Chapter 8

Unexpected Challenges

The announcement came out of nowhere.

It was the end of Transfiguration; they had finished their work; the guinea fowl they had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk; they had copied down their homework from the blackboard (Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transfiguring Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches). The bell was due to ring at any moment.

"Before you leave, I have something important to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—"

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry. Professor McGonagall ignored them.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class. "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for all of us to—er—let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny this time; Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders. Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter—a word, if you please."

Not knowing what she wanted, Harry approached cautiously to the teacher's desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, "Potter, the champions and their partners—"

"What partners?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny. "Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."

"Oh," Harry said, sounding disinterested. He didn't dance.

"Yes, Potter. Oh," Professor McGonagall said irritably. "Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball. You will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."

For some reason, Harry had a sinking suspicion that Professor McGonagall was not talking about Tom. However, he needed to make sure, so he just blubbered out, "I have a boyfriend." A millisecond later he realized what he has just done. He just outed himself to his Head of House… as well as having said Head of House being the first person for him to say the "B" word to.

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a moment, her irritated expression softening slightly. "I see," she said. "Then proceed with caution if you and he decide to go together, Potter."

"Why?"

"You should know Potter," Professor McGonagall said, as though what she said was common knowledge. "Hogwarts has tolerance standards that accept everyone. We have no problems with whom you decide to go for, in that matter of speaking. Your private life is yours, Potter. However, I cannot speak the same about the other schools. So think carefully, Potter, if you two want to go together or if you would rather instead go with a friend."

"I'm going with him," Harry said immediately. It wasn't even a question. Harry knew that Tom would not like to see anyone else sitting or dancing with him, however, he too did not want to see anyone at all dancing with Tom.

"Very well, then I will say you two should proceed with caution once again," Professor McGonagall said, and Harry was dismissed.

Tom Riddle was waiting for Harry right outside the classroom. "Hello, my darling," he purred, kissing his boy's cheek. His arm wrapped around Harry's waist and he smirked, "Are you okay with this?" he asked, "Do you have your correct masks on?"

"Yes, Tom," Harry nodded.

"Good, now what did McGonagall want to talk with you about?" Tom asked as they started moving away from the classroom.

"The Yule Ball," Harry said, scrunching his nose up slightly. "I have to open it because I'm a champion. Me… and my dance partner."

"I didn't know you could dance," Tom hummed.

"I don't," Harry said shortly.

Tom chuckled at that and smirked, "You don't?" he said, "Now that is an awkward predicament. However, will you open the ball with your partner if you do not dance?" Harry didn't like the way he said 'partner.' Tom's grip on him tightened and Harry felt an icy undertone, a sleeping threat under his words.

"Y-Yeah," Harry muttered. "I don't know how we will do it. I don't dance at all, do you?" He looked up at Tom.

"Me? Why would you need to know if I can dance?" Tom asked. Harry could see the tips of his mouth smirking slightly and decided to play along.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry hummed. "I mean, I would need an instructor to teach me after all, perhaps one who'll teach me how to dance in the girl's role? I don't think I'll be the best person to lead in a dance."

"No darling, very not so," Tom said, his voice dripping with possession. "In a dance, you would work best to follow."

"Then I should ask a girl who is not afraid to take the lead," Harry hummed, smirking as he felt Tom's hand on his waist tighten.

"A girl? You are going to ask a girl?" Tom stopped, looking down at Harry with complete seriousness. He did not look happy and Harry felt like he may have pushed this too far, or perhaps Tom has reacted too much. However, Harry would not allow Tom to continue this. He stood tall and took Tom's hand from his waist to bring it to his mouth, kissing it.

"Never," he said, "I'm bringing you," he said.

"Me?" Tom said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, we're boyfriends after all," Harry smiled. "It's only right that I bring you." Tom stared at him for a moment before relaxing slightly.

"You want to bring me as your partner?" he asked. Harry smiled, "Of course! Who else would I bring? Professor McGonagall warned against it because of how the other schools might think, but for once I don't care what people think. I want to go to the Yule Ball wearing your mask."

"And what is my mask?" Tom asked, "Is it done?" Harry nodded and Tom smiled happily. "Well, I am dying with anticipation my darling. What is it?"

"Not here," Harry said, shaking his head. He looked around and bit his lower lip, "Can we go to our study? I'll tell you there."

Tom raised an eyebrow but nodded. Their classes were over for the day, so they both made their way to the second-floor girls' bathroom, making sure to be followed by no one, and a few minutes later found the two sitting comfortably on a leather couch in Slytherin's Study in the Chamber of Secrets. "So, my mask," Tom said.

Harry smiled he played with Tom's hands as he talked, "When I wear it, I'm confident. Confident to be seen with you, confident to show my feelings for you in front of everyone. I don't care what anyone thinks, the only opinion that matters is yours. It's like the mask that I have for when I'm around my Slytherin friends. I'm more relaxed, more willing to be myself, and show my… interest in the Dark Arts. And speak in Parseltongue. I feel like… like I can show the parts that I'm hiding from the rest of the world." Harry's cheeks reddened as he talked, which only made Tom feel more prideful that the boy was his.

"And above all," Tom purred, "it proves that you are mine."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "but it goes both ways. You are mine too, Tom Riddle."

"And I would never dream of being anyone else's," Tom said before capturing Harry's lips.

"What a disgusting display."

Harry and Tom separated immediately, the third voice surprising them. They looked around, dazed until their eyes landed on the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. He glared at them, looking as threatening as a painting could, his company snake hissing at the two of them. "To think my personal study would be soiled by such disgustingness! Have you no shame, villains?" he demanded.

"Villains?" Tom repeated, "funny way of greeting your heir."

"You two? As if!" Slytherin sneered. "I would never allow my heirs to divulge themselves in sodomy like this! If I had my way, I would have both of you killed and fed to the basilisk!"

Tom laughed at this. He stood from the couch and faced the portrait in full. "Then you must be out of touch," he said. "Hogwarts does not care, and the Monster of Slytherin is no more. All you have left in this chamber is your study and your heirs who deem to use it for their purposes. And that includes showing our affection for one another."

"Disgusting," Slytherin said. "You are no heirs of mine! Neither of them would even think of doing such outlandish behavior! Men dating, pah! That is the stuff of Gryffindor nonsense!"

"Then you should really hate that I'm a Gryffindor," Harry said, standing up. "And really, I do not like your opinions on this matter very much." Slytherin glared at Harry, looking murderous.

"A GRYFFINDOR IN MY STUDY! THE INSULT! THE HUMILIATION! AND A SODOMITE AT THAT! YOU SHOULD BE KILLED! YOU BOTH SHOULD BE KILLED! MY CHAMBER WILL NEVER WELCOME YOU AGAIN!" Slytherin boomed. The boys waited, but nothing happened. The room did not shake, the magic did not react. Only the echoes of the painting's rantings remained before silence overtook it. Harry stared at the painting for a moment before getting an idea. He turned to Tom and talked completely in Parseltongue.

"Tom, I don't like how this painting is treating you," he hissed.

"I do not like how it is treating you, my darling. I have half a mind to cut it down. However, it is still a portrait of Salazar Slytherin himself," Tom replied.

Harry smiled, glancing at the painting to see Slytherin's shock. "Maybe so, but I am sure there are other paintings. Besides, he has a statue, and we have all of his books and research notes here—as well as the research of your ancestors, his descendants. What is the harm of… burning one painting? Besides, I still need to practice the second form of Parsel-Magic."

Tom's eyes widened with recognition. He chuckled and put his hand over Harry's as his darling boy took out his wand. "An excellent idea, my Harry. However, I will not allow you to use all of your magic. I do not want you to exhaust yourself, there will be consequences if you do that again. So, we will do it together."

Harry nodded and together they aimed their wand at the portrait. "Now my dear, you will repeat after me. The incantation we will use is as follows, 'Serpents of Flame, come burn my foe.'"

Harry nodded and he gave a smile at the portrait, his eyes burning with excitement. "Goodbye," he said. "Serpent of Flames, come burn my foe!" Harry felt their magic binding together, summoning a burst of flame that, for a moment, appeared as a dozen snakes shooting from Harry's wand all hissing loudly with their mouths open at the portrait. Slytherin screamed as the painting caught fire immediately. The fire spread quickly, and Harry felt a surge of power and excitement overwhelm him, like electricity coursing through his nervous system. He could burn the whole room, no the whole castle if he wanted to. His smile grew and he wanted to watch the flames grow, devouring everything it could. But then the hand on his tightened. Harry turned to see Tom staring emotionlessly at the fire, controlling both it and Harry. Tom made sure that the fire stayed on the portrait as the paint boiled and paper curled in the flames, burning up as a foul smell filled the room.

Then the fire was gone, Tom dismissing it. Where once the proud portrait of Salazar Slytherin stood now was just a bare wall with scorch marks and ash, the edges of paint around the portrait curling and threatening to flake off. A pile of ash was on the mantle of the fireplace. Tom lowered their arms and smirked, "There, much better."

Harry took his wand and muttered a cleaning spell, cleaning the walls and mantle before turning to Tom. "I—I almost lost control," he said. "I could feel the power through me like I could have burned down the entire castle!"

"And I have no doubt that you can, my dear," Tom said. "However, we must work on your restraint. Now, how about you be a good boy and cuddle with me."

"Okay," Harry grinned and the two fell back to the couch, their hands and lips finding each other once more. Tom smirked in the kiss and leaned forward to pull a book out of his pocket, "For you my love." It was a collection of works from Edgar Allan Poe. "I've finished reading and thought that it might help you. One of my favorite stories is in there as well."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Tom chuckled. "It is called 'The Masque of the Red Death.' A bit morbid, as are all of his works, but it is still a good read."

Harry hummed and kissed Tom's cheek. "Thank you," he said, pocketing the book. "But right now I rather get back to kissing you."

"Then do it," Tom breathed, and Harry obeyed all too willingly.

Time let out an annoying noise as she slumped in her chair. She was in her office, a large room filled with many hovering crystals that sparkled in the air. One of which was lower than the rest, shining its light onto a bare wall showing Harry Potter and Tom Riddle as they spend the rest of their school term in December acting like a normal couple. "Boring!" she huffed. "Absolutely Boring! Who is writing this shit?" She stood up and stomped around her desk to glare at the projection fully. "I wanted drama! Angst! Hell maybe even love triangle or death, who knows? But this? Who cares about Harry Potter and his stupid masks, his anxiety, and all that boring shit? And Tom Riddle being a murderously supportive boyfriend? Boring as balls! I can't take it!" She whirled around and slammed her hand on a buzzer on her desk. "Number Two-Seventy Four of Time Management, get up here NOW!" She was angry, annoyed, utterly bored! She needed something to alleviate herself.

And demoting her workers, her playthings who all work for her in order to keep timelines flowing, helped.

She waited only thirty-seven seconds before there was a knock on the door. "Come in," she said in a sweet voice. The door opened and worker Two-Seventy Four walked in. Time's workers did not look like ordinary humans. They were human-ish, however, they all had factors that made them creepily inhuman. Its hands were longer than humans, with long skeletal-like fingers, each hand having seven fingers all curved around its palm. Its skin looked unnatural, as though it was painted on or filled in. Its head looked normal enough, however, its eyes were a bit larger than normal and a bright blue. The worker was dressed in a suit and bowed, "Mistress," it said, its voice sounding completely unremarkable.

It stood still as Time scowled. "I'm demoting you," she said. "No real reason—you do your job well enough—but I need something to relax me." She stepped towards the worker and hummed, "Where to put you? You're on the top right now… so let's see…" she hummed and slowly circled the worker, her hand moving to caress its short black hair. "You don't really need this now, do you?" she chuckled. Time grabbed a fistful of the hair and pulled. The entire hair ripped away with a squishy sound, as though it was just glued onto the top of the worker's scalp. The worker did not flinch or scream as Time threw the hair away, leaving the worker's head completely clean and bald, looking as white as paper.

"Let's see… I have enough people downstairs, so you'll get to keep some of your face," Time hummed. She stood, tapping her chin with a finger thoughtfully. "And I have enough laws, I don't feel like changing so… goodbye mouth." She reached forward and grabbed the worker's lips. Again she ripped and the mouth peeled off, a white sticky material breaking off between the detached lips and face until snapping back, melding perfectly with the empty space until it smoothed out. Time threw the mouth in a nearby waste bin. "Also you don't really need a nose now, do you?"

The worker just continued to stand, his eyes now wide with fear as Time once again reached for his face. Instead of pulling its nose off, however, Time pressed two fingers in, squishing the nose into the face. It curled around her fingers as it sunk in before smoothing out once more. Its skin continued to lose color with each removal. Now it only looked as though it had a hint of color, as on its face were just the large buggy eyes and its ears.

Time made a popping noise with her lips and smiled, "Perfect! Look at you, my cute little watcher!" She stared into its eyes and saw that it still stared at her fearfully. "Oh right," she muttered, "forgot about that. You still have a personality. Can't have that, can we?" She patted its cheek and smiled, "but that'll go away in time. Ha! You get it? In time—because I'm Time and—oh right you can't laugh now. Never mind, go back to work now." She waved her hand dismissively at the worker and it turned and left obediently.

"You always have horrible jokes," a low rattly voice said. Time turned to see a man dressed in black tattered robes that hid his face standing by the window. The man seemed to suck all life from everything around him.

Time sighed and moved to a wall where a liquor cabinet stood. She opened it and took out two glasses, filling one with her favorite whiskey and the other with a wine that looked suspiciously like blood. "Do we even have an appointment?" Time muttered.

"I do not need appointments, Time," the man said. "I have no need for it."

"Just like you have no need for fashion apparently," Time muttered. She handed the second drink to the man and took a sip of her own. "So, what can I do for my annoying brother, Death?" she asked.

"Nothing," Death said. He brought the cup to his hood and the liquid disappeared without Death revealing his face. The hood turned to look at the wall where the projection of Harry and Tom still was moving. "Them again?"

"They're being boring," Time muttered. "No drama or anything." She glanced at her brother and had a thoughtful expression. "Brother dearest—"

"No," Death interrupted her. "I come to all; however I will not hasten lives just to cure your boredom."

Time pouted, "But they need something to make this interesting!" she complained. "I mean look at them! They have their problems but normal human problems like anxiety and possessiveness! Along with the usual deadly challenges that this tournament provides! I cannot tell you how many times I've seen this over and over! They talk about how it's deadly, yet no one dies! I mean there was that one guy, but does he really count? He didn't really die because of the tournament."

Death just hummed and stared at the projection. "I do not sense my coming in that timeline for quite some time regarding the students of Hogwarts."

"See! Where is the fun in that?" Time pouted. "So why don't you just go in there and—"

"It is not our job to meddle in human affairs!" Death yelled, his voice sounding like an echo through a dark chasm. "I told you and our siblings over again what our roles are! We are eternal. Humans are glimpses. You need to learn that, and perhaps you won't be so bored."

Time felt her temper reaching a blowing point. She slammed her glass down on her desk, shattering it. "That is boring!" she screamed. "Too boring! If you don't help me then I'll ask our other siblings! Dream will weave his webs and send them nightmares; Desire will whisper in their ears as they spread lust! Anything—anything to cure my boredom!"

Death sighed and shook his head. "We are always haunted by humans," he said. "Do not make it worse by getting involved in their affairs." And with that, he vanished in darkness, disappearing from Time's office.

Mistress Time scowled and huffed. "Damn bone man don't tell me what to do," she muttered. She felt angry again and slammed her fist on her desk again. Demoting her workers could only entertain her so much. She needed something else, something to mess with this too smooth love story. "Fine, if the bone man won't help me, then I'll get our other siblings," she muttered. She stood calmly and pressed her hands over her dress, smoothing it out. She cleared her throat and pressed the intercom button once more. "Please send a message to my brother Dream and sibling Desire, I would like to speak with them."

A/N: My writing schedule is off lately. I hope to use the upcoming Christmas break to fix it.