Because many people were asking for it and I was a bit stoned during the time I made this...here! Have a piece of my trash!

Disclaimer: Do you think I would be bothering with this is Harry Potter was mine? Read the upper left corner of this page, it says FANfiction for a reason.

Warning: No beta. Made at midnight while being high on ship-weed. So be afraid...

It was rather pleasant day. The sun was bright, the birds singing in the early morning, the morning glories in the garden were in full-bloom, the soft breeze making the flowers dance, add to that a mansion so clean you would never expect it have been made in the early twentieth century, located up a hill to boot. To any other person, it would be picture perfect, the ideal morning to wake up to.

But not to its current residence.

No. Truth be told, ten out of eleven occupants of the house would have been more than happy to have the manor rot and crumble into dust had it not been for the one person who kept everything in order. Ironically, that one person is usually the cause of arguments amongst the remaining residents every single day.

Particularly this day.

-x-x-x-

It wasn't fair.

Childish and petulant as it may sound, it's the truth. Why must he share her with his…brothers? Could they even be considered as such? They were all technically one being, but to say that they were the same would be such a sin you would see pretty green lights flying in your person from every direction. They were just that different. Take our first resident for example; he was the first of many, he represented Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary. You can tell him apart from the rest simply by how he always has a quill on his person, whether holding it or placing it on his ear, it's always there. Always.

Currently, he was twirling the quill in one hand, his way of showing mild irritation. It. Just. Wasn't. Fair. His witch was growing malnourished with fatigue as she sat there across him in the sitting room, clearly there was something bothering her, and while still remarkably pretty in her own right, the dark lines under her beautiful eyes—his favourite part of her—were grating his nerves.

"Hermione, you need to stop. Today is a special day for us, you need to loosen up, love. Better yet, why not come sit here with me and tell me all about it. You know you can always tell me everything." He was the diary for a reason.

The witch smiled as she faced him, "I'm fine Tom, there's nothing wrong. It's just that work has been hectic lately and the stress is finally catching up to me."

"You mean that you co-workers are taking advantage of your generosity and are making you do their share of the work."

Tom, the Diary horcrux that is, could have snapped the quill in his hand. It was one of his…brothers, so to speak. This one represented the Gaunt's ring. While one held a quill, this one wore a collar around his neck. A collar that had Hermione's name embedded on it…in cursive letters. He was the ring, he symbolizes commitment and what better way to show it than to have your spouse's name on the collar you never seem to remove from your neck, or so he says. No asked dared ask why it had to be a collar in fear of either being Avada'd on the spot, or fear of the answer itself.

"That's not it Tom, I—"

"I got her first, dog, come back another time."

And so it began. Hermione hung her head down.

"Excuse me, pile of papers, but I am the ring. I symbolize commitment; I am the embodiment of it! 'Tis only natural that she spends more time with me."

"You're a family ring, not an engagement ring, you cretin. I cannot believe there was a point in my life when my intelligence receded to your levels."

The Diadem horcrux was quite possibly the most mature of all the pieces of Tom Riddle's soul that Hermione encountered. The glasses he wore only made him look more intelligent than he already was.

"Enough of your nonsense, the both of you. I clearly hold the most intelligence here so it's only natural that she seeks my audience!"

There was a chime of ringing bells and a fifth resident occupied the sitting room, "The heat is all getting in your head. She obviously prefers my company over your barbaric selves," he promptly sat on the chair next to Hermione and offered her a cup of coffee, "here love, I know how much you like having your coffee in the morning. Hopefully it would help you feel better."

With a nod of gratitude, the brunette witch accepted the cup. The Diadem may be the most mature, but the Cup seemed to be by far the most generous one, considering this is Tom Riddle they were talking about. Not to mention being a clean-freak. That bell on his wristband shines brighter than a diamond and seems to get brighter more and more each time it's seen. It was a gift from Hermione, see. And this one everyone was certain he never took off, it's with him even when he sleeps or takes a bath. Hermione knows this for a fact.

A snort was heard and the renowned Gryffindor princess would have scampered to the nearest exit if she could run past the other occupants of the room, never mind coming up with a valid excuse to leave the scene so abruptly.

Things never ended well when the Locket horcrux decides to join any arguments. A simple mistake of putting too much salt on what's for dinner could lead to curses ranging from Reducto to the Cruciatus curse, to curses Hermione has never even heard about being thrown around like food in a cafeteria food fight back in muggle high school in the span of two minutes. And this argument is not going to end differently.

"Like you inferior beasts could ever hope to be Hermione's favourite. Have you all forgotten that I have appeared in her dreams more than once? I'm the proverbial dream man!" Did anyone mention that he also happens to be the most pig-headed and difficult of them all? Because he is, quite terribly so in fact. His vanity knows no ends as well, you can tell him apart from the others with the way he leaves the first two buttons and the last button of his shirt, if you're lucky he buttoned it at all, or even bothered to put on a shirt for that matter…

"Tom, please don't sta—"

"Hermioneeeeeee!"

And a huge lump of flesh promptly dropped itself on Hermione's lap and turned its head to give the witch a pleading look with matching quivering lower lip.

The young woman resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it would offend the pile of humanized horcrux lying itself on her lap, and ran her hand through the soul piece's soft raven hair. Her efforts were rewarded with a very contented purr. Hermione had a feeling that the Snake horcrux had been a pet for so long that it doesn't even know what to be anything else, thus making him the most affectionate one. He's the only one amongst his 'brothers' who has a tan. His need to bathe himself in the sun as a snake persisted even when he acquired a human form. Hermione didn't mind, it looked really nice on him if she were to say so herself.

"This topic is pointless! Why would she want any of you? You all look like ghosts! She obviously pays me the most attention! Tell them Hermione, tell them!" aaahhh, the Snake happens to rival the Locket horcrux when it comes to their pig-headedness and childish tendencies. Although Hermione was sure even the Snake would crack in the prolonged presence of the Locket. Yes, he was that bad…

"Oh please!"

Hermione almost pulled the Snake's hair off in her frustration if she hadn't caught herself in the last second.

"I have been with her the longest! I know more about her than any one of you! May I also mention that I am the reason that Potter is still alive? Potter, who also happens to be her best friend and brother in everything but blood? That alone should be reason enough for her to spend more time with me!" The horcrux in Harry never did forget to throw that in his fellow horcruxes's faces, just as it never did seem to lose its effect on them.

"Enough of your nonsense, children. Can you ingrates not see that you're only causing Hermione more stress? You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Thinking how I was once all of you is giving me second-hand embarrassment."

Voldemort. Despite his rather…intimidating appearance, the Dark Lord everyone fears happens to be the most sophisticated one of all. The man—the Locket snorts whenever Voldemort is referred to as one—looks more like he's gliding whenever he walks. And no, it has nothing to do with shoes because Hermione saw him glide on a rocky thoroughfare and no, he wasn't using magic because he wasn't "so pitiful and pathetic as to waste magic on something so mundane", or so he says.

Surprisingly enough though, he happens to be the one Hermione finds easier to talk to because when you get over the whole 'snake-face' thingy, he can sail a conversation smoother than the greatest captain. Not to mention his vocabulary sometimes gives even Hermione a hard time. There were times when Hermione gets so engrossed in their discussion that she hardly notices his hands traveling on her thigh until it's too late and there would be no more discussions in a long while. She had to admit, he has stamina.

"No one asked you, Paedophile. Have you tried looking in the mirror lately? If you have then you should know why Hermione should never be seen with you in public." Did anyone mention that the actual Tom Riddle actually gets a special personification for himself? Aside from the Snake, he was the easiest to tell apart with his red eyes. And according to him, this makes him the hottest…which Hermione is having a hard time to decide whether it's true or false because each and every one of them had their own appeal.

She wondered if it was possible to render oneself bald by the sheer power of frustration. She also wondered how the space seemed so scarce yet so great with ten people in one sitting room…

The Diadem shifted his glasses, "With your wide vocabulary, I am assuming you know what 'cradle thief' means."

The quill twirled in the Diary's hand, "In layman's term, it means child molester."

The Snake lifted his head from Hermione's lap to turn to the more…intimidating version of the Dark Lord, "Most people would refer to that as human trafficking, my old friend."

A sneer formed in the Ring's pleasant features, "Whatever gave you the idea that Hermionewould want to be seen with you in public?"

The horcrux that once resided Harry shook his head mockingly in a disappointed manner, "How many times do we have to tell you not to wear your Halloween costume every day? Ooops, I'm sorry, I forgot that was how you naturally look, you overgrown Halloween decoration."

The Cup lifted his head, looking at the ceiling contemplatively, "Just imagine what her parents would think…"

Hermione was a bit surprised when she heard nothing from the Locket, but when she turned to his direction and found him twirling his hair and scratching the tip of his nose, she understood. Some insults are best done rather than said,

The lipless mouth twitched, "Ahhh, and to think that I ever like you during my younger, scrawnier years. Now that I reminisce though, I must say that you all remind me eerily of someone in the past…I may have killed him though."

"And who might that be?"

"Our dearest father."

Silence.

'Huh, what do you know, something can actually shut them all up,' and so Hermione made a mental note to bring up Tom's father whenever the arguments get too aggravating.

"Hermione…?"

The voice was so soft Hermione barely heard it but she still did and was immediately on her feet(causing the Snake to fall off and pout at the loss of contact), heading to the direction of where the voice came from. She kneeled down on one knee and moved a stray hair from the small figure's forehead.

"What is it Sweetie? Did you have a nightmare?"

The last resident of the manor was the youngest version of Tom, his seven year-old self to be precise…

The little boy looked adorably pitiful as he nodded his head, sniffed, lower lip quivering, raised his dark eyes that swam with unshed tears forcibly being held back, "Y-you left me… you said you didn't c-care about me anymore! Because I-I was just a li-little brat getting in your w-way!"

The brunette witch's heart cracked at the sight of the boy clearly trying to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. She cooed and gently held the little boy in her arms, placing him on the crook of her neck, "Shhh, there, there. Don't be upset anymore, Tom, don't cry. You know I would never do that to you. I love you most, you know that."

"At least we can have sex with her." It came out before any of the other soul pieces could control themselves. They never really were good at sharing…not even to themselves.

The dam broke, and the youngest form of Tom Riddle gave a feeble whimper.

Hermione has had just quite enough of them.

"You know what, I can't believe you! He's just a little boy! How dare you even say that word in front of him! I hope you all find the couch comfortable because you'll all be sleeping there for the rest of the month! Come on honey, let's leave these meanies behind. You and I have a whole month's worth of bonding time." And so the Gryffindor Princess carried the young Heir of Slytherin in her arms and walked out on the nine gaping men in the room.

"WHAT?!"

Before Hermione left their peripheral vision, they saw their youngest…brother lock eyes with all of them. A smug smirk formed on little lips, completely obliterating the timid innocence it held mere seconds ago, before he wrapped his arms tighter around brunette rubbed his cheek on their witch's neck and closed his eyes, emitting a contented purr.

…

And was that a two-fingered salute aimed their way just there?!

While it may be true that all of them held resentment towards each other, it was an unspoken agreement that they all despised their youngest self the most. It does, after all, takes an evil little imp to create the man Tom Marvolo Riddle becomes.

I regret nothing!

AN: I'm going to be making a Halloween and Christmas Special for these.