Summary: A thoroughly impossible freak accident transports our favorite attractive psychopath forward in time from 1942 to 1996. Harry Potter/Tom Riddle slash. Draco Malfoy, meet Tom Maxwell.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, or any other people, places or objects that may appear in this humble work of fiction.
Warnings: Possible spoilers up to the fifth book. M/M, obviously. Rating is down as T for now but may, possibly, increase to M as things progress.
Author's Note: I'm going to Niagara Falls tomorrow, so you probably won't see another update for a few days. This chapter is a bit longer as a result. And nope, there's no Quidditch this chapter, but it's definitely in the next one, I swear. Speaking of things that are supposed to be in this story, I'm sure some of you are wondering if I'm ever going to get around to the slash. Let's just say that Harry might stop entirely despising Tom by mid-September. We're on… September 3rd? Heh. Well, the days will start moving faster, though, once this week is over. And there will be honest-to-goodness slash by Halloween. I promise.

Chapter Thirteen: Play With Fire, Anticipate Burns

In the common room that evening, hardly anyone could talk of anything but the breakout from Azkaban. Neville, surprisingly, was the first to ask the obvious question: 'If the Ministry knew that the Dementors weren't loyal, why did it leave them in charge of Azkaban for so long?'

Just as surprisingly, Ron answered before Hermione. 'Numbers. They didn't want to have to spare law enforcement personnel to guard the prison with You-Know-Who on the loose again, so they negotiated with the Dementors and they thought they were back on our side, but that didn't last long, did it?' he said bitterly. 'Dad said this would happen. If they put him in charge –'

'The Minister has ordered the extermination of the Dementors,' interrupted Hermione. 'How on earth could they kill so many of them?'

'Prolonged exposure to a Patronus,' Tom answered calmly. 'If they're trapped with nowhere to run, it's fairly easy to dispose of them that way. The trick is trapping them. I expect they've left Azkaban by now. They're not stupid.'

Tom was sitting in a chair by the fire next to Neville Longbottom, who had taken a shine to him. 'Where do you suppose they'll go?' Neville asked him.

'To You-Know-Who, I expect.' Tom frowned a moment. 'What is his name, anyway?'

'Whose?' Neville asked.

'You-Know-Who.'

'Who's planning to take Potions now that the Ministry's made Snape let people with an 'E' grade into his classes?' Harry asked abruptly. Ron, Hermione and Neville glanced at Harry quickly before replying.

'I was taking it already, so I will, of course,' Hermione said to keep the subject moving.

'I guess I'll take it,' sighed Ron. 'Snape's a git, but so many careers want a Potions N.E.W.T. that it's worth putting up with him.'

'I…' Neville trailed off.

'What-what grade did you get in Potions, Neville?' Hermione asked tentatively.

'I-I got an 'E',' he whispered. 'I did pretty well on the exam.'

'You did?' Harry said. 'That's great! You can take it with us, too.'

He bit his lip. 'I would if it weren't for Snape, but as it is –'

It seemed to be a night for surprises, because it was Tom who said, 'Why let him stop you? You've all said how awful he is, but it seems to me that you'd be letting him destroy an awful lot of opportunities if you didn't take the class just because of him.'

Harry was stunned at these kind and sensible remarks from his nemesis. Why would he care if Neville takes Potions? Harry wondered.

Neville grinned slightly. 'Yeah, I guess you're right.' He looked from Tom to Hermione and back again. 'You'll-you'll help me out, though, won't you? It really isn't my best class.'

'Of course, Neville,' smiled Hermione.

'It will be our pleasure, I'm sure,' said Tom.

Neville was grinning broadly now. 'Okay, then. I'll take it!'

'That's the way, Neville,' said Ron, reaching over from his chair and patting him on the back. 'Don't let that slimeball stop you.'

Harry stared at Tom. Did he really care about Neville, or was it an act? What did he have to gain from it? You're being stupid, Harry told himself angrily. He's just trying to get in good with everyone so no one gets suspicious about him. If anything, he had been even more disgustingly friendly since he'd found out the 'truth' about his life.

Tom noticed Harry looking at him and stared back. Their eyes locked. Tom raised an eyebrow and sent him a quick smirk before anyone noticed, then looked back down at his Divination homework.

He has his first class with the Slytherins tomorrow, Harry realized. I hope he behaves…

All of the Gryffindor sixth-years, even Tom and Hermione, had a few hours off on Wednesday, and all of them were spending the time doing homework in the common room. At first, Ron had wanted to go flying again, but no one would go with him; they all had far too much work to do. 'I hope they let up when Quidditch season starts,' Ron had said gruffly before pulling out his half-finished Transfiguration essay.

Tom knew he was further ahead in his work than the rest of them; he only had to finish his History of Magic essay and he'd have a clean slate. The others were much further behind, and they had to practice the spell they had learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts that day; he, Hermione and Harry were the only ones who had perfected it in class. Tom hadn't been surprised by Hermione – he had already noticed that she was unusually intelligent academically, though not at his own level – but Harry had shown no particular talent up until that class. No one else seemed to think it unusual, so it seemed that Harry just happened to be exceptional in Defense. Tom decided he would have to remember that. He recalled the weathered look he had often seen in Harry's eyes and wondered just how much hands-onexperience in the subject the other boy might have had already. If Dumbledore thinks he can keep me in line, he must have some special abilities.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Tom walked together to Potions. Tom noticed that Neville was becoming increasingly agitated the closer they got to the Potions classroom. He hoped the moron would hold out because he needed a lab partner that would do what he instructed. Who better to fill that role than a boy who was inept and terrified, already begging for help?

They reached Potions and Tom immediately sought the seat next to Neville. The boy looked so appreciative that Tom had to stifle his gag reflex. Instead of vomiting, he smiled back encouragingly in return.

'There's a lot more students than before,' Hermione whispered loudly behind him to Harry and Ron. 'And it looks as though the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs have got their own class now because I don't see them anywhere.'

'Too bad they couldn't have taken the Slytherins with them, too,' muttered Ron.

'I agree, Weasel. Then I wouldn't have to smell you,' retorted a blonde boy who had come to stand by their tables, flanked by two large, smirking goons.

Tom took a look at their badges. Slytherin, thank Salazar, he thought. But they don't seem too bright. Let's find out. Then, smirking openly, Tom turned in his seat and said, 'What an awful comeback. He smells bad? If you're going to go around making enemies, you should at least be wittier about it.'

The boy's eyes narrowed. 'Huh. You're that new kid, aren't you?' he sneered. 'Go home to your mummy, Mudblood.'

Neville stood up furiously, as did Ron. 'He's not even Muggle-born!' said Neville.

'Well, my family has certainly never interbred with that,' sniffed the pale-faced boy. 'So he can't be a pureblood, can he?'

'Stuff yourself, Malfoy,' snarled Ron, his hands flexing into fists.

'Malfoy?' said Tom, trying to ignore the blood insults since he realized they would only sound humorous to a real pureblood. 'Your father just broke out of Azkaban, didn't he? Having a criminal for a father isn't much to brag about, if you ask me. I'm rather glad my family hasn't mixed with yours.'

Malfoy's nostrils flared. 'You don't want to make an enemy of me,' he said, in what he seemed to presume was a threatening voice. The muscled morons on either side of him flexed their arms.

Tom laughed a high, cold laugh that caught the attention of most of the room. Malfoy looked vaguely disturbed. This is highly entertaining, Tom thought. The spoiled little idiot thinks he can threaten me? 'Excuse me for not being terribly frightened,' Tom remarked once he had managed to stop laughing.

Before Malfoy could respond, Snape swept into the classroom. Glaring at Tom, he walked back to his own table with his accomplices. Neville and Ron sat down, Ron grumbling about the 'great bloody prat.'

'Tom,' Harry said, leaning over and speaking in undertones, 'don't pick a fight. Just stay away from Malfoy.'

'He's a fool,' Tom grumbled to Harry as the others took out their ingredients. While the altercation had been amusing, he was altogether disappointed if that was the best Slytherin had to offer in this time. 'Someone who wants power and influence shouldn't go about alienating everyone,' he whispered to Harry softly. 'He's nothing but a bully, and a short one, at that.'

Harry snorted. 'Just don't get yourself into trouble. He is an arse, though.'

'In today's class,' Snape began as he glanced around, his eyes reaching Neville and a look of deep disgust spreading over his face, 'you will be making a Blood Restorative Potion, and you will be doing it without any instruction from me or a recipe of any kind.'

Frantic mutters could be heard throughout the classroom at this news. 'Silence!' The class quieted down. 'It is time for you to show how much you have learned about the properties of ingredients and the way in which they are prepared without being spoon-fed the solution by me. I will divide you into groups of four and you will complete the potion by the end of this class to the best of your ability, as pathetic as the results will no doubt be.' His looked at Neville again as he said the last bit before he swung his eyes to Tom. 'And we have a new face in our midst. You will keep up or you will leave.'

'That will not be a problem, sir,' Tom replied politely, though he felt rather tempted to reply with a good hex instead.

Snape sneered in response and began creating the groups. 'Mr. Malfoy, you may –'

Malfoy raised his hand.

'Mr. Malfoy?'

'Sir, perhaps you could partner me, Crabbe and Goyle with the new student? We would be glad to assist him and ensure that he does not endanger the rest of the class,' Malfoy said, his eyes gleaming maliciously at Tom.

'I'd like to partner Neville,' Tom replied. 'Would it be possible to have a group of five, Professor?'

'A group with Neville Longbottom in it is short two students by default,' Snape said, his cold eyes on Neville. Neville went pink. 'Very well. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Longbottom and Maxwell. Potter, you may work with Parkinson and Zabini, since there are only twelve in the class and Mr. Malfoy's group has one extra.'

Tom stopped listening and grabbed his ingredients, moving them over to Malfoy's table and beckoning Neville to do the same. Malfoy had unintentionally assisted him in getting away from Harry and, Tom thought nastily, the brat would find that to be a grave error of judgment.

'What are you smiling about?' Malfoy hissed.

'I'm just glad we have the opportunity to get to know each other better. It was terribly unfortunate that we got off to such a bad start,' Tom said, his smile turning into more of smirk.

'Just sit down,' Malfoy growled. 'I don't need apologies from Gryffindors, and you didn't do us any favors by bringing Longbottom along.' Looking cowed, Neville sat next to Tom, who was himself sitting directly across from Malfoy.

'We should start with some powdered unicorn horn,' said Malfoy imperiously.

Tom shook his head in exasperation. 'This is a Blood Restorative Potion. Using unicorn horn would be highly wasteful. It wouldn't harm the potion but it would be just as effective to use a combination of a few less expensive ingredients.'

'Some of us don't have to worry about expense,' Malfoy drawled, adding unicorn horn to the cauldron.

'As you wish,' Tom shrugged. 'We should add salamander blood next and stir clockwise six times.'

'Salamander blood is use to strengthen. What does that have to do with restoring blood?' Malfoy asked cockily.

'After stirring clockwise six times, if we add porcupine quills and stewed horned slugs, then stir four times counterclockwise and add a pinch of mandrake, the salamander blood will instead have the effect of strengthening the potion itself instead of the recipient, so less will be necessary for the desired effect,' Tom explained. Malfoy blinked, with Crabbe and Goyle (it didn't matter that he didn't know which was which) staring stupidly. Tom took the opportunity to add the salamander blood, stirring once it stopped fizzling in the cauldron.

'What about some hellebore afterwards?' Malfoy asked.

'Hellebore? That will only make the blood flow more slowly. We're trying to restore blood, not heal injuries.'

'Wormwood?'

'That might do well enough, so long as we add it after the cauldron has come to a boil; otherwise it would work like the hellebore and taste awful, to boot,' Tom responded, his attention on the cauldron as he added the horned slugs and watched the contents turn purple and bubble. While he stirred, he looked around the room.

The other two groups in the class didn't appear to have gotten nearly as far. Harry, Parkinson and Zabini seemed to have added Bundimen secretion, judging by the fumes wafting from the cauldron, which, as far as Tom knew, was only useful in cleaning products. Hermione, Ron, and two other students Tom didn't know the names of were doing slightly better, though they'd made Malfoy's mistake and added Hellebore.

They worked for about an hour in this manner, with Malfoy contributing only occasionally helpful suggestions and Tom doing most of the work. He once handed the cauldron over to Crabbe (or Goyle) to stir it, but they stirred too quickly and Tom had ended up spending ten minutes fixing the potion.

It would have gone well enough if Tom had not still been annoyed by Malfoy's previous threat to him, and if Malfoy had refrained from his provocations as Tom stirred and boiled the ingredients. 'Manual labor,' Malfoy said in a whisper. 'Get used to it, blood-traitor,' he smirked.

Tom saw his chance as he was leaving the potion to cool. Once the steam lessened, Tom reached over and grabbed a vial of bubotuber pus. Uncorking it, he drained the contents into the cauldron.

Malfoy's reaction was just as he had expected. 'You idiot!' Malfoy grabbed for a bezoar and dropped it in, but he kept his hand over the cauldron far too long, waiting to see the effect, and a spark of the potion surged up and splashed him.

'AAAAAAAAHHHHHGGGGHHHH!' Malfoy screamed in pain, holding out his injured hand as the skin began peeling back from it, curling towards his wrist. Pale bone was being revealed. Pansy Parkinson shrieked, and Snape quickly walked over, grabbed Malfoy, and steered him to the front of the class, still screaming and shaking. The professor swiftly opened his cabinet, took out a small bowl full of green goo, and set it on his desk. He then grabbed Malfoy by the arm and pressed his injured hand into the bowl.

Malfoy's shrieks quieted to whimpers as the goo began to rebuild his damaged skin. Snape, satisfied that Malfoy would be all right, marched to the back of the class and fixed his eyes on Neville. 'What. Did. You. Do,' he said in an angry, dangerous whisper.

'Malfoy wasn't paying attention, sir,' Tom replied.

'I don't recall asking you for your opinion, Mr. Maxwell,' Snape said, his lip curled into a sneer.

'I put some bubotuber puss into the potion to make it more consistent, sir,' Tom went on. 'It was stirred improperly earlier. I warned Malfoy that I was going to do this and then quickly drop in a bezoar before the pus could dissolve the daisy roots, but he was not paying attention.' Indeed, Tom had mentioned what he was planning to do five minutes earlier – while Malfoy was whispering something to his cronies, naturally.

'It's true, sir,' Neville piped up. 'He did say what he was going to do, but Malfoy panicked and added the bezoar himself, and then his hand got burned.'

'The potion would, of course, be volatile until I added in the fluxweed,' Tom said.

Snape was glaring. He picked up some fluxweed from Tom's ingredients, held his hand high above the spitting cauldron, and dropped it in. The potion immediately calmed and turned a pleasant light orange color. Snape sniffed the fumes and frowned.

'Full marks for your group, then, and bonus points to Mr. Malfoy for knowing to counteract the bubotuber pus with a bezoar.' Snape then stalked away. Tom glared at his back before allowing himself to return to smirking as Snape picked Malfoy's hand up out of the goo – likely a Skin Regrowth Paste – and caused Malfoy to shriek in pain again. Snape shook his head and dunked the hand back under.

The potion complete, Tom stoppered a sample for Snape, humming softly to himself, and put away his ingredients. As he did so, Neville leant in to whisper, 'Awesome.' Ron, coming over to borrow some of their ingredients, said, 'About time that ferret was skinned,' and winked at him. Tom wondered what the ferret reference was about.

Harry's comments after class were less complimentary.

'He called you a few names so you burned his hand off!' Harry breathed frantically to Tom as they walked to dinner.

'Just the skin,' Tom whispered back leeringly, his mouth curled into a vicious grin which he hid again before anyone else saw, but not before he added to Harry, 'Those who play with fire must anticipate some burns.' Tom himself had never shied away from pain – it was a necessary step to greatness, he knew – and he saw Malfoy's pathetic reaction to be yet another sign that he was far from being a worthy addition to Salazar Slytherin's ranks.

The group entered the Great Hall and met up with Seamus and Dean. 'How was Potions?' Dean asked. 'You couldn't drag me back into that class, that's for sure.'

Ron and Neville related the story in detail to the others. Even Hermione couldn't really fault Tom for what had happened, since he had warned Malfoy, after all.

'Damn it,' Seamus groaned. 'The one Potions class that would have been worth going to, and we're not even taking the subject anymore!'

Hermione started asking Tom technical questions about his potion and their conversation continued until Ron practically exploded out of his seat. 'Come on, you lot! Quidditch tryouts!'

ilovetorock92: Hmm… I'd say that's at least six chapters away. It may seem like a long time, but now that Tom's stopped looking for info on himself and since no one says You-Know-Who's name… let's just say there will probably even be some of that elusive slash I keep talking about before Tom finds out.

Ace of Black Hearts: Possibly…