She couldn’t allow that to happen. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted quietly.

“Come with me, Hermione. I will take care of you, and all will be well,” he offered in that sweet, crooning voice of his, the rumble of his words in his chest making her eyes droop as her adrenaline waned.

Helpless and without her wand, Hermione nodded, defeated. She allowed Tom to shuffle her to the fireplace, listlessly watching as he took a pinch of floo powder. “Riddle Manor,” he called out confidently, pulling Hermione into the Avada Kedavra green flames.

#spookyscarydulceween #strangers on a train #tomione #tom x hermione #halloween fic #oneshot #dulceween #dulceween2017 #spookyscarydulceween2017 #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #nauticalparamour

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im-a-monster-fucking-princess · 7 years

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Echoes of the Lost - Dulceween 2017

Woo hoo Halloween is here - massive thanks to @littlemulattokitten for beta’ing and encouraging me to write this for @dulce-de-leche-go dulceween :)

Hermione couldn't remember when she'd first started hearing the voices, though she was sure it had never happened before she'd entered the department of mysteries a few months prior.

She couldn't always hear what they were saying either. Sometimes the voices woke her up, even though the brief snippets of conversations she caught weren't clear. It didn't matter if the words were whispered or shouted in the dark, it was never just one voice and it was never coherent. But when she slept the voices were clearest.

Occasionally what she heard comforted her - though she could never remember exactly what it was that did. Other times what she heard had her waking up in a cold sweat with no concrete reason as to why.

Still she tried not to let the strange new development bother her - it wasn't like she was actually hearing the voices aloud. She was probably just stressed, wrung out and a tiny bit paranoid.

She didn't express her concerns to Harry and Ron because Harry had enough to worry about, with his extra lessons with Dumbledore. And Ron....Well Ron was too busy sticking his tongue down Lav Lav's throat to notice anything was amiss with one of his so called best friends.

One of the rare times she actually caught a coherent whisper, the voice muttered its opinion on Ron's maturity and soothingly stated all the ways Ron wasn't right for her. She found herself agreeing with that voice, and found that it helped her stop wasting time and tears on someone as immature and selfish as Ron.

So, she kept the voices a secret from everyone.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12575852

#SpookyScaryDulceween #dulceween #halloween 2017

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littlemulattokitten · 7 years

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The Game

*If you don’t like spoopy serial killer AUs, this is your warning.*

Day ?

Contestants Remaining: —

The hard crack of the light switch echoed through the metal panel on the wall and around the room. A low electric hum followed, fading into the background as more switches were flipped, more buttons pressed. A high frequency whine filled the room, increasing until the sound became too high for human ears and seemed to stop. Computer monitors blinked to life, their screens full of silent static until a button on the keyboard was held down. The sound of nineteen bodies breathing out of sync added to the quiet droning that filled the air.

Slowly, the monitors filled with images of rooms that were identical save for their inhabitants. Some were male. Some female. All of them were unconscious. None of them knew what awaited them when they awoke.

Dark eyes watched the last fuzzy monitor, the only monitor that mattered, as it’s camera feed came into view.

She looked healthy. She looked whole.

She was broken.

Another monitor, one that was unassuming except for the fact that it was as far away from the first as physically possible, showed a man. He looked peaceful, his dark blond hair askew in sleep.

It was ironic. He was whole.

But in time, he would crumble, shatter, fracture.

Break. And break. And break until he was nothing more than tiny pieces.

~~~~~

This was avoidable.

If blame is to be placed I place it with you.

I’ve accepted responsibility for my mistakes.

I’ve long since made peace with the consequences.

But you.

You. Took. Her. From. Me.

And I let her go.

~~~~~

Day 1

8:00 AM

Contestants Remaining: 19

Her head was full of cotton.

Limbs that weren’t responding as well as they should have been twitched outward as she tried to feel around for her bedside table. Her hands met something cold and hard, more like a floor than her nightstand. She squinted against the lights and waited for her vision to focus.

She was not in her bedroom.

Her panic set in mentally much faster than the effects were catching up with her body. It felt like several minutes had passed from the time she’d opened her eyes to successfully sitting up. Her head was still cloudy, buy she could think well enough even if she couldn’t move around properly.

Her back was pressed up against one of four plain, cold white walls. There was a door a few feet from where she sat, there was one across from her, and there was on to her left. Only the leftmost door had a knob. The others were smooth, and looked like single elevator doors, also painted white, and with no button panels.

She was on a plain twin sized mattress with a thin blanket and a single pillow. Two fluorescent lights, the kinds that lit hospital hallways and professor’s offices on college campuses, were on the ceiling. There was a speaker, painted white, directly above the center of the room.

There was a rectangular digital clock mounted above the door across from her. The time was in bright green letter and beside it, instead of the date, it simply said Day 1.

Hermione had absolutely no idea where the hell she was or why and nearly jumped out of her skin when a distorted voice came from the speaker.

Good morning, everyone.

Everyone? She stared up at the ceiling with blood rushing through her ears and muscles spasming in her stomach.

I do hope you all slept well.

She swallowed hard and tried to remember how to breathe even as anxiety crept up her chest.

Some of you are very energetic this morning. I would save that energy. You won’t be needing it for a few days yet.

“What the hell happens in a few days?” she muttered through numb lips. “What is this?”

My name is M. Just the letter. Very simple. Very easy to remember.

I have a puzzle for all of you. Each of you has a cubby panel in one of your walls. In a few moments, your panels will open. There will be a piece of paper and a single crayon. On the paper is a riddle. Write your answer with the crayon and leave everything in the panel.

Very, very easy. You have thirty minutes to turn in your responses.

There was a pause, during which Hermione eyed her walls a bit more closely and chewed her bottom lip. It sounded like this M person was using a voice modulator, which raised several questions. Why use an alias and hide your voice unless you thought you’d be recognized? Did that mean she and whoever else was…wherever they were, knew this person?

She jumped when M laughed.

Some of you have inquired about the…consequences of refusing to participate in my little activity.

You are more than welcome to decline and find out

But that will be the last thing you ever do.

Good luck.

Hermione stared at the ceiling in muted horror, not even jumping when the panel in the right wall slid open loudly.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the couch in her flat. She’d gotten lackluster take out and downed an entire pint of ice cream during a rerun of her favorite science show. But now she was trapped in a room with a madman who, apparently, would kill her if she didn’t complete his puzzle.

She wondered what would happen if she answered wrong as she went to the cubby in the wall to retrieve her puzzle.

I devour everything with no end in sight and I command everything from morning to night.

She frowned at the slip of paper and stuck the ‘grape juice purple’ crayon between her teeth. The paper wrapping was inconspicuous and so blatantly not name brand that she rolled her eyes. She assumed her captor wasn’t very careful with his funds and had blown his kidnapping budget before he’d gotten to the art supplies, and thus, he hadn’t been able to afford Crayola.

She hoped she lived long enough to find humor in off-brand crayons one day.

“I devour everything,” she read aloud. Fire didn’t command things from morning to night, so that was out. Time or ambition, maybe, but it seemed odd to her that the answer would be borderline philosophical.

She sighed heavily and rested her head against the wall. She had fifteen minutes left to answer.

“Or else,” she muttered under her breath, glancing in the corners of the room again. There weren’t any cameras, but judging from his earlier announcement, it seemed M could at least hear them, if not see them.

She stopped worrying the crayon and hesitated.

Would he kill her for getting clarification?

She huffed out another sigh. “Are we allowed to put more than one answer?” she asked clearly, though she felt foolish speaking to an empty room.

You may.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” she muttered, grinding her teeth in annoyance. His voice had made her jump and now goosebumps covered her arms.

Voice modulators did not prevent amusement from being conveyed, she now knew. Maybe if she lived that tid bit of trivia would help her someday.

She wrote time, ambition, life, death, and humanity under the riddle and took her supplies back to the cubby hole. The panel slid shut as she lowered herself back to the mattress. She had just gotten comfortable again when it reopened, to her surprise.

Curiosity beat apprehension, and against her better judgement, Hermione walked back over to the right wall. She blinked at the tray of food and the seemingly unopened water bottle, idly wondering if it had been tampered with.

Not that there’s anything else to drink.

“Um. Thank you?” she said, taking the water, sandwich, packet of crisps, and cookie out of the cubby. “So I answered correctly?”

Yes.

Right then.

She cracked open the water and took a long drink after determining that it tasted normal. The sandwich, she was more than surprised to find, was a ham and turkey club…on sourdough…prepared exactly how she liked it.

She counted her blessings that M was feeding her at all and tried not to think too hard about how or why he’d presented her with one of her favorite meals.

~~~~~

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

You needn’t have left.

Nor stayed away for so long.

He took you, but you went willingly.

Why didn’t you stay?

~~~~~

#fanfics #The Game #Tomione #Dulceween #horror #murder #mystery #serial killer AU #I felt like posting a few things today #This isn't going on FFN for a while because I have no intent to update it with any sort of regularity #But #I have started working on chapter 2?

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colubrina · 7 years

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A Dark and Educational Night | Dulceween 2017

It was a dark and stormy night, which irritated Tom Riddle to no end because the forecast had very distinctly called for clear weather. It was not clear. It was not only not clear it was so unclear you couldn’t see through the driving rain even with a very excellent and bright lantern which he had, along with thirteen black candles, all carefully procured for his demon summoning Halloween ritual and now all going to go to waste.

Unless…

Tom closed the door to Hogwarts with a loud thump and hefted the bag with all his demon ritual supplies higher on his shoulder. He had no interest in his pathetic fellow students and their childish urges to stuff their faces with as much sugar as possible. He had magic to explore. If he couldn’t do it outside under the moon perhaps an abandoned classroom with a locked door would serve just as well.

(the rest on FFN...)

#halloween 2017 #dulceween #*writing #tom riddle x oc

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hollowg1rl · 7 years

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Bite that Binds

My first submission to @dulce-de-leche-go ‘s Halloween thing! Also my first submission to most anything like this so yay? Special thanks to @nauticalparamour for alpha reading and because I’m not sure who might be interested as only Nauti was even aware of the story...

@kreeblimsabs @jheeley and if anyone wants tagged in the rest of these as they’re posted since this is only the first installment just let me know!

Voldemort sat running his long bony fingers through the tangled curls of his pet werewolf. It wasn't a full moon, but the glowing amber eyes of his pet reflected the firelight from the hearth in ways only a monster could enjoy. She was his perfect weapon, this mudblood werewolf, and he was debating the merit of his latest plan to bring more followers to his side. The Greyback family had ignored his summons the first time around over ten years ago, back when his army was still in its infancy. Quite literally in fact.

Now, however, was the dawning of a new era. His pets were beyond loyal to him now, knowing only his hand in comfort and discipline. Accidental magic started so early in those born to muggles, after all. Besides, what muggle would want a wolf for a child when those filthy creatures hadn't even wanted him as an innocent child?

“Master,” the low rumble of his pet’s voice stirred him from his dark thoughts and back to the here and now. His fingers kept a steady rhythm even as he turned to regard the werewolf he kept by his side more often than not.

“Yes, Hermione?” She was one of few to keep her given name, it wasn't as common as the others he had ordered turned in the past. It was one reason she was his favorite pet, as well.

“We shall follow your orders to the grave, master. Simply allow us the honor of doing your will.” The low growl of her voice made him grin. She had been one of the first turned, stolen right from under her well to do muggle parents noses as they sat having lunch in London and not minding their curious daughter well enough. She had walked right up to him as he was plotting destruction of the area and tugged at his robes. Her mud colored hair and eyes making him sneer until she reached for his wand, the red sparks of a spell escaping the end of the yew wood.

His own eyes flashing the same color, Voldemort had abandoned his plans and snatched her up in his arms, and disapparated with the child straight to an aging werewolf that owed him.

She had been turned that first full moon at only 3 years old, and had been by his side ever since. A well placed crucio could stop a fully grown werewolf after all, let alone a pup seeking to test their fangs and claws. It also helped his animagus form was that of a boa constrictor, a child was simple to train and control with the threat of being crushed to death if they displeased you.

“Very well, Hermione, lead your pack and bring me back new recruits, either willing or by force.” The breathy chuckle escaping the Dark Lord's throat had Hermione preening a bit. It was so rare anyone was able to please her master in the slightest after his return to physical form. To do so was an even greater honor.

.:’:. ‘:.:’ .:’:.

Hermione stalked along the outskirts of a small wizarding village, her glowing amber eyes peeking through the leaves of the bushes she had claimed as hers for the night. She was tasked with bringing Fenrir Greyback to her master, and she would not fail. The man, Greyback, had been a champion dueler in his younger years, and the Dark Lord wanted that strength on his side.

The others of her pack, all teenagers but a couple just reaching their twenty-third year like she was, were each tasked with bringing forth an offering to their master by the night following the next full moon. Hermione had claimed the strongest for herself while Dean, the closest in age, was tasked with the Order's lap dog, Lupin.

He too had been turned as a child, but had escaped the Dark Lord because of Greyback.

Dean was to play on the other man's heart, spinning a tale of all the bitten children who just wanted out. The Creevey brothers were with him, to help play up the story even more. Despite their childlike faces and quivering lips, they were two of the most bloodthirsty during the full moon. Dean however, was the best of altering things to suit his needs, even having been the one to design a mark for the pack.

Similar to the Dark Mark, this one was strictly for the wolves so they would be docile and obedient to Lord Voldemort while slathering beasts, yet still connected and able to be summoned at a moment's notice.

The skull of a wolf rested over the bite marks of each werewolf, seeing as each were bitten in the same place, with a snake curling from its mouth to around their bicep, squirming just over their skin and hissing at any that did not bare the mark of their master. When summoned or to return to their master's side, the snake would strike, acting as a permanent one way portkey.

Each wolf wore theirs with pride, but Hermione made certain hers was on display more often than not. It also served to hide the bite itself, though that awful Order knew what it meant. They had been hunting her pack for ages, though she normally made certain to be the one they fought, leaving her pack safe from being exposed.

Though just as Hermione was ready to give up this section for the night, her target swaggered out of a pub, laughing even as he wiped blood from his lip.

With a decidedly wicked smirk, Hermione crouched down further and crawled toward the brawny wizard. He smelt heavily of cheap drink and smoke, the firewhiskey lingering around him making Hermione shiver in delight. These ones always tasted the best when she tore into them.

Moving silently, her gifted wand erecting wards and barriers even as they moved further out of the village and toward the cottages further out. She didn't want any distractions, or any would be hero she would be forced to deal with either.

Right outside of his cottage, after watching him lower his wards and unlock his door, Hermione struck. Leaping upon the much larger wizard, she sent them tumbling into the entry. Crashing through the small table and whatever else he had there, the near feral female rolled off him heartbeats before his large hands would have gripped and thrown her across the room.

It was dark inside, the curtains drawn and the moonlight nearly non-existent behind the cloud cover that night. So while Fenrir was cursing and stumbling over the broken bits of his house, Hermione slid along the floor just as silently as outside, her eyes easily picking out the shattered wood and broken bits he was tripping and sliding on.

“Lumos!”

“Expelliarmus!” Just as his gruff and drink roughened voice called out the spell her own had his wand sailing through the air toward her. Before it got far, however, he was snatching it back and firing off a curse in her direction.

Hermione rolled out of the way and sent her own spell even as she kept moving, taking the moment to keep out of his direct line of fire. She may have been a werewolf and resilient against most spells, but having been the pet of the Dark Lord she knew spells could still damage her kind.

“What kind of joke is this?!” Fenrir demanded, grabbing a broken chair leg and hurling it toward where he assumed she was even as he fired off three spells in quick succession.

“I don't joke,” Hermione growled, a slicing hex having caught the outside of her hip and leaving what amounted to a paper cut across her skin. While not deadly, it was still aggravating.

“Who are you?” He demanded, throwing more things and smirking at her grunt when a rather large bit of debris hit her on her off arm.

“I come bearing a message, one you will not refuse.” Hermione didn't answer his question, preferring instead to cut to the chase. “My master wishes for your cooperation, though his patience wears thin the longer you refuse. You have two days to decide. After that, you'll see me again. Decide well, Greyback.” Without waiting for a reply, she sent a reducto at his floor and left in the chaos as he dived out of the way, grunting at the impact of slamming what remained of his floor.

.:’:. ‘:.:’ .:’:.

Two nights later found Hermione leaning against a tree just outside the wards of Fenrir's home, her glowing eyes and vicious smirk the first thing the large man noticed. Next was the single strapped top she was wearing, her mark on display and drawing his attention quickly. Turning with a sneer with the intentions of berating the chit, Fenrir noticed just how tiny she truly was. The top of her bushy head barely would skim his chest, though the lean muscles had his brow raising in disbelief.

“Surely some self proclaimed 'dark lord’ knows to send a competent opponent to bring me to his side.” Crossing his own arms, though his wand was being idly spun between his fingers, Fenrir honestly thought the girl before him was an insult.

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione let a soft growl escaped her throat at the insult to her master.

“You truly don't know a thing, do you, Greyback?” She spat his name as though she was forced to praise Albus Dumbledore. The widening of his eyes made it worthwhile, however.

“You!” Pulling his wand, he went to throw a spell at her when she flicked her own wand, vines wrapping around his legs and flinging him to the ground. A barking laugh and she had his wand.

“Yes, me, taking down a champion duelist when I never even had a formal education. Funny, isn't it, what my master can do. He personally trained me, you know. He can train you as well, if only you come willingly.” There was a coo to her voice, a false sweetness to her face.

Fenrir, however, wasn't fooled for a second and attempted wandless magic. It bounced off of Hermione and fell harmlessly to the ground, the baby flame snuffed out under her boot. As was Fenrir's confidence he was getting out of this mess.

#dulceween #reverse!fenmione #fenrir x hermione #Hermione Granger #Fenrir Greyback #spookyscarydulceween #bite that binds

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