Truth or Dare

Summary: Oneshot, AU. Tom and Hermione play a game of truth or dare.

Author's Note: This is just an old oneshot I found whilst cleaning up my old laptop. I posted it originally to LJ but figured I'd leave it here, too. It was written a few years ago and is pretty fluffy. I must have been in A Mood.

"I'm not walking her."

"Tom," pleaded Remus. He turned to the handsome student who was petulantly leaning against the wall beside him, an untouched cup of eggnog grasped in his pale, angular hand. Remus reflected on how he was currently dealing with the greatest Scrooge in the history of the world before glancing over at Hermione Granger, who was the current reason for his malcontent.

From across the room, the two men watched the young woman shrug into her peacoat while chatting with the head of the department, Albus Dumbledore. She laughed at something he said before shooting them an uneasy look. She knows I'm trying to get Riddle to walk her home, Remus realized, and he cringed. Unlike everyone else in the department, he was honestly not trying to set up the two prodigies. This was more about keeping Hermione safe for her walk home. With a last mental comment about how non-threatening and vulnerable Hermione looked, Remus turned back to Tom, his face set in a rather unconvincing glower.

"Not doing it," Tom said immediately, arching his brows slightly as if to say, and just what the fuck are you going to do about it?

This was how Tom did it: he got under everyone's skin with those subtle little changes in expression, those slight quirks in his mouth that somehow resulted in a snide smirk, that flash in his dark eyes that challenged everyone. Luckily, Albus was heading over to them with a reluctant Hermione in-tow, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief. The older man had always had the most luck with dealing with Tom.

"Tom! You look nice, though I think a santa-claus hat would improve everything. Don't you?" Albus pointed to his own cheap santa hat perched on his long white hair, grinning. Tom was looking at Albus with an expression that made it quite clear, without words, that the day he donned a santa hat would be the day pigs flew. "And you both know this lovely young lady, I presume?"

Hermione looked like she would have happily shrunk into the air at the moment when Albus stepped aside to include her in the conversation. Remus had known Hermione for much of her young life, as he tended to play stand-in-father for one of her best friends, Harry. But the dislike—as well as the obvious sexual tension— between the philosophy department's two rising stars was no secret, and when Hermione and Tom's eyes met, sparks of hatred (and perhaps lust) flew, scalding both Albus and Remus as the two young students regarded each other. They had been rivals for years. It had started in undergraduate at Hogwarts, and graduate school had brought no maturity in their interactions.

"We've met," Tom said softly, roving his eyes over Hermione's form. Remus fought the urge to slap himself in chagrin; Tom was already goading Hermione into snapping at him. Hermione, with her feminist and outspoken tendencies, never reacted favorably to being given such a lewd once-over. Already her cheeks were flushing, her already frizzy hair seemingly becoming frizzier as her eyes narrowed at Tom. Apparently sensing trouble, Albus stepped in again.

"Miss Granger's got to head back, unfortunately, and as I recall, you live in the same housing, Tom?" He turned those piercing blue eyes on Tom and Remus prepared for Tom to supply some snarky retort, but after a moment of posturing, Tom moved away from the wall and set his cup down on a nearby table. Remus balked silently. How did Dumbledore always manage to boss around Tom?

"He really doesn't have to—" Hermione began anxiously, but Albus stopped her protests. Probably all three men had noticed the uncharacteristic unsteadiness about Hermione tonight—it seemed likely that Hermione had overestimated her tolerance for eggnog.

"Nonsense, Miss Granger. No one wants to see you walk home alone." And with that, there was no further room for argument. Tom pulled on his own wool coat and began storming out of the party. Hermione shot them one last pleading glance before following Tom out the door, away from the cheer of the philosophy department's Christmas party.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'm wondering if Hermione isn't in more danger with Riddle than she might've been on her own," said Remus wearily, raking a hand through his hair. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Oh, I think they'll end up the very best of friends," he said with a twinkle in his eye before sweeping off for more eggnog.

The frosty silence between Hermione and her greatest rival had prepared her for the frigid night air as they went down the fire escape, their footsteps noisily clanging against the metal as they walked.

"You don't have to walk me," Hermione began as they reached the frozen grass, her breath clouding in the air before her. Tom looked back at her with consideration.

"We're going to the same place, and I doubt either of us wishes to take an alternate route. We'll walk together," he drawled before resuming his walk. His form was rather imposing; he was slender and lean but quite tall and angular. Hermione watched him walk for a moment before hastening to catch up. The eggnog she'd consumed at the philosophy department's holiday party had made everything fuzzy; she rarely drank and when she did she kept it to a minimum. But she'd been having so much fun debating with her favorite professors, and after months and months of grueling curriculum, she had been ready to have a night of fun.

But now she was beginning to regret it as they crunched along the hard ground in terse silence, because she preferred to have her wits about her when dealing with Tom Riddle. Even on her best day, he tripped her up with ease. Every time she thought she had a cutting remark, he returned it to her in spades, leaving her embarrassed, angry, and fumbling. The fact that he was stunningly handsome did not help, either. Hermione liked to think that she was not prey to good looks, but when presented with a man who was the epitome of 'tall-dark-handsome' and with an impressive brain to boot, she apparently was no better than any silly girl.

In her weaker moments she found herself considering the exquisitely tautened attraction between them, but she liked to keep such moments at bay. It was safer to view Tom Riddle as a rival rather than as a...well, she didn't even know the right term. Boyfriend? Lover? Husband? These words made her skin tingle with warmth so she banished them immediately.

She stumbled slightly and her cheeks flushed as Tom looked back at her silently.

"You're drunk," he observed, his lip curling in disgust. Hermione's temper flared immediately, which pleased her—this was easier, to forget the tension between them and instead just lose her temper.

"I'm not drunk. I just tripped," she snapped, walking faster to get ahead of him. She heard his musical, baritone laugh behind her as the hairs on her neck rose.

"You can't possibly consume that much eggnog and not be drunk—especially a girl your size." He caught up with her easily and she cursed his long strides compared to her short ones. Why did she have to be so short? It was maddening sometimes. She stumbled again, further damning her as drunk, and gasped in surprise when Tom caught her by the elbow. "Definitely drunk," he said lightly as she righted herself.

"Well, excuse me if I like to have a bit of fun sometimes. Unlike you," she said haughtily, tossing her hair for effect but only making herself dizzier in the process. They stopped walking and stood beneath a streetlamp, the orange glow illuminating their features. Tom arched his elegant brows at her and she felt a stab of warmth. Dammit all anyway. Why did he have to be so bloody attractive? It made it so difficult to properly despise him.

"Oh? I'll inform you, Hermione, that I can be plenty of fun," he parried, his lovely lips curving into a challenging smirk. Hermione could not take her eyes from him.

"So says the man who practically sleeps in the library—except you don't sleep; you're too busy working."

"So says the girl who is always right there with me. Remind me—how many years has it been since either of us has properly slept?"

"Quiet, Riddle," Hermione snapped, feeling unsteady again. Why did he always have some damn quip at the ready, no matter what? "Face it: you're just a bit boring." This sounded even more immature outside of her brain. He was laughing at her again and she wanted to hit him, so she did.

"Am not."

"Prove it."

Her challenge hung in the air between them; after a moment, Tom was smiling again.

"Alright," he said softly, "Let's play a game: truth or dare."

Hermione's nostrils flared as she breathed through her nose, fuming, as they resumed walking again. She herself was admittedly rather boring, so she wasn't sure she liked where this was going.

"I'll go first. Truth or dare?" she said, eager to get a leg up but also reluctant to expose her lack of creativity at such games. They were leaving the main campus and walking along the wooded nature trail that eventually led to the graduate student 'housing.' This part of campus always creeped her out a bit at night, and she unconsciously drifted closer to Tom.

"Dare. Naturally." She heard the laugh in his voice.

"...Alright," she fumbled a bit as their elbows brushed. Truth be told, she was a bit crap at coming up with things like this. Hermione glanced around at her surroundings in hope of coming up with a suitable dare. "...Climb that fire escape and onto the roof," she finished a bit lamely, pointing through the trees to one of the buildings on campus. Hogwarts was a lovely campus, filled with old stone buildings that together were a bit reminiscent of a castle. The building in question was a large one, with a rickety fire escape haphazardly tacked on the side.

Tom snorted as if the dare were beneath him before parting the sapling trees and heading wordlessly to the fire escape. Hermione hastened to follow again, and watched as he shot her a devil-may-care look before vaulting himself up onto the stairs. The fire escape creaked under the new weight, and, feeling awkward, Hermione decided to follow him up the stairs.

From the fire escape it was easy to get onto the roof, and the tar crunched under their feet as they looked out at the expansive view. They could see all of campus from this post, as well as Hogsmeade, which twinkled with Christmas lights. Hermione glanced at Tom, noting the way the wind picked up his dark locks. For a moment, she could forget their problematic relationship and appreciate his startling beauty.

"Done. Truth or dare?" he asked, raising his brows at her in the way that was so maddeningly sexy. He leaned against the side of the building as he watched her. Hermione sighed.

"Truth, I suppose."

"Slept with Potter?" he asked immediately. Hermione's jaw dropped as she sputtered nonsensically for a moment.

"S-slept with Harry? Of course not. He's my best friend!"

"Exactly. It seemed likely," Tom replied with a shrug before sighing. "Damn. I was hoping the answer would be more entertaining than that," he mused. Hermione was glaring at him now, though as she was watching him something occurred to her. Had she been less inebriated, she might have reconsidered saying it out loud, but as it were it was easy to simply blurt it out.

"You were always jealous of Harry in undergrad," she pointed out in a low, excited voice. She had Tom's attention now; his dark eyes flicked to her in shock. "Harry always bested you in sports and it drove you mad. Perhaps that has something to do with asking me such a question...?"

"Not a chance, Granger," scoffed Tom disgustedly. "Come on, let's get down from here anyway."

They were making their way down the fire escape when Hermione realized it was her turn.

"Truth or dare?" she called above the howling wind as they hit the ground again.

"Truth. Your dares are pathetic."

This one was easy, after Tom's question for her. Hermione tried to mask her grin as they passed by one of the student dorms that was covered in white twinkle lights; the glow was romantic and made her pine, as twinkle lights always seemed to do, for a romance of her own.

"...Slept with Bellatrix?"

She watched Tom's face carefully as they walked. His eyes slid to her for a moment.

"...Yes and no," he finally admitted. "Not gone all the way, but some things—yes."

Hermione made a noise of disgust as they crossed a covered footbridge that ran over one of the roads into Hogsmeade. Now they were on a path of slabs of slate, with tall trees on either side and large houses beyond the rows of trees. Graduate student housing for the various departments meant dividing up some of the large, old houses that Hogwarts College had purchased, and the philosophy department's was at the very end of this little road. "Truth or dare?"

"I suppose it's time for a dare, isn't it?" Hermione shrugged, but froze at the wicked grin on Tom's handsome face.

"Excellent. I dare you to skinny dip in the math department's fountain." He was grinning as they continued walking. Hermione's legs were sort of magically moving, because she was in too great of a shock to command them consciously.

"It's below freezing. I'm not going to suffer hypothermia for a silly game—"

"You have to. That's the whole point of truth or dare." Tom looked so filled with glee right now that she simply had to smack him again.

"I'm not going to get myself killed for a bit of fun," she said firmly, shaking her head. Tom sighed.

"So boring. Fine—then I dare you to break into the swimming pool and go skinny dipping in it."

They stopped on the path as Hermione looked back at campus. His dare was breaking about fifty school rules, so she shook her head. "You won't do it? I guess you're as bookish and boring as they say," he sighed loudly, turning back to continue back to their housing. "Grumpy, granny Granger," he sighed as he walked.

Something in Hermione snapped at his words.

"I—I'll do it," she said loudly. Tom stopped, looking shocked. He quickly recovered and was grinning.

"Knew you'd hate being called boring," he said as they began hurrying back to campus. Eager to prove him wrong, and yet knowing she was being played, Hermione broke into a very crooked sprint. The world felt warm and hazy and spinny as they ran back to campus. Her heart was pounding both from the exertion as well as the idea of actually carrying out this dare. They might get caught (in fact, they most likely would), and then there was the fact that she'd be naked, which was really not okay, and yet the fact that he had ordered her to skinny dip made her stomach do strange little flip flops.

"I'm not boring," she panted when they reached the gym. Tom pulled out a pocketknife and began picking the lock to the gym.

"Quite true—who would have ever guessed that Hermione Granger would happily break into the school gym, take off her clothes, and go swimming illegally?" He was laughing, shaking his head, as the lock fell away and they pushed the doors open to the ghostly, silent gym. "You must be more drunk than I initially thought."

"I must be." There was no other explanation for her behavior, except perhaps her deep-seated resentment of her reputation as boring and bookish. Her friends—especially Harry—were aware of her hidden rebellious side, but for her life she'd always been content to leave it at that. Somehow Tom Riddle always brought out an urge to prove herself. He challenged her at every turn.

The gymnasium was eerily silent, their footsteps echoing off the cinderblock walls and linoleum tiles. Outside, everything had seemed fuzzy and hazy; here in the gymnasium her perception was vivid. The scent of chlorine hanging in the air worse than cologne signified they were reaching the pool, and Hermione's heart began to thrum against her throat. Was she really doing this?

Tom held open the glass door leading to the pool; inside it was humid and the moonlight streaming in reflected off the water and bounced over the walls and ceiling. They were cast in pale, silvery blue as they entered, the glass door banging shut behind them. Now it seemed impossible to simply remove her clothes and jump in. Hermione swallowed and glanced at Tom, perhaps looking for a way out, but to her shock he was folding his coat and leaving it on one of the bleachers.

"You went up onto the roof with me; it seems only fair to skinny dip with you," he explained at her questioning look. Hermione hated how her mouth watered at the flash of taut abdomen as he pulled his dark green sweater over his head, revealing a white short-sleeved undershirt. With trembling hands, Hermione unbuttoned her own coat, folding it mechanically as she stared at the water in front of her. She heard rustling of fabric; he must be taking off his pants.

Her sweater went as well as her camisole, then her own jeans. She registered that she was wearing perhaps her most unattractive bra and knickers, and wondered if he was even looking at her. She glanced back at him again warily; their eyes met as they both made an effort to avoid looking anywhere south. Tom's eyes glimmered with wickedness; they were sharing this act of rebelliousness. They were the two top students, known for their brilliance, for their sensibility, and here they both were: breaking into the school gym when the school was actually closed for winter break, both inebriated, to skinny dip.

That was all it took; Hermione reached back and unclasped her bra and set it on top of her folded clothes. Her knickers went off, and she was fairly sure she heard a sharp intake of breath.

"A-alright," she stammered. "I suppose we just...jump in, then."

"Your brilliance never fails to amaze me, Granger," he drawled. It was, as usual, just sexy and maddening enough to provoke her to react in an absurd, irrational way.

Hermione jumped.

The water was warm but it was still a shock. Hermione dimly heard another splash. He's jumped in too. It was amazing how little she was seeing of him, considering they were both naked. They breached the surface at the same time, gasping for air.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Hermione called over the splashing of water as they treaded in the middle of the pool. "No one would believe us if we told them."

Tom said nothing; he dove under and swam along. For one excited but fearful moment, Hermione thought he might be swimming towards her, but he was swimming towards the deeper end. She hesitantly followed him, awkwardly paddling along after him.

"You're pants at swimming," he said plainly when she had finally reached the deep end. He was hanging off of one of the bars, and his svelte shoulders and arms were gleaming wetly, his dark locks dripping water down his face.

"Am I pants...or no pants?" she joked, joining him but careful to keep certain anatomical aspects beneath the surface. Tom snorted. They regarded each other for a moment, like they always seemed to do: they were forever meeting each other's eyes, forever looking away just before everything changed from annoyance, rivalry, and wit into something more heated.

Neither looked away this time. "I went. Your turn. Truth or dare?"

Tom pushed his wet hair out of his eyes as his brows drew together in contemplation, though he still did not look away. When he finally spoke, it was little more than a murmur.

"Dare."

"Naturally," Hermione replied with a sardonic grin. She fumbled for another dare to give him, but at the moment, all the actions that came to mind involved physical contact, and somehow she doubted he'd be interested. "I dare you to try and convince Professor McGonagall that the reason for Slytherin's disdain for Hufflepuff was really due to his unrequited love for sweet Helga."

"Actually, I believe Slytherin and Gryffindor secretly had an affair, hence the melodramatic rivalry," Tom said wickedly. He moved a bit closer as Hermione snorted.

"Right. Gryffindor's sword takes on a new meaning now."

Then they were laughing together again, like they so often found themselves doing. Hermione knew that her inebriation had worn off, so she could only blame herself for what she said next: "I dare you to kiss me—"

But either luckily or unluckily, she was interrupted by voices reverberating off the walls. Both sprang into action and leapt out of the pool, dripping wet, shivering and fumbling for their clothes. "Oh my god; if we get caught—" Hermione muttered, unable to contemplate the possibilities. The heady romance had fallen away, leaving the stark reality: if they were caught, they would be expelled.

They hurried out one of the side doors, their clothes now soaking wet and weighing about ten tons, not to mention sticking to their skin uncomfortably. Their teeth chattered as they sprinted through the grass. They didn't stop until they reached the overpass again, shaking and gasping. "I hope that we weren't videotaped by security," Hermione mumbled as they slowed to a walk along the slate path for the second time that evening. It was much later now, obviously, and around them the trees creaked and swayed in the wintry wind.

"Why? No one would believe their eyes if they did find a videotape of Hermione Granger, naked with another man, anyway," Tom replied as they walked. Hermione glowered at him. Had he heard her last dare? Now she hoped he hadn't.

"I'm not that much of a prude," she said, trying to keep the mood light in vain as she wondered in terror about whether he had heard her request or not. Tom was looking at her as they walked, still shivering slightly, his hair unusually wild and still wet.

"Oh? Then I dare you to kiss me." Hermione tried to hide her reaction to his words as they kept walking along the path, dry leaves crunching beneath their feet. Her wet hair had nearly frozen and clawed her face in hard, scraping tendrils. She was uncomfortable and knew she looked a complete mess—in other words, for the thousands of times she had pictured them kissing, none of those times had remotely resembled this situation.

They reached the kissing gate leading to the garden outside of the philosophy house. Hermione realized she had left a light on in her room; she could see the pale yellow glow from here. And next to her room was Tom's room. How was it possible that they had been right next to each other all of these years, and they had coexisted with all of this brilliance and lust between them?

Nothing had ever happened before.

Deciding that now was as good a time as any, Hermione barred the way to the garden and looked up at Tom.

"I dared you to kiss me first," she pointed out with a slightly tremulous voice. Tom looked away; it was probably the first time she had ever seen him look uncomfortable. "And since I just did the most ridiculous dare ever, I think it's your turn."

"But I've been wanting to kiss you for seven years now, so I don't think that's an appropriate dare for me. Not scary enough," he said coolly. For such a calm delivery, his words were more than shocking to Hermione.

"Y-you're refusing to do it, so you must be scared on some level," she countered, attempting to match his nonchalance. Tom's lips twitched at her words. "Besides, you can't refuse a dare. And I dared you first."

"Fair enough..." And then he was leaning down to meet her lips. They both smelled like chlorine, and they were still shivering from being dripping wet in the bitter cold air, but when their lips met, Hermione and Tom both forgot about the cold completely.