A/N: It's been ages since I've last updated. I'm super-duper sorry for that. School has been really stressful and time consuming. In case you're curious, I go to an arts school with piano as my major so I've had a lot on my plate lately. So I apologize for that again. Anyways, I've got a new chapter for you guys. It's kind of short-ish but I hope this will satisfy you. I'm going to try and post another chapter sometime next week so, enjoy! And thank you for the feedback, I'm really grateful for it. :)

Disclaimer: You know what this is...

Ciao! Lovelies! :)

Spies and Lies

After Sabrina had stomped off to supper with her stomach growling noisily, Tom headed towards the kitchens. He decided that he was quite hungry as well, but he didn't think he could stand to be surrounded by morons after his interrogation session with Sloane. Admittedly, she was a rather good liar. But not good enough to fool him. He'd mastered the art of deceit years ago. It was driving him to near madness that he couldn't figure out how she knew he wasn't pureblood. It was making him, dare he say it, anxious about how much information she might know. The paranoia in the back of his mind was slowly eating away at him, whispering for him to eradicate her from the picture. Which was not a bad idea really, considering he already got rid of one incompetent mud blood. Except there would be a higher price to pay if he did that. They nearly closed down his only home from his last little exhibition...at least that's what he was telling himself.

The filthy truth was, deep down in his black soul—if he even had one still—he actually had a bit of admiration for Louden-mouth, despite the fact he had only met her a month prior. He actually liked being around her, speaking to her. And he didn't know why. She was rude, uncouth, ineffectual and highly juvenile. Her intelligence bordered on average, but she had a strange awareness to her surroundings for such a hyper person. She dresses like man and her hair looked like it was hacked off with a dull knife. To top it all off she wore an abnormal amount of metal on her ears, like a foreigner from some exotic tribe. Her language was worse than a seaman's and her temper was highly unattractive. She wasn't even beautiful for goodness sakes. Her looks were plain. With tan skin, dark brown choppy hair and dark brown eyes the color of mud to match. Mud. How fitting. Her hair and her eyes and even her skin—well kind of—the color of mud. It was not only in her blood, but it was out on display for the whole world to see what she was.

Yet, with all of these imperfections put together; he found her to be quite charming. Her looks were plain but exotic. She looked dull, but she was sharp. Not as sharp as him, but sharper than most. Her wit, lame jabs, crooked grins and mannerisms drew him to her in a way he couldn't explain. She was living proof, along with him, that looks can indeed be deceiving.

Sitting on the hard wooden chair in the kitchens, thinking about the cross dressing witch, Tom's appetite began to decline. He pushed the plate of food the house elves had prepared for him and stepped out of the portrait hole. He needed to clear his head and he had a knights meeting conduct. He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of a certain face in his mind's eye. He couldn't let her influence his decisions.

When Tom arrived in the Head's common room, the knights were already inside. All of them standing, waiting for his instruction. He motioned for them to take a seat and he himself took a seat on the leather high backed chair that reeked of authority.

"You're late," Mulcliber announced, boldly.

Tom's cold stare found the boy's brown eyes, instantly shutting him up. He did not want to be on the wrong end of his wand.

"Or perhaps you're early." Tom snapped back, dryly. He opened his mouth to start the meeting when Goyle beat him to it.

"When are you planning to strike again, m'lord?" Goyle asked. He was one of the few followers in the group who was brave enough to question Tom. Of course it wasn't really bravery, it was actually just because he was hopelessly inept and unawares to everything. Nonetheless, the poor brute was an extremist in Tom's cause, so you couldn't really pity the racist pig.

Tom, who was sat in his chair with a kingly countenance about him, stared down at the said racist pig with a "Why do I even bother?" type look.

The rest of his followers remained silent, awaiting his answer.

"Not now. We were nearly caught the first time; it would be foolish to try again so soon. For now we will gather more followers to join our cause. Use the many connections you have and try to sway more to support us."

"My Lord, Nott wishes to attend our meetings. I've told him that I would ask you for your permission." Abraxas piped out. His tone was strong, but Tom could see the fear and the yearning for merit in his eyes.

'Excellent,' Tom thought greedily. Another rich family with influence on his side.

"Good work, Malfoy. You have redeemed yourself. I suppose I won't have to...recycle you after all."

Malfoy gulped and gave him a weak smile. "Thank you." He really didn't want a repeat of the last meeting. Or worse...'I don't think I want to know what he meant by recycle,' the platinum haired wizard thought. Though he had some ideas...

"You are dismissed."

They all nodded mechanically and began vacating the room.

"Black." Tom said.

Alphard stayed behind. "Yes?"

"You've been quiet."

"I don't have anything to contribute."

The young Lord nodded his head. Alphard was a smart lad and was blessed was with the surname of Black. He was handsome enough and had a lazy attitude that made him amiable. He was dangerous, and Tom had to play his cards carefully with him. Which is why he chose Alphard to be his confidant and favorite. Perhaps this task that he entrusted to him would prove his worth...

"I have a task for you." Tom gave a momentary pause to let it sink into his head.

"What might this task be, my Lord?" Alphard sincerely hoped that it would be something simple. He didn't think he'd be able to stomach some sort of crazy, violent scheme Tom might have in mind. He really wasn't interested in getting his hands dirtied. From what Goyle had boasted to him about the unicorn blood, he was now slightly afraid of Tom was going to ask of him.

"Befriend the American."

Alphard's eyebrows went up in surprise. He was not expecting that at all.

"You do know that, by commanding me to befriend the muggleborn, you're contradicting your own principles?" Alphard countered.

Tom frowned at him. For someone as smart as Black, he was awfully dense. Maybe he's been overestimating the lad's intelligence.

Alphard's face twisted into a lazy grin that Tom did not find amusing.

"Do you fancy her?"

That halted the wheels turning in Riddle's head. His already icy stare, turning into glacial daggers that should have frozen Alphard on the spot. Instead, the other boy began to chuckle good naturedly and patted his shoulder.

"I wouldn't blame you if you do…She's something."

Tom yanked his shoulder away from him with an indignant hiss. 'Why does everybody think I fancy that thing!'

"Don't be daft, Black. I do not fancy her. I need you to spy on her. I suspect she knows more than she should."

Alphard nodded his head in acceptance. Though the boyish grin on his lips refused to disappear.

"As you wish, my Lord."

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