Title: Dangerous Games (17-19)
Author name: Lunalelle
Author email:
Category: Drama
Sub Category: Romance
Keywords: Hermione Tom Riddle Voldemort Jekyll-Hyde
Rating: R
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB
Summary: An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: After reading OotP, I realized most of my ending, and my appointment for Figg as a previous Potions Mistress, was completely negated. I'm a bit bitter about it, but I'm not changing a thing. Please read the essay at the end. It's short, not at all stiff, quite conversational...

Chapter 17: Repercussions

Hermione stalked out of the office and ran to the Gryffindor common room. She gasped the password to the Fat Lady, climbed through the portrait hole, and rushed to the table where Harry was losing wizard's chess to Ron.

Before either of them could say, " 'Lo, 'Mione," she had thrown her arms around both of their necks and was crying into both of their shoulders.

"Have another breakdown, 'Mione?" Ron asked, patting her head awkwardly.

Hermione jerked away and slapped Ron upside the head, still bawling.

"Wake up, Ron!" she shouted. "If any brain cell in there is listening, I want you to know you are a selfish, self-righteous, immature, whiny brat, and I love you and Harry so much! Don't ever change. I'm sorry I did." She fell to the floor, nearly in hysterics now, to thunderous applause by the other Gryffindors in the room.

Ron shared a baffled look with Harry. The insults had cut him deeper than he was willing to admit. Harry shrugged, stumped. Then he bent down and gave Hermione an awkward hug, and froze.

"Hermione, you look different," Harry exclaimed. Hermione looked up from her hands, and now the entire common room could see her new appearance. Parvati and Lavender gasped simultaneously, and Ron's mouth dropped open.

Of course, the lack of her robes aided her beauty. Her voluptuousness was bare for all to see. And no one missed the bite marks along her shoulders, collarbone, and neck. It was a good thing they did not also see the dried blood under her clothes as well.

"Oooh, Hermione, who are you sleeping with?" Lavender asked keenly.

"No one," Hermione said brusquely, opening her trunk and donning one of her robes from fifty years before. Midnight peeked out from behind the trunk, then scurried up the stairs, relying on smell to find her mistress's room. Crookshanks was sleeping on Hermione's bed, and he did not react well to the little whippersnapper disrupting his nap, but the scent of his mistress made him tolerate the kitten, and soon Midnight was sleeping right next to the old man.

"If you don't mind, Harry, Ron, I'd like to talk to you alone." She stressed the last word. "Why don't we go to my quarters?"

Ignoring Parvati and Lavender's giggles, Harry, with furrowed brow, and Ron, with his own bewildered face, followed Hermione to her rooms.

"It was the Time Turner..." she said, beginning her story.


-Here is a chance to take charge of our fate

Deep down you must know/ That tomorrow's too late!

One rule of life we cannot rearrange.

The only thing constant is change!

-Henry, I'm not questioning your motives here!

But is what you are seeking worth the price?

You've turned you're back on everything you once held dear.

You're choosing to ignored your friend's advice.

You have your work/ And nothing more!

You are possessed/ What is your demon?

You've never been/ This way before

You've lost the fire/ You built your dream on!

There's something strange/ There's something wrong

I see a change/ It's like when love dies.

I who have know/ You for so long

I see the pain in your eyes.

-selections from "Board of Governors" and "His Work and Nothing More" from JEKYLL & HYDE


She told them that she had gone back to about fifty years before and that she had become an Animagus while finding a way back home.

"That's our 'Mione," sniggered Ron. "Even when her fate is at stake, she still has a side project." He shut up when Hermione shot daggers at him with her new dark brown eyes.

Then she told them off-handedly that Tom Marvolo Riddle was Head Boy that year. They reacted much as expected, but she lied by saying she rarely ever saw him.

It hurt her to realize lying had become effortless.

Unfortunately, she could not hide from the truth so easily.

After a month, Hermione realized with trepidation that she had not had her time of the month. After two months, her worst suspicions were confirmed, and she went to Madam Pomfrey for a test. Madam Pomfrey gave her a very disapproving look when the test results were positive.

Her belly began to ever-so-slightly bulge.


Three months after she had returned, she was having to wear her larger, bulkier robes to conceal the pregnancy. Harry and Ron were beginning to notice, but they were still being polite about it and did not ask.

Most of the seventh-year Slytherins had not noticed her belly, but they had observed her 'sudden' transformation. They ceased their endless taunts, though Pansy was less than pleased, and began sulkily greeting her with terse grunts. However, she could not keep Draco's keen eyes from seeing her slowly rounding belly. He began asking her privately whether she might have mated with a hippopotamus.

Personally, she preferred his abuse to his silence. It made everything seem more normal.

Entering four months, Hermione could see that Harry was biting his tongue to not ask her. Ron was pointedly ignoring the fact and acted like he had not noticed how she had stopped eating in the morning but tucked in with renewed fervor at lunch.

Nobody could hide her nausea in morning advanced Potions. Everyone expected Snape to say something snide, but instead, he just stood there with his hands behind his back, letting Hermione throw up in the washbasin while wetting her forehead with the icy cold water spewing from the gargoyle's mouth. He resumed his lesson when she had taken her seat.

Maybe he thought the baby was punishment enough.

Only Neville tremulously asked her, not in so many words, who the father was once in Potions. Snape stiffened until Hermione answered:

"Rejoice, Neville, for unto you, a virgin has conceived. Don't forget the Fer-de-lance fangs or else the nightshade powder will cause the potion to overflow."

Only Harry saw Snape smother a smirk.

Harry was suspicious.

After class, he whispered in her ear, only half-joking, "Hermione, you haven't been sleeping with Snape, have you?"

Hermione gave him a scathing glower before Harry decided that, for now, it was none of his business.


Chapter 18: For Every Action


Could it be?/ Have I really lost my way?

Have I lost my mind?/ Will I lose the day?

Am I a good man?/ Am I a madman?

It's such a fine line/ Between a good man and a bad...

-excerpt from "No One Must Ever Know" from JEKYLL & HYDE



Remember the hair all my Death Eaters gave me? I know of your treachery, and those of others, but such things matter little to me. You know as well as I do that you are my only link to Dumbledore, and you're Dumbledore's only link to me. Anticipating your change of heart, I obtained the hairs from my Death Eaters for future use in potions, whether something beneficial or malevolent for the subject.

I know you will want to give this letter directly to Dumbledore, so I am going to reveal to you the entire plot. I am going to take one of my Polyjuices that you so conveniently concocted for me. Inside that potion, I shall place one lock of hair. I shall drink that potion, then Apparate directly outside Hogwarts gates. I will calmly walk into the gates and into the Hall by the main entrance. I will summon your clothes for my use. I will then snare Potter, and all through this charade, they'll think I'm you. Do you know why, Severus? You see, Nagini has been hiding among Blackeye's feathers, and when you finish reading these words, she'll have pumped your with enough venom to render you unconscious. Thank you, Severus, you've been of great help to me. Oh, did I forget to mention I've already taken the potion, and I am standing at the gate. I shall continue writing because I love my own scroll. I have a score to settle, Severus: with Harry Potter, and with Hermione.


Snape only had enough time to gape at the letter and marvel at his own stupidity.


(This song is it, folks. If you haven't read my quotes so far, shame on you, and at least read this song. It's on which my title is based, for heaven's sake)

-I feel your fingers/ Brushing my shoulder

Your tempting touch/ As it tingles my spine

Watching your eyes as they invade my soul

Forbidden pleasures/ I'm afraid to make mine...

At the touch of your hand/ At the sound of your voice

At the moment your eyes meet mine

I am out of my mind/ I am out of control

Full of feelings I can't define.

It's a sin with no name/ Like a tiger to tame

And my sense proclaim/ It's a dangerous game!

A darker dream/ That has no ending

Something unreal/ That you want to be true.

A strange romance/ Out of a mystery tale

The frightened princess/ Doesn't know what to do!

Does she just run away?/ Does she risk it and stay?/ Either way there's no way to win!

All I know is I'm lost/ And I'm counting the cost/ My emotions are in a spin.

And though no one's to blame,/ It's a crime and a shame

But it's true all the same/ It's a dangerous game!

No one speaks/ Not one word/ All the words are in our eyes.

Silence speaks/ Loud and clear/ All the words we/ Want to hear.

At the touch of your hand/ At the sound of your voice

At the moment your eyes meet mine

I am out of my mind/ I am out of control

Full of feelings I can't define.

It's a sin with no name/ Like a tiger to tame

And though no one's to blame.../ It's a crime and a shame

And the angels proclaim...

It's a dangerous game!

- "It's A Dangerous Game" from JEKYLL & HYDE

-The steps fell lightly and oddly, with a certain swing, for all they went so slowly; it was different indeed from the heavy creaking tread of Henry Jekyll.

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE


Harry picked at his chicken half-heartedly as he watched Hermione devour three chicken legs, a mound of potatoes smother in gravy, three buttered muffins, a small pile of steamed broccoli and carrots, and a large slice of pie. Finally, he slammed down his fork, and said, "Hermione, why don't you just tell us why you're going to have a baby. Whose is it? It has to be someone from the past, so whose?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Potter," murmured Snape from behind Harry's chair. His hands slipped around Harry's neck. "But if you really knew, you'd wish you never heard it."

"Snape," snarled Harry, "I always knew..." But then Snape laughed, cutting Harry off in revelation. It was a high, hard, cruel laugh that was extremely familiar, but not Snape's laugh at all. Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were as big as saucers. But, with a rise of encouragement, he saw her slip her hand into her robes. During her last few years, she had become better at remembering that she was a witch during adversity.

But the pseudo-Snape noticed as well and laughed even harder.

"Hermione, put that petty toy aside. My powers have multiplied so that I don't need a wand anymore, as useful as they are, as I'm sure you would be glad to know."

The camaraderie with which pseudo-Snape spoke to Hermione was unsettling.

"Voldemort," Harry gasped as the fingers that felt like Snape's tightened around Harry's neck.


Do you really think/ That I would ever let you go?

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

It you do, I'm said to say/ It simply isn't so

You will never get away from me!

- excerpt from "The Confrontation" from JEKYLL & HYDE


"Oh, very clever, Potter. Ah, Albus, yes, come join us. And Minerva McGonagall, I haven't seen you directly since school. You look positively ghastly."

Voldemort's casual air immediately Albus Dumbledore wary. That composure meant one of two things: either Voldemort was bluffing (highly unlikely) or he had a trick up his sleeve. Too late he remembered Voldemort's letter to Hermione.

"Yes, I am Lord Voldemort," the pseudo-Snape announced to the entire Hall. He closed his eyes with pleasure and tightened his fingers further as the Hall erupted into blissful chaos.

Suddenly, he felt slim fingers grasping his and wrenching them away from Harry's neck. Voldemort opened Snape's eyes and saw Hermione had crawled over the table and was now pushing Harry behind her and into Dumbledore.

"Good evening, my dear Hermione," Voldemort said with a throaty chuckle. "Being a true Gryffindor, I see, protecting Potter from the evil clutches of Lord Voldemort, but..."

"Leave it, Voldemort," she hissed.

" 'Leave it,' Hermione? Tell me, Albus, Minerva, Harry, do you know of poor Miss Shannen's adventure into the past?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered as he realized what Voldemort was going to say now that the whole Hall, and especially Harry, was listening.

"Hermione," Dumbledore whispered, "he's going to--"

Hermione's hand stopped his statement. She was standing directly before the Snape-like Voldemort, her eyes burning.

"Be careful of what you say, Lord Voldemort," she said softly.

"Did she tell you, Potter, that she met a few people that you know in that time?"

Harry stammered from behind Dumbledore, "W-what is he trying to say, 'Mione?"

Hermione stared at Snape's smirking countenance. She whispered despairingly, "I'm sorry, Harry." Then she let her head fall and waited for Voldemort to finish the tale.


...and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he was wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria...

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE


Seeing that he had won, Voldemort continued. "Tell me, Potter, did she tell you that she met Tom Marvolo Riddle in the past?"

A silence followed before Harry realized that this was not rhetorical.

"Yes. But Her--"

"And what did she tell you of me?" Voldemort murmured quietly, licking Snape's lips as though there was a tasty morsel there.

"Not much."

Voldemort laughed again. "Perfect... perfect, Hermione, I even warned you, I offered you an escape, which I rarely do, and you must still play by my rules." He reached out and stroked Hermione's hair for the purpose of Harry's horrified face. There was no tenderness in the gesture.

"Let me see him, Dumbledore," Voldemort said softly, still stroking Hermione's hair. "I have no intention of harming the boy today."

"What makes you think I would let you have a clear shot at anyone?" Dumbledore replied, blue eyes icy with rage.


Dear Sir Danvers/ As you know, sir

I wish Lisa the sun and the moon!

But I have to confess/ That I wish Henry Jekyll in hell.

- excerpt from "The Engagement Party" in JEKYLL & HYDE


"You fool, you do the same to Hermione at this very moment. Pray, tell me, Potter," Voldemort said, settling back into a very unSnape-like way with his weight on one foot, stroking his chin, "don't you think she has grown beautiful beyond the farthest boundaries of the word? Answer the question, Potter."

His hand withdrew sharply and he swept around Hermione so he could see Harry better. Hermione whipped around and grabbed Voldemort's stolen wrist. He reacted immediately by raising his other hand to strike her. She did not flinch. Voldemort froze.

"Look at her now, Potter," he said tightly. "Answer me."

So Harry looked. Looked away. Looked again.

Then nodded.

"Mmm." Voldemort twisted his wrist from Hermione's grip and relaxed. "She came to my time, Potter. I was the first person she met at Hogwarts."

"Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid were, Lord Voldemort. Don't flatter yourself. If you're going to tell a story, tell it straight."

"Whatever. She encountered me on the train. You would have been proud of her; she was every inch of a Gryffindor. Then she was Sorted into Gryffindor, surprisingly enough. But the Sorting Hat wasn't so sure this time, was he? Actually considered Slytherin a fair choice. You confided in me as much, didn't you, Hermione. And Gryffindor wasn't enough for you, was it? You surpassed Minerva in intelligence and power, and, at the time, you knew more than I did, though your talents favored that intelligence rather than power. But the power was there, wasn't it? Waiting for that subtle nudge.

"Would it startle you, Potter, to know that Gryffindor turned on Hermione? Oh yes, she overshadowed their star, Minerva, so she was pushed aside. I was the only one who bothered with her. I see your eyes widen. I had my reasons."

"Except Hagrid," Hermione interrupted.

"Leave that oaf out of it!" the pseudo-Snape shrieked, sounding more like Voldemort than Snape. Hermione smirked slightly.

"Where were we, Potter?" Voldemort asked, regaining his composure.

"Hermione wasn't accepted with the Gryffindors," Harry answered, his youthful curiosity drawing him into the story. He sensed that there was something rotten in the point Voldemort was trying to make; the Dark Lord was enjoying himself too much. Even Dumbledore and McGonagall were listening intently.

"Ah, yes. Which brings me to Hallowe'en. I feel it my duty to inform you that she told the whole Gryffindor table off and found refuge at the Slytherin table. With me."

"What?!" resonated a voice from one of the walls. A particularly tall red-headed boy stepped forward in indignation.

"Another close friend of yours, Hermione? Come closer, boy, and listen with us."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, embarrassed. Harry had been nodding like he understood. He had confessed to her secretly that the Hat had considered him for Slytherin at his Sorting as well. However, he had told this to only her because he knew he could not tell Ron, who saw everything in stark black and white and let his prejudices affect his judgment far too often. Hermione knew that whatever Voldemort said, Ron, not Harry, would take the news the hardest.

Harry was thinking precisely the same thing.


Oh, God help me!/ God have mercy!

Don't let her see!/ Not on our wedding day!

- excerpt from "The Wedding Reception" in JEKYLL & HYDE


"Ron," Harry hissed, "don't be a prat."

"Wait, Harry," Ron said, holding up his hand and gazing intently at Voldemort. "Hermione's been strange ever since she came back, and we both know it. Maybe he can explain."

"Ron, this is Voldemort," Harry insisted. "Snape's bad enough, but when you listen to Voldemort..."

"Shut up, Harry," Ron interjected bitterly.

Voldemort was smiling, peering the conflict through slitted eyes and a twitching mouth. He waited until Ron had directed his attention back to the visage of the Potions Master and until Harry's mouth had dropped open again before continuing his tale.

"You would be appalled to hear what occurred at that table; she impaled one of the boy's hands with a fork and licked off the blood. Then she got confused and left. But from ten on, I had intrigued her. It would interest you, Dumbledore, to know I did succeed in my endeavor to create a potion to separate evil from good with Hermione's help."

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly, "I knew, and I permitted the association to an extent because you aided her creation of the Time Turner."

Voldemort stared insolently at Dumbledore for a few moments. "To an extent, Dumbledore?" For the first time, Voldemort made Snape smile fully with delight. The effect was quite hideous.

"Quid pro quo. Yes, I remember. Except for one thing, Dumbledore. I did not know who she was in that time, but she knew perfectly well who I would be."

"I wanted to get home," Hermione muttered sullenly. "Does anyone begrudge me that?"

"Of course not, Hermione," said Dumbledore kindly. He seemed to have completely reconciled to Hermione.

A snort of derision issued from the pseudo-Snape's throat, characteristic and familiar of the stolen body.

"What is your point?" Ron demanded.

"I think we would all like to know that. As of so far, your words have been less than malign by your standards," Professor McGonagall said coldly.

"Always the comic relief, Minerva. I'm touched you remember my usual standards. Tell me, Minerva, do you remember the form Hermione's Animagus took?" Voldemort sat on the edge of the Ravenclaw table and crossed his arms.

Professor McGonagall nodded slowly.

"A jaguar, and a rather beautiful one, strong, subtle, and extremely unlike the egotistical male lion of Gryffindor. And you, a tabby cat. That must have shocked you. I believe it was that afternoon, correct me if I'm wrong, that she listened to me, and obeyed. A small thing, that vial of potion was, but it changed... quite a bit. Didn't it, Hermione?"

"I don't understand," said Ron, shaking his head.

Voldemort acted as though he had not heard this. He was trembling with repression now.

"Potter!" Voldemort suddenly shouted, causing Harry to jump. "Have you ever seen Hermione in all her glory, candlelight flickering against her bare, flushed skin? Because you see, I have."

This statement created quite a stir in the Great Hall. Voldemort, utilizing Snape's hypnotic, commanding low resonance had captivated every single student, teacher, and ghost, and hearing that voice say something so atrocious induced the bewilderment and feelings of collective shock that Voldemort had intended. Low mutterings issued from gossips of girls, and the ones who knew her best just stared at Hermione as she fixed Voldemort with a closed countenance, lips pursed and neck tense, her right hand resting lightly on the soft curve of her belly.

Voldemort was staring back at her, concentrating only on her expression, relying on his ears for Dumbledore's and Harry's reactions.

"The night she knew I was performing that last ritual for the HJ7 permanent potion, she came. At my Summoning, but she came just the same. And, most epochal for her, she did not run from the cobra, did she? She let him bite, injecting her with his poison, baring her delicate neck to his taste, opening herself for him. Didn't you, Hermione? Really, Potter, you couldn't have swallowed a story like virgin conception. This slut is no pure maiden, but experience flesh. One of many. And she did not even screw Tom Riddle. No, she gave herself willingly to Lord Voldemort. So what do you think of her now, Harry Potter? Dumbledore, how do you fell about your star pupil now? That child she is carrying is mine, Minerva. Tell me what that does to you?"

Dumbledore had gone rigid; his eyes blazed and his chin was set, but before he could say anything, Harry spoke up.

"Hermione," he said quietly, "it's not true. Tell me it's not true. Tell me he crept into your room, tell me you were sleepwalking, tell me he used Imperius. He couldn't have-- You couldn't have--" He received his answer when a tear fell from the corner of Hermione's eyes and dripped down her cheek onto her robes. "Why?"

Hermione swallowed, then said clearly, "Because he wanted me. And despite what you think, he did not just want me for this." She gestured to his body. "Riddle needed my mind. I was more intelligent than he, he even admits this. He needed my hands that could make a flawless potion, because despite what he told me, he really did need another pair of steady hands. He needed me for my wand that has always listened to my commands. No one here wanted me, whether for companionship or other things. I don't want anyone's pity by confessing, but I want to say this:

"Even now, I don't regret the decision I made. I'm sorry for what it does to you, Harry, Ron, because I love you both... but I wouldn't deny what I did."


Sympathy-- Tenderness/ Warm as the summer/ Offer me their embrace.

Friendliness-- Gentleness/ Strangers to my life/ They are there in his face.

Goodness and sweetness/ And kindness/ Abound in this place...

I am in love/ With the things that I see/ In his face...

It's a memory I know/ Time with never erase...

- "Sympathy-- Tenderness" from JEKYLL & HYDE


"However," Hermione said softly, taking a step toward Voldemort, "Lord Voldemort was rather selective with his memory. He seems to have forgotten that it took his pursual to lead to my decision. He seems to have forgotten that from the very beginning, he was attracted to me, even when I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with him. And need I remind you, Lord Voldemort, of your letter? Not the recent one, one written long ago. Granted, I can't use it as evidence; I threw it into the Gryffindor fireplace and watched it burn. But I believe it was your hands that wrote of your sex attempts on others that elicited no response, and I was the first, and..." she continued, now directly in front of Voldemort. He was shifting uncomfortably. "...I think I'm your only."

Harry, Ron, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were observing Voldemort's reaction with inscrutable looks on their faces. Dumbledore was particularly bemused by the predicament.

Snape's face shifted slightly, revealing some of Voldemort's real features. Hermione ran a hand up his collar. For a moment-- perhaps from the unfamiliarity of her touch on a different body, or maybe it was the flood of far past emotions sweeping down his body-- he stiffened. But as Hermione slid her hand under the robes, gently caressing the bare skin, he involuntarily licked his lips and the skin shifted again. Snape's ponderous nose was receding until the nostrils were only slits and his eyes turned bright red.

But the incongruencies on Snape were forgotten in the shock of seeing Hermione press her lips against Voldemort's mouth. Even more astonishing was that Voldemort kissed her back, moaning slightly at the contact which he had been denied for fifty years.

Hermione, too, was once again imbued with desire of being in that bed with him, but she sagely thought that if they took off their clothes here, they might cause more scandal than was necessary. Besides, sex was not the reason for this seduction.

He's vulnerable, you idiots, she silently willed the crowded Great Hall as she slipped her tongue into Voldemort's mouth. He eagerly took it and entwined it with his own, and Hermione nearly melted from the fire spreading beat through her veins and permeating through her skin and against Voldemort, whose Polyjuice Potion had worn off finally. She could feel his hands groping ungently for her sore breast. Gathering that the others were not jumping at their perfect opportunity, she reluctantly withdrew, first running her mouth against the curve of his neck.

"Yuck," Ron said suddenly, utterly revolted.

Hermione was not paying attention; she was rapidly trying to think of another way to make Voldemort vulnerable again. She began to think it might take stripping to wake these gaping fish.

"Remember now, Tom," murmured Hermione.

"All too well," hissed Voldemort, shaking with restraint. He looked slightly ridiculous in Snape's clothes tailored for a much larger frame, but the energy from his and Hermione's emotions crackled like electricity around them, and even Dumbledore revealed that he was impressed with the formidability.

"I cultivated that child. And I cultivated you perfectly, Hermione. I took you from the innocent bookworm you were and showed you that you had worth, which is more than Potter here ever did. I unleashed your power and let it run rampant. I gave myself to you, but stayed away enough that you began to come to me. Then, when I had finished with your mind, I started with your already sinful-beautiful body." He touched her belly where the child was. "I almost believed that you wouldn't take the Enhancement Potion, but you proved me wrong, my dear, and you blossomed much better than I had deliciously anticipated. You look like a goddess, and I did it. You fell into every last place, Hermione."

"I liked your first form better," Hermione said. "This one has delusions of grandeur." She raised her wand and dropped it onto the floor, stretching out her fingers, eyes closed. At the tips of her fingers appeared a faint green light. "Because, Voldemort, you fool yourself into thinking you've created the greatest minion, when really, you've created your most powerful foe. Most of your power you know comes from my and my assistance. I inadvertedly gave you the secret of unicorn blood, I believe it was. Before you made love to me, you asked me a question. 'Would you like my power, Hermione?' And you gave that power to me, and it has multiplied enough to nourish our child. You have made the largest blunder you could ever have made, even greater than trying to kill Harry all these years. Since no one seems to notice that I have completely distracted you for about fifteen minutes now as I ramble on, I suppose I'll have to take charge myself. Yes, you have cultivated me, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I no longer mind killing you."

"Wait!" shouted Harry simultaneously with Snape, looking dead on his feet. But Snape gave Harry such a glare than Harry rose up in indignation.

"Who are you to tell me to shut up about my own best friend?!" Harry said angrily.

"Because if you had been a good friend in the first place, none of us would be here, yelling at each other, threatening to kill a Dark Lord who shouldn't have come within a hundred miles of Hogwarts. That's why!" Snape retorted, pushing away his damp hair. It seemed that he had sweat the poison out.

"Why, Severus," Voldemort exclaimed, "I did not think you cared as well. How fantastically unexpected."

Snape curled his lip at his former master in disgust. "You think my interest in the girl is as shallow as romantic? And I heard that you were once clever. Age seems to be catching up with you, old boy."

"Crucio!" Voldemort screamed. Snape jumped out of the way just in time.

"Even when you have a vision of greatness," Snape continued mockingly, "you were still insane."

Hermione joined in, a cat's... no, a jaguar's smile playing at the edges of her lips. "Yes, I remember how subtle you once were, how intelligent and beautiful, but look at you now. You're going senile."

Harry stepped forward. "Your sixteen-year-old memory told me truthfully that I am just a lucky boy, rather ordinary with no real magical talent. But somehow, each time I face you, I came away alive. That ought to show you how diminished you are." He grinned at Hermione and at Snape's surprise at his confession.

"Avada Kedavra!" The curse was true in its aim, but something seemed to extinguish its potency midway. Voldemort whipped around to find Hermione grinning with her hand clenched into a fist, green light practically radiating from the cracks between her fingers. The light slowly faded, and Hermione dropped what appeared to be a tiny skull.

"And the ironic thing is," Hermione said casually, "you gave me the power to defeat you."

Voldemort's eyes widened. For the first time in his life, he began to flee.

Dumbledore blocked his escape exuding power twice greater than Voldemort's.

"By giving yourself to Hermione, you have made yourself more vulnerable than you can possibly imagine. By remembering her, you have put yourself at a great disadvantage. You no longer put your focus entirely on caution, strategy, and, above all, control."

"You will not kill me, fool, unless you want to become what you fought so hard to evade. You might actually become a hypocrite."

"I didn't want to Aurors to virtually become Death Eaters, but killing you is justice."

Voldemort was amazed to see the truth of Dumbledore's words and the determination on his face. Dumbledore's resolve was not something he had calculated during his planning. He only had enough time to realize his mistake before...

"Ahhhh!" he screeched.

Dumbledore started. He had not even lifted his wand. He swept his eyes over the room, but everyone else was just as astonished.

But as Voldemort turned, Dumbledore could see a tiny skull that had embedded itself into the fleshy part of Voldemort's neck. Hermione was holding her arm, aching from the strain.

Voldemort did not have enough time to be startled. The pain ripped through him like hundreds of double-edged, serrated knives, and his skin was burning with cold fire. The skin began splitting from the top of his skull, blood dripping down his face in gouting streams. His face cracked open in half, abruptly cutting off his scream, but by now the Hogwarts students had taken up the cry. His tendons stretched and tore away with sickening sounds and revealed his innards in his torso; then he completely and audibly split and he collapsed onto the floor in a pool of his own blood. His brain was still connected to the medulla oblongata and spinal cord, though the bones had turned into dust. They were quivering as the cerebrum burned a bright red like a coal. The crimson was concentrated near the back, but soon it had invaded the entire brain and spinal cord.

Then, from the spinal cord erupted nerves like tendrils and ivory bone formed around the cord and brain, then extended outward into extremities, and tendons shot out, expanding into muscles. Veins slithered along their channels and skin began to spread like diseases, and organs inflated the body so it had shape.

And a naked, shivering Tom Riddle, himself, not a part, was left sprawling face-down on the floor, seventeen-years-old and covered with blood like a newborn baby. He had not aged a day since the first transformation.

When Hermione realized who and what was lying on the floor, she grabbed a spare cloak from the back of a Ravenclaw chair and threw it on top of his white flesh spattered with crimson. She knelt down and put his arms around him, lifting him upright.

Riddle continued trembling, and the shaking wracked his entire body with violent convulsions. He leaned in toward Hermione's warmth. His lips were blue, and his hands clenched against her wrists.

Once Dumbledore recovered from the initial shock, he murmured to Snape, "Get Madam Pomfrey. He's freezing." Snape nodded silently and slid out of the room.

"Hermione," Riddle said through chattering teeth.

"Shhh," Hermione whispered against his ear. "Don't speak. You'll be all right. You don't have to say anything right now."

She held him closer, calming his tremors.

She saw the Dark Mark on his arm, a crude form of it, but there. Her fingers caressed the tattoo. It did not fade under her touch, but Hermione felt better.

Especially when freezing lips kissed her shoulder, as gently as he could.


-I think I've taken enough for one day!/ And I have learned to my cost

It's not the fun that it might be/ Once you have lost!

-excerpt from "Lucy Meets Jekyll" in JEKYLL & HYDE

-When I came to myself at Lanyon's, the horror of my old friend perhaps affected me somewhat: I do not know; it was at least but a drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon these hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fear of the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked me.

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE


(This is a very weirdly formatted chapter; I hope you can follow it.)

Chapter 19: You May Have Every Dance


-There was a pause, during which Mr. Utterson struggled with himself. "Why did you compare them, Guest?" he inquired suddenly.

"Well, sir," returned the clerk, "there's a rather singular resemblance; the two hands are in many points identical: only differently sloped."

-...and I began to spy a danger that, if this were much prolonged, the balance of my nature might be permanently overthrown, the power of voluntary change be forfeited, and the character of Edward Hyde become irrevocably mind.

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE



Yes, I'm here.

W-where am I?

The hospital wing. According to Dumbledore, splitting yourself and growing up in less than five minutes can't be healthy, and I don't think Madam Pomfrey will ever let you out of here.

She always was paranoid.



What happened? The manifestation of the Killing Curse should have killed you.

It did. One of me. Voldemort's last potion was a genuine potion for immortality. However, something he never expected was that immortality was not his real goal. Invincibility was going to be his ultimate achievement in the end. So Voldemort still lives actually-- he has always lived in me-- but he is eternally weakened within me. I'm still what I was before the initial HJ7 potion, but now Voldemort cannot ever arise again to take me over. You see, contrary to popular belief, Voldemort was under my control before the potion, the manifestation of my evil side. Everyone has a bit of Voldemort in them. But the potion permitted that small part to rise, not eliminate me all together. When Voldemort was in command, I was still there; I shared his memories because they were my memories, part of my memories. But I also had memories of being trapped. Keep in mind, I was never all good, just as Jekyll was never all good. All of that was probably more than you wanted to know, and most of it still probably didn't make sense, but I've had roughly fifty years to contemplate it.

As Voldemort perfected the potion, more and more of him was extract from my person. You might say that the Voldemort you knew at this time was the most concentrated Voldemort. But like all evil, he had a great love of life and feared death more than anything. Without me to withdraw into, he had to be cautious, but it is extremely difficult for evil to destroy it's desire for destruction and mayhem and depravity. I was trapped in my own pathetic excuse for a body, biding my time, waiting for Voldemort to make that fatal slip.

Here, Tom.

What's this?

Hot chocolate.

It's not medichocolate, is it? I've had enough of that I could throw up.

No, it's just Dumbledore's secret recipe. I think it's a peace offering, if you'll accept it.

Mmm. Secret recipe, huh? I'm sure I could get the recipe from the house elves...

Nope. Professor Dumbledore purposely makes it himself so people exposed to it will have to come back to him for more. That way he gets to talk to people more often... Tom?


Have you changed at all?

Yes, Hermione. But not as much as you hope, I think. I've killed enough people to last a lifetime, so I'll never directly or indirectly cause another's death, but I'm still Slytherin's own Heir. I know I'm cruel sometimes. I know I'm unfeeling and insensitive sometimes. And I don't care. One thing I despised about Voldemort is his lack of control. I am wary, cautious, and careful. Voldemort was far more impulsive than most knew. How do you think Dumbledore will react to this new revelation that I'm mostly the old Tom Riddle?

I think he knows, Tom, but he's hoping you've changed enough that you won't kill or torture anyone anymore.

Ten assure him I won't... Hermione?


Kiss me.


-I've have had a lesson-- O God, Utterson, what a lesson I have had!"

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE




Explanations Essay

If you could, listen to the music on this one, it's rather stirring and it just makes the right feeling. This song is the reason for this entire work.

I need to know/ The nature of the demons that possess/ Man's soul!

I need to know/ Why man's content to let them make him less than/ Whole.

Why does he revel in murder and madness?/ What is it makes him be less than he should?

Why is he doomed not to reach his potential?

His soul is black/ when he turns his back/ Upon good.

I need to find/ A way to get inside the tortured mind of man.

I need to try/ To separate the good and evil-- If I can.

One thing is certain-- The evil is stronger/ Good fights a hopeless and desperate fight.

I must find ways of adjusting the balance

To bring him back from the empty black/ Edge of night.

I need to go/ Where no man has ventured before

To search for the key to the door/ That will end all this tragic and senseless decay!

But how to go?/ I need to know!

I need to learn/ The secrets of the mind that we cannot discern.

I need to learn/ The things that make men pass the point of no return.

Why does a wise man take leave of his senses?/ Where is that fine line where sanity melts?

When does intelligence give way to madness?

A moment comes/ When a man becomes/ Something else...

I need to know!/ Why man plays this strange double game!

His hand always close to the flame!

It's a deal with the devil he cannot disclaim!

But what's his aim?/ I need to know!

Dear God, guide me/ Show me how to succeed!

With your wisdom inside me.../ Henry Jekyll will follow wherever you lead!

I need to see/ The truth other men cannot see

To be things that others can't be/ Give me courage to go

Where no angel will go/ And I will go!

I need to know!

"I Need to Know" from JEKYLL & HYDE

I've actually been batting 'round the idea of integrating the Jekyll and Hyde theme into a novel, but after someone (mistakenly) told me that would be plagiarism (due to the fact he's been dead for more than fifty years), I was discouraged from it. Then fan fiction came into my life and opened many, many doors for me, and while listening to "I Need to Know" I said to myself, Hey, this is something I could sing to Voldemort, and Dangerous Games began.

I didn't start out much of a Hermione/Voldemort/Tom shipper. I wasn't pleased with a lot of them. (I'm now the ship's Reality Enforcement Officer: They've gotten too loosy-goosy with the characters.) I've yet to read Clairvoyant Snake's Don't Repeat History! so that I wouldn't copy anything inadvertedly from her. But after listening several hundred times to JEKYLL & HYDE, I decided that due to disclaimer freedom, I could write it.

While Tom Riddle/Voldemort are certainly up there in my favorite character list, Hermione is most definitely not. I'm not sure whether I just resent her convenient existence, or whether she reminds me too much of a caricatured me. But my dislike for her, not as a person, but as a character, let me be much more objective with what she went through and what she became, so in the end, I think she was okay.

Many of my musings on the nature of Jekyll/Hyde and Riddle/Voldemort found their subtle or not-so-subtle way into the fic, such as exactly what they are in respect to their darker self, how they reacted to the potion, and just how confusing it is to point fingers. Though perfection of the potion was not in the original book, I thought the original Hyde imperfect, and certainly not pure evil, which is, in my theory, utterly humanly impossible. So the following isn't true, but misconception:

Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, is pure evil.

As Jekyll, I can share in the pleasures and wickedness of Hyde...

As Hyde, I care only for myself/ And nothing for Jekyll!

Strictly speaking, Hyde's apathy for his original self is his downfall, just as Voldemort's downfall is his original.

A few other misconceptions maybe addressed in this fic:

Jekyll is not good, as many people make him out to be. He was not looking for a potion that would make him good, but one that would take his baser nature and let it run rampant, allowing him to do things he couldn't as gentlemanly Jekyll. In fact, Jekyll's morals are poor from the Victorian point of view. He is a hypocritical creature carefully concealing his sins. In fact, Jekyll does not 'turn into' Hyde in the sense of transfiguration, he merely projects his evil in the form of Hyde. Jekyll is still there, sharing his memories, which denounces that 'pure' evil bit, simply because Jekyll didn't disappear, just as Hyde was always a part of him.

My reasons for the Hyde are somewhat similar to Stevenson's: Of all wrongs in the world, Stevenson most hated cruelty; and the inhuman brute whom he imagines is shown not in his beastly lusts, whatever they specifically were, but in his savage indifference...

You know, the DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE we read today is subtly frightening enough. But Stevenson's actually wrote one before it, in specifically three days time, and showed it to his wife, who told him that since it was so horrific, he should throw it in the fire, as he did, which, as a fellow author, must have been agonizing. Anyway, he couldn't let the subject alone and wrote DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE from scratch, adding the moral for his wife's sake. So it makes you wonder just how awful the first one was. And the story of his death is rather strange: And there is something in Stevenson's death in 1894 on Samoa, imitating in a curious way the wine theme and the transformation theme of his fantasy. He went down to the cellar to fetch a bottle of his favorite burgundy, uncorked it in the kitchen, and suddenly cried out to his wife: what's the matter with me, what is this strangeness, has my face changed?-- and fell to the floor... What, has my face changed? There is a curious thematical link between this last episode in Stevenson's life and the fateful transformation in his most wonderful book.

You know, now that I'm finished, I'm imbued with a sense of relief, partially because I don't have to type the word 'Jekyll' anymore-- I don't think I've typed it right the first time once. But also because it was one I wanted to write for some time, and now the plot bunnicula can finally stop sucking my blood, waiting for me to write it out.

I'm glad so many people have liked it, and I'd like to thank everyone who read and review it. I'm sorry to see you all go. If you'd like a personal thank you, refer to it in your reviews. Any discussion of Dangerous Games can be... well, discussed at a thread in my review forum.

But after all,

We mustn't be afraid of letting go!

-excerpt from "Letting Go" in JEKYLL & HYDE



Stevenson, Robert. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (with the Introductory Essay by Nabokov, Vladimir). Signet Classic. New York: 1978.

The Complete Work of Jekyll & Hyde. Composed by Frank Wildhorn. Lyrics by Leslie Bricusse. Starring Carolee Carmello, Linda Eder, and Anthony Warlow. Produced by Alley Theatre and Theatre Under the Stars. Recorded by Atlantic Theatre.