"Lemon grass." The Slytherin commons opened for Harry, allowing him to slip into room and out of the cold dungeon. Unfortunately for him, he's used to the warm exterior and interior of the Gryffindor commons. Down in the lower levels, the only warming place is by the fireplace and under two layers of comforter.
Sighing, he took his usual spot next to the flames in a squishy green fabric chair. Yet another thing he can't bring himself to adjust to. The many sightings of the color green. It was everywhere, from the badge on his robes, to the furniture in the room. He swore he saw Headboy walking into the male showers with a dyed bar of soap. This place was crawling with the Slytherin symbol.
He swung his leg around in order for his leg to hang off the armchair, allowing more warmth to spread across him. Closing his eyes, he shook off the entirety of the day. Harry found it quite difficult to approach Tom Riddle, avoiding him at all costs. This proved quite difficult for his 'plan', not to mention the boys share many of classes together. His only escape from the boy is Divination, and Quidditch practice.
September tryouts proved difficult for the boy, but Harry was determined to set aside his Gryffindor bias in ability to at least throw himself in something he loves. The Seeker spot was as good as his. Slowly he was finding ways to make life in Slytherin more bearable. One involved spending as little time around the bunch as humanly possible. That often meant eating quick meals and escaping to the commons during dinners, which is what is happening now.
Harry found much comfort in being alone, especially with his mission only involving one person here, he thought creating unnecessary friendships futile.
While the boy was enjoying his pure moment of bliss by the fire, warming his body up from the cool temperatures of the dungeons, he didn't notice one of the boys entering the commons room. Especially not the boy he most didn't want to see.
But alas, Tom Riddle had needed an escape from the commotion in the Great Hall, growing ultimately annoyed with the lot of them. Residing in his favorite place in the castle was ideal to calm down his annoyance. Finding an empty table in the back, Tom pulled out a book from the bookshelf, internally groaning at the familiar Transfiguration book. He'd read it nearly twenty times, but lacking the energy to pull out another, he simply surrendered to it, reading it in quiet.
Tom hadn't noticed the new boy in the chair until hearing a stiff yawn from the direction of the fire. His gaze rose to meet the form of the boy, one leg hanging off the armchair, arms stretched to cradle his head. He knew what boy it was. The new student in his year who, like him, often didn't require the company of others.
The reading boy noticed Harry always escaping social situations, preferring the quiet of the commons during meals, only eating quick plates of food before excusing himself. Tom respected that, knowing all too well of his own resentment to others. But what made the Slytherin most interested was Harry's extreme fascination with Tom himself.
Harry probably didn't know the boy knew of his hateful stares, and that the boy knew he avoided Tom above all others.
The darker of the two puzzled himself, not understanding why Harry wanted to much not to be around the boy. It didn't bother him all too much, frankly not wanting to be around the other boy either. But Tom prided himself on knowing everything about everyone in the Slytherin house. Studying every member meticulously, in search of their strengths and weaknesses. Although, Harry was hard to read. The boy spent no time around others, excelling in Quidditch and Potions, not bothering in much else.
Tom crinkled his nose, clearing his mind of the distraction from the boy. Harry didn't seem bothered by his presence at the moment, and so the boy didn't bother the Slytherin. He continued reading his book, taking note of the heavy breathing from the boy by the fire, signalling he had fallen asleep.
The next morning, Tom was surprised to find Harry still asleep on the chair where he'd left him last night. Impressed by the boy's determination as not even the bustling post dinner Slytherins had woken him up. The boy moved to the chair hesitantly.
"Oi." He muttered, shaking the boy gently, not moving to close, not wanting the interaction.
Harry's eyes fluttered open nervously, looking around for any signs of danger. Tom, intrigued by the deep green of the boy's eyes, leaned in slightly to study them fully. He'd never noticed them before. They matched most of the furniture around the room.
When Harry met his stare, a blank expression replacing the alert one from before. He quickly stood up, causing the other boy to fall back, using the wall to steady himself. Straightening out his clothes, the boy moved towards the stairs, unmoved by the growing anger in the boy still by the chair.
"What the bloody hell is your problem, Greyhorn?" Tom said, quite bitterly.
Harry froze, this being the first confrontation with the boy. He gritted his teeth, knowing all to well he couldn't avoid the boy forever, not with the plan in motion. Turning around he walked back over to Riddle, an apparent frown on his lips. "Your my problem." He said calmly, staring intensely at the boy.
Tom parted his lips to say something, hatred seething from his blue eyes. Before shouting anything immature, the boy composed himself. "I don't have time to deal with petty grudges from filthy mudbloods like you." He spat.
Harry's eyes widened, immediately pinning Tom to the wall, fury building at his core. Whipping his wand out, he pointed it to his neck. The boy underneath him looked completely at ease, fire in his eyes when he pointed his own wand to Harry's stomach. "Why did you call me that?" The boy asked loudly. Thankfully for them, it was far to early for anyone to be completely up at this time, resulting in no bystanders.
Tom only sneered. "I overheard you talking to Professor Dumbledore about your father and your filthy mudblood mother." He said, referring to Harry's private meeting with the Transfiguration teacher discussing the boy's past. Tom had been heading there for confirmation on work, but stayed for the information.
The derogatory term used for his mother sent Harry off the edge. Coming from her murderer, he let all of his emotions pour out, shouting things he knew he wasn't supposed to know. "You're the one to talk, huh, Riddle? You and your muggle father?" He couldn't care less of the horrified expression on the boy's face. "Hmm, since you're a halfblood, guess that means you've got some mud in your veins too. You stupid, filthy, mudblood."
"Stop! STOP IT." Tom said, pushing the boy off him, pain and embarrassment written all over his face. A couple of students had come down the stairs by this time, overhearing the whole conversation. The Slytherin boy looked in complete agony when seeing the other teens watching him in slight disgust.
Harry only smirked, loving seeing the boy in pain. "Doesn't feel all that good now, does it Tom?"
"You can't possibly have known this." The other boy said shaking, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. "Y-you-" He didn't finish before running out of the room, red in the face. He was ashamed of his peers knowing of his stupid muggle father's past. The stupid muggle father he found when looking through the records of his mother at the orphanage and finding evidence of the man through them.
Harry found comfort in knowing he caused the boy who killed his parents this much pain. But something about the look on his face, not just the anger or hatred. Tom had something else about his eyes. The boy couldn't help but feeling a bit guilty when seeing the loneliness that resided in the crystal blue. The shame, like he genuinely was ashamed of his heritage. Those types of emotions shocked Harry, only thinking Tom capable of feeling anger and hate. Of him only feeling selfishness.
But the thing most apparent in Tom's eyes was regret. Almost like he regret the things he said to Harry.
Seeing this type of vulnerability in the boy, made the Gryffindor realize something. Tom Riddle wasn't Voldemort yet. He hadn't done those terrible things yet, and there was a chance that he wouldn't ever. Feeling the scar on his forehead, Harry knew he had to put aside those thoughts of the dark lord. He wasn't here right now. The only threat he faced was that of the Heir of Slytherin, blinded by his born hatred of muggles that he even came to hate himself for what he is.
Thinking back to Dumbledore's instructed letter, Harry came to a decision to start his mission. He needed to change Tom Riddle, by saving him from what he will become.