AN: You guys are seriously the best. I am incomplete without your wonderfulness.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
and Jill came tumbling after."

- Mother Goose

Godric's Hollow, England
1898

"It will be easy. You'll be in and out in less than a minute, I promise."

"I don't steal."

"Not even for me?"

"Gell…you know I can't."

Gellert turned on his heel and all Albus could see of him were his butterscotch-gold ringlets and handsome vest, stretched tightly across his back as he crossed his arms. Albus sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I thought there was more to you than that," Gellert said disappointedly, voice dropping to a low whisper. "I thought you…cared for me."

"But I do!" Albus said, coming over to him. Gellert sidestepped him. "Gell, please-"

"If you cared for me, you'd do this." Gellert turned around, leveling the full force of his turquoise eyes on Albus. "For us."

Albus squirmed. "I do care," he said. "I just-"

"I understand that you're nervous, but it's easy." Gellert grinned crookedly. "Like ripping off a band-aid. Quick!"

"And a little painful," Albus grumbled.

Gellert's handsome face darkened. "Why must you do that?" he snapped. "Try not looking at the glass half-empty every once in a while, won't you, Albus?" At the other wizard's hurt expression, he looked pained and sighed. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You're sure there isn't any other way to secure the map?"

"No, the wretched dealer won't sell it for any less than sixty Galleons and neither you nor I have that kind of money," Gellert hissed, scorn flashing in his gaze. It went away quickly though and he turned to Albus with a little smile that crinkled the bridge of his strong nose. "Which is why I need you to get it for me. The bloke has already seen me but won't recognize you, especially if you use the Morphus Spell."

Albus mulled over this. He did hate to disappoint Gell…

Seeing that he was about to give, Gellert pressed, "Please, Al? For me."

"I… oh alright."

Gellert's grin could have outshined the Eiffel Tower at midnight. "I knew I could count on you, love," he laughed, hiding them behind an apple tree before taking Albus' face in his hands and kissing him hard. He pulled back, ruffling Albus' auburn hair. "You're special. One day the world will know how brilliant you and I are, and they'll love us."

Albus smiled, trapped in the beautiful vision Gell's words had painted. "All great power comes with sacrifices," Gellert added. "This is yours."

He nodded. Yes, this would be his sacrifice.

"It's worth it, isn't it?" Gellert continued, caressing the curve of Albus' cheek. "Worth me?"

"Yes," Albus murmured and Gellert smiled that askew, mischievous grin of his and awarded him with another kiss. Albus sighed. How he loved Gell.

"Stay with me, Albus," Gellert whispered, strong hands coming up to frame his face as their lip-lock became more feverish. "Forever."

"Forever," Albus echoed.

Hogwarts, England
1943

As a muddled Slughorn teetered to the punchbowl Hermione turned to see Meredith and Riddle had left completely. Horror struck her. No, that can't be... They were just here! But it was, she realized as she looked frantically around the laughing fro - they were gone. She struggled through the throng of dancing students, skirting a house-elf about to topple under the weight of a giant goblet filled with crustaceans, and burst through the exit.

She glanced up and down the empty hallway, lit in an orange-glow cast by the torches and ominous against the deafening silence, so startling after the clamor of the party. She was the only one out here, for everyone else was either in bed or at the soiree, so where were Riddle and Meredith? She hurried down the corridor, checking each classroom and even a few bathrooms on the way, but to no avail. They weren't here.

I lost them.

Defeated, Hermione was about to go back to Slughorn's soiree when she heard a strange noise. A low…keening? She followed it down another hall and arrived at an empty Muggle Studies classroom. Opening the door, she didn't see anything in the darkness but still heard that weird whimpering. She stepped forward and gasped when she felt sticky liquid under her feet. The wetness suctioned on the soles of her shoes when she lifted them and Hermione bent down to see what she stepped on was bright red. Her stomach dropped at the sight of diluted burgundy blood shining in the moonlight. It smelled of saltwater.

"Meredith," she whispered.

Hermione shoved back memories of the last time she'd seen blood in Hogwarts and lit her wand, holding it out in front of her to see Meredith Smith's crumpled form less than two feet away from her, soaking in a bath of blood that oozed murkily from her temple. It reminded Hermione of the time Meredith passed her a gravy boat of mud in the Great Hall.

"Taste good, doesn't it?" she'd said.

How bittersweet revenge was.

Hermione carefully made her way over to the unconscious Meredith and knelt beside her. She was still breathing and the noise Hermione had heard was Meredith's whimpering. "What did he do to you?" Hermione said to herself, looking around the otherwise untouched classroom. The only thing out of place was the girl slowly dying on the floor and bit of blood on a desk beside her.

She wanted to know what happened.

Reaching down, Hermione touched Meredith's head and summoned the Founder's Magic, which flew readily into her body. It quivered on her skin and a charge sparked her fingertips as she pressed them firmly against Meredith's forehead. Leglimens! she thought and her magic propelled into Meredith's mind like an angry, searching whip of electricity - and hit a blank wall. Hermione gasped and opened her eyes.

He Obliviated Meredith Smith.

And left her to die.

Hermione felt…nauseous. Riddle really was sick. She looked over Meredith's form. Oh goodness, she was a mess. Meredith was at least two shades paler, shivering, and even her necklace was gone. Hermione had to get her to the hospital wing quickly-

Wait. Her necklace was gone?

It dawned on Hermione that this was what Riddle had been after all along: Slytherin's Locket. Oh, it was so obvious now! Meredith had been in his way, an obstacle, and he had eliminated her – or he almost did anyway – but now she was going to live. Hermione would make sure of it.

"Meredith, wake up," she urged, shaking the unconscious girl lightly when she didn't move. "Meredith, listen to me! You have to wake up-"

Suddenly, Meredith's eyes snapped open and Hermione flinched on seeing her normally brown orbs bloodshot. Her eyes wheeled around her wildly. "W-where am I? What's-?" Her gaze landed on Hermione and her pupils dilated in pure, unadulterated fear. She hashed out a bloodcurdling scream.

Hermione was thrown back when the girl started to fight, clenched fists flailing through the air haphazardly and one catching her in the chin. Hermione gasped and stars spiraled across her vision in silver dots, but she shook them off and dizzily scrambled back to Meredith, careful to stay out of hitting range. "Meredith, what's wrong?" she demanded.

"Get away from me!" Meredith shrieked, bursting into tears. "I saw what you did."

Hermione didn't understand. "What do you mean?" Meredith did not answer, sobbing harder. Again, Hermione pressed, "Meredith, what did you see?"

A disgusted leer morphed her face and Meredith's eyes slanted from between her bloodstained fingers. "You did s-something to S-Slughorn. S-s-something Unforgivable! – and then the world went dark and now I'm here. You did this to me, didn't you? You did it!" Her eyes widened and she hid her face in her hands, shuddering. "You've got Dark magic."

Hermione went cold. She saw that?

"I-I don't have any…" Hermione started to say, but was cut off by the sound of clumsy ambling coming from the hall.

"Who's there!?" Gregovitch's hollered, his wheezy voice increasing in volume as the seconds ticked by. "Come out! It's straight to Dippet's office with you, you little maggot!"

Blast! She had to go – quickly – but first Hermione needed to do one thing. If Meredith were to live, after all, she couldn't know about Riddle…even if he was a loathsome bastard. She summoned the Founder's Magic once more and Meredith started to scream again. Fury churned through Hermione at the sound. Riddle had done this and now Meredith was afraid of her? Plus, Gregovitch was still shouting out there like a banshee and she had yet to get to Dumbledore before he left. Her plan - oh again, her stupid, impossible plan was falling apart.

"No, don't!" Meredith gasped, on the verge of hyperventilation. "Don't you dare touch me with your filthy, impure hands, you disgusting Mudbl-"

"Oh shut up, you idiotic bigot," Hermione interrupted sharply, grabbing Meredith's face and pulling her up to eye-level. Meredith desperately fought to avoid her gaze, clawing at her hands and shrieking, but Hermione had so much magic pumping through her she didn't even need an eye connection and Meredith's scratching nails felt like kitten claws.

"HELP ME!" she screeched and Gregovitch's yells got louder.

"You drank too much Firewhiskey and left the dance early," Hermione said, quickly. "You thought this was the toilet and came in here, but slipped on a puddle of potions and cracked your head on a desk. You didn't wake up until Gregovitch found you. Got it?"

Meredith's thrashing stopped. "I drank too much?" she said, confused.

"Yes." Hermione paused. Dumbledore had told her to never mess with any person's personality, for it was very dangerous magic, but she was tired of Meredith hounding her like a dog every other minute of the day - sooner or later she'd get too close and find out what Hermione was really up to in Hogwarts - so this, surely, must be the logical exception? Yes, surely. She took a deep breath. "You'll also stop being so cruel and bothersome…alright?"

"Okay."

Good enough. Hermione straightened and Meredith fell asleep immediately, slumping against a desk leg, head bent at an awkward angle and beautiful ebony hair matted with blood. Hermione realized her robes were spotted with the crimson liquid, too, when she entered the lit hall. She took them off and stashed them behind a knight. Gregovitch was still far off but getting closer, so Hermione shot two Reductos at the wall across from the classroom Meredith was in as a final touch, exploding several chunks of brick that ratcheted off the ceiling and some nearby artifacts on display.

"Ha, that'll be comin' out o' yer tuition! Got you now, ye bloody termites!" Gregovitch bellowed, followed by the sound of uneven running. He'd find Meredith now.

Hermione stowed her wand and took off, jumping on a moving staircase and going to the seventh floor girl's toilet. She ran in to find the large bathroom vacant and her potion cooled, hastening to it and quickly pouring some of the Despicable Concoction into a flask, where it hissed when she lifted it. "Grindelwald!" she exclaimed.

Hermione corked the potion and she was off again, running to Dumbledore's office on the third floor. She screeched to a halt outside his door and knocked on it frantically. BANG. BANG. BANG. No response. Again, she pounded her fist on the door. BANG. BANG. BANG. Oh no, he's not answering! He's not answering! She tried the knob but it wouldn't budge and none of her Unlocking Charms were working. She peered in the small window to see the office pitch-black inside and obviously vacated. No one was there. Dumbledore had left for Germany.

He left?

He left.

Hermione felt murderous.

Tom Riddle had...ruined everything. Her plan. The Despicable Concoction. Meredith. Now, she'd rebrewed the potion and come to Dumbledore's office only to find the Transfiguration professor was gone. Fucking gone. She could not complete the task without step four, but step four was officially a bust, and it was all Riddle's damn fault. She'd come back to the '40s for nothing!

Hermione barely noticed her magic cranking up around her, reaching levels of intensity it had never spanned before, for she was too distracted by the terrible sensation of a pounding heart, racing pulse, and the raw…need for something. She didn't know what it was, but she was suddenly ravenous for it. Hermione tried to shove the emotion aside and the only thought pushing her mind away from it was vengeance. Oh, Riddle was going to get the lecturing of his life!

She stormed up the halls and enchanted staircases, shoes clacking sharply against the gleaming marble floors, and stormed to the Head's common room. That son of a bitch was going to get what was coming to him. She clenched her wand at her side and several portrait inhabitants scurried into the backgrounds of their canvases at her approach.

The entrance to the Head's common room loomed before her, a towering landscape of a green meadow filled with rustling flowers that sighed "Password?"

Just open! Hermione thought and the frame lurched aside a second before she barreled through it. Entering the common room, her eyes whisked over the house banners, crackling fire, and cozy furniture uncaringly and landed on Tom Riddle, who was gazing at something in his palm that glinted June gold in the firelight but was swallowed by his fist before she had the chance to see what it was. However, as his cool black eyes swiveled around and rested on her she immediately knew what the object he'd so slyly slipped in his pocket had been.

Her anger increased tenfold.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Riddle said, cocking an inquisitive brow.

She stomped up to him, shaking with fury, and when she was close enough that he sensed her livid magic simmering on the air he inched back, eying her warily. "Tom Riddle," she hissed, leveling her wand at him. "You are a fucking bastard."

His brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me! You – are – a – fucking – bastard."

Riddle sat back and rested his arms on the couch back behind him at her biting words, regarding her with what she furiously realized was actual amusement. "And why is that?" he inquired, crossing his ankles.

"Why?" Hermione snorted. "Because you're insane! I know what you did to Meredith and it's disgusting. All that over a little necklace? Are you serious? You're lucky I saved your arse or you'd be locked up in Azkaban now-"

The humor on Riddle's face suddenly dispersed and he stood up in one fluid movement, roughly grabbing her by the arms before she could step out of his reach. "What did you say?" he asked, voice dangerously soft, and jet-black eyes narrowed into snakelike slits.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the threat in his gaze, but she plunged on valiantly, continuing, "I know about Meredith. In fact, I found her bleeding to death in the Muggle Studies classroom. Were you just going to let her die? Does the weight of murder even register in your sick brain-?"

Riddle's grip on her arms was vice-like, painful, and she winced. His magic growled in her ears, making every hair on her body stand on end. "Don't forget who you're talking to, darling," he hissed. "I'll-"

"What? Kill me?" Hermione guessed, laughing without humor. "That'd be just like you. How predictable!"

Riddle glared at her. "What are you talking about?"

The Chamber of Secrets. All my friends. Hermione swallowed. Quietly, she said, "You nearly killed Meredith for Slytherin's Locket, although using Amortentia made that completely unnecessary. I know you're dangerous."

His lip curled. "If I'm so dangerous then why are you here?"

She started at that. Well...why was she here? It would've been smart to stay away, to not elude him to the fact she knew all about his little games. She was safer in the background, Dumbledore had told her as much, yet here she was trying to claw her way out of the dark. How very Harry Potter of her to act on impulse. "Because I..." At her faltering he smirked patronizingly and her temper broiled, making her spit out the first thing she could come up with. "I'm here because I hate you, Riddle!"

His half-smile dropped, that strong jaw clenched and fury glimmered in his shadow eyes. However, that emotion melted away a second late to leave cold calculation in its place. "How do you know about the Amortentia?" he said. "You couldn't unless you'd taken some of the potion too." At her guilty look, he sported a devilish grin worthy of rivaling the Cheshire cat. This did not make her feel any safer. "Ah, so you did take it. Why would you need Despicable Concoction, hm?"

Oh, so now he was trying to start a Spanish Inquisition? Hermione's anger sparked again, as did her magic, which slashed across his like the swiping claws of a tiger. Riddle's own rose up to meet it, to overpower it. "I did need the potion, but you fucked that up by turning it into Amortentia, didn't you!" she snapped.

"I'm surprised you recognize that potion at all," Riddle said, ignoring the jab. He stroked her hair, smiling wider when she tried to wriggle away. His magic, however, overwhelmed hers by far and locked her body in place. He laughed darkly. "Have you had experience with love potions, Hermione?"

"I haven't used it to attempt murder, if that's what you're asking."

Annoyance glanced across his features and his grip on her hair tightened, bringing tears to her eyes. He yanked her head back so her eyes were mere inches away from his own. His magic suffocated her, oppressive but seductive all at once. "Tell anyone about what you saw tonight and I will kill you, Hermione. Jeopardize me in any form or fashion and you will die painfully. Inhumanely," he said softly, with such nonchalance and conviction a shiver rolled through Hermione at the genuine death threat. "I promise that."

His eyes flicked over her twice, drinking in every emotion splayed wide open on her face for the world to see, and he let her go. She stumbled back, rubbing her sore scalp.

When Hermione looked up it was to receive a shock, for suddenly Riddle appeared sorrowful as a fallen angel. Whiplashed, she stared at him in bewilderment. "I apologize, Hermione," he said regretfully, "but I don't think I can trust you to keep this a secret."

Warily, she said, "What are you-?"

"Obliviate!" he cast and she automatically ducked, missing the spell by inches. It smashed a lamp into pieces on the opposite side of the room and Hermione wheezed as she hit the floor, rolling over to face him.

"What the-? Are you serious?" she gasped.

Riddle chuckled. "Quite." He flicked his wand and a Slicing Hex spun toward her. She raised her wand to deflect it and it careened off to the side, tearing the wallpaper into rose-print ribbons.

"Wait, wait! I'm not going to tell anyone, I swear!" Hermione said desperately, skirting a purple jet of flames that caught on some curtains behind her, reducing them to ash in seconds.

"And why is that?" Riddle replied drily, firing a third curse that screamed like a banshee as it sailed over her head, tearing a ferocious hole through her shield when she threw one up.

Because Dumbledore forbid it. Out loud, Hermione panted, "Well, Meredith is alive and… I-I don't want to get you into trouble."

He stopped trying to hex her but didn't lower his wand, and terrible anger mixed with disdain surfaced on his handsome face, making Hermione flinch. "Oh, I suppose that's because you care so deeply for me?" he sneered.

"Ok, so maybe I don't…hate…you," she said reluctantly, realizing the words were true as they passed her lips. "You're just severely infuriating is all."

"So are you." The snarl curling his Bernini-carved lips slowly unraveled and he tilted his head, like a snake who had caught sight of something tasty. His mouth quirked in what may have been a smile and Hermione was abruptly reminded of how hauntingly alluring he looked. His dress robes weren't on anymore, but his tie was loose and cuffs unbuttoned. With dismay, she realized that made him all the more appealing.

Stupid, evil, handsome bastard.

"I can feel your magic," he said suddenly, startling her. "It's stronger when you're like this."

She scowled. "Like what?" Hermione snarked. "Furious? Threatened?"

His eyes lit with intrigue. "Precisely."

Hermione tensed when he walked toward her, covering the space between him in a few lithe steps. Her heart sped up the closer he became, magic beating like a drum in her veins as he clasped her hand and pulled her to a stand. She tried to hide it, but couldn't help reacting to his touch. There was no rhyme or reason as her senses sharpened and the scent of Dark magic overrode the air, strangely tantalizing, and without meaning to her own magic stretched out and touched his. Hermione's knees buckled slightly and her eyes shut of their own accord.

Like setting a match to gasoline, she was on fire.

"There it is," he murmured, seemingly as transfixed as she. "That…spark."

At this, Hermione snapped herself out of it - whatever it was - and yanked her hands back, glowering at him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't feel anything."

"Liar."

"I'm leaving!"

All traces of amusement abandoned his expression and Hermione turned on her heel, chin high and shoulders proud, but her dramatic exit was ruined when Riddle's uncannily long fingers hooked on the collar of her shirt and yanked her back effortlessly. She hit his chest and his mouth was flush against her ear, even as a button cut into her throat and she sputtered, hands flying up to pry his off. "Oh no, little witch, you're not going anywhere," he whispered, low laugh laced with shadows and warning. "We haven't finished just yet."

He shoved her on the couch unceremoniously and Hermione scrambled upright, searching for her wand and sending him a glare from the depths of hell when she saw him twirling it in his hand. "You can't keep me here," she snapped. "I'm not your little slave!"

"Of course you're not," he said, black eyes sliding over her in such a way she recoiled and wished his thought track wasn't so helplessly unfathomable. What was he thinking? Riddle smirked. "I was thinking you could be my plaything."

"W-what?"

"You heard me." He sauntered toward her, the darkness in his gaze growing when she scampered back, and dropped their wands on the ornately carved, oak coffee table as he passed it. She stared from his discarded yew wand to him, bewildered, and he tutted in mock sympathy. "You look confused, darling. Shall I show you what I mean?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. Was he going to torture her with his bare hands? Batter her to a pulp? Throttle her? "Please don't," she choked out.

"Don't beg, Hermione. It doesn't become you."

He sat down and her stomach twisted in knots when one of his long-fingered hands reached out, trailing an electric path down her side and pausing over the swell of her hip. All encompassing terror consumed her and she trembled, for all that bravado from a few minutes ago seemed to have flown straight out the window. He pried the edge of her shirt there free until he reached skin and Hermione froze as his fingers roamed there uninhibited. "S-stop that," she whispered.

"Why should I?" he replied. "I like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones-"

"Stop."

"And the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which I will again and again and again kiss-"

"C-cut it out!" she barked, trying to stifle the automatic reaction her body had to his words and feathery touches. She still didn't understand why he was touching her like this. Riddle didn't feel that way about her, about anybody. Wasn't he going to hurt her? Hermione took a deep breath. "I haven't forgotten what you did to Meredith."

He looked irritated. "Why do you even care about that girl? She hasn't done anything for you. If it were you instead of her, she would have left you to die and you know it."

Hermione frowned, a seed of doubt taking root. Riddle was right. Meredith would have let her die were their roles reversed. However… "It was the right thing to do," she said determinedly. "I couldn't just leave her there."

"I don't understand your reasoning." Frowning, he muttered, "Maybe you really are just as sweet as you seem?"

Hermione squirmed, deigning it best not to reply.

"Well, I never intended for Meredith to get hurt in the first place," Riddle said, looking away. "She stole something from me and I just wanted it back, but she tripped and I…panicked. I didn't know what to do."

"You left her to die," Hermione said sharply.

"I did nothing of the sort." His fingers resumed their Waltz of the Snowflakes on her skin, breaking her concentration and making her stomach flutter a little. "Or at least I didn't mean to hurt anyone," he added softly.

"You…didn't?" Hermione said, breath hitching, and he nodded. She stared at him, stunned. It had been an accident? She bit her lip. Perhaps Riddle was lying, but then again, he sounded so honest… Well, first of all she needed to learn more. "What do you mean?" she pushed.

He hesitated. "I think the Amortentia went to her head." Riddle glanced at her. "You see, she started acting strange. She even…talked about you."

"Me?" With alarm, Hermione remembered the way Meredith had screamed at her, calling her a dirty Mudblood even when she was trying to help. She stiffened. Did Meredith tell Riddle about what she'd done to Slughorn?

"Yes. She said terrible things, going on about how you weren't good enough for Slytherin and would never become anything worthwhile in life." At this, Hermione's temper sparked. Really, what was that girl's problem? Her IQ probably tripled hers! Riddle sighed, breaking her out of her internal rant. "I admit, I lost my temper and started to leave, but then Meredith tried to come after me. Then she…she tripped."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?"

"Somehow, I had the suspicion you wouldn't believe me." Hence sarcasm.

"Well, still… You used Amortentia on her. That's wrong," Hermione pointed out, trying to hold onto the anger that had been raging inside her a second ago – but it was already slipping through her fingers like melted butter.

"No, it's smart." He added, as an afterthought, "Or it would've been if Meredith didn't crack her head, I suppose."

His cold hand flattened against her stomach and Hermione jumped. When had he gotten under her shirt? She couldn't remember, couldn't think, as his arm reached around and drew her to him. Her eyelids fluttered when she felt his surprisingly soft lips at her ear, whispering and ticklish. "So it wasn't my fault at all, you see?"

She wanted to protest and say yes, yes it was his fault Meredith was traumatized even if he didn't mean for it to happen, but words dissolved as he breezed his mouth over her neck. Her head automatically craned back, giving up more skin, secretly enjoying those kisses. His hands, suddenly both under her shirt, traced her lower back. Fingers, which would one day be spidery and chalky-white, danced up her spine. Hermione shuddered. "You taste sweet too, like vanilla," he murmured, smirking when she jerked in surprise.

Then the pace changed and his lips were on her throat again, greedily covering every inch of flesh available, and she felt fear as his weight pinned her down. Her heart hammered hard, a nervous staccato against his chest, but she didn't struggle. Why aren't I shoving him off me? But why would she want to? Because this is wrong! Why was it wrong again?

Riddle's lips covered hers, hand brushing over her cheek, and she stiffened in shock. He'd kissed her. On the lips. The Dark Lord had actually kissed her…and worse, I think I liked it.

I think I want him to do it again.

His eyes met hers, dark and foreboding. "Kiss me," he ordered.

Cautiously, Hermione moved her mouth against his and felt those velvet lips, pressed flush against hers, smirk. It felt foreign, but…good. Not as scary and overwhelming as the meeting of their magic, which hummed around them in an ever-growing bubble, but slower. Better. Even if he was her enemy, even if he was infuriating and unpredictable and dangerous-

He pulled back and she tried to follow him, but he tsked, holding her down. "A condition, Hermione," Riddle said, eying her. "You can't tell anyone about the locket."

She frowned. "I know, I already told you I wouldn't."

"Good – and one more thing." He leaned close again and she couldn't help the anticipation that rolled through her body in a shiver when he got so near. Hermione didn't move, trying to hide it, some part of her trying to convince herself this wasn't right. "You like me better than anyone else, don't you?" he whispered.

What? That was an…odd question. But did she? Absently, Hermione noticed how soft his black hair looked and ran her hand through it. He pulled away. "Well?" he said impatiently.

"Why do you care about that?" she asked cautiously.

"Do you?"

Hermione hesitated. "I…suppose I do," she said haltingly, although she could have easily lied and said no. Compared to everyone else she knew here though, Riddle certainly was the most interesting and brilliant, despite being the most confusing. And temperamental.

Even as a child she'd always liked solving puzzles.

Riddle looked satisfied. "Good." Bending down, his mouth covered hers, eating up her next words in a long, slow kiss. "Keep it that way."

Somewhere in Hermione's mind she was disconcerted by these words and that strange glint in his eyes, but now she could hardly register anything other than the sensations going through her lax body and Riddle's sneaky hands. His tongue traced the seam of her lips seekingly.

"Quiet, Richie! I don't want Tom to wake up and see us," Augusta's voice giggled from outside of the room, followed by the sound of her announcing the password.

Hermione froze and Riddle's weight was off of her in an instant, replaced by a cold draft. He snatched up his wand, waving it, and the lights went out.

She stumbled to her feet and jumped when she felt his hand around hers, swiftly tugging her to the entrance. He hid them behind a wobbly bookshelf moments before Augusta and Richard Hornet stumbled in, howling.

"Shhh! Quick, my room is this way," Augusta hissed through her drunken laughter, muttering an apology when she squashed Richard's foot. Hermione and Tom slipped out behind them, stepping into the hall just before the frame swung shut.

Hermione let out a huge breath of relief. Oh Merlin, Augusta almost saw me snoggingTom Riddle! she thought, horrified. What was she thinking? No, this was all wrong. Sure, she'd never felt that way in her life and his kisses had sent her on a brief trip to cloud nine – but still, Tom Riddle! She couldn't, wouldn't…or she really shouldn't do that again…

When Riddle faced her again however, those thoughts were wiped from her mind at the sight of his ruffled dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes. Could she do it again? Did she want to?

Wait a second.

"How did you know that spell?" Hermione demanded.

"I figured it out after seeing you use it in the library, it seemed useful and did come in handy just now," he said, waving his hand absently, and smirked as he took in her equally bedraggled state. "Shall I walk you to the common room?"

Hermione almost said yes, but bit her tongue sharply. She couldn't let those meaningless, hot…wonderful kisses get to her head. Oh Merlin. "No thanks," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine on my own."

He nodded, pretending not to see her grimace or the way her fists clenched at her sides – but Tom always saw. "Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he said casually and she started, surprised. Hogsmeade? She hadn't even thought of Hogsmeade. In fact, that gave her an idea…

"Yes, actually," Hermione said. "Why?"

"Just wondering." He reached out and she tensed, blinking when he freed the lip she'd unconsciously bitten from her teeth with his thumb. She tried not to, but couldn't help but stare at his mouth in return. She remembered how his lips felt, cool and soft as a winter draft.

Now, they curved in a half-smile. "So are you going to stand here staring at me all night?"

Hermione blinked, snapping out of her daze, and cleared her throat, stepping back. "Uh, no. I…I'll be going now." Hastily, she started down the hall the way she'd come, cursing herself for acting like such an idiot.

"Hermione?"

She turned around - more quickly than she would've liked - to find her vinewood wand winking at her from his hold. Embarrassment coursed through her as he flicked his wrist and sent it soaring toward her. She reached up, catching it, and his teeth flashed, two strips of white in the dim corridor. "Will you be going now?" he taunted.

Hermione slanted her eyes at him. "Goodnight, Tom," she said with finality.

His soft laugh echoed down the hall, encasing her, although this time she forced herself not to turn around – not even when he said "goodnight, darling" and goosebumps erupted on her skin. No, not even then.

Hermione lay in bed at 4AM. She refused to think of the kiss – well, many kisses – between her and Riddle last night, or how wonderfully erotic they'd been. She must have drunk spiked pumpkin juice or something. Right?

The emerald hangings were drawn around her bed and the wards up as always. No one in the Slytherin girl dormitory could get past them, except herself of course. Hermione turned on her side, restless. She couldn't sleep and she could not go down to the library to distract herself with books either, not when sunrise was still hours away. She shut her eyes, fingers idly skipping down the front of her nightgown and plucking open buttons on their way. Her own touch didn't elicit any delicious burn below her belly though.

Riddle's had.

Hermione sighed. Ever since the ritual something had been gnawing at her, a primal hunger lodged deep inside that clawed at her insides, rocking her bones whenever she saw that dark glint in Riddle's eyes or when her anger got the best of her. Hermione knew she desired something, but had no idea what it was. All she knew was Riddle had helped ease the ache, the empty hole inside, last night… Ugh, there she went thinking about him again! What was wrong with her? How could she be attracted to the man who would one day become a Dark Lord, a murderer? Who already was a killer? That was sick.

It doesn't feel sick though. She couldn't help it. He was handsome, mysterious, and compelling in every way. She hated him, yet…she didn't. Was it simply her yearning to learn, to know all, that made her feel this way? To want to know what thoughts whispered in his head? Still, Hermione had to complete the task. Riddle had even given her an idea when he mentioned Hogsmeade and now step four was possible once again. Perhaps getting close to him would help her? Keep your friends close and enemies closer, right?

She smiled at the ludicrousness of it all, laughing to herself. He even recited poetry.

'I like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows,' he'd said. 'I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones…'

Hermione fisted her hands in the sheets to keep herself from doing something she knew she'd regret, but the magic was uncontrollable as it sizzled around her, hungry for another dose of Riddle's. Their magic together, she remembered, had felt so unfairly good.

"I like my body when it is with your body," she whispered aloud, tasting the words just to see if they sounded as right aloud as they did in her head. "It is so quite a new thing."

She dragged her hands down her throat, remembering the butterfly kisses placed there earlier, and closed her eyes. "Muscles better and nerves more." The scent of cedar and smoke bled through her senses. Strange, flimsy whispers hissed through her ears. "…I like kissing this and that of you."

And she did. Oh, how Hermione secretly did.

The students ambled off the thestral-drawn carriages and Hermione hopped off too, the fine dusting of snow that had come last night coming up to her ankles when she landed. Around her Hogsmeade was considerably younger, shinier, and a bit smaller too. The Hog's Head however was in the same place and she headed toward it, drawing her fall cloak tightly about her to keep out the cold. She entered the Hog's Head and several disembodied heads hanging on coarse ropes screeched obscenities at her arrival, cursing more when someone else entered behind her. She headed straight for the back, not realizing it was Dolohov, Crabbe, and Goyle who had come in.

The barman's gaze skipped over Hermione uninterestedly as she strode to the narrow hallway leading to the unisex toilet and employees only door. It was very dim and stinky back here, and Hermione quickly took out Harry's Invisibility Cloak, pulling it over her. There was no Disapparating in Hogwarts, but hopefully this plan would work – even if it was a long shot.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione turned sharply on her heel and vanished from the shop with a noisy "BANG!"

The sensation of being sucked through a tube two sizes too small overtook her for a short instant before her feet made contact with something soft and wet. She opened her eyes to see she had landed in a snow bank on the outskirts of a dense evergreen forest and not twenty feet away were the figures of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, wands up and whirling as they dueled in the center of a small village. Grindelwald's followers, dressed in robes bearing the Deathly Hallows symbol and towering cone-shaped hats, fell back at a wave of Grindelwald's hand. A crowd of villagers scurried into their homes and buildings alike, screaming as spells careened through the air. It was just like the legend, the stories in History of Magic that told of this fateful day, she thought a little dazedly.

Still, she'd barely arrived in time…and what was she going to do now?

Hermione realized how very cold it was at the end of fall in the countryside of Germany when she wriggled out of the three-foot snow heap she'd crash landed in. She took off the Invisibility Cloak, replacing it with a heavier one lined with fur, and put the Cloak in her beaded bag. Now she just needed to get closer.

Silently, she hurried over the wintry brush and frozen vegetation, trying not to be distracted by the stunning array of spells soaring through the air. Many spells she didn't recognize and most of those emitted from Grindelwald's wand – the Elder Wand. The Elder Wand was the core reason the Dumbledore of her time needed his past self to end Grindelwald for good, for if Grindelwald had died instead of being shut up in Nurmengard his tales of the Deathly Hallows would have gone down to hell with him and Voldemort would never have found out about the Elder Wand. However, after Dumbledore's death Voldemort had eventually found Grindelwald, forced the location of the Elder Wand out of him and taken it from Dumbledore's tomb. That was when the Light side truly started to fall, when death tolls rose from hundreds to thousands, and then… Hermione came here. She was to defeat Grindelwald before focusing her attentions on Voldemort's fall, on obtaining all three magical objects that together would create the Master of Death.

Hermione was to eliminate every possible mean of immortality.

And step four, give Dumbledore the Despicable Concoction, would require a little editing and more drastic measures on her part.

Purple flames soared out of Grindelwald's wand and Dumbledore raised his arms, an aqua-blue shield rising up around him and absorbing the Dark curse. As Hermione got closer she heard Grindelwald bark a merry laugh when Dumbledore conjured a majestic ice phoenix that dived toward the Dark wizard, spraying lethal shards of frost all around and stabbing several surrounding Grindelwald followers, who fell back screeching in pain and fright. Grindelwald, however, simply waved his wand and the icy daggers turned into a warm rain shower around him. "Is that all you've got, love?" he taunted. "Come now, Albus! You're holding out on me, as always." His boyish laugh, tainted by an edge of bitterness, echoed through the wood.

Hermione hid behind a wide oak, watching the duel play out through a cluster of knotted branches dotted in frosted berries that looked like white jewels in the sunlight. She held her breath when Dumbledore retaliated with a spell that made the ground tremble and vines jet out of the ground from beneath Grindelwald, twining around his body and snapping at him like hungry jaws. Grindelwald growled, spinning the Elder Wand in a speedy parry, and the vines became stone, shattering into fragments at his feet.

"Too good to use Dark magic, are you?" he snarled, jaunty façade gone. "Let me teach you what true power looks like, Albus… Conjunctivitus Defodio!"

Dumbledore looked surprised and in the seconds that the dangerous curse hurdled toward him he performed a complicated wand movement, blue eyes rolling back to the whites as his lips quickly mumbled words Hermione neither knew nor could probably fathom were she close enough to hear them. Suddenly, the green jet of light thundering toward him split into two parts and boomeranged, swinging back toward Grindelwald and turning fiery red an instant before it hit his chest, sweeping through his shield. Hermione had no idea what spell Dumbledore had used, but she could feel his magic vibrating in the air like the aftershocks of an earthquake. It triggered hers and she felt magic shoot over every inch of her body, humming and buzzing in anticipation, itching to be put to use too.

Grindelwald's eyes widened an instant before Dumbledore's spell threw him a clear ten feet through the air. He landed with a heavy thud, still for a few long seconds, but struggled to get up a moment later, arms shaking with effort.

"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore boomed.

Heart pounding, Hermione watched as the Elder Wand flew into her professor's grip. Here was her chance – the future of the Wizarding World's last chance.

She shook a little as she raised her wand. Was she really going to do this? Dumbledore told me to complete the task at all costs! her brain reminded her importantly. The fate of every person who died in the future depends on me, on this. Grindelwald had to die. The Elder Wand could not come into Voldemort's hands, end of story.

Dumbledore would want her to do this. He'd been willing to sacrifice Harry for slaughter, hadn't he? Why not throw another pig under the knife?

Hermione drew up her hood and rushed forward a second before any of the bystanders could, Stunning an unexpecting Dumbledore from behind. He stiffened and fell face first into the frozen brush. Nonverbally, Hermione cast, Expelliarmus! and the Elder Wand soared into her hand. At the sight of her the people who had come out of hiding panicked, scrambling and falling back into chaos within seconds. A woman screamed in German on seeing the disarmed Dumbledore and Grindelwald's followers broke apart, some randomly shooting curses into the crowd and others Disapparating before the Aurors could arrive. Hermione turned to Grindelwald, who had not yet risen and lifted his blonde-grey head at the sound of her footsteps.

"Who are you?" he spat and she was surprised to see blood trickling from his wide mouth, staining the ivory-white snow underneath him bright red. Even more surprising, he was handsome. His golden hair was streaked through with grey and the ends of his sea-blue eyes were wrinkled with laugh lines, but he was still as good-looking as he'd been rumored to be in youth. And evil.

He struggled to see past the strange figure's black hood and when it came close enough shock registered on his features at the sight of long curls and brown eyes. "You're a woman," he said, shocked. "Are you-" he swiped his chapped lips with his tongue. "-the angel of death?"

The angel paused. "Why do you think that?"

"I've heard tales about you," Grindelwald said, eyes wide with wonderment. "You were Death in the Hallows and gave the brothers three magical objects that together can create immortality. If you give them to me, angel, I – I can make the world better-"

"Ah, I forgot you were obsessed with those things." A bitter smile curled the angel's lips. "If I give the objects to you, you would bring the wizards to their 'rightful place' above all other magical creatures and Muggles, right?" She sounded sardonic.

"Yes, I will purge this world of sin and rectify us! Please, give them to me," Grindelwald begged, snatching her hand and holding it to his cold lips. She jerked in surprise, but he held on with a surprisingly strong grip. "I'll do anything, I've been looking for them my entire life. If you would just have mercy on me, just see-"

The Aurors had arrived and Dumbledore would wake up soon. Hermione couldn't remove herself from Grindelwald's tight lock, but she leveled the Elder Wand on his forehead. He was obviously delirious. "Alright, alright!" she interrupted and Grindelwald stopped his babbling, staring up at her hopefully. Her heart pounded. "C-close your eyes and I'll give them to you, ok?"

His eyes widened and he grinned, like a little boy about to get the present he'd been asking for all year, and obeyed. Hermione forced the guilt crawling up her throat back and reminded herself of all the sick things Grindelwald had done, what he still wanted to do, what he would do to her if he knew she wasn't an angel at all but Muggle offspring…

If Dumbledore couldn't kill him, she'd have to.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione cast and the magic inside her changed, crackling in the air and shooting out of the Elder Wand in a jet of green light that made Grindewald go limp in the snow. She only hesitated for a split-second before spinning around and Disapparating, the sound of Albus Dumbledore's hollow cry lost on her ears. In her place snow settled.

AN: Thanks for reading! I know, there was a lot going on and even info behind the task slipped in somewhere amongst shifty wizards and flashbacks, but I'm hoping you rockstars are okie dokie with it. Grindelwald was killed off quickly, but he's just a small part of Hermione's big (despite foggy) plan! I'm almost afraid to ask... thoughts? In review form? Favorite ice cream flavors? Mine is mint chocolate chip, but on Sundays it's vanilla bean. At least I'm pretty sure it is. Meh, the indecision kills.