Tom Riddle woke up with Draco Malfoy's body pressed snugly against him. The other had latched onto him, it would seem, in the sleep last night. It was not as though he minded. It merely cemented the level of trust that he had managed to cultivate in the boy, and this was something Tom would never get tired of seeing. He smiled slightly at the sight. The boy was beginning to trust him more and more. After he had run from his father, about three days ago, the boy had become perfectly obedient, a tad more confident, but still nervous and anxious, especially if he did something wrong, or what he believed was wrong. He was constantly looking for approval, and desperately sought it. It was comforting to give the boy what he so often longed for, and so rarely got. It made Tom feel special, somehow. Now, however, he needed to have a talk with Draco. A talk to see just how loyal and faithful the boy was to him, just how much he would trust him. He needed to put his plan in place to trick Dumbledore, but without the Malfoy heir's compliance, his plan was a bust. It all evolved around the 14 year old boy, sleeping in his arms. It would seem, as well, that he had already...he had already gained the loyalty, and to some extent the trust, he just had to weave it into his plan, so that Draco abided by what he wanted him to do.

Tom thought back to a conversation that he and Draco had had earlier, not too much earlier, but earlier none the less.

"Yes, Draco?" Tom had asked, as Draco had been sitting somewhat uncertain for the last several minutes. Tom had noticed that the boy rarely ever spoke, unless given permission, though Tom had gotten good at noticing when the boy wanted to say something, but was unsure if he was allowed to or not.

"You are going to Hogwarts are you not?" The Malfoy boy had asked, his silvery blue eyes wide, vulnerable. Tom had sighed and laid his book aside, to try and comfort the young child.

"Why would you ask that, little one?" Tom had asked. Draco had bitten his lower lip, nervously. It was clear he was unsure whether or not he should really approach this subject. "Draco." He had said, his voice returning to it's cold commanding tone. "Tell me why you would ask that question. Now." Draco inhaled a shuddering breath.

"It's just that, Hogwarts is coming up, and you...haven't gotten a letter that I'I've seen, and you haven't really talked about it. And I just wasn't sure if you even wanted to, or needed to, or if it was safe for you or something and I was curious..." The blonde had paused in the middle of his sentence. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, it isn't my business. Sorry." The boy had bowed his head, as if he anticipated a blow. Tom had rubbed his eyes aggravated. The damage that Lucius had inflicted on the boy ran far further than anyone saw. Not even Tom could see the depth of the damage forced upon the boy.

"I do not wish to speak of this with you right now, Draco." Tom had said curtly. The boy's eyes had widened, and Tom could feel the fear and terror radiating from the boy. "Draco?" Tom had called. He stood and leaned over the boy, pressing his index and second finger underneath the boy's fleshy chin, eliciting a flinch, and lifted his head to force his eyes to look at him.

"I'm sorry," He had whined, fear flowing through his words. Tom sighed audibly.

"It is fine. I am not mad."

"You-your not going to punish me?" Draco asked, hesitantly.

"Why would I?" Tom had inquired.

"I...it was not my position to ask, and I did anyways, and I..."

"Draco," Tom had spoken harshly, cutting the boy off. "You were curious, we have spoken about this before. I am not angry, annoyed, yes, but not angry." The boy's eyes filled with water. Tom realized that he had said the wrong thing. He had said that he was annoyed, which, from Tom's past experience with the boy, was worse than simply being angry.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, I didn't...I hadn't meant to annoy you."

"It is fine, I am simply stressed as of late." The boy looked down, Tom sighed deeply. "I am not going to punish you, Draco, alright?" Draco nodded his head, before looking up at him hesitantly, from his place on his knees, before he cautiously wrapped his arms around Tom's waist and buried his head in the older boy's chest. He let out several weak and shuddering breaths.

"Thank you, My Lord." The boy breathed, relieved. Tom could feel it. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Tom had noticed several things, in that conversation. There was much information that he had managed to glean but a few things stood out the most. One, the boy did not respond well to negative criticism. At all. Though he did, and would obey immediately, any orders given by Tom, when he gave them. It was a large improvement to when Tom first met him and the other was hesitant. Second, Draco was scared of disappointing him. It was plain as day. Despite the fact that the boy seemed to have a pleasing problem, it seemed to be worse if he disappointed him, than when he displeased Lucius, which both encouraged and discouraged him. He had to be very careful how he worded his words, lest he send the boy on a downward spiral. Third, he craved approval like no other. He needed it desperately, in any form. Tom had taken to regularly supplying Draco with it. It was useful in further tying the boy to him, emotionally depending on him for his praise and ensuring that his trust ran just a little bit deeper. Fourth, the boy was very touchy feely, he needed physical contact, and Tom, though happy to provide it, had noticed it was in a far excess amount than is normal for children his age. It was similar to a newborn babe, the amount of contact that he craved. And, lastly, the boy always reverted to titles when he was nervous or unsure, or hesitant. Lucius was "father" teachers were "Professor____" he was "My Lord," although, if Tom was being truthful, he had a feeling that the boy had no idea what to call him most of the time. Which Tom supposed was understandable, but he was not about to correct him either. Part of the fun was watching him struggle with the title.

That evening saw Tom leaning in a reclining chair by the fire in the living room, idly reading a book whilst really watching Draco the entire time, while Draco was on the corner of the living room, doing what looked to be another essay. He had gotten so much homework for the summer, a majority of which seemed to be from one Professor Snape. From what little Tom knew of the other, he had been Draco's godfather for quite some time. He smirked a little at the boy's seriousness with his work. He had taken to tentatively asking Tom to reread all his work, to assess whether or not it was good enough or not, if it passed his expectations, Tom noticed that the boy was more than happy. If it did not, it was probably one of the only times that Draco would take negative criticism in stride, but a need for reassurance that he was not going to be punished for bad work.

"Draco, come here." Tom said. Tom had been working on trying to keep his voice from it's natural cruel, cold state when he gave an order, but it simply did not work, it never did. Besides, it did cause the Malfoy heir to automatically respond, which he enjoyed. He had stopped trying upon realizing the effort was fruitless, and unneeded in the grand scheme of things. True to Tom's thoughts, the boy stood instantly and walked over to Tom, shifting slightly, nervously, Tom realized. "Sit down, little one." Draco did so, and sat down at Tom's feet. For some reason, which Tom had a feeling traced back to Lucius, as did most of the boy's odd habits when alone, Draco never ever sat at the same level as Tom when they were alone. He almost always sat below Tom, purposely, or at Tom's feet, unless it was at mealtimes. At which time Draco was quiet, and reserved, but polite, and mannered, and at the same level as Tom, at least figuratively, considering Tom Riddle was a good several inches taller than Draco Malfoy. It was interesting yet disconcerting. He knew that Abraxas had not had those habits, which meant these were things that Lucius had purposefully cultivated in his son.

"Yes, my Lord?" He asked. Tom cursed mentally. The boy was scared. To calm him, Tom laid a comforting hand on his head, playing with his golden locks.

"I need to ask something." Tom stated, the words as a statement, not a request. He would ask, and he expected Draco to adhere, though he would understand if Draco was too nervous to do so, it was alright. There was not much that he would do either way.

"What is it?" Draco questioned, voice wavering ever so slightly though his eyes remained steadily trained on him, which eased his reluctance to continue, worrying that perhaps this was not the time to request what he wished from the boy. Tom felt his body relax.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, letting his fingers trailed along the side of Draco's face.

"Yes," The answer was almost immediate, though there was a slight bit of hesitation.

"Are you faithful, to me?"

"Yes," No hesitation, Tom noticed with a smirk. Take that Lucius. How does it feel? I have your precious son's loyalty now. Though he does not know...at least not yet.

"I have an idea, to get me into Hogwarts." Tom said finally. Draco looked up curiously.

"Really?"

"Yes, but...it requires a bit of...finesse." Tom settled for that. "And I am going to need your help." Draco looked at tom with wide eyes.

"You want m-my he-help?" The boy asked, stuttering slightly. Tom smirked, and refrained from rolling his eyes at the question being repeated, if he had stated it obvious he wanted it.

"Yes. I desire your help. You would be very helpful. In fact, without you, I fear that I may not be able to get into Hogwarts." That was...well perhaps a bit dramatic, but true overall. Draco's eyes had widened in alarm, but quickly was disposed of, cold, grim, determination in it's place.

"What is it you wish of me?" Was the first words out of the boy's mouth.

"I need to trick Dumbledore." The boy just looked at him, willing him to continue. "As of right now, Dumbledore has no idea that I am here, and I wish to keep it that way. But I also need to be in Hogwarts for a lot of what I wish to do. Which means, I need to be invited. Unfortunately, Dumbledore knows my sixteen year old self." Tom paused, waiting to see if Draco realized where Tom was going with this.

"You could pretend to be a direct descendant of Voldermort, but then again, it would have to be very, very convincing. You would probably have to prove yourself to Dumbledore first. There is no way that he would allow anyone harmful into Hogwarts. If he does know your younger self, it would probably do better to portray yourself as a scared harmless teenager. Than you could pretend that Avery Jr is actually your dad, and when Dumbledore comes to the conclusion that you are Voldermort's child, which is undoubtedly going to happen, as you will obviously look exactly like him, and end up in the same house, you can pretend you had no idea. But there is the idea of coming off harmless which should be easily done, as you are incredibly talented, you would have no problem with that..." Draco trailed off, biting his lip, trying to figure out exactly what else to do.

"That was precisely what I had thought, Draco, well done." Of course, it was the only real conclusion to get at, but that was not the point.

"How do you plan to get Dumbledore to come here though?" Draco questioned, his brows furrowing as he realized the major flaw in this plan. They needed to get Dumbledore to enter the House with them, which was kind of difficult a thing to do. Dumbledore was not one who just walked through random wizarding houses.

"I plan to kill Avery Jr." Draco's eyebrows furrowed slightly a sound in his throat voiced his slight alarm at the realization, and the cold way in which it was delivered.

"Hopefully not actually him, but perhaps a duplicate? It would be unwise to kill off your followers, until you have enough to replace them." Tom was bursting inside with pride. This was perfect.

"You are correct it would be unwise..." Tom trailed off, waiting for Draco to catch his train of thought. Draco's eyes widened, with realization. He turned to fact Tom on his knees.

"But if Avery Jr. were to show up somewhere than it would destroy your work. You cannot let Avery show up anywhere, or be seen by anyone. And the only way to ensure that, is to kill him."

"Well done, little one, well done." Tom paused. "His death is going to be incredibly loud, and boisterous. And rather showy. That way Dumbledore, who, as I have recently learned, is an investigator into these sorts of things, will come. And when he does, I intend to play the terrified child card." Malfoy hummed.

"What about me?" He asked his eyes suddenly fearful. "I can't g-go back-ck to father! W-what a-are you g-going to do WI-Th me? P-pl-lease d-don-NT send me back!" His eyes began to water. Tom sighed shushing the boy.

"No, no, I am not going to send you back, I promise." The boy slumped against Tom's legs relieved.

"Thank you, My Lord." He sighed happily. Tom smirked.

"Yes, well, we only have a week and half left. we must begin preparations." He said. Draco smiled, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Yes! I...Might I help you with the preparations?" He asked, suddenly insecure. Tom smiled at Draco's eagerness to please him.

"Of course." Tom said, internally sighing with exasperation. But the look of pure joy and happiness and determination on in Draco's eyes made it all worth it.