Tom didn't really like Ginny. As a rule, Tom didn't like anyone. The closest he'd come was Sarah, the only Maid here who wasn't mean and snappy and demanding, or completely scared of him.

But, Ginny was like him, she was quick and clever and different. Special. He didn't seek out her company, he didn't seek out anyone's company, no one wanted him so he didn't want anyone. But when she was there, he didn't mind, not at all.

She found the others as irritating as he did, and she wasn't scared of him at all. Not even when he started snapping and glaring and getting angry about things that, looking back, he really shouldn't have.

She pulled him up when he went too far but she didn't make him feel bad about it. She didn't really seek him out, but she never avoided him.

She was the closest thing he had to a friend.

So when he woke up one morning and she was missing, he went looking for her.

No one else should have been up at this hour, the sun was barely awake. He'd always woken up at dawn, and it seemed like she did too, because she always woke up just after him.

He wandered the gloomy halls, quietly poking his head in the dusty rooms looking for a now familiar head of fire-red hair.

By the time an hour had passed, he was getting worried. What if something had happened to her? What if she'd run away without him?

He heard a muffled sob from behind a stack of wooden crates in an old storage room.

It was Ginny, squashed in a corner and curled into a tight ball, crying quietly.

A well of confused emotions jumbled up in Tom's chest. Why was she allowed to cry? Maybe she wasn't and that's why she was hiding. He didn't let himself show weakness like this, he didn't think that this firebrand would either. He guessed he was wrong.

But… she was hiding. Maybe she didn't like the weakness either, and didn't want anyone to see. He should just leave, he knew she was safe, he shouldn't be here to watch this.

She noticed him. She jumped and flattened herself against the wall, wiping at her eyes and trying to hide the fact that she was crying.

"Oh, hi Tom. I didn't see you. What are you doing up?"

"I'm always up this early. You know that."

She huffed, a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. It was gone a second later, "How about, what are you doing here? In this room?"

"You were missing."

"Aww, Tom, I didn't know you cared," she said, her tone teasing. She wiped at her eyes again. They were red and blotchy.

"I-", he cut himself off. I don't, he was about to say. Except he wasn't sure that was true. It had been true, but, he wanted to see where she'd gone. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stop crying. Didn't those things mean he did care?

"I was worried you'd run away and left me here."

She didn't say anything, just looked at him. The sad expression was creeping back onto her face. He didn't know what to do to fix that, no one had taught him how, or been there for him when he cried. But, if they had been, he'd want…

"Why were you crying? Are you alright?"

She hesitated, like she was picking her words carefully, "I miss my family. I want to go home."

Tom frowned, "You want to go back to that nasty woman who left you here?"

Why on earth would anyone want to go back to a place that abandoned you happily? When he got out of this terrible excuse for a children's home he was never looking back.

She shook her head. "She's not my real mum. My mum's lovely and would never give me up. My dad's kind and clever, and I have six brothers all older than me. But… I don't think I'll ever see them again. I don't even know if Ron's alive."

Tears were running down her face again. She sniffed, "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear this. I'll be fine."

Tom paused. He didn't really want to hear it, it meant nothing to him. But what she was saying was confusing, and that made him curious. And…it meant something to her.

He sat on the floor across from her. "Why don't you know if Ron's alive? How did that woman claim you if she's not your mother?"

Ginny looked at him for a moment, an odd expression crossing her face.

"There was an attack. I don't know what happened to the rest of my family. The last I know, Ron, he's the youngest apart from me, was unconscious and hurt really badly. That woman took me in after my parents went missing."

Once the words started flowing, they didn't stop. She talked about her family in detail, her prankster twin brothers, how another brother always had his nose in a book, and her father tinkered with machines. She talked about her big, odd, slanted house that was half held up with magic and hope, and the garden filled with overgrown plants and pests you had to throw out by their ankles.

He wasn't sure how much was real and how much was just imagination, but it all sounded so warm.

"I don't know anything about my family," Tom said, "I don't think I have one."

Before he could blink, thin freckled arms were wrapped around him and Ginny's head was buried in his shoulder. Tom froze for a second, not sure what to do. He wasn't sure he'd ever been hugged before. He found himself leaning into her touch and wrapped his arms around her too, melting into her hold and unwilling to let go.

"Lets go up to the Matron. She's bound to know who your parents were and what happened to them," Ginny said, pulling back.

She stood and held out her hand. He took it and let her pull him up. He didn't let go. Ginny looked at him, surprised, but made no move to take her hand back.

Holding hands the whole way, Ginny marched them up to the Matron's office and banged on the door.

"I'm on my way," the Matron groaned. The door swung open, "This better be important."

"What happened to Tom's parents?" Ginny all but demanded.

"This couldn't wait until a decent hour, girl?"

"Please?"

The Matron looked at Tom and sighed.

"Your mother showed up on our doorstep, terribly sick and very pregnant with you."

"What's pregnant?" Tom asked.

"When there's a baby in mummy's tummy," said Ginny.

"Well, how did it get there?" Tom insisted.

"This isn't about where babies come from," snapped the Matron, "Did you want to know what happened to your mother or not?"

He shut up.

"She had you on the steps here and lived just long enough to name you Tom, after your father, Marvollo, after her father, and Riddle, your fathers last name. We don't know who she was or who your father is," she turned to Ginny, "There, girl. Is that what you wanted him to know?"

Ginny said something, but Tom had stopped listening. His father was still a mystery and his mother was dead. Stayed alive only long enough to name him. He felt something coil tight in his chest and he was shaking. He turned and ran.


Ginny wandered the halls, searching for where Tom had run off to. She wasn't in a hurry, she knew he needed time to process that horrible story.

She hadn't meant it to end like that, she'd wanted to help, to offer some semblance of belonging in a world where he had none.

The way he'd clung to her when she hugged him, like he'd never had a hug in his life… it was terrible, to imagine a life where someone could feel like that.

She didn't feel guilty, he had to learn it sometime, although later might have been better than sooner, in the end what difference did it make? Alright, she did feel a little guilty. She'd led him up there, gave him comfort, held his hand, gave him hope, and the crushed it miserably. Maybe she could help find his father, at least to provide some closure before she left.

It would be a long time before she could go back though. To even get into Diagon Alley she needed a wand, so that would have to wait until she was 11. Unless she could talk someone in the Leaky Cauldron into it.

She could try to go straight to the Ministry of Magic, see if she could find the Veil again, or even just ask about it. But it was a bad idea, she didn't even know what it actually did. Even if she did, she couldn't remember where that phonebooth was, or the number Harry had dialled to get in, they'd been in such a hurry, and with all six of them crammed into the booth she wasn't sure she had actually seen the dial-pad.

Harry… was he alright? The Order had just been arriving when she'd fallen. Surely they'd have rescued her friends. Surely they'd have fixed whatever was wrong with Ron. Neville's nose was surely fixed by now, and Luna's ankle. Hermione was unconscious, but she'd have been taken to Saint Mungo's in no time after Dumbledore arrived.

Would time that passed here also pass in her time? If she took too long, would all her friends and family have marked her as dead and moved on?

These kind of morbid thoughts, along with just so much longing for home, were what caused her to be a sobbing wreck not an hour before. She had been surprised that Tom would go to the trouble of looking for her, and shocked that he took the time to try to comfort her. Perhaps, in his own strange, stilted way, he really did think of her as a friend. It was more than natural for her to return that favour.

Ginny eventually found him in the courtyard, sitting on the cobblestone ground with his back against the ancient brick of main building, staring off into the distance.

"Hi Tom," she said gently, moving to sit next to him.

He glanced at her, then looked back off into the distance. Ginny waited, hoping he'd say something she could take as a 'stay' or 'leave', but after a minute of just standing there it was pretty clear he wasn't going to say anything. It was hard for her to get mad, though, when he looked so lost.

She sat next to him.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked after a few moments.

He shook his head.

They sat quietly for a bit longer.

"I hoped that I still had someone who wanted me. I knew I wouldn't be here if there was, but I still hoped. Stupid."

"Wanting to be loved isn't stupid, Tom."

He looked at her, "Isn't it? Your mum left you here all alone because you were too much to worry about. My mum didn't even stay alive for me. It hurts, so isn't it better not to hope? That way you're never let down."

Ginny's heart clenched for him. Is this what he went through the first time? Could this be a part of what made him a monster? If it was, then maybe… Maybe she could do something about it. She was stuck here, probably for years and who knew if she'd ever get home. But until she did, she could help. She could start to heal this wound before it rotted his soul.

"I'm here," she said, simply, placing her hand on his.

He looked at her, that sad, lost look still in his eyes, and threaded his fingers with hers.