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Summary
Hogwarts, year 1943.
Draco Malfoy believes he is different from the others, immune to Tom Riddle's charisma and charm, but this belief will not last long. On the other hand, few people really know anything about Tom Riddle and no one has ever been able to go beyond his perfect appearance.
Draco hates him but at the same time he wants to be like him. He certainly can't imagine what Tom is destined to become.
"'Insomnia? Or maybe he was up to something. Yes, that was the most plausible thing. Draco held his breath and walked in, aware that they were going to argue (or rather, he would argue alone and Tom would ignore him with dignity and class, as usual).
"Where are we going to end up if even the Prefect doesn't respect school rules?" he exclaimed, watching him with folded arms.
Tom looked up slowly.
"Malfoy, I thought I made myself clear. What are you doing out of your bed at this hour?"
"What about you, then? Are you sitting here looking pretty in front of the fire?" he asked again."