A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

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Harry stared at the mess that he called hair. It seemed that no matter what he did it would never lay flat. The Potter genes were much too strong with him. According to his mother Lily, his father James had unruly hair as well. But so did his father Fleamont and Fleamont's father before him. Even though Fleamont had began a business around taming their Potter Nest, the products never actually worked on their hair. Everyone else, sure, but no Potter had any success.

Still, Harry attempted to at least make the mess look deliberate. Not a rolled out of bed mess, but like a windswept mess.

Why was Harry going through this hell that he would normally never bother with? Because best mates were there for each other and his mate Draco had fallen ill with pneumonia at the worst possible moment.

Draco worked for the student paper. His job was to get the juiciest details on everything going on and then spice it up as much as possible without it seeming outlandish. Draco was an entitled, self-absorbed git most of the time. He came from a family that was very well off and wasn't used to doing work.

The job he'd taken up was 'fun' according to him because he just gathered the information and then hired someone to take dictation from him and type it all out. Credit was given where it was due as well. Draco could ruin lives as quickly as he could make them better. It was a sort of power play that he wielded over the students to keep certain groups in line more so than others.

Harry was supportive of his friend. He tried to be there whenever Drake needed help and would normally be thrilled to help his fellow out at any moment, except right now for instance.

Draco had managed to snag an interview with some hotshot, multi-millionaire, entrepreneur who was like some big to do in various industries. He was also a major benefactor for the university. Harry had personally never heard of him before but Drake swore up and down that he was extremely famous and important.

And where was Drake on the day he was ruining Harry's life? He was laying on the sofa of their flat. Their specialized flat that Draco's father had purchased for his son who had actually allowed Harry to move in with him. The university was less than five blocks away and there were two pizza shops and three coffee shops between both buildings.

Draco was lacking in his usual, presentable self. For the most part, he looked like shite. His pale hair was not done, his eyes were puffy and red. Nose rebelling on itself every hour on the hour. Throat burning from the coughing and thin body in pain. The blond was bundled up, the remote within easy reach along with several glasses of water, cough drops, tissues, lip balm, his medicine, and three different pillows for when he tired of the one he was using.

"Potter, stop pouting and get your clothes on. I told you that suit would come in handy and see how right I am?" Drake called from the lounge. "It took nine months of haggling and some bribery to get him to concede to this interview and while I cannot go personally there's no one else but you who can do it for me. I can't trust someone else not to muck it all up!"

Harry sighed because of course the blond would pull the 'I trust you most' card. It was an evil trick. Evil! It also worked much too well for Harry's liking.

Harry slipped the suit from the wardrobe. It was a three piece that was as black as his hair and the waistcoat was the same shade of green as Harry's eyes. It had taken a lot of time to finally find a shade that matched but found it was, and Drake had insisted on Harry getting it in order to bring his eyes out more. To 'make him more compelling' according to the blond.

The tie was borrowed from Drake however, black silk that felt much too nice to be around Harry's throat. But Draco Malfoy would not have anything less than the best and of course his replacement interviewer would need to look just as smashing.

The blond whistled when he walked into the lounge. "You clean up pretty good! I have good taste. Fix the tie, it's a little askew."

Harry did so, waiting for Drake to give the okay.

"Alright, I did compile a list of questions for you to ask him. This is a digital recorder, old and out of date, but the best for this sort of thing. When you've gotten everything you need, you simply press this button," Draco explained, demonstrating with the silver piece of technology. "Press the red button once to turn it on and then you will say something along the lines of, 'Harry Potter, standing in for Draco Malfoy, interviewing Tom Marvolo Riddle.' When the interview concludes, you will press the button again and it will shut off."

Harry nodded, accepting both the folder that contained the questions, and the recorder. "I'm not that hopeless, you know."

The snort he received was a slight hit to his ego.

"Potter, my friend you may be, but you lack sense. Direction. Savvy. You're a bit naive. I guarantee you will trip at least three times before this day ends, but try not to do it in front of Riddle."

Harry's offended look made the blond laugh. "It's truth and I'm not sorry. Now you need to get going, it's a long drive down to London. Are your contact lenses still lost?"

"Yes."

"Damn. How bad is your eyesight really?"

"I need the glasses, Drake."

"Fine," pouted the blond. "Get going. If you do this well, I'll take us out to your favorite restaurant as a treat."

Drake hated the Three broomsticks but Harry loved it. With that kind of incentive, he would totally go through with this.

Drake lent him his Aston Martin DB9, something that was very fancy and very expensive. The fact that Harry was trusted to drive the white beast was a testament to their friendship. Draco barely let anyone even inside the vehicle, let alone drive it.

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

Harry's godfather was cousin to Draco's mother, so in a way, they were cousins as well. Maybe not directly related, but they were still family. But Draco didn't even let his other cousins near his 'baby'. Nymphadora hadn't been thrilled and Regulus swore that he and Draco weren't related. Harry was lucky it seemed.

The drive was long, but thankfully there was good music to listen to. Harry had to appreciate the ease of how the car drove, which was much better than Harry's used, 2005 Mini Cooper. It also took long distances better than his little thing did.

After two and a half hours of driving, and one latte later, Harry found himself staring up at the building that was apparently the headquarters of this Riddle's vast empire. It had to be at least twenty stories high, full of large windows and gleaming metal that was curved in beautiful designs just crawling up the side of the building. It seemed to fit somehow and it made Harry's stomach drop in slight fear.

Despite mostly looking the part, he most certainly wasn't the sort that even stepped into places like this. But this was for his best mate and he had to be the good friend that he was and see it through. He'd promised after all.

The foyer was immaculate, with marble flooring and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The furnishings were a sleek black that contrasted quite nicely. And the receptionists were all of the same ilk. Tall, beautiful, and blonde. Naturally.

The woman who seemed to be the blonde in charge, fixed him with a welcoming smile. He was certain the case wouldn't be the same if he had chosen to appear in anything but the suit that Drake had bought him for his twentieth birthday.

"How may I help you, sir?"

"I'm here for an interview with Mr. Riddle. Hadrian Potter for Draco Malfoy."

The young woman nodded and checked her laptop. "Mr. Malfoy is expected, you may go on up, please use the lift all the way at the end. It's the twenty-fifth floor," she said with a smile, teeth all straight and white beyond belief.

He accepted the large badge she handed over, clipping it to his lapel. VISITOR was printed in bright red letters, over it.

Harry nodded his thanks and sent her what he hoped was a calm smile. His heart was pounding so fast he was sure his efforts were ruined. Still, he made for the lift, ignoring how intimidating the two suited men on either side of it, were.

The ride was accompanied by low, classical music that actually managed to calm him a bit. So much better than the standard music people usually had.

When the door opened, he thought that perhaps he hadn't pushed the button. But it said he was on the twenty-fifth floor, even though the entire room looked exactly the same as the foyer.

"Mr. Potter, if you would wait here, please?"

He was startled by the sudden voice, looking over to find another blonde woman of impeccable stature, smiling at him. Another beautiful woman. This Riddle must have very definite tastes.

She motioned to a small seating area near the vast window overlooking the city. It provided a lovely view while he sat and tried to calm himself. He always hated having to go out and deal with people and here he was, having to do just that.

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

He looked through the file, finding the questions to be very generic and nothing too interesting. His reluctance was coming back ten fold as he realized that he seriously knew next to nothing about this man! Of course Draco couldn't have told him anything before this went down?

The brunet pulled out his mobile in an attempt to learn as much as he could before he met up with this millionaire.

Wealthy, philanthropist, entrepreneur, only twenty-seven years old, bloody hell. There was no photo along the page though.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up, finding himself faced with another blonde. Draco would have fit in perfectly. She was eyeing him expectantly.

"Mr. Riddle will see you in a few moments, have you been offered any refreshment?"

Harry shook his head, finding it funny how the woman sent a displeased look to the other blonde who had greeted Harry when he'd entered the room. Said blonde paled dramatically, eyes shifting a bit in her discomfort.

"We have tea, coffee, and water," offered the new blonde.

"Water would be fine, thank you," Harry said, a small smile in place to ease her displeasure.

The woman turned and ordered, "Fetch Mr. Potter some ice cold water."

The other bounced from her seat and went to do just that, leaving Harry with second blonde. "I apologize Mr. Potter, Penelope is our newest intern."

"No harm, no foul," he reassured her, finding the woman's slight nervousness to be charming in a sense. It was good to know that he wasn't the only flustered person around. It made the spectacular women in front of him seem more real.

He accepted the drink with gratitude and sipped it slowly, trying to keep himself calm now that he'd found his happy place.

The large door that had to no doubt lead to the Big Man's office, opened, revealing a very tall man who was well muscled, leaving. "Saturday, at noon, Riddle," he called behind him.

The man smiled at Harry as he walked past, and the second blonde escorted him to the lift, pushing the button for him and wishing him a good afternoon.

A moment later, Harry was informed, "Mr. Riddle will see you now. You may simply walk in."

Gathering the file, Harry flashed the women his most charming smile, feeling better when both flushed. He was capable of being enchanting when the time called for it. It made his ego inflate just a tad. He needed it for what he was about to do.

With his phone on silent, Harry entered the office, trying to take his time and ending up on the floor from tripping over the small lift in the floor that he hadn't noticed. Knees hit the hard marble.

This was Draco's fault! The blond had obviously jinxed him when he made that comment earlier! Harry probably wouldn't have fallen at all had nothing been said!

Still, a pair of strong but gentle hands gripped him suddenly, one at the waist and the other around his forearm. Harry was pulled to his feet quickly and came face to face with a man who put Draco's strange beauty to shame. And if that was the case, then he was certainly much better looking than Harry, making the younger man's ego plummet once again for the umteenth time that day.

Riddle's eyes were a mossy shade of green and his black hair was styled to the side with a simple wave to it. His jaw was strong and his cheekbones sharp. His level of attractive was so far above Harry it wasn't even funny. He also seemed to dress to accentuate his eyes, much like Harry had. Black suit with a waistcoat to match his eyes. Professional and gorgeous.

"Mr. Malfoy, my name is Tom Riddle. Are you well?"

Harry stared for the better part of a minute, before clearing his throat and putting on that false bravado that he was known so well for at school.

"Mr. Malfoy was indisposed and I had to come in his stead. And I am perfectly okay, Mr. Riddle."

"And you are?" Riddle asked, eyes alight with obvious amusement. Yes, Harry nearly face planting was quite the riot, wasn't it?

"Hadrian Potter, a classmate of Mr. Malfoy's."

Riddle gives a small smile. "I see. Would you care to take seat?" he asked, gesturing to the large, sofa on the left side of the room.

Harry followed the suggestion(order) and sat, waiting for the man to join him. Harry stared at the recorder for a moment and asked, "Would it be okay if I record this?"

"By all means, Mr. Potter."

The way Tom Riddle sat down was almost like art. His entire body just flowed into the motion and his right leg folded itself over the left. Both arms were placed comfortably on the armrest of the chair he had chosen. He looked lke the king of his empire.

Harry had to sit back and just appreciate the elegance. He was used to it from Draco and his parents, but rarely did he come across people so capable of fluidity. Tom Riddle seemed to be on a completely different level than Harry Potter was.

"Did Drake - um, Draco, explain what this interview is for, exactly?" Harry asked, pulling out the very first piece of paper and a pen to make small notes of his own. He was an observer after all and it would be interesting to note the facial expression accompanying the answers.

Riddle's voice was smooth as he answered, "Yes, it is for the final issue of your student paper, Graduation Edition. I am to be conferring the degrees at the ceremony and giving a small speech."

That was news to Harry. Basically the only reason he asked was because he'd hoped the man knew what was going on since Harry most certainly didn't.

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

"Good to know, Mr. Riddle. I have a rather large list of questions here for you, if you do not feel comfortable answering them, please just tell me to skip."

Harry reached for the recorder and pushed the red button. "This is Hadrian Potter, in lieu of Draco Malfoy, interviewing Tom Riddle for the Graduation Edition of the school paper."

Harry ignored the man's amused smile and began with the first question.

"What would you credit as the reason for such success? You have managed to amass quite the empire despite your age."

Harry was trying to reword the questions a bit. They seemed so boring. Was this really what Drake considered as fun?

Riddle explained his intuition and how good he was at reading people. Harry gauged his attitude, finding a sort of arrogance in his words. The man truly believed himself and judging from everything Harry had seen already, some of it had to be true at least.

"You seem lucky," commented Harry, unable to help himself. If Harry had those kind of people skills, he'd be able to deal with others better. The confidence would be nice to have.

Riddle's eyes narrowed and he didn't seem to like Harry's observation all too much, but it had already been said and Harry didn't really regret it anyway,

"I don't believe in luck or chance, Mr. Potter. It takes a specific kind of person to inspire others to work hard. I always have these best workers on hand. Leadership is a rather rocky terrain to manage and I firmly believe that those who are born for it, excel at it."

Basically, Tom Riddle thought he was God's gift to man.

"You sound like you have an obsession with control."

"I prefer to be in control, Mr. Potter," Tom said, eyes smouldering. "Besides, with control comes power and power is but another part of the game. The best way to handle power is to assure yourself deep within, that you are meant to have it and control it."

"Would you say you have power?" Harry asked, curious despite the discomfort he felt at Tom's words. He was a control freak to the maximum!

The smile he got in return was cold and filled with a dark sense of humor. Harry was pretty sure he's missed some kind of inside joke.

"I employ nearly one hundred thousand people, Mr. Potter," came the silky reply. "Should I merely decide that I have lost interest in only one branch of my businesses, tens of thousands of people will be left jobless and destitute."

Harry marked down his observation. Tom Riddle seemed to like the fact that he was the reason so many people could survive in this day and age. Liked that he held the power over them and that he could effectively ruin so many lives at once if he so chose. It seemed to amuse him.

While an attractive face he may be, Tom Riddle was beginning to come together for Harry.

Tom Riddle lacked humility of any kind.

"Have you anything you like to do when you aren't swamped with work?"

"Perhaps you could be a little more clear, Mr. Potter? I'm afraid that I am almost always busy."

"Hobbies or things you do to relax?" Harry amended.

Tom's smirk is a little crooked. "I indulge in many hobbies. Things involving sailing or flying. Physically demanding hobbies. I don't have your average, everyday interests."

"Right," Harry agreed, making note. Tom Riddle is a bit of a wanker as well.

"Would you say manufacturing is a worthy investment?"

"Construction and manufacturing are very important in everyday life, Mr. Potter. It's also beneficial to know how things tick."

Riddle was also a bit of a know-it-all apparently.

"It sounds more like personal interest instead of work. Do you feel strongly about that? Doesn't seem so analytical or logical. More like a matter of the heart," observed the younger brunet.

The amused smile returned quickly.

"Perhaps, though I do know many would suggest that I do not possess a heart."

So there were people who thought he was a jerk, maybe?

"Would your friends be among this lot or no?"

"Quite the invasive question, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'd prefer to skip it."

Most likely was a yes, or perhaps wealthy, good looking men didn't have friends, or have a lot of friends?

"I enjoy privacy, Mr. Potter, so much so that I rarely even give interviews."

"Why agree to go through this then?"

Seriously, why do it if you hate it?

"As a former student of Hogwarts, I became a benefactor in order to help the school develop better classes and clubs for the students. There was no school paper when I attended and I find Mr. Malfoy's persistence to be incredible and nearly impossible to dismiss."

Harry knew the feeling very well.

Harry looked down at the next question. "What motivated you to take an interest in farming technologies?"

"Many people do go without food, I merely like to believe that I am helping in an area that needs more attention," was Riddle's sharp reply. A sensitive subject then.

"I take it your philanthropist title comes from there then?"

Riddle gave a shrug, "It requires a canny mind."

Perhaps Riddle got off on the fact that he also had power over whether some people ate or not. Harry found that thought a little disturbing and moved on. He knew what it was like to go without food and he didn't like to linger on such thoughts. They took him to a dark place.

"Is there a philosophy you go by?"

"I am not the philosophical type, though I am partial to the quote, 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' Andrew Carnegie did know what he was talking about, I will give him that. It fits in so well with my preference for control, don't you think, Mr. Potter?"

Do I think that you are a mental, control freak? Yes, yes I do.

Tom Riddle for all his good looks and obvious charm, had a darker side that while intriguing to Harry, also unnerved him. Harry didn't like being under the man's piercing gaze and just wanted to get out of the interview as quickly as possible.

"Do you think your adopted family has helped shape you into the man you are today?" Harry asked, moving on. He was now on the third page, the prior two riddled with little remarks he had, regarding Riddle. This question kind of bothered him a bit.

Family was always a sensitive subject for him and while nothing too bad - in his opinion at least - had happened per se, it was still incredibly personal.

"I wouldn't know, I have always been this way."

There were so many questions Harry had from just that, but he'd veered off the original questions too many times to try again. Though Riddle didn't seem to mind all that much, it would just get the bloody interview over faster if he were to keep his interest to himself.

They next question had him flushing and looking away. Damn Draco for putting that there!

"What is the matter?" asked Riddle, head tilting with obvious interest in Harry's sudden embarrassment.

"Are you gay?"

Harry was a part of the 'Gryffindor House' despite not residing in the dorms with the others. Not that many others did as well. Gryffindors were sorted based on their characteristics and when Harry had taken the online test, his results came back 42% Gryffindor, 40% Slytherin, 12% Ravenclaw, and 6% Hufflepuff.

Gryffindors were brave and headstrong. Just a fancy way of saying brash and stubborn. Also, sometimes they weren't known for thinking ahead and just plowing right through anything. So Harry just employed the use of that to get over his desire for hell to open up right there and swallow him whole.

And Riddle's reaction was hilarious and slightly terrifying. The man's jaw tightened a bit and eyes narrowed, darkening dangerously.

"No Hadrian, I am not."

Harry's flush did not recede and he cleared his throat. Riddle had used his first name. "Sorry. It's written here." Swallow me up whole right now, Hell. I'm waiting! He probably thinks I'm coming on to him!

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

"You didn't compile the questions?"

"No, that was Drake."

"Are you perhaps his assistant on the paper?"

"I'm his flatmate!" burst Harry, not liking the calculating look in the man's eyes.

"Were you supposed to be the one to interview me?"

"No, Draco is ill. I was… um, guilt tripped."

That sounded so much better than him being flattered into it. Less embarrassing too.

"That explains everything." Tom then sent him a smirk. "I'm not gay, Hadrian, I'm pansexual."

Like me. Of all the things to have in common.

Harry nodded, looking away.

A knock at the door disrupted them. The second blonde was standing there, looking apologetic as she announced that Mr. Riddle had an appointment in a few minutes.

"Cancel it," the man said without even looking her way. "We are not finished yet."

He ignored her after that, shifting into a different position in order to continue his discussion with Harry. "Where were we, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't wish to keep you from anything important," Harry said in hopes of getting the fuck out while he still could.

"Oh come now, Hadrian," purred the older man. "Surely you'd allow me to learn a little bit about you in return. It's only fair after all."

Harry was sure the man was teasing him but he wasn't that great at picking up the signals. If he were Draco he probably would have already concluded this business ages ago.

"There's nothing of interest to know," Harry insisted, knowing it was completely false and hoping not to really have to say anything about himself.

"I'll be the judge of that. What are your plans after graduation?"

Harry shrugged, realizing that he was not going to get anything more out of the man and began packing up. "I've been at Hogwarts longer so I can get my Masters in Business Administration next month. I have already gotten my degrees in Accounting and Finance, and Management."

"Will you be looking for an internship?" asked Riddle. "We offer many here."

Harry very nearly snorted, but held it in. He'd seen what having an internship meant in this place and the first blonde had seemed so frazzled. He wouldn't put himself through that.

"No, thank you, but I'm not sure I'm the kind of person who would work in a place like this," he lied, knowing that he was going to be working in a place exactly like Riddle's building. "I'm going to work with my godfather anyway."

Standing up, Harry extended a hand and the smallest of smiles. It wouldn't hurt to be friendly, because if Riddle had as much sway as Harry was sure he did, he didn't want to rile the man up and watch as he destroyed Harry's life. Tom vaguely reminded him of Draco and Draco had already ruined four people with the school paper. Power plays and all that rubbish. Harry wasn't chancing it.

Riddle's hand was cold, but strong. He gave a good handshake. "Have you everything you need?"

Harry looked himself over and nodded, "Yes. Thank you for the interview, Mr. Riddle."

He was halfway toward the door when he realized that he was being followed. It was kind of creepy, having someone so much taller than him, practically lording over him.

Tom sent him a smug smile and said, "Merely making sure you make it to the lift alright."

On cue, Harry tripped. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, halting his meeting with the floor.

"Will this become a habit, Mr. Potter?" teased Riddle, his amusement very clear.

Harry was already swamped in embarrassment and he stepped away, clearing his throat as he did so. He tried to pretend that Riddle had not just breathed hot air onto his exposed neck. "I should hope not, Mr. Riddle," was his icy reply. Internally, he was cursing Draco for bloody jinxing him!

"Have you a coat?" asked the older man as he pressed the button for Harry, like Harry couldn't do it himself.

"No."

Harry slipped through the doors and gave a mere nod to the attractive man with the calculating gaze.

Riddle gave him a nod of recognition, "Hadrian."

"Tom."

The doors closed.

Tom Riddle waited for the door to close before turning to one of the women - Daphne, her name was - and ordered, "Get Macnair on the line, now."

He retreated to his office quickly, moving for the large bay window in hopes of trying to see if Mr. Hadrian Potter was leaving through the main entrance.

Indeed he did. The young man was descending the stairs at a swift pace, pulling his keys from his pocket. Tom was intrigued to see the vehicle the young man drove. An Aston Martin of all things. If the boy was used to opulence, then why the comment about his kind of people not working in places like Tom's building?

The phone buzzes.

"Monsieur Macnair is on the line for you, sir."

"Put him through."

"Yes, sir."

Without even greeting the man on the other line, Tom's first words were, "I need a background check on Hadrian Potter of Hogwarts."

Draco was basically in heaven when Harry had returned. Also, Harry's little notes accompanying the recording had put the blond in a good mood once again, despite the fact that he was so ill.

"You got so much! Thank you! I'm seriously going to buy you every Butterbeer in the place, I swear!"

"Don't get used to it," warned Harry, already changing into something more comfortable. "I am not going near him ever again. Control Freak to the maximum and he made me severely uncomfortable."

"But he's sexy, so are you sure it wasn't because you're horny?"

Harry's deadpan stare calmed the blond down immediately. "Draco, I have noticed that he is attractive. I lamented over that fact several times. During the interview I was too busy being creeped out by him to be aroused. If you're curious, yes, I may wank to thoughts of his face while I'm in the shower, but his personality really bothers me."

Draco was flipping through the papers. "Was he really that bad? Hey! What do you mean he'd like me?!"

Harry shrugged, unapologetic. "He gets off on having exacting control over people, Drake. Was very proud of the fact that should he up and lose interest in something, tens of thousands of people would most likely go broke. He got that look on his face that you usually do. Like minded I'm sure."

"Well he was a Slytherin," said Draco with a nod of the head. "I could see it. Thanks!"

Offended one second and flattered the next. Definitely Draco Malfoy. Harry sighed because his friend was so hard to keep up with most of the time.

"I'm going to get some food, do you want any?" asked the brunet as he grabbed his keys.

"Crisps, cheese and garlic. Baked though."

The things he did for friends.

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

HADRIAN JAMES POTTER-BLACK

DOB: 31 July, 1992, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

Address: 93 Whistway Street, Hogsmeade Village, BS 0118

Mobile No: 0934-394-0934

National Insurance No: AB 12 34 56 C

Banking Details: Lloyds Banking Group, London, England

Acct No: 308934: £8,992.50 balance

Acct No: 308921: £10,000 balance

Occupation: Postgraduate Student, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade.

- Masters of Business Administration

House: Gryffindor

Class: First

Prior Education: Home Schooled

SAT Score: 2200

Employment: None.

Father: James Fleamont Potter

-DOB: 27 March, 1968, Deceased 31 October, 1993

Mother: Lillian Rose Potter nee` Evans

-DOB: 30 January, 1968, Deceased 31 October, 1998

Godfather: Sirius Orion Black

-DOB: 3 November, 1968

Adopted: 2 December, 1998 by Sirius Orion Black

Political Affiliation: None

Religious Affiliation: None

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Relationships: None indicated at present

Additional Notes:

James and Lily Potter were both murdered by the serial killer, Voldemort. Voldemort attempted to murder Hadrian but only got so far as to carve a scar into the boy's head before one of his underlings accidentally ignited a match in the room that they were leaking gas in, and blew the entire building up. Hadrian was found alive, buried under Voldemort's body, which had taken most of the blow, and the roof of the house.

Hadrian was put into foster care for a month, until Sirius Black was able to adopt him. The man had been considered a member of Voldemort's gang at the time and was under investigation, not allowed to see his godson.

Hadrian's foster family were actually his relatives. His mother's sister Petunia, and her husband Vernon, and their son Dudley. When Black made a comment about Hadrian not going to Petunia because of how abusive she was to her sister, authorities decided to scout the premises and eventually had to remove Hadrian from their dubious care when he was located in the cupboard, under the stairs.

No blanket or pillow and only a ratty shirt and a pair of pants much too large for him to wear, on his body. He said that he was being punished and had been in there for two days without food or water. Excrement was found in the far corner. He'd been locked in.

The Dursleys tried to deny it but their son - who was marked to be at almost fourteen Stone at only age 6 and had to be removed as well - bragged about how they had 'locked the Freak up because only normal people were allowed outside'. According to the boy, Hadrian was made to do the housework every day and he'd only just gotten used to cooking breakfast when he was removed. Most meals he was not given any food and simply locked away until they had need of him again.

Burns were found on his arms and his left hand had been through the most damage, seemingly because it was pressed against a hot burner to 'teach him a lesson on what happens when Freaks burn the food'.

None of the psychiatric help ever produced any results, for Hadrian simply ignored his therapists or riled them up until they couldn't bare the sight of him without becoming aggressive. One was charged with abuse for slapping him across the face, to which his godfather gladly pressed suit against her.

Tom sat back, mind whirling. Hadrian Potter was an enigma. The boy seemed very calm and complacent, but easy to rile up. He was a Gryffindor, so that much was obvious.

Harry Potter seemed the kind to be a perfect submissive with how he avoided eye contact and blushed every two seconds over anything and everything. But given his past experiences, Tom had to consider.

Abuse victims usually never turned out well. Tom was a prime example.

But Tom was a very persuasive fellow. He was sure that if he couldn't find it in him to ignore Harry Potter, then he'd simply have to convince the beautiful boy instead.

He shifted in his chair, trousers unnaturally tight.

Thoughts of green eyes pervaded his mind for the rest of the day.

A/N: The first is done!

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