A/N; Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter.

I have no beta.



-I have up to chapter 16 written already. This
fic is posted on AO3 also. Many people on my
other Tumblr, 'mister-tom-a-dildo-lover' were
asking me to post the fic here as well.

-I have an Outline and have been steady with
this fic. I know what I'm doing. Anyone who
says otherwise is just a moron. I wanted a
Professor Harry fic so bad, and this one takes
a different twist.

-Mostly Tom's POV only. Harry gets a chapter
for his POV every 8 chapters though.

-Dimension or Time Travel. Grey Harry. Morally
effed up Dumbledore. This is an AU. Things are
different and stuff you don't know about has
happened. Don't make assumptions. Keep an
open mind.

Professor Potter wasn't tall. Not short per se, but definitely not tall. He stood over almost every girl, but was significantly under almost all of the boys.

In between.

Tom wasn't particularly interested. The man, whom wasn't that much older than Tom and his fellow seventh years, didn't seem the type to be very capable of anything but sitting and looking pretty.

And honestly, he had skin that would no doubt make all of the teen girls jealous, and probably Abraxas as well.

His eyes were a bright shade of green that none of them had ever seen on a human before. His hair had never been brushed apparently. The black locks flopped this way and that, and Potter seemed unconcerned about how they presented him.

The man was attractive, true, but he didn't seem like much beyond being a pretty face. A 'trophy wife' as some Muggles would say.

"Mr. Riddle, perhaps you'd like to come up and demonstrate a friendly spar with me?"

His musings were cut off by the object of his attention.

Professor Potter looked strangely calm and not as happy as he had been when the students had walked in. Gone were his wide smile and the Dumbledore-like twinkle in his eyes. All Tom could see now was something dark and a bit disturbing that didn't belong there.

Still, Tom would not do anything to ruin his 'good boy' image, and gave the man a charming smile. "If you would like, sir," he replied.

Potter waved him forward as he took a stance and erected a silvery, transparent barrier around the dueling platform he'd summoned some time before class had begun. He had cast non-verbally.

Already, Tom's wariness was rising. If the man could do such advanced magic without having to say a word, then what else was he capable of? And should Tom be more on his guard than he had previously decided to be?

"I presume you know how to begin a true, wizard's duel, correct Mr. Riddle?"

Potter's voice flowed across Tom's senses in a smooth purr. Almost as if he was an animal in his natural habitat and was completely comfortable with the situation he was in.

Tom smirked, feeling confident. "Of course, sir."

To prove his point, he held his wand in front of his face, parallel to his nose and perpendicular to the floor. Potter mimicked the action.

There was no warning, Tom merely cast the first spell he could think of, the Bone-Breaking Curse. Borderline Dark Magic. Potter deflected it with a wave of his wand, the curse slamming into the barrier and dissipating.

Potter cocked his head to the side, but made no other movements. Tom's teeth grinded together. It was as if Potter was mocking him. Tom did not like being made a mockery of.

He raised his wand to cast again, only to find his wand slipping from his grip and soaring across the room and into Potter's open palm.

No words. No wand movement. It just flew into the man's hand.

If that wasn't startling enough, the wood glowed upon contact, and Potter smiled and gave it a stroke. The image of those thin and elegant fingers stroking Tom's wand, would forever be burned into Tom's memory along with the day he'd finally lost in a duel.

The man smiled and stepped forward to return the weapon. "You are extremely powerful, but we'll need to work on your ability to read body language. You could have anticipated my actions had you looked at me close enough. I have to wiggle my hand a bit to do it wandlessly."

Turning to the class, the man added, "We'll be working a lot of physical fitness as well, to help you protect yourselves better. I'm looking forward to the upcoming term."

And for the rest of the lesson, Tom's gaze was fixated on his wand, that was strangely warm, in the place a hand would hold it. As if Potter's hand had burned a permanent memory of his body heat into the wood.

And the magical connection between Tom's core and his wand thrummed even stronger than before.

Tom suddenly felt need. He didn't know of what sort, but he knew that it was strong and if he didn't satisfy it, hell would be easy compared to what his wrath could make happen.

A/N: The first is done!

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See ya! :D

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