I know I've been gone for a long time, but I've been having serious writer's block. But now I'm shaking off the dust and plan to continue my stories with new fervor sometime in the near future.

This has been sitting on my computer for a while and I thought I might as well post it and see what kind of feedback it gets.

Hidden Talents, Black Betrayals, and Pull Me Sideways will also been updated at some point now that I have the time to concentrate on them. Though I'm also beginning work on a book I am writing, so we will see.

The continuation of this story depends on what kind of feedback it gets, so remember, reviews are love :)

Warnings: Male x male relations. No likey no ready.

The night was stormy, dark, and miserable. The trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed against the heavy winds, the trunks creaking against the onslaught. Rain made a pattering noise as it hit the leaves. The smell of wet dirt was thick in the air. All students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were safely tucked inside for dinner. All except two.

Two boys, cloaks pulled over their heads to avoid the rain, had run into the forest. Their laughter was lost amongst the howling winds. Stumbling over their own feet, they headed deep into the woods, snickering loudly. "Oh man, they're totally going to lose this bet!" said one of the boys who had blonde hair.

"Yeah!" replied the other, who had black hair and a big grin. "Half an hour in the forest is nothing! By tomorrow we'll be in Honeydukes arms full of candy and those slimy snakes will have to pay for it all!"

The boys voiced their victory by whooping loudly and hitting trees with sticks. The noises echoed in the eerie silence of the forest. It seemed the boys were not afraid of the rumors they had heard about the creatures inhabiting the woods or they weren't aware of the dangers. They laughed and ran without a care in the world until they reached a clearing in the middle of the woods where a fallen log lay.

The blonde, who was known by the name of Charlie, stopped in his running and motioned for his friend to do the same. "We're far enough in the woods by now. Let's just stay here until it's time to go back."

His friend, who was known as Ryan, nodded in agreement. He went to take a seat on the fallen log along with Charlie. What both boys hadn't been expecting was for their butts to go right through the rotted wood. Ryan yelped as something sharp poked him painfully in the arse.

When the two boys had regained themselves after a series of curses and much butt rubbing, they peeked into the now broken log to see what was inside. Shining like it hadn't been hidden inside a dirty, decayed trunk was a crystal paperweight with a tiny little figure inside. "Ah, man, that's awesome! It has to be worth a lot of money, just look at it! Should we take it?" Ryan asked, shooting his friend a questioning look.

"Well duh! Of course we should! We found it so it's ours." Charlie took the paperweight into his hands and peered inside. In the depths of the crystal, the tiny figure stirred. "Look, I think there's a little person trapped inside!"

"No way!" his friend gasped, staring in awe as the paperweight began glowing and the tiny person inside pressed themselves against the glass. "Do you think we should free him?"

"I don't know. What if he was trapped in here for a reason?"

Ryan gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Like," Charlie searched for the right words. "Like what if he's evil or something and he's trapped in here because he did something bad."

"Charlie, that's crazy. If he was bad he would be in Azkaban."

"I'm still not so sure…"

The decision was made for them as the crystal chose that moment to heat up in Charlie's hands, burning them and causing him to drop it. It shattered into millions of glittering pieces the moment it touched the ground.

The two boys scrambled back as fast as they could, fear filling them. Light erupted from the remains and a piercing shriek made them clutch their ears in pain. The light became so intense that they were forced to close their eyes. A final boom shook the ground before everything stopped.

Cautiously, Charlie and Ryan peeked out from between their fingers at the person who had appeared. He was tall, maybe sixteen years of age, with brown hair and dark eyes. He wore Hogwarts robes, but they seemed more old fashioned then what the boys' had on, more grey instead of black. He also seemed very disoriented and angry.

His unfocused eyes found them and with a growl he stumbled forward in their direction. Both boys screamed and took off into the forest, back the way they came, no longer caring about their bet.

They left behind a very bewildered Tom Riddle, who assumed that the alcohol had gone to his head and he had somehow found his way into the Forbidden Forest. Just wonderful. Looking above the trees, Tom saw Hogwarts in all its glory, shining like a beacon for him to follow. Grumbling under his breath and clutching his stomach, Tom made his way to the castle, hoping to just get back to his dormitory and go to sleep. Hopefully he wouldn't have a hangover the next day.

Little did he know that a hangover would be the least of his problems.

OoO

Harry Potter was not having the best of days. It was only three weeks into the term, but already he was buried under mountains of homework that he didn't have a hope of completing. Since it was 6th year, his teachers had decided to crack down on their students and use every single moment available to give them more and more homework. Apparently it was to prepare them for their N . E . W . Ts, but in Harry's opinion he thought his professors were just being right gits.

Like today Snape had given him a detention just because he sneezed during one of the man's lectures. So now after dinner not only did he have to write an essay for Transfiguration, practice a spell for Defense Against the Dark Arts (Lupin had taken over again, though even he was laying the homework on thick), and study for a test in Herbology; he also had to clean cauldrons for Snape. Bloody brilliant.

He stared moodily at the food on his plate, not really feeling up to eating. He was dead tired. Between homework, Quidditch practice, the Occulmency classes he still took with Snape, and the nightmares he kept having regardless of his mind's defenses, he hardly had anytime to sleep. It was really starting to get to him and his friends were beginning to notice. Hermione suggested that he drop Quidditch, and Harry had considered it, but he just couldn't do that to his team. He had tried to get out of Snape's extra lessons by pleading to Dumbledore, insisting they weren't helping anyway, but the Headmaster was adamant that he continue.

Not even letters from Sirius cheered him up anymore. He had almost lost his godfather last year at the Department of Mysteries, so he had been spending every available second with him. They had hung out at Sirius' old home for half the summer once he had been rescued from the Dursleys. Harry missed the days when he and Sirius sat in front of the fire, exchanging stories and telling jokes while sipping butter beer. He had sworn to write every week once Harry returned to Hogwarts, and he had kept that promise, but Harry no longer had the energy or the time to reply like he had in the beginning.

Trying to shove away depressing thoughts, Harry watched as Hermione and Ron bickered for the umpteenth time that day. They were constantly at each other's throats nowadays, and not even Harry's intervention could stop their fighting. He had given up near the second week, deciding that if they wanted to kill each other, he would not get in their way. He found himself hanging around Hermione more and more as Ron had taken to glaring at her and storming away whenever they happened upon one another. Except at meals, where they were forced to be in the same area because they both wanted to sit next to Harry.

Harry sighed, placing his face in his palm and looking at nothing in particular. What they all needed was one big distraction.

As this thought crossed his mind, the doors to the Great Hall flew open. All heads turned in that direction. A boy stumbled into the room, his hair a mess and his clothes covered in dirt. His eyes scanned the room before landing on Dumbledore, who looked rightly shocked. Three others shared in his surprise. The only three who recognized the boy standing there other than Dumbledore and Professor Snape.

"P-Professor D-Dumb-Dumble! Dumbledore!" said a sixteen year old Tom Riddle, looking as if he was about to vomit. "I don't feel so good…" As these words left the young Dark Lord's mouth, he gave one sickening lurch and fell face down on the floor, unmoving.

Almost immediately the whispers started up and students moved forward to get a look at the body. Dumbledore stood up quickly. "All students report to their dormitories immediately! Professors, please make sure they get there."

Dumbledore motioned for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to come to his side. The headmaster waited none too patiently as all the students were herded out of the room by their teachers, leaving the trio, Dumbledore, and Severus Snape with the unconscious body of Tom Riddle.

When the hall was clear they all moved forward, forming a circle around the young Dark Lord's unmoving form. They were shocked into silence. Ron prodded the body lightly with his foot, as if to test that it were real and nearly peed himself when Tom let out a grumble.

"What's the Dark Lord doing here?" Hermione finally questioned, looking around at the others.

Harry got into a crouch, examining the person before him. They looked exactly like the Tom Riddle he had seen in the Chamber of Secrets. Hesitantly, Harry reached out to touch the boy. His skin was warm under his fingertips, not cold like Voldemort's. And there was no sting of pain in his scar at the contact. "This isn't Voldemort. If it was my scar would be hurting by now."

"Potter is right," said Snape coldly, staring down at the body in disbelief. "The Dark Lord has tried before to regain his old form, but has failed. The old magic used to bring him back is what gave him the appearance he now bears. No potion or spell can change that. Whoever or whatever this is, it is not the Dark Lord."

"Regardless of who it is, they are hurt." Dumbledore looked warily at Tom. "Severus, please take Tom to the hospital wing and see what you can learn. We will join you shortly."

Snape nodded and used his wand to levitate the body up and out of the room. His steps were quick and precise as he floated Tom after him through the doors.

"Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, I must ask that you two also return to your dormitories and report to the hospital wing in the morning."

"But, Headmaster…!" Hermione protested.

Dumbledore held up his hand, cutting her off. "At the moment we are not sure what we are dealing with. My concern right now is finding out what this Tom knows. I will have Harry stay in the hospital wing so that when Tom awakes he will be there and we can see his reaction. If he does recognize him, then we have a problem. If he doesn't, then we will go from there. I do not want to overwhelm Mr. Riddle with too much information. We want him to be open with us and tell us how he came to be here."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione hushed him and started dragging him away. The arguing that had momentarily stopped by shock started up again, making Harry roll his eyes. They were going to wake the whole bloody castle with that racket.

He followed Dumbledore through the halls, lost in his thoughts as he headed towards the hospital wing. How could Tom Riddle be here, in this time? Maybe time travel was involved? But then wouldn't the time stream be affected? Surely something would have changed. And what reason would Tom Riddle have for using Time Travel? Was it polyjuice potion? That would explain why the person seemed so sick. But how would they have hair from Tom Riddle? Voldemort didn't have any hair now. And could you polyjuice yourself into a younger version of someone? That didn't make much sense. So what was it?

He knew he would be involved in this somehow, what with his connection with the Dark Lord and all. If this turned out to be something really important, then they would have to possibly keep it from Voldemort's knowledge. Which would be hard, given the whole of Hogwarts population had seen Tom Riddle's impromptu entrance.

Ten minutes later found Harry sitting in a comfortable chair next to a sleeping Tom, rather annoyed at the whole predicament. Now he was forced to spend the whole night here, waiting for the teen next to him to wake up and either try to kill him or stare at him in confusion. The only good that had come out of this was getting out of detention with Snape. He was not, however, excused from his homework. So with a sigh he pulled it out and got to work. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

At eleven o' clock at night, Tom still hadn't even moved. Madame Pomfrey showed up in her night gown to tell him that she was going to bed, and to contact her if there was any change. She also insisted that he go to bed soon as well. He ignored her.

Somewhere around one in the morning his eyes started to droop. He struggled to stay awake. He still wasn't done with his essay. But it was a losing battle. A few minutes later he was out cold, his cheek stuck to his parchment paper.

Hopefully everything would work out in the morning.

OoO

Tom cracked open his eyes a few hours later to an amazing sight. Asleep next to him with a piece of parchment on his face, was one of the most beautiful boys he had ever seen in all his sixteen years. Messy raven locks stuck up wildly and hung in his face. He had a long elegant nose and pink, kissable lips all laid out perfectly on heart shaped face. Unfortunately his body was hidden by the unflattering Hogwarts robes.

Sitting up and looking around to make sure no one was watching, Tom moved the robe to the side. Just as he thought, this boy had a long, lean little body, with legs that went on forever. This boy had to be a transfer student of some sort, because there was no way he would have overlooked an angel like this if he had been walking the halls.

What house is he in? Tom wondered, checking the robe to see. Ah, Gryffindor. So my future boyfriend is in the rival house. Forget Abraxas, this little lion will be mine.

He jumped back quickly as the boy stirred, blinking open emerald green eyes slowly from behind wire rimmed glasses. He's even more beautiful than I thought. How is that possible? Slowly the boy turned his gaze on him. He sat up at once, the parchment still attached to his face. Tom chuckled at the adorable picture. Noticing what Tom was laughing at, the raven blushed deeply and batted it away. Simply stunning, not matter what he does.

"Hello, lovely." Tom purred, leaning towards the boy. The blush deepened. "What's your name?"

"You don't recognize me?"

"Sadly no. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting." He could see the confusion in the boy's eyes. Was he not used to being flirted with? That's impossible. Just look at him, he's gorgeous! He probably has boys tripping over their feet to ask him out. "I could never forget a face as beautiful as yours."

The boy's whole face was red by now. It was so cute. He stumbled around for an answer and finally settled on changing the subject. "It's good to see that you're awake. Do you remember anything?"

"Are you sure I'm awake, because surely an angel as gorgeous as you could only exist in heaven?" Tom knew he was laying it on thick and was using every cheesy line in the book. But he didn't care. He would do whatever it took to make his little dove blush so prettily. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head when the boy did not look amused by his pick-up lines anymore. "Well, not really, no. I think the Lions were hosting a party though, so I probably got drunk and that's how I ended up in the woods. No big deal."

"What year is it?"

Tom was caught off guard by the question, but answered nonetheless. "1943, of course." Tom reached out and managed to snag one of his little angel's delicate hands. "But I don't want to talk about the date, Dove. Unless it's one involving you and me. I just want to know your name."

The boy seemed distracted, mumbling to himself. Tom's eyes darkened. He did not like being ignored. "So I was right, you are in your 6th year. But you don't seem to remember anything. Is it time travel then? I have to go get Dumbledore." The raven stood and turned to leave.

Growling, Tom yanked the boy back into the seat harshly. Using the hand that was free he grabbed the angel's face and forced eye contact. The boy looked terrified of him, and rightly so. Nobody walked away from Tom Riddle when he was talking. "I asked," Tom hissed dangerously. "What is your name?"

"H-Harry," The boy stuttered quickly, looking at Tom a bit fearfully. "Harry Potter."

"Harry…" Tom tested the name on his tongue. Yes, it was a lovely name for his little dove. "Harry, can you do me a favor?"

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. Smiling, Tom patted the spot next to him on the bed. "Come sit here."

He didn't wait for Harry to do what he asked. Instead he yanked on the boy's arm, making him lose his balance and land on top of him. He moved the boy's legs so they straddled his hips, pushing the boy closer to him so that their faces were inches apart. One of his hands was placed on Harry's soft cheek and the other trailed down his back to cup a deliciously firm arse.

The boy fought against him, squirming atop Tom's lap and struggling, unaware that he was only turning the Slytherin on more. So feisty. I wonder if he's like this in bed. Tom smirked, staring into those fiery green eyes. Hopefully I'll find out soon.

"Let go of me!" Harry demanded, placing his small hands on Tom's chest and trying to push away. Chuckling, Tom snatched up those delicate wrists and forced them above the angry boy's head. Gently he push Harry back until he was lying back on the bed, his wrists pinned above his head.

The little Gryffindor made a lovely picture, spread out before Tom, panting from the force of his struggles and bucking up against his grasp. Tom leaned forward till his lips were brushing Harry's bright red ear. He pressed a kiss there and continued trailing tiny butterfly kisses until he reached his dove's pink lips. All protests spilling from that lovely mouth were silenced by Tom's thumb, which gently traced the velvet skin. "What year are you in, Dove?"

"It's none of your bloody business!" The small boy yelled, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "Let go of me!"

Tom chuckled. "Anything to do with you is now my business. I want to know everything about you." He moved closer until he was staring deep into those extraordinarily green eyes, smirking. "I want to know what you look like when you lose yourself to pleasure. I want to know what you sound like in the throes of passion, memorize every noise that comes out of that adorable little mouth of yours. I want to know how it feels to have you arch underneath me when I'm deep inside you, to hold you close and make you drown in the feeling." The blush that formed on Harry's face was red enough to rival a rose, and ten times as beautiful. Tom wasn't usually so forward with his advances, preferring to lure his prey in with sweet words and false promises, only to strike when they were at their most vulnerable and be gone the next morning. There was something different about this little Dove, however. He made Tom want. He made Tom want more than he had ever wanted before. The mere possibility of getting in between those perfectly slim thighs made him harder than anything. He wanted Harry moaning, aching, and begging for more. Begging for something only Tom could provide.

He was so lost in thoughts of his little Dove without those pesky clothes on, that Tom didn't notice the fist until it connected with his face. "Shit!" he yelled, releasing his hold on Harry and clutching at his cheek.

Harry used the opportunity to escape, quickly scrambling to get off the bed. He wasn't fast enough, however. Before he reached his freedom, Harry's ankle was grabbed and he was yanked back onto the bed, landing on his stomach with his face in the mattress. The boy-who-lived shivered with fear as he felt a hot breath ghost over his ear. Soon after, something clothed and hard pressed against Harry's pant clad ass, his robes having been pushed out of the way for easier access. Harry may not have had much experience with things of a sexual nature, given that he was typically dealing with one massive problem after another, but he definitely knew what that thing pressing against his butt was, and it caused his breath to quicken. Tom wasn't going to…rape him, was he?

A chuckle sounded near his ear. It was a dark sound, almost actually like what Harry had heard that night in the graveyard in his fourth year. That was when Harry remembered that on top of him was- though he didn't exactly look it- the Dark Lord Voldemort, aka, the man who had wanted his head on a stick ever since he was a baby. He'd punched Voldemort in the face. Though in any other situation that thought would make him giggle, now it just made his blood run cold.

"So precious…" the cold voice hissed. "So full of life. You won't have to worry about me leaving you be, Dove. I will not stop until you are mine."

The pressure was suddenly removed from his back, but Harry dare not move for fear of doing something wrong and having to face Tom's wrath. "Turn around."

Harry was quick to obey, turning swiftly to face dark eyes filled with lust and delight. A pale hand cupped his chin, moving his face uncomfortably closer to Tom's. "I am sorry for scaring you," Tom apologized, not sounding very sorry at all. "One as beautiful as you should not be treated in such a way. You deserved to be wooed," Tom's lips were inches from his own now. "Will you let me woo you, Harry Potter?"

Any response Harry might have had was cut off by Tom's firm lips on his, sliding almost desperately against his own. A tongue pushed its way into Harry's mouth, making sure to leave no surface untouched. Harry bit down on the intruding appendage, but if anything it only seemed to heighten the older teen's desire. He moaned, slipping his hands into Harry's hair and tugging softly. Harry could only struggle, eyes wide with terror as his number one enemy plundered his mouth, licking and sucking and doing all sorts of things that both disgusted, and, ashamedly, excited Harry.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted their activities.

Tom pulled away reluctantly, looking up to meet the gaze of one Albus Dumbledore. He sighed, glancing longingly and the kiss swollen lips in front of him before slowly letting Harry go. The boy practically jumped off the bed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get behind the old man.

"You always have to interrupt during the good part, don't you, Professor Dumbledore?" Tom said. He threw himself back on the bed, stretching his arms above his head and smiling at the old man.

Dumbledore smiled back, the well-known twinkle shining in his eyes. "Tom, how many times must I come across you like this? I must say that the shock must have worn off around the fifth such occurrence."

Tom laughed, turning his gaze on Harry, who was trying valiantly not to look like his was cowering behind the older wizard. "Probably a lot more often now that we have this lovely little new student running around." Tom winked at the green eyed boy, who quickly averted his gaze.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore spared Harry a quick glance, his gaze sweeping up and down to make sure that the boy was unharmed. "I see you've had the chance to get acquainted with Mr. Potter, here."

"Not nearly acquainted enough, unfortunately. I'd most definitely like the chance to get to know him better. Preferably alone and in one of our dorms."

Dumbledore shook his head, chuckling at Tom's antics. "You haven't changed at all, Tom."

When Tom finally tore his eyes from Harry and looked at his favorite teacher, concern furrowing his brow when he finally got a good look at the man. Dumbledore had always looked rather old. The man had to be nearly sixty. But now . . . the man looked like he had aged another fifty years in the span of one day. His beard was longer, now nearly reaching his belt, whereas before it stopped at the middle of his chest. And his hair was now completely white, as opposed to the smattering of color it had before. His face, though happy, looked world weary, wrinkles etched deep into his skin. Tom sat up immediately, his mind whirling with possible explanations. How could Dumbledore have aged so much in such a sort amount of time? "Professor, what happened to you?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said, looking down as if he had just noticed the change. "Don't worry, Tom. All will be explained to you shortly. But first," Dumbledore turned to watch as a plump old woman entered the room and began approaching them. "Madame Pompfrey has insisted that I left her examine you before we proceed any further."

"Madame Pompfrey . . .?" Tom had never seen the woman before in his life. Since when did they get a new nurse? He'd been in the hospital only three days before to treat minor injuries he'd sustained in a duel. "I don't understand . . ."

The woman immediately began checking his temperature and his pulse, asking him a variety of questions. Had Tom been a weaker man, he might have lashed out at her in his frustration and confusion. None of this was making any sense. Only minutes before everything had been normal. He'd had a beautiful boy underneath him, and a decent chance at getting laid, and now everything was wrong. Come to think of it, even Harry's uniform didn't look right. The style was different than his own, with darker colors. Though he would never show it, Tom was quickly becoming panicked.

He pushed the nurse's hand away when she next tried to touch him. "Tell me what is going on," he demanded, shooting at accusatory glare at everyone in the room. There was definitely something they were hiding from him, and he'd be damned if he didn't learn what it was.

"Oh dearie, you really must let me finish these tests," the nurse insisted, coming towards him with a needle of some sort. "I'm sure the Headmaster will answer all of your questions when we're done here."

"Headmaster Dippet knows about this?"

She gave him the kind of look you give to a small child when they don't understand something. Tom hated that look. "Not exactly, sweetheart, now please, hold out your arm." She moved towards him again.

"Come near me again and you'll wish you'd never been born," Tom threatened, scowling at her. She shrunk back, looking to Dumbledore for assistance.

"Tom, there is no need for that. After a few tests . . ."

Tom cut him off. "There will be no tests until someone explains to me exactly what has happened. I may have a headache but if you attempt to do anything to me I promise I will destroy you. Now tell me what's . . ." Tom paused, looking down as a small hand that had taken hold of his. He met the lovely gaze of his Dove, who was looking at him with fright, but determination. Tom melted like butter under those emerald orbs, his anger ebbing like the tide. He lifted the pale hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss on the smooth surface. Harry blushed, but did not flinch or attempt to pull away.

"If you cooperate and do the tests," he said, voice containing only a hint of shakiness. "Then I will stay here with you and explain what's going on. That's what you want, isn't it?"

The young dark lord nodded slowly, completely enraptured by the stunning creature in front of him. "I'll do anything for you, Dove."

"Good," Harry sat down in the seat beside the bed, hand still clasped firmly in that of Tom's. "Now shut it and sit still while Madame Pomfrey does what she has to do."

Tom did just that, hardly even noticing the needle sinking into his arm. He eyes never left his Dove's beautiful face. Even though he knew that Harry was technically in on whatever was going on here, he couldn't be mad. His Dove was too perfect, too lovely, to ever do anything malicious. No, it had to be there others who had somehow roped the angel into their confusing ways. His Dove was innocent, and Tom trusted him completely, even if the little minx had only held his hand to distract him into calming down. Tom resected that cleverness. It only made him want the boy even more, if that were possible.

"Now listen up, because I won't be repeating myself, alright?"

Tom nodded, listening with rapt attention.

"The year is 1996 and obviously something has gone terribly wrong."

To be continued.

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