"He's still not talking to me," Harry said one day at lunch, subtly glancing over at the Slytherin table. Tom sat at the end, eating quietly all by himself. He was always doing that. Harry had yet to see Tom be around anyone else. He didn't freely talk to anyone either, not even his own housemates. Although, technically, Tom's housemates didn't go out of their way to talk to him either. "I've said hi and he just looks at me."

"Maybe he doesn't like you," came Ron's response which was most unhelpful.

"Ron," Hermione was annoyed. "That's a terrible thing to say!"

"What?" Ron tilted his head. "It's possible. Why else would he be avoiding him?"

"Maybe he's busy," Hermione said defensively. "He is a third year. He's probably got loads of coursework to do that he wants to focus on. And anyway, it isn't like he's only ignoring Harry. He doesn't speak to anyone else unless they're a professor or he absolutely has to." She eyed Ron with an undoubtable mark of distaste and pursed lips. "Perhaps you should take a leaf out of his book."

"What and not talk to anyone?" Ron snarked. "Great, I'll start with you."

Harry's eyes wandered back over to where Tom was sitting. He was working on something, steadily jotting notes down, seemingly out of place while the rest of the table chatted to one another.

"Harry," Hermione's voice brought him out of his daydream. "What are you staring at?"

Ron tried to follow his eyes. "What are you staring at Riddle for?" He said in disbelief.

"We were just talking about him, Ron."

"So?"

"He's all alone," Harry said to them. "Look at him. He's been like that."

"It is rather sad," Hermione said with sympathy.

"How?" Ron stared at her like she'd gone mad. "It's Riddle."

"So?" Hermione said snippily. "Why does it matter who it is?"

"He's a Slytherin," Ron said as if that explained everything.

Hermione scoffed. "Didn't you hear what Percy said? He said they're not all bad."

"Course he says that," Ron grumbled. "He talks to one of them sometimes."

"Really?" Harry was interested. "Who?"

"Dunno his name," Ron shrugged. "Pucey or something. I think he's on the quidditch team. Fred and George said they've seen him and Percy talking in the library. They help each other out with homework."

"And what's wrong with that?" Hermione said challengingly. "I think it's great they're not giving in to some petty house rivalry."

"Course you would," Ron muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't get it," Ron was, admittedly, a bit condescending there. "You don't understand. There's a reason everyone hates Slytherins, it's because they're all dark!"

"That's astoundingly absurd."

Ron's face screwed up for a moment and then he said, "No you are!"

She rolled her eyes, deciding to abandon the conversation with him entirely-for the time being, anyway. She addressed Harry. "Are you going to say something to him?"

Ron's bugged out.

"You're going to talk to him again?"

Harry tore his eyes away, turning around to face them again. "Maybe," he said.

"Why?" Ron couldn't comprehend it. "It was one thing to give him back his folder, mate, but you're going to talk to him again? That's risky."

"Why?" Harry was curious.

"Well," Ron squirmed, "people will think you're going dark or something."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Just by talking?"

"With a Slytherin, yeah. Percy says people will assume anything around here."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione snapped. "No one goes dark just by talking to someone. Harry, if you want to talk to him, do it. Don't listen to him."

"Oi," Ron protested. "No need to be so mean about it."

Tom started to put away his materials into his satchel, it was much neater than how Harry or Ron did to theirs. Instead of shoving it right in, the older boy was careful to put everything inside in an organized fashion. He then got up, placing the strap over his shoulder and started to go on his way. Harry saw this as an opportunity. He'd originally thought about simply going over to the Slytherin table, but thought better of it. They wouldn't take too kindly to him being there, particularly Malfoy and his goons, plus he didn't think Tom would be too pleased by him mentioning anything of it in front of anyone.

"Are you going?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry said distractedly. "I'll see you two later, okay?"

"Alright, good luck," Hermione smiled at him.

"Don't get bit," Ron mumbled and then cried out in pain when Hermione smacked him with her extraordinarily heavy book.

Harry grabbed his bag, hurrying off after Tom, but still mindful not to get caught running or else he would have to deal with Filch or some professor. Once he was past the grand doors, he glanced both ways, trying to figure out where he'd gone. Then his ears caught wind of distant footsteps to his right.

Tom was walking down the corridor in his usual stiffy gait. It was like he was an old man rather than a teenager. Harry thought he could have pulled off walking with a cane if he had one.

"Tom," Harry made another attempt at rushing to his side, coming in sync with the older boy's walking.

Tom was startled; he'd never admit it and Harry would pretend he hadn't seen the older boy subtly jump or notice the way his eyes had widened a fraction. When he realized who it was that came beside him, a scowl came onto his face and he blew out a puff of air that sounded like a hissing snake. He couldn't tell if that was fitting or not.

"What do you want?" Tom said in a clipped tone. "I already thanked you for returning my folder. What, you want more praise?"

He was sneering at him. Harry was used to seeing that expression from Malfoy, so it didn't really faze him.

"No," he said with patience, "I wanted to know why you're avoiding me?"

Tom stopped in the middle of the hallway. There was no one else coming, as they were either in class or the Great Hall or elsewhere; Harry almost kept walking, his brain not recognizing immediately that Tom wasn't moving anymore.

"Excuse me?"

Harry glanced at him, at the unreadable look to his face. "You're avoiding me," he repeated.

"I'm doing no such thing," Tom said when he recovered from the-surprise?

"Yes you are," Harry insisted pointedly.

Tom was now frustrated. "How can I avoid you if I don't even know you?"

Well, that was probably a good point. Technically, Tom didn't really know anything about him other than his name, his house and that he was a first year. Harry momentarily faltered. "Oh, right," he mumbled. Then he brightened up. "We can get to know each other."

Tom was unimpressed. "No."

"Why not?" Harry said.

"I don't want to."

"But why?"

Tom's eye twitched. "You're annoying and I don't like you!"

Had it been said to anyone else, they might have had their feelings hurt and ran off to cry. But not Harry. He was too used to the Dursleys' proclamations of their dislike towards him to care. He brushed it right off.

"Just give me a chance," Harry said. "It's not like you have any other friends."

That had been the wrong thing to say.

Tom's face hardened, his hands clenched into fists. But he didn't end up hitting Harry like he'd expected. "You think you're funny, don't you?" He said in the iciest voice Harry had heard from him.

"What? No-"

"We can't all be like you, Potter," Tom said harshly. "We can't all have the same grand life you do."

Harry bristled, remembering how Snape treated him during potions. Tom believed that nonsense too? "You're wrong-"

"Spare me," With that, Tom shifted on his heel, storming down the hallway with his robes billowing behind him.

/

Harry retold the whole conversation to Ron and Hermione later on. They were up in the boys dormitory; Harry and Ron were on their respective beds and Hermione chose to stand, leaning on one of the bed posts. They would have to be stealthy about getting her back downstairs before anyone else saw her. Especially Percy. He was a real nice bloke, but Harry didn't think he would be particularly thrilled to see her up there.

"Can you believe him?" Harry huffed.

"I told you he was a bad sort," Ron said most unhelpfully. "They all are, Slytherins."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione tossed him another sharp look, "it has nothing to do with his house. He was clearly offended that Harry said he had no friends."

"It didn't come out right," Harry said regretfully. He knew what that was like, he would have been upset if someone pointed that out to him. "I didn't mean for it to sound so bad."

"It doesn't matter how you meant it, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "He's obviously been teased over it before and assumed you were teasing him about it too."

"But I wasn't!" Harry protested. "I wouldn't."

"You should probably be telling Tom that," Hermione advised him gently.

"She's right," Ron said and then grimaced a little for saying it.

"Am I?" Hermione was smug.

"Don't get used to it," Ron rolled his eyes. "But she is unfortunately. I reckon Riddle will hate you until you tell him."

Harry sighed. "If he accepts my apology."

"He's a tosser if he doesn't," Ron said with a nod.

Hermione sighed which indicated great suffering.

Harry smiled a little.

"Don't worry, mate. M'sure he'll accept it. Want us to come with you?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I need to do this myself."

/

Tom wasn't hard to find. He was like an older Hermione in that sense, always sticking around the library. His nose was buried in a book-just like Hermione. He sat at a table in the back corner where he wasn't likely to be disturbed, or rather, where people knew not to disturb him.

Harry approached him cautiously. Tom didn't realize he was there until he was at the table, smiling somewhat awkwardly. When he did, he made no acknowledgement of his presence. Harry breathed. He expected that. "Err, hi Tom."

Still ignored. Tom scribbled harder, it seemed, on his parchment.

"I...err, I shouldn't have said that to you. It came out wrong. I wasn't trying to make fun of you, I swear," Harry said.

Tom blinked; he still wasn't looking directly at Harry, but the first year could see part of his face, which was looking downward at his parchment.

Harry hesitated on what he should say next. It sounded far too personal to say to someone he barely even knew. But if it would make things better...

"I know how it feels," Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

Tom lifted himself back up, glancing in Harry's direction. It gave him some encouragement to keep going.

"I didn't have any friends until I met Ron and Hermione," Harry revealed.

A faint look of surprise clouded Tom's stoic features for the second time that day. It vanished as quickly as it came.

"What I'm trying to say is," Harry continued, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought we could be friends, but I suppose if you really don't want to, we don't have to be."

He started to turn away.

"Potter," Tom said and Harry froze. "Sit."

He stared at the chair stupidly.

Tom started to get impatient. "Now, preferably."

"Oh, right," Harry sat down.

Tom didn't speak right away. He wrote a few more lines on whatever he was working on. "I suppose I accept your apology," he muttered.

Harry grinned. Then he said, knowing he was pushing his luck, "And about being friends?"

"It's not necessary."

Harry tried to push back the feeling of disappointment. He should have known the older boy was going to say that. "Oh."

"Just because we sat together during the train ride doesn't mean we're destined to be friends," Tom said bluntly.

"We could be."

"You don't mean that."

"Of course I do," Harry couldn't understand why he was so against it.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why?" Tom repeated and it was clear he didn't like having to do so. "Why do you want to be friends?"

The with me went unsaid, but Harry practically felt it.

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry responded with a question of his own.

"Can't see your fellow Gryffindor's being fine with that," Tom flicked away an invisible piece of dust.

"So?" Harry said, thinking of what Ron said about Slytherin being full of dark wizards. "I don't care and 'sides, they're not all like that."

Tom snorted.

"Percy Weasley isn't," he announced. "And Hermione isn't either."

"A whole two people, I'm impressed," Tom said dryly.

"You might meet more people like that if you actually talked to people," Harry said bravely.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Who says I don't?"

Harry gave him a look back.

"It matters not," Tom eventually conceded, sounding like someone from the twenties or something. "I don't like most people. They're idiots."

"You just haven't met the right people," Harry countered.

"And I won't."

"Not like that you won't," Harry said.

Tom scoffed.

"Come on. Just trust me."

He dropped his quill quite roughly on the table. "How many times must I reiterate I don't know you? I will not trust a stranger."

"Alright," Harry said quickly. '"We'll fix that."

Tom leaned back in his chair, waiting.

Harry saw that as a good sign. Or so he hoped it was. "My name's Harry James Potter. I'm eleven. I'm a Gryffindor-"

"I know this," Tom cut him off.

Harry continued as if he hadn't spoken. "-I like the colour green. I like treacle tart. I have an owl, her name's Hedwig and I didn't know I was a wizard until Hagrid came to tell me."

He was well aware Tom was staring at him suspiciously, like he was trying to decide if Harry was lying about anything or using this as an opportunity to play a joke on him. Harry saw himself similar to that before he came to Hogwarts; he was so used to being alone that if someone had tried to befriend him, he would have thought the other person was doing it for some mean trick that Dudley thought of.

The staring lasted for an eternity. Tom shifted in his seat, needlessly adjusting his uniform. He cleared his throat-stalling. He was stalling. "You like green?" He eventually said. Alright, not what Harry thought he'd say but it was something. At least he wasn't being ignored again.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"How interesting," Tom murmured. "One would think Gryffindor's golden boy wouldn't want to like anything remotely Slytherin."

"Well you're wrong," Harry said matter of factly. "I'm not like that."

"So it appears."

Was that a good thing?

"If I didn't like it much anymore," Harry said, "it wouldn't be because of it being a Slytherin colour."

Tom looked vaguely interested.

"It'd be because of Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes, thinking of the blonde's irritating smirk.

Tom looked equally as displeased. "I find his presence quite bothersome," he said casually.

"Yeah?" Harry cracked a grin. Anyone that didn't like Malfoy was a plus in his book. "I just want to strangle him sometimes."

"I won't tell anyone," Tom said mildly.

Harry laughed, he had to cover his mouth to smother his laughter so Madam Pince wouldn't come after him for being too loud. "See, we'd be good friends."

"Because I dislike the Malfoy spawn?"

"Exactly," Harry declared.

Tom's mouth twitched, like he was trying to fight off his own amusement.