Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Authors Note: This is a parody fic for the long ago lv hg betrayal fic fest on livejournal, and accordingly, it makes fun of everything and everyone, and has some characterizations that I don't like unless they are in a parody fic. In other words, my feelings on most of these characters is pretty much NOT on display in this fic at all. If it seems like I am targeting your fic for mockery, trust me, I'm not. Besides, I mock my own stories quite a bit. It's all in good fun, not meant to be mean spirited at all!

After I reread certain parts of this fic, I realized I had inadvertantly ripped off some gags from other humor fics I had read, so I will acknowledge them here, and tell you to go read them, as they are much, much funnier than this fic. Vega's "How Angel Saved the World Without Really Realizing It", Rainhawke's "Harry Potter and the Year of Living Stupidly," and SeverelySnaped's "Not Another Order of the Phoenix!"

How Hermione Granger Learned There are Worse Things Than Being Shipped With Professor Snape

Hermione Granger considered herself an eminently sensible person. So, when she found herself sitting in the kitchen at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place a week before the start of her seventh year, she knew it was the rest of the world and not herself that had gone utterly, utterly, mad. Still, it didn't hurt to double-check.

"Ron did what?" she demanded of Harry, a Harry who had apparently spent his break shaving his hair into a Mohawk and spending his inheritance on black leather. (She had even spotted tattoos all over his body, each depicting Voldemort dying in various bloody, painful ways.)

"He joined the Death Eaters," Harry said surlily, picking at his chipped black nail polish. "He's spending most of his time tormenting everyone who's ever shown the slightest interest in you. Why, last week he filled Krum's flat with dragon poo."

Hermione gagged.

"He joined the Death Eaters to pull juvenile, but admittedly disgusting pranks?" she asked in disbelief.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged negligently.

"Why not?" Hermione echoed in disbelief, before giving it up as a lost cause and moving on. "What do the rest of the Weasley's think?"

"Oh, they're all dead," Lupin said, randomly popping up from under the kitchen table and looking wise. "All except Percy, he's a Death Eater as well, and the two of them murdered the rest," he explained cheerfully.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked, aghast. "What were you doing under the—"

"Right mate, that's enough out of you," Harry snarled, putting his hand on Lupin's shagging, graying head and attempting to shove him back under the table.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked.

"I'm here to spout exposition, and look noble and long-suffering," Lupin said, attempting to look dignified while engaged in a bitch-slap fight with Harry.

Harry paused in mid slap.

"Have you got chocolate?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm a werewolf, not a machine, dammit!" Lupin said indignantly.

"Right!" Harry said angrily. "Then under the table with you!" and he kicked Lupin in the head.

Hermione was opening her mouth to voice her anger and disapproval when the fireplace suddenly burst into bright green flames, and a swarm of Death Eaters leapt out into the kitchen. A curse hit Hermione straight on, and everything went black.

Her head was throbbing. Hermione clutched her skull in one hand and opened her eyes a slit. Light blasted her vision, and she closed them again hurriedly with a wince. Why did she feel like she had been beaten about the head by blast-ended-skrewts? Had Harry been blasting his heavy metal again…? Wait— Harry! Death Eaters! Death Eaters had—

She sat up, her eyes snapping open fully, which was an agonizing mistake. Grasping her head and moaning it took her a moment to recognize her surroundings. What trickery was this? She thought, astounded, all aches temporarily forgotten. What was she doing at Hogwarts? Surely, surely the Death Eaters had remained unable to secure headquarters here! Standing up, she glanced more thoroughly about. Perhaps it was a clever copy. But no, there were the tapestries she remembered so well; there, directly below her, the marble staircase into the entryway of the school. Hermione took a step to her left, and stumbled over a pile of heavy books on the floor. And was that her book bag, bulging at the seams next to it? A growing suspicion made her check her self, confirming her thoughts. She was dressed as if she were back for her seventh year at Hogwarts, complete with prefect badge. And on her left side of her cloak, above the badges of Gryffindor and prefect, a shiny silver HG. Head Girl? She was Head Girl? Voices behind her in the corridor made her jump guiltily, and frantically scramble into hiding behind a nearby suit of armor. She realized her mistake a second too late, as she remembered the books and her satchel. It was hopeless to dart out and grab them now; the figures had rounded the corner into sight.

"Harry?" she said in astonishment, before she could stop herself.

The shorter figure turned to her voice and frowned, unable to spot her.

"Hermione?" he asked curiously. "Where are you?"

"Over here," she said, stepping out from behind the statue. She gasped upon catching a closer glimpse of her friend. She blinked once, twice, three times, and still didn't believe it. It was a tough call, figuring out which was more strange and alarming; the fact that Harry's companion was none other than death-eating, poo-pranking Ron, or the fact that Harry's hair had spontaneously regrown back to normal, he was without piercings or tattoos, and not a stitch of black leather in sight. In fact, he seemed to be wearing an ordinary Hogwart's uniform.

"Why were you hiding?" Ron asked her blankly, scratching his hair and looking remarkably like a baboon. (Why had she never noticed that Ron strongly resembled a primate?)

She whipped out her wand, and stuck it an inch away from Ron's nose. He and Harry boggled like simpletons.

"Stay away from me, murderer!" she spat, her wand shaking slightly. The boys continued to look infuriatingly simple. Silence reigned for a millennia, before the rusty wheels in Harry's brain switched slowly into clacking gear, and he was able to put two and two together.

"Er….what?" he asked, squinting his eyes in confusion. Ron scratched his nose.

"Harry," Hermione said, trying, and failing, to control her temper, "what is going on? What happened at Grimmauld Place? Why are you consorting with Ron? And what the hell happened to your hair?"

"My hair?" said Harry with all the speed of a plodding brachiosaur.

"And the dog collar?" she demanded.

Ron had been watching this display, head ping-ponging back and forth, mouth gaping. He suddenly chortled as he cottoned on to something.

"Oy," he interjected, "oy, Harry, mate," he snickered, "Hermione's lost it again, just like in third year!"

"Ohhhh," Harry said slowly, nodding his head.

They both sniggered at her.

"Have you been sleeping, Hermione?" Harry asked her in an infuriating voice, one that said he reckoned she was a misbehaving tot. "Or eating?" Ron giggled shrilly next to him. "Is the time turner getting to you again?"

"Time turner?" Hermione asked blankly, looking from one mirthful buffoon to the next. (Why were the two of them acting so incredibly dumb? Had they been hit on the head as well?)

Ron was unable to restrain his grin.

"Yes Hermione," he said slowly, "the time turner you had to get for your huge course load? Along with all your books?"

Harry shoved her books and bag unceremoniously into her arms, and she almost buckled under their weight.

"Arghhh," she panted, "do you think I could get a little help here?" she tried to see them over her stack.

"Nope," Harry said cheerily, "because Ron and I have suddenly morphed into the most horrible friends possible."

The two of them abruptly turned and sauntered in the other direction, tossing a casual "tootles" and a wave over their shoulders.

Hermione boggled. After a moment of recovery she gingerly crept to the top of the marble staircase, and prepared to descend. Her foot landed on nothing, and she fell spectacularly, crashing down the stairs into a crumpled pile and into unconsciousness.

"Hey, Harry," Ron could be heard to say, "d'you think we should've told Hermione that the top stair has randomly transformed itself into a trick step?"

The two boys thought a moment. It looked painful.

"Nah," they said in unison.

Hermione woke up with a throbbing body and skull, and a distinct sense of deja-vu. Rubbing her forehead and gingerly rising to a sitting position, she glanced at her surroundings in wonder. She was lying on the floor of a bedroom, the strangest bedroom she had ever seen. One side of it was normal, if not a bit ostentatious, with a huge four poster bed that was gleaming black, silver, and green. The corner posts of the bed were carved with numerous serpents, and the dark mark had been elaborately stitched in silver on the pillows. Chairs, chaise lounges, a huge bookshelf, a desk and tapestries completed that section of the room. The other part of the room, where she currently was, seemed to be a torture chamber. Manacles hung at intervals along the wall, the floor turned abruptly from plush carpet to dirty stone, and various sharp weapons hung all over the wall. Everything was covered with a dry, dark substance that appeared to be a really excessive amount of blood.

She moved her arm in an attempt to grab a weapon, and discovered she was shackled to the wall, out of reach of anything, and her wand was missing. Things became clearer. This is where the Death Eaters had taken her after stunning her; the other incident, the interlude with Harry and Ron, was just a dream. Hermione was unsure whether she should be relieved by this thought or not.

She spent the next hour or two, it was impossible to tell the passage of time, twisting and writhing, rubbing her wrists and ankles raw where the cuffs touched her skin, breaking her nails and causing her fingertips to bleed as she scrabbled fruitlessly at the locks keeping her chained. The door opened while she was in the midst of sucking her bleeding, wounded finger in her mouth. Defensively, she curled into a ball of protection as best as she could.

The first one to walk in was Wormtail, his eyes gleaming, his silver hand in a fist, an unattractive string of drool hanging from his mouth. Lucius Malfoy came next, his platinum hair down to his waist, held back with a satin ribbon patterned with silver and green snakes, his locks artfully curled into ringlets. He was twirling his pimp cane and sneering so mightily it looked to be causing him pain.

Next came two black haired tall figures; one male, gaunt, and more than a bit mad looking, the other female. The Lestranges. Hermione took a moment to wonder how in the hell Lestrange and Malfoy had escaped prison before she got a full gander at Bellatrix's attire.

It was horrifying. She had on eight-inch spiked black stilettos, matching black stockings with garters, black lace panties, and a red corset pulled so tight it was a wonder she could move. Her hand wielded a whip; her nails were scarlet talons, her mouth a streak of shimmering red, her black hair silky and long, and she looked not a day over twenty. In other words, she had had more work done than Michael Jackson. Well, Hermione supposed it was a Death Eater perk.

Next came Snape, oily and sallow as ever. Last, and most terrifying of all, was the Dark Lord. Hermione had never seen him herself, and it was truly horrible. He was as pasty as the Pillsbury Dough boy, as snake like as a cobra, and as tall as a young Hagrid.

"Hermione, my ssssssssweet," he hissed, spittle flying out of his mouth and spraying his Death Eaters. Only Lucius and Bellatrix acknowledged it; Lucius by squealing and patting his hair, and Bellatrix by lovingly rubbing it into her skin.

"Yes?" Hermione replied, inching away as Voldemort stalked closer. She was wary of the spittle.

Voldemort took no notice, and loomed inches away from her face.

"I have long wisssssssshed to sssssssspeak to you," he murmured, spraying his saliva into her eyes.

"Ugh!" she shrieked, frantically rubbing her eyes with her fists. "Say it don't spray it, Lord V!" she yelped.

The Death Eaters melodramatically gasped at her audacity.

"Master, we should eat her eyeballs for that!" Bellatrix shrieked.

"Just whip her to death, Bella," Rodolphus put in.

"No, we should rape a donkey and make her watch," Wormtail cackled.

"I say we implant her with our spawn," Lucius murmured, stroking his pimp cane rather obscenely.

"We should make her wear a tutu and tap dance while singing 'The Good Ship Lollipop,'" Snape said eagerly.

Dead silence greeted this suggestion.

"What?" Snape asked angrily, glaring at them all.

"Snape, how many times have we had to tell you no?" Bellatrix snapped. "It's not evil enough!"

"But it would be funny," Snape sulked, "she has a terrible singing voice."

Voldemort ignored them all.

"We ate your parentsssssss for dinner, dear Hermione," he murmured, stroking her face with his freezing cold white finger. "They were deliciousssss, especially your ssssssister," he said.

"I don't have a sister. J.K said so," Hermione retorted smugly.

Voldemort paused in his stroking, and looked over his shoulder.

"Did we get the wrong houssssse?" he asked irritably.

"It's happened before, my lord," Rodolphus said nervously.

"Well, damn," Voldemort said, disappointed.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" Hermione asked, bored.

"Well, yesssss," Voldemort said, annoyed.

"Wait, my lord," Snape interjected, "what about…" he trailed off delicately.

"Oh, right," said Voldemort. "Well, Hermione," he said evilly, resuming his stroking, "how would you feel if I told you one of your bessssst friendsssss had joined me?"

Wiping away the spit, Hermione replied, "What, Ron? Oh, I already know all about it. Harry told me."

"Poppycock!" Voldemort roared, springing to his feet. "Fiddlessssticksssss! Who told Potter? Who?" he demanded, his vicious red eyes glowing like burning coals.

They all looked away and whistled innocently, all except Rodolphus, who shrieked and jumped a mile, as if someone had groped him. (Which they had, Lucius had been sneakily inching the pimpcane closer to Rodolphus's backside, and had used the distraction to hit his mark.)

"Bella!" Rodolphus yelped, leaping behind his wife, "Lucius is molesting me again!"

Bella's whip cracked and shorn off a ringlet from Lucius's mane.

"Noooo!" Lucius screamed in agony, cradling the lock to his check.

"Dammit, pay attention to me!" Voldemort yelped, stamping his feet.

It proceeded to a full out hexing war, until Hermione was caught in the crossfire and knocked her head on the wall. Her last visual was Rodolphus shrilly screaming while being chased by Lucius, who was frantically groping his pimp cane.

She woke up in the Hogwart's infirmary, a younger looking Madam Pomfrey hovering over her. Odd. Maybe she had gotten work done as well. Hermione sat up.

"Oh dear, you're awake!" Madam Pomfrey trilled, shoving a spoonful of potion in Hermione's mouth. "We were all so worried about you."

"We?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey called in response. She pulled back the curtains around the bed. "She's awake!"

An auburn haired, bearded man stepped into view.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione gasped in shock.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore said, looking over his spectacles at her. "But who are you, my dear?" Then he repeatedly winked behind his hand at her so spastically she was temporarily worried that he was having a stroke.

Two more men stepped around the curtain, one hidden behind the other two.

"Well, Headmaster, she seems to be alright," Madam Pomfrey said, directing her comments at the frail looking wizard that Hermione vaguely recognized.

"I am Professor Dippet, and I am the Headmaster here at Hogwarts," the old wizard said to her in his reedy voice. "Can you tell us how you appeared here, and what this object is?"

He held up a fine gold chain, with a small broken glass pendant that was clearly a time turner.

"We found this around your neck," he added.

Hermione gaped. Alright, maybe that interlude with Harry and Ron wasn't a dream. But what could this all mean….?

In the dead silence, a new voice spoke up.

"Perhaps she is still disoriented from the fall," the third hidden person said.

"Yes, perhaps you're right," Dippet said slowly. "Oh, young lady, " Dippet turned back to Hermione, "this is the boy who rescued you, a student here."

The boy stepped around the professors, revealing himself to be a handsome, black haired Slytherin, complete with a shiny Head Boy badge. He reached his hand outwards to Hermione and smiled, showing rows of gleaming white teeth. She was almost blinded.

"I'm Tom Riddle."

Perhaps, Hermione could not be blamed for fainting in shock just then.

She was awakened by an insistent nudging in her side by a blunt object. Her next sense to reawaken was her hearing, by the uproarious evil cackling all around. She had a shrewd guess on her current location, and sure enough, when she hesitantly slitted an eye open, she was back with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The poking, it appeared, was coming from Bellatrix, and the handle of her whip.

Hermione quickly snapped her eyes shut, but it was too late.

"Master, she's awake!" Bellatrix shrieked, in her voice that was doing nothing pleasant to Hermione's raging migraine.

"Stop pretending," Bellatrix snapped, jolting her more forcefully with the whip, "I know you're awake."

Hermione reluctantly reopened her eyes. She was now in a large chamber, full of skulls, flaming torches, various torture implements, and a buffet table along one wall. She was chained on the floor next to a blindingly tacky throne; platinum and encrusted with emeralds.

Upon it perched the Dark Lord. Along with Bellatrix and Hermione, Lucius, Snape, Wormtail, and Rodolphus were also next to the Dark Lord. The rest of the Death Eaters, all cloaked in black, some with their masks on, were filling the chamber.

Voldemort patted her on the head with one hand, his other busily unwrapping the paper around a strawberry cupcake with sprinkles.

"Awake at lasssst, dear girl?" he garbled around his mouthful of cupcake.

"What the hell have you given me?" Hermione snapped, rubbing her forehead yet again. "Why do you keep making me see these things while I'm asleep?"

"What things?" Rodolphus asked, throwing a suspicious glance at his lord. "Master, you have not been showing people that tape again, have you?"

Bellatrix gasped, looking very unconvincingly displeased. "Master, not the…" she trailed off delicately.

Voldemort paused mid-lick, his fingers covered in pink frosting. He looked sheepish.

"Well, I…not recently," he said guiltily.

"How recently?" Rodolphus snapped, inching away from the ever-randy Lucius.

"Mmmmpphhhssssssss," Voldemort mumbled unintelligibly.

Wormtail snickered.

"What, you actually understood that?" Snape snapped, oil dripping in little puddles from his locks.

"He said," Wormtail paused with a shrill giggle, "he said that he sent a copy to the Order!"

Snape burst out laughing, a full bellied chuckle that progressed into a roaring bellow, clutching his sides with tears squirting out of his eyes. It was by far the most disturbing sight Hermione had ever seen.

Apparently the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters thought so as well, judging by their horrified recoils.

"Sssssssssnape, get ahold of yourssssssself, man!" Voldemort said uncomfortably. "You've sssssscared the Death Eaterssssss!"

Indeed, the hooded and masked Death Eaters who had previously been bowling with human skulls and sipping punch were now gathered in a shivering, shuddering huddle, their arms wrapped tightly around each other for protection.

Bellatrix shoved a handful of Snape's hair into his mouth, effectively choking him with his own grease.

"Sssssensssssational job, Bella," Voldemort said approvingly.

"Right. The tape, Master? You sent it to the Order? What could that have possibly accomplished?" Rodolphus snarled, infuriated.

"What tape?" Hermione asked curiously. She couldn't help it; the Death Eater's reactions were too priceless to pretend like she wasn't interested.

Snape gagged and hacked in the corner as he battled with his hair. Everyone ignored him.

For once, Lucius looked something other than highly oversexed. "The PORN tape," he snapped, glaring at Voldemort, Bellatrix and Rodolphus in turn, still stroking his pimp cane in his fury. "The one I wasn't invited to participate in," he sulked.

"Luciussss, you know Narcisssssssa would never agree to sssssuch a thing," Voldemort attempted to placate him.

"Who the bloody hell cares?" Lucius yelped. "Narcissa is a cold, dead fish! I would've done it without her!"

Rodolphus looked nauseated. "Who said we wanted you anyway?" he sneered.

Bellatrix snorted, Wormtail let loose with yet another shrill giggle, and even Voldemort had to cover his mouth with one of his pasty hands.

Lucius' grey eyes flashed death, and he violently swung his pimp cane towards Rodolphus's head, for once not in an attempt to molest him. He missed the mark and hit Hermione's head with a loud crack instead. She fell over in a limp heap, the Death Eaters and Voldemort staring at her contemplatively.

A noise like a cat hawking up the world's largest hairball rang throughout the room, and they turned to see Snape finally spitting out the rest of us hair.

"Oh thank Salazar," he said fervently, "now maybe the brain damage will make her less obnoxious."

Hermione awoke in a strange place yet again. It was getting ridiculous; she couldn't even remember how many times she had been knocked unconscious. She seemed to be—she tested the surface she was laying on—a far more comfortable bed than before, which ruled out the hospital wing. It was dark and silent, and her eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the gloom of the—

The door dramatically flew open, letting in a bright stream of torchlight.

"Ahh!" Hermione squawked, squinting through the pain of the sudden light.

The door flew shut just as dramatically, and soft lamplight made the room glow. She was laying on a huge crimson bed that had golden lions stamped all over the headboard and pillows. A gigantic, monstrous bookcase was on her left, and in front of her was—

"Tom Riddle!" she shrieked, now not even trying to make any sense of what was going on. "Tom Riddle!" she screamed again. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Why, I'm Head Boy, of course," the handsome young man before her said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"So?" she snapped. "How did you even get into the Girls dormitory?"

"You're not in the Girls dormitory, you're in the Head Girl's room," he said, his eyebrows raised. "And I got in through there," he pointed to the door he had flung open, looking at her with contempt. "Really, as my supposed academic equal, shouldn't you be smarter?"

"There's no such thing as the Head Girl's room!" Hermione snapped, grasping to the only straws of information she could.

"Of course there is," Riddle said smoothly, his voice lowering randomly into a seductive purr. "It's right next to the Head Boy's room, and we share a common room."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard!" Hermione bellowed. "They don't even teach sex-ed in this school, and you're telling me they shove two hormonal teenagers in the same space and expect nothing to happen?"

"Well," Riddle murmured, sitting on the bed next to her (Hermione scooted away as fast as she could) "perhaps they do expect something to happen." And then he winked.

"Aren't you supposed to be more subtle, and actually charming?" Hermione said belligerently. "You sound like a bad romance novel."

"We're supposed to be in the midst of a smut filled romp right now," Riddle snapped irritably. "But someone is refusing to cooperate."

"A WHAT?!" Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs, moving farther away on the bed from Riddle. Really, how large WAS this bed, anyway?

"A smut filled romp," Riddle repeated, suddenly at her side with his arm winding its way around her, "Dumbledore said we would be. He said that the only way to save my soul was for a mysterious, bookish girl from the future to suddenly appear and turn my black dead heart alive again with the only love I have ever known, since I was tragically abandoned as an orphan and never knew affection and save me from becoming the most evil wizard the world had ever seen, and the only way to turn my black dead heart alive again was through a smut filled romp, complete with unrealistic sexual enjoyment for people as young and inexperienced as us."

"I refuse to believe Dumbledore said such an absurdly long run on sentence," Hermione said snittily.

"There might have been many wise pauses and twinkling looks over his glasses, and a lot of offering of sweets," Riddle admitted. "But that was essentially what he said, condensed version."

"Well I'm not having a smut filled romp with you, so your heart will have to stay cold and dead," Hermione said nastily.

"It will!" Riddle declared melodramatically, his eyes glowing red and shooting out red sparks, "It will! Now I will never know the love of anyone, and will spend the rest of my life being as evil as possible, all because of my unrequited passion!"

"Bollocks!" Hermione exclaimed. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard! You're going to be the evilest wizard ever because you are a pathetic, cowardly idiot who doesn't want to die and spends his time thinking up absurd, overcompensating anagrams for himself and pretending he's not half Muggle and being an egomaniac who is bordering on sociopathic, and will turn yourself into a spitting, pasty, fool!"

"Now who's using run on sentences?" Riddle said smugly. "Now, it's about time for that romp."

Hermione shrieked and slapped him, and in the ensuing catfight, they both smacked their skulls on the headboard and fell unconscious.

She awoke once more with a whip handle being prodded in her side and abruptly sat up, snatched the whip away from Bellatrix, and unsteadily stood up, her only weapon her stashed away wand and the ridiculous whip dangling from her hand. Surrounding her were Wormtail, Rodolphus, Bellatrix (who was snarling and spitting with rage over her precious whip being stolen), Snape, Lucius, Voldemort, and Voldemort. Hermione did a double take. Then a triple take. Standing next to Mr. The-Before-On-A-Fake-Tan-Commercial was Tom Riddle. Who was currently rubbing his head from where he had hit it on the headboard. Snape was the first to notice him.

"Master, who is that child?" he sneered mightily, still spitting out a stray oily hair or two.

"Ssshe'sssss that irritating Mudblood girl that Potter wants to ssssshag, you idiot," Voldemort spat back, annoyed.

"Harry does NOT want to shag me!" Hermione yelped, indignant. Like she would want to shag Harry when he was in this condition. He was likely to start an angst filled poem about his life being a black, soul-sucking hell in the middle of it.

"Who would?" Bellatrix sneered, still glaring at Hermione's hand holding her whip.

"I would," Lucius said eagerly.

"So would I," Wormtail agreed.

"I would too," Voldemort added.

"Only if she were gagged," Snape said primly.

"I would rather shag Lucius' pimp cane," Rodolphus said forcefully. Bellatrix looked at him approvingly.

Lucius' eyes gleamed with sudden interest. "That can be arranged," he said excitedly, pimp cane in hand and ready.

As Rodolphus started shrieking at Bellatrix to save him and Wormtail began cackling as usual and Voldemort began cheering on Lucius and Bellatrix tried to steal back her whip to shear off more of Lucius' hair and keep him in check and Snape whipped out a video camera, a new voice broke in.

"This is pathetic."

"I couldn't agree more," Hermione said to Riddle.

"So you admit then that we are perfect for each other and you are willing to save my dead black heart from an eternity of evil through a porny romp?" Riddle asked with new enthusiasm.

"I thought it was a smut filled romp," Hermione said absently.

"Yes yes, whatever, smutty, porny, same thing," Riddle positively babbled, his eyes shooting red sparks again, this time in excitement.

"Who in the bloody fuck is that?" Lucius interrupted belligerently. It seemed if anyone discussed smut filled romps that did not involve him he got cranky.

The Death Eaters and Voldemort turned to look at the handsome teenage boy standing next to the Dark Lord.

"For Ssssalazar'ssss sssssake!" Voldemort sniped, "You little ssssshit. What issss the purposssse of thissss?"

Bellatrix looked perplexed. "Master, who IS that?" Her words were echoed by the rest of Voldemort's minions.

"I am Lord Voldemort," Riddle intoned dramatically.

"I am Lord Overcompensation," Hermione muttered nastily.

"There isssss only one Lord Voldemort and it issss me, you ssssssneaky bassssstard!" Voldemort said, completely throwing a hissy fit.

"Oh, look at you," Riddle said contemptuously, "you're disgusting and your followers are morons and you can't say "s" without spitting out a fountain."

"And you are sssshorter and not assss pale or badassss assss me with absssssolutely no followerssss!" Voldemort retorted.

"At least I'm hot," Riddle sneered.

Voldemort opened his mouth, then shut it and was forced to concede the point with a nod.

It was in the midst of this ridiculous debate that the dungeon doors slammed open violently, and in strode a leather clad, Mohawk sporting Harry Potter. Hermione wearily noted that he had somehow managed to get another piercing, this one a nose ring.

He looked righteous. He looked terrifying. He looked heroic, in an outside the box sort of way. He looked—

"Where the bloody hell are we, Ron?" Harry said. Or rather, the other, normal looking Harry who had let Hermione fall down the stairs a few concussions ago, walking next to the Non Death Eating Ron.

Leather Harry whipped his head around.

"What the bloody fuck? Who is this poncy imposter?" he demanded of no one in particular.

"Harry!" Ron said to Leather Harry while staring at him in shock. He turned to Normal, But Slower Then Usual Harry. "Harry!"

"Oh, GOD," Riddle moaned from his spot next to Voldemort in pained agony at the sheer moronic nature of everyone but himself. Everyone ignored him.

With a flourish and a billow of his robes, a masked Death Eater sprang into the vicinity of Leather Harry, Normal But Slower Then Usual Harry, and Non-Death Eating Ron, yanking off their mask with as much drama as possible. It was Ron. Or rather, it was Death Eating Ron, the poo-pranker.

"Mwahaha!" he attempted to cackle in an evil manner. "It is I, Harry! It is Ron, your WORST ENEMY! You should've let me get more attention, Harry, or this wouldn't have happened!"

Leather Harry looked revolted, as did every other person present, with the exceptions of Slower Then Usual Harry and Non Death Eating Ron. They just looked like baffled baboons, as usual.

"You twit," Leather Harry snorted, and thwapped Death Eating Ron upside of the head with an electric guitar he had produced out of thin air. Death Eating Ron fell over in a lump, and quite a few Death Eaters could be heard cheering. Voldemort was the loudest. A Death Eating Percy Weasley came over and kicked Ron's unconscious body a few times for good measure.

Slower Then Usual Harry and Non Death Eating Ron scratched their heads confusedly.

"This is absolutely absurd," Riddle murmured from next to Hermione. "This is supposed to be a Light and Darkness fic. Potter and all of your other little friends aren't supposed to be in this at all. Or if they are, they should be jealous idiots who drive you into my willing arms."

"A what and whatness fic?" Hermione demanded, ignoring the rest of the deranged drivel Riddle was spouting.

"A Light and Darknesssssss fic," Voldemort contributed from Hermione's other side. "It means you're ssssuppossssssssssed to be ssssshipped with myssssssself or thisssss twerp here."

"Shipped?" she asked blankly.

"It means paired off with, romantically, in a work of fiction," Riddle said.

Hermione sputtered. "It…what? What?! What kind of sick freak would 'ship' me with Voldemort?"

"She's called Mandya06," Voldemort snapped. "Don't judge her. At least she doesn't have me wearing a Mickey Mouse watch." Riddle and Voldemort both shuddered at that.

"Or have you listening to 50 Cent on an I-pod," Riddle put in.

"A what pod?" Hermione said blankly.

"Don't assssk," Voldemort said, shuddering again.

Hermione stared around her in silence, trying to make sense of something, anything that was going on.

Leather Harry was bitch slapping Slower Then Usual Harry for daring to have his face and be so stupid at the same time. Death Eating Percy was choking Non Death Eating Ron. The majority of the Death Eaters had gone back to sipping punch and eating cupcakes while bowling with human skulls. Bellatrix had gotten her whip back from Hermione, and was chasing Lucius, cutting off a ringlet at a time, while Lucius chased Rodolphus, his pimp cane gleaming in his hand. Wormtail continued to cackle and drool, and Snape continued to videotape the whole mess while muttering under his breath about how even teaching Potions to dunderheads was better than this, and he really maybe shouldn't have murdered Dumbledore. Then he slipped in his own pile of grease dripping from his hair and fell on his ass. Leather Harry had now moved on to kicking the unconscious Death Eating Ron.

"This is the stupidest thing that has ever happened to me," Hermione finally said faintly.

"Cheer up, it could be worse," Riddle said buoyantly. "At least you're not being shipped with Harry or Ron for once." Voldemort nodded.

"There is nothing wrong with Harry or Ron, you…" Hermione trailed off, and noticed that Non Death Eating Ron was wrestling in a vat of dragon dung with Percy, and Leather Harry was now standing atop the still form of Death Eating Ron and singing an Evanescence song, while Slower Than Usual Harry played with a piece of lint.

"You were saying?" Voldemort said smugly.

Hermione refused to admit defeat.

"There has to be someone out there that's better to 'ship' me with," she said desperately.

"Oh, there issssss," Voldemort shrugged. "But none asssss twissssted asssss usssss."

Suddenly Riddle was far too close again, putting his arm around her while muttering, "Now about that smut filled romp…."

A resounding slap was his answer.

End A/N: The Death Eaters bowling with human skulls comes from "Angel" in the episode "Shiny Happy People."