The first time Tom heard of Harry Potter was during the sorting.

Two heads in front of him stood a petite first year. He was the shortest first year in the hall. It was only when he was sorted could Tom see the boy's face. It was much like the rest of him, petite, but covered mostly by his thick, black glasses. The boy was sorted into Hufflepuff- the house of the leftovers. As the boy clambered off the chair that was too high for his toes to reach the floor, Tom filed "Harry Potter" away into the archives of his memories; after all the boy was but another pathetic Hufflepuff.

As a Slytherin, Tom never thought he would speak with the diminutive Hufflepuff. Slytherins didn't share classes with Hufflepuffs and Tom simply was not one who would go out of his way to socialize with those who would not be of use to him. He was however, proved wrong when he ran into Walgurba Black in the Slytherin common rooms.

Walgurba Black was a third year Slytherin. Within his first week as part of Slytherin, Tom quickly learnt how the hierarchy of his house worked. Purebloods ruled at the top and Mudbloods were the outcasts of their society. Half-bloods were generally ignored, neither respected nor scorned. As the daughter of a old pureblood family, Walgurba Black was no doubt at the peak of the Slytherin hierarchy. Tom on the other hand, was considered a Mudblood. He however, knew he was definitely not. He was much greater than that. He wielded magic that was stronger than any one of his peers and for this great power to have came from pathetic muggles was impossible.

Others however, didn't care, so when Walgurba ran into Tom as he walked down the stairs into the common rooms, it was Tom's fault, not hers. She shrieked at him like the crazy bint she was, and was about to curse him when a petite figure appeared next to her. The boy had his hand over hers, putting her assault to halt.

He frowned disapprovingly at her. He reached out and offered a hand to Tom who was still on the floor. His action was out of goodwill, but to Tom, it was but a mocking gesture. He ignored the boy's hand, standing on his own. Walgurba seemed to fume at his disregard towards Harry's help and was shouting words of insult. He turned around and walked out of the common room to head to the library, disregarding her fury.

He assumed that his rude snide would have been the end of the incident but was once again, sorely mistaken. The little Hufflepuff had chased after him, causing pricks of irritation to run down his neck.

'Does he want me to thank him for his courageous act now?' Tom thought as he snapped around and snarled at the boy, "What do you want?"

The last thing he expected however, was for Harry Potter to apologize.


Harry Potter was not his friend.

Tom didn't need friends; what more Hufflepuff friends. The two boys however, did tend to spend large amounts of their time together. Tom was often in the library, the Slytherin Dormitories being too disruptive for any productive studying, and Harry would often join him in silence, doing his homework or reading a book.

Tom knew much about Harry despite them being not-friends. Their conversations started off as small talk, which slowly built up over the days spent together by the two. By the end of the Christmas break, Tom could confidently say that he knew Harry the best. Harry Potter, or rather Calypso Orpheus Black, was the child of Dorea Black and Marius Black. Harry was conceived when Dorea was only seventeen. It was only after Marius was disowned, for marrying a muggle, did she find out about her pregnancy. She was to marry Charlus Potter, a man who loved her deeply, and was torn between abortion and confession.

Eventually, she swallowed the shame and told Charlus about her pregnancy. He accepted her and still had her as his wife.

He couldn't however, accept Harry.

Despite Dorea having named him, Charlus insisted on changing the child's name. Calypso was a living reminder that another man had bed his wife, something he could not tolerate. He renamed him Harry Potter, a plain, simple name he spouted without thought; anything was fine, so long it wasn't remotely Black.

Harry grew up without any paternal love.

Charlus loathed his existence, never speaking to him a word more than necessary. Dorea loved him as any mother would love her child, but never showed any outward affection, especially in front of Charlus. As a child, he would often wonder why his parents didn't love him, but as he grew up, he eventually understood why. He was a reminder of Dorea's mistake. He was an unwanted burden upon his family.

He resented Charlus. But even so, he begged not to be sorted into Slytherin, knowing of Charlus's irk towards the snakes. He was often overlooked, physique small due to pre-mature birthing. His voice was small, soft, hardly heard. He yearned for love, for acceptance.

Which was why when a letter addressed to Harry about Dorea's newly discovered pregnancy, Tom was not surprised by how Harry's face seemed to drain of all colour. The new child would mean even less love for Harry; something Harry already had little of. Harry dreaded returning home that summer and wept the night before, huddled up in Walgurba's arms in the Slytherin common rooms where Tom could only gaze upon his pitiful figure helplessly.


The first time the two of them fought was at the start of their second year.

Tom's summer at the orphanage was dreadful as always. The older boys picked on him and physically assaulted him as always which made him hyper-aware to every single touch. Which was why when Harry ran towards him and caught him in a hug, he pushed the other boy away roughly in reflex. The other boy stared at him, chocolate brown eyes wide in a mixture of shock and hurt. Tom turned around as his insides clenched in a way it never had before, wanting to walk away from the source of this new, unknown sensation he felt. Harry however, didn't seem willing to let it go. He grabbed onto Tom's arm, right where a large bruise was, causing the Slytherin to wince.

When he turned, glaring at the younger boy, he found himself staring into those expressive orbs, filled with concern which cause even more chaos to his innards. When Harry yanked up his sleeve to reveal the ugly bruise that marred his skin, Tom reacted the only way he knew how to; yell. He hid the shame and embarrassment he felt by ghosting those vulnerable emotions with anger, an emotion he was much more familiar with.

The second those words left his mouth however, the repulsive feelings of regret started curling in his stomach.

He couldn't bare to see the way Harry's eyes widened, even more than they already were, into wide saucers.

He turned away, ignoring the stares he received as he stormed into the first empty compartment and slammed the door shut.


He knew from the very start, of his ability to speak to snakes, but thought nothing of it until after the incident at King's station.

He realized how his housemates had suddenly came to respect him, and how other students seemed to fear him and quickly went to read up about his talent. The exhilaration he felt when he learned that parseltongue was a hereditary trait of the Slytherin family was unparalleled. Drunk in joy, the first thing he wanted to do was to find Harry, tell him how he was right- that he was special, better than the rest- only to remember of their fight the day before.

Harry had yet to apologize to Tom for being nosy and Tom couldn't bring himself to give a damn for it was Harry's loss, not his- or so he told himself.

Initially, Tom decided that he would give Harry a week to apologize. A week dragged to weeks, and weeks dragged on to months. Even after moths, Tom had yet to hear a single word from Harry. At times, he would look at the boy's solitary figure, sat at the Hufflepuff table, in a sort of longing, but he would rather die than admit of his wimpy feelings.

Eventually however, Tom couldn't help but admit that yes- he missed Harry.

Despite being surrounded by all the rich, talented purebloods who now grovelled at his feet, the only person's company he truly enjoyed was Harry's. It was the first time in Tom's life that he wished he could go back in time and undo what he had done- not that he would tell anyone. He sorely missed Harry and yearned for the boy. Saying sorry would be the easiest way to mend their relationship, but his pride simply wouldn't allow him to apologize. It didn't matter though, he was Tom Riddle and he would eventually manage to win the boy back.


The last word one could use to describe Tom was brash.

No, Tom was a Slytherin. He would plan and scrutinize, calculate and contemplate before putting his plans into action. Harry however, managed to throw him off his loop as the boy always did.

The Yule feast was a simple affair. Few students, less than twenty, stayed back in Hogwarts for Christmas. House tables were replaced by a single, long table that would fit all the students comfortably. Tom was sitting across Harry, who was still avoiding him like plague, when a owl flew past, dropping an envelope on Harry's lap.

Mail was usually delivered in the morning when the students were eating breakfast, which made it peculiar for Harry to have received his at such an odd timing.

Tom observed Harry as he ripped the letter open and read it. His warm, brown orbs flashed an emotion which reflected depth he had only seen in the younger boy's eyes only once; and dread curled in his stomach. Harry crunched the letter in his fists and ran out of the Great Hall, hardly able to hide the tears streaming down his rosy cheeks.

All coherent thought was thrown out of Tom's mind and the only thing he could think of was the look in Harry's eyes as he ran out of the Great Hall. He dashed out, chasing the boy.

Tom easily caught up with Harry and wrapped his arms around the smaller body.

He doesn't remember that night clearly. Neither of them can. Both were too caught up in emotions to remember.

The next morning however, Tom woke up with Harry wrapped in his arms, and it feels him with a sort of indescribable warmth.

Waking up with Harry in his arms was something Tom could get used to.


Harry woke up shortly after and despite the awkwardness, the two managed to wash up and go for breakfast, after which they agreed to talk.

The series of happenings were occurring in ways that were far off Tom's plans, but Tom couldn't bring himself to put a stop to anything, especially with Harry was just mere inches from him.

The two of them sat on Tom's bed for the rest of the day and talked.

Harry surprised Tom, starting their conversation by thanking him for the night before. The genuine gratitude Harry's voice carried was something Tom couldn't comprehend. Tom had been a total prick and yet Harry, dear sweet Harry held no grudge towards his actions.

The two of them spoke of the incident, of Tom's life in the orphanage. Tom told Harry of things he never thought he would tell another. He told him of his childhood, of his detest towards the muggles and had laid himself open to Harry. Harry held his hand, told him that things would be okay, that he would make things okay, and for once in Tom's life, he felt hope.

The two of them spoke of the letter. Harry told Tom, that his mother passed away hours after birthing to his younger brother. His father had disowned him, not wanting to be reminded of his dead wife in such an unpleasant manner. Harry lost the only person who unconditionally loved him, the only roof he had over his head. He wept tears of forlornness, of loss and of despair. Tom wrapped his strong arms around his frail body, holding him in a hug in silence.

Harry might have been a Hufflepuff, but the boy was definitely not a badger. Harry didn't belong to any of the houses in Hogwarts, having none of the representatives traits of the house of lions, ravens and serpents.

No, the boy was special. The only animal Tom could compare Harry to was a mongoose. He was the only person who saw Tom in such a vulnerable state. He was the only person who could come close enough to the Slytherin Heir to harm him. As he held Harry in his arms, he promised to himself that never again would he allow such agony to be cause upon his little mongoose.


A/N: This plot bunny struck me while I was waiting for my paper to end today lolol. I think I've been reading too much hannigram :')

Anyways, I actually have the rest of the story planned out already but I'm not sure if I should type the rest out or just leave this as a one shot. Regardless, even if I do, it'll be a two or three-shot at most.

14/08/13