A/N: Hey everybody! This is my contribution to dulce-du-leche-go's Spooky Scary DulceWeen for 2017! I participated last year with Hey There Little Red, which later become a short fic. I think this one will remain a one-shot, but y'all never know when I will get some inspiration. Anyway, this story is inspired by the Alfred Hitchcock movie Strangers on a Train. I really hope that you enjoy it and that it helped make your Halloween a bit extra spooky.

Please let me know what you thought of this!

Stomping down the long hallway of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione Granger could feel her irritation only rising higher. She had hoped that walking away from Ron for a while might help her clear her head and keep her from hexing him. She wasn't entirely sure how, but after only two hours of being in his presence again after a Weasley-free summer, Ronald had already made her flee for a bit of solitude.

Looking into the glass panels of the doors, she knew that she would be beyond lucky to find an empty compartment this late in the train journey, but she was willing to do basically anything at this point to put some space between her and her friend.

To her dismay, she was nearing the very end of the train, and had only one carriage left to find sanctuary. Pushing through the doors to the very last car, she paused for a moment, noticing that the overhead lights seemed to be flickering in time with the steady turn of the locomotive's wheels. It was a bit eerie, to say the least, but she pressed on, hoping that she would turn up something. Unfortunately, this part of the train was just as full as the rest of it.

That was, until, she came to the very last compartment on the left. Looking inside, she saw just one occupant, a boy that she didn't recognize. Biting her lower lip, Hermione waffled for a moment, before moving to open the door. Sticking her head in, she gave him a cautious look. "Erm, sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if I could join you for a while? All the others are full," she lied, knowing that there was a perfectly good compartment further up the train holding her trunk that she could rejoin at any time.

The boy - or young man, really - looked up from the book that he was reading, and gave her a charming smile. "Of course, come in," he said with a sweep of his hand to the empty bench opposite him.

Hermione cautiously returned the smile. "Cheers. I won't disturb your reading, I promise," she thanked him before taking her own seat and staring out the window. Watching the scenery rush by did little to distract her though, and before long she was sighing and grumbling, imagining all the ways that she could hurt Ron Weasley if she wanted.

After she sighed for what must have been the 100th time, the young man coughed, catching her attention, and she found him staring at her with intense blue eyes, a smirk on his face. "Sorry, but is everything alright? You seem quite upset."

He seemed so sincere that she almost opened up without hesitation. But then, she really looked at him and Hermione realized that she actually had no idea who he was at all. He seemed that he might be about her age, but he hadn't changed into his uniform yet, and his nondescript grey robes didn't help to place him. Confusion on her face, she sat up a bit straighter. "I - I'm sorry, I don't believe that we've actually met yet. I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced, hoping that her shiny prefect's badge would be it's own introduction.

"I'm Tom," he replied, still smiling, but not elaborating further. With his jet black hair, slightly tousled, he was really quite handsome. She was positive that she would have recognized him if she'd seen him before.

"What year are you, Tom?" she asked, hoping that she wasn't coming across as rude.

"I'm a seventh year," he said, eyeing up her Gryffindor tie. "Though, I am in Slytherin, so I doubt that we've had a reason to cross paths in the past," he told her smoothly.

Hermione nibbled her lower lip, thinking that his explanation did seem to make sense. Perhaps he had just gone through an impressive growth spurt over the summer? Was he a late bloomer, the same as she had been? It felt a little bit uncomfortable to be sitting with him, knowing so little about him. "Hm, I suppose that's true," she conceded, eventually.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she decided that maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if she opened up to this mysterious Slytherin about her issues. It would be good to get them off of her chest and he'd been decent so far. "I am a bit upset if I'm honest. My good friend Ron is the other Gryffindor prefect in our year, and he's already slacking off. More or less told me that I could do all of the work for the pair of us, and then skived off our meeting so he could chat to Lavender Brown." Hermione crossed her hands over her chest, really feeling quite annoyed still that he hadn't even bothered to show up. "Sometimes he makes me so mad, I could just...ugh...kill him!"

Tom chuckled at her seeming to understand where she was coming from. "I completely know what you mean," he said, his white teeth glinting perfectly behind an equally perfect smile. Merlin, he was so handsome. "I have had similar experiences."

Hermione thought that was a bit of a weird thing to say, but she contented herself with looking back out the window, but she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on her. It was making her hair stand on end, and when her eyes finally darted back to his face, he was staring at her with a wide grin.

She was shocked when he suddenly stood up, stretching his long legs, before moving to sit in the seat next to her. "You know, Hermione, I had the funniest idea just right now," he said, his voice having dropped an octave, making her shiver. She was uncomfortable having him sitting so close to her body, feeling his heat seep into her skin, being unused to this kind of male attention. "You and I both have someone that makes us mad enough that we could kill them," he whispered conspiratorially, his nose scrunched up as if he were telling her a delightful joke. "But of course we couldn't actually do it...we'd be the first suspects."

"I didn't actually mean that I wanted-"

Tom cut her off. "But there is a way around that, isn't there? I could kill your Ronald, and you could kill someone for me. Both of our problems would be solved, and neither one of us would be traced back to the crime," his voice was seductive and gravely, his hot breath trailing over her neck while he played with the ends of her hair.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, turning so that she could look at him. "Who do you want killed anyway?" she questioned, not entirely sure how to deflect from the topic at hand. Of course, he couldn't be serious about killing someone, could he?

"Dumbledore," he said, viciously, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione couldn't help herself. She burst our laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Hahaha, yes, Tom. You kill Ron for me, and I will kill Dumbledore for you." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, standing up. "You know, Tom, you've cheered me right up. I am sure I can return to my friends now that I've had a laugh."

He just smirked at her while she stood up, leaving the carriage, and Tom, behind her.

After her unusual meeting, Hermione didn't see Tom again. She'd nearly convinced herself that she'd daydreamed the handsome seventh year Slytherin, a figment of her imagination to burn off some homicidal thoughts.

That was, of course, until Ronald Weasley wound up dead in the Great Hall.

It was well into October when it happened. She had waited in the Gryffindor common room for Harry and Ron, wanting to walk down to breakfast with them. Harry had come down confused, telling her that Ron's bed was made, and he wasn't anywhere to be found in the boy's dorm.

"Well, maybe he got so hungry, he decided to go down early," Hermione had quipped, knowing about their friend's legendary appetite.

They'd walked down to the Great Hall together, chatting about their upcoming potions essay that Professor Slughorn had assigned. Harry was generally much more excited about potions now that he had his textbook, margins filled to the brim with notes and changes. It irritated Hermione to no end, partly because she thought it was cheating, and partly because he was doing better than her at the subject.

In retrospect, they should have known something was up when they entered the Great Hall. All of the other tables were empty, and everyone was crowded around the Gryffindor table. Upon seeing Harry and Hermione approaching, student parted, whispering, giving them access to the scene in front of them.

Hermione gasped when she saw it, her face transformed by the horror. Ron was laid out on the table, his face a horrifying shape of purple. His bright blue eyes were wide with horror, snot and dried tears covering his face. There was some shape lodged in his throat and a red apple had been forced between his lips. There was no hiding what had happened - he'd choked to death, but someone had done this to him.

Unable to look at it a moment longer, she felt tears spring to her eyes, and pressed her face into Harry's shoulder. His arms wrapped around her provided her little comfort. She could still hear Lavender, Ron's girlfriend, wailing. Before long, the Professors were shuffling everyone aside, telling them to return to their common rooms. In the jostling, Hermione was separated from Harry.

Immediately, she could feel dread settle in her stomach. She'd been positive that the mysterious Slytherin from the train had been joking...he hadn't really intended that they kill people for one another, had he? An icy hand clenched itself around her heart when she realized she'd sarcastically agreed to the plan. Merlin, just what had she gotten herself into?

Scanning the crowd, she easily caught sight of him, leaning against one of the far walls, completely by himself. He was smirking at her, having just taken a bite of bright red apple, the same shade as the one in Ron's mouth. Hermione stomped over him, feeling more and more nauseous with each step. When she got to his side, he was fully grinning at her. "Admiring my handiwork?" he quipped, clearly enjoying himself and the chaos that was unfolding before them.

"No! I can't believe you killed my friend!" Hermione said, shoving her hand against his rather solid chest.

He gave her a patronizing little frown. "Oh, but Hermione, we had a deal. I kill your problem, and you kill mine, remember?" Before she could blink, his hand was pressing her hair away from her face, his fingers cupping her jaw lovingly...except for the thumb that was digging into her throat, just nearly cutting off her airway. Her eyes searched the room, hoping that anyone would see what was happening to her, but they were all still caught up in tumult of discovering Ron's body. His face was transformed to something handsome to something much more sinister. "Now, I've held up my end of the bargain, Hermione," he whispered into her ear.

Again, she looked around for anyone to help her, and she caught Ginny's watery, shocked eyes. She tried to convey that she needed assistance, but to her dismay, Ginny was pulled into a hug by Luna Lovegood.

Another squeeze of her neck had Hermione's attention snapped back to Tom's face. "Now it's time for you to do your part. Don't disappoint me," he demanded.

"I'm not going to kill Dumbledore," she insisted weakly, bringing her hand up to his wrist, hoping to pry it off, but not getting very far with his iron grip.

"You will," he said confidently. "You've seen what a convincing scene I've created here. Don't you think that I could frame you just as easily?" His voice raised up a pitch, mocking some giddy school girl. "Of course Granger just snapped. Everyone knows how jealous she was that Weasley was dating Lavender Brown." Another smile slipped on his face, as though he was positive he was going to get his way. Suddenly, her earlier joke about him being too hungry to wait for food tasted like ash in her mouth. "And if that's not enough incentive, I'll kill you next if you don't."

Pressing her further into the wall, Tom eventually released her from his hold, before walking out of the Great Hall. Hermione rubbed at her neck and wondered if she might have bruises. Knowing she didn't have time to think on it, she paced over to where her friends were standing, Ginny now wrapped up in Harry's arms.

"Ginny!" Hermione called, her eyes wild. "Did you recognize that boy I was just talking to? I think he might have had something to do with Ron's...murder?" She questioned eagerly, before trailing off, hating the way that she'd just stomped all over social norms. Ginny was shocked, grieving, and here she'd just blurted out that Ron was murdered.

The redhead looked horrified, and then concerned. "Hermione, maybe you ought to go lie down...or talk to Madame Pomfrey," Ginny sniffled. "I didn't see you talking with anyone."

The school was unequipped to handle a student death, especially one that was covered so publicly. Harry had stayed with Ginny until the Weasley's could arrive, and the Professors had fluttered around them, trying to field their grief. Hermione had slipped through the cracks, having been told by the Head Girl to go to Madame Pomfrey for a calming draught and maybe a dreamless sleep potion.

She didn't go.

Hermione had lied awake in her bed, unable to keep with the memory of Ron's face still in her mind. Tom's threats were heavy on her mind, and she was spinning different possible outcomes, many not looking too good for her. She'd thought about telling Harry for about thirty seconds before dismissing that idea out of hand.

In the darkness of her dorm room, one answer sprang to mind. Unfortunately, it meant reaching out to just about the last person that she wanted to: Professor Dumbledore. She just had to hope that he would listen to her and realize that she didn't promise to kill him. Maybe he would have more information about just who Tom was, too.

Slippers on her feet, she crept down from Gryffindor tower through the halls of Hogwarts. The castle become increasingly terrifying the later it got at night. She navigated her way, avoiding Professors and ghosts alike, down moving staircases until she got to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"Bertie Botts? Liquorice wands? Pepper Imps?" Hermione tried offering up every wizarding confection that she could think of, but to no avail. Biting her lower lip, she knew it was imperative that she speak with Dumbledore as quickly as possible, but she was getting nowhere this way. Of course, it was against the rules to break into a professor's office, but she needed to speak with him. Raising her wand, she shut her eyes tight. "Confundus."

Her eyes opened back up at hearing the sound of the stone scraping against the wall, unable to believe that it had actually worked. Still, she eagerly raced up the stairs into the darkness of the Headmaster's office, finding it empty. Another spell had the room bathed in the unnatural light from the tip of her wand.

Cursing another time, Hermione realized that Dumbledore wasn't here, and she didn't actually have any idea of where he slept so that she could wake him up. She had to let him know that his life was in danger, and worse that she knew exactly who was behind Ron's murder. She wondered if he would understand how she'd gotten involved in the first place, or if he would understand that she'd all thought it was a big joke.

Before she was able to plan her next steps, the floo was flaring bright green and eerie. Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace, brushing his robes of any imaginary ash, before he was startled by Hermione's presence. "Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" He asked.

She was unable to see his eyes, as the light of her wand was reflecting off of his half moon spectacles. "Professor, I am sorry for barging in here in the middle of the night, but I had something I had to tell you," she bit her lower lip, hoping that she had made the correct assumption about the Headmaster. "Your life is in grave danger."

A cool sensation slid down her spine like ice water. She could sense his presence before he even spoke. There was no second guessing who it was that had pressed their body against her's, his hand coming around her wand arm, covering her hand. His breath tickled against her ear when he spoke. "I am so proud of you, Hermione. I didn't think that you'd actually do it."

"I'm not here to kill him, Tom!" She hissed, wondering how he'd gotten up to the office in the first place. "I'm here to stop you."

"Who are you talking to Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, his normally calm tone betrayed by a slight waver in his voice.

"Don't you recognize him, Professor?" she questioned, hoping that he'd still be able to see the other boy, even in the darkness of the room. "He's a Slytherin called Tom." Belatedly, Hermione realized that she'd never gotten his last name…

"Miss Granger, Hermione…" Dumbledore continued, concern evident on his ghostly features. "There is no one else there, except you and me. Now, why don't you put down your wand."

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she shut her eyes closed tightly. How could Dumbledore say that there was no one else there? She could feel the hard wall of muscle behind her, she could feel the heat of Tom's body seeping into her skin, she could feel his grip on her hand, pointing her wand at her Headmaster. Shaking her head back and forth, she tried to clear out her thoughts. "No!" she said firmly.

"Come on, Hermione, let's do it together," Tom whispered, and she could practically feel his smirk, even if she couldn't see it. "You know the words, you know the wand movement. It would be so simple, and you'd just be holding up our end of the bargain." She could feel him moving her arm, a quick zigzag pattern, refusing the let up.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The spell echoed in her head, along with Tom's laughter, long after Dumbledore had fallen in a heap to the floor. She wasn't sure if it was her or Tom who had said the words in the end, but she dropped her wand the same, feeling as though it had scalded her. What had she done? How had this happened? She'd only wanted to help Professor Dumbledore and in the end, she'd...

Her heart was pounding against her chest, a wild rhythm that she couldn't see to gain control of. "What did you do?" She questioned, turning around and facing the young man who was supposed to be just another Hogwarts student. At this point, she knew that there was more than meets the eye.

"What did I do?" Tom laughed again, giving her a cheeky smirk. "Well, my dear, sweet Hermione, let me tell you. I'd been living at Hogwarts - a sad, hollow, remnant of a spirit - ever since Harry Potter tried to destroy my diary, biding my time. I'd gained some strength from Ginny Weasley's soul, but never enough to become corporeal again."

Hermione stared at him in absolute horror, the wheels in her mind turning rapidly while she pieced together what he was saying. "But that means...you can't be…"

"Tom Riddle," he pronounced with a self-satisfied smile. "Or as you might know me, Lord Voldemort."

She pushed back from him, trying to get out of her grasp, only to nearly trip backwards over Dumbledore's robes. Tom caught her, pulling her to rest against his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair, and his nose pressed to the crown of her head. It would have been a reassuring and welcoming gesture had it come from anyone but him. "Please let me go," she begged, trying to get free, but to no avail.

"Your spirit called to me on the Express. You were so angry, and my spirit fed on that, allowing me to appear for you," he whispered, and she could practically feel his proudness radiating into her. "And now that Dumbledore is dead, well, I've absorbed his energy, and I'm fully corporeal again. A second chance at life, and it's all thanks to you."

"No, no, no!" Hermione begged, knowing deep down that what he said was true, but not wanting to face the facts. She was ashamed that it was her anger at her friends that had allowed him to get a foothold in her mind. She never would have killed if it hadn't been for him.

"Yes, Hermione," Tom said indulgently, as if she were a misbehaving child. "Now the question is, what are you going to do? No one else has seen me, except for you, and everyone will think you've gone mad and killed Dumbledore. It was your wand, after all, that cast the fatal spell."

As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that what he was saying was true. There was no way that she could explain the situation without ending up in Azkaban, as she didn't think the Ministry would believe that she was possessed by the spirit of Tom Riddle. All they would see was someone who'd snapped and killed her best friend, and then her Headmaster. They would probably even use it as some kind of propaganda against muggleborns. She couldn't allow that to happen. "I don't know what to do," she admitted quietly.

"Come with me, Hermione. I will take care of you, and all will be well," he offered in that sweet, crooning voice of his, the rumble of his words in his chest making her eyes droop as her adrenaline waned.

Helpless and without her wand, Hermione nodded, defeated. She allowed Tom to shuffle her to the fireplace, listlessly watching as he took a pinch of floo powder. "Riddle Manor," he called out confidently, pulling Hermione into the Avada Kedavra green flames.