People were staring at Harry.

It wasn't an unusual occurrence. He'd grown somewhat used to it by now and this morning was no different. Determinedly, Harry made his way across the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione in tow; they maneuvered past the Gryffindor table, deliberately ignoring the curious stares that followed them.

At the Slytherin table, Tom was already there, buttering a piece of toast. He paused in doing so when Harry stopped there, receiving a shy smile when he raised his brow questioningly.

"Morning, Tom," Harry said as he sat down.

"Morning," Hermione chimed in as did Ron with his own mumbled greeting.

Harry tried not to feel too intimidated by the glares that were sent their way by the other Slytherins, who were not pleased by them invading their territory.

Tom stared at the three of them blankly. "Good morning..."

"So," Harry started, as he reached for a breakfast roll, "how did you sleep?"

He heard Ron muttering something along the lines of really Harry.

"Fine," Tom responded in a suspicious tone.

"Great," Harry said. He was feeling a bit more optimistic this time around. Tom might not be outwardly excited about them sitting there but it was all in due time. He wasn't shooting them away yet so in Harry's opinion, that was progress.

"Potter!" Malfoy barked, his robes billowing behind him in a manner eerily like Snape's.

Harry sighed. "What Malfoy?"

"You have your own table. Leave."

"You're not the boss of us," Ron glared at him. "You can't tell us to leave."

"There's no such rule in Hogwarts A History either," Hermione said haughtily. "Actually, in chapter six, paragraph eight-"

"No one cares!" Ron sighed loudly.

Tom had enough of their nonsense. He looked Malfoy square in the eye. "Might I remind you, you're only eleven and therefore have no say. Now, move along."

"Why-You!" Malfoy went red in the face. "My father will hear about this!"

"Tell him I said hello, then," Tom made a motion with his hand.

Malfoy's hands curled into fists. "Flint was right. You're just a dirty mudblood like the rest of them." He stomped off in the other direction.

Harry expected to see Tom angry by the remark or to force them back at their own table. Nothing of the kind happened. He calmly took a bite of his toast.

"Whoa," Ron said in awe, breaking the silence. "That was brilliant."

Even Hermione was smiling.

"I suppose so," Tom said but Harry could tell he was pleased as well.

/

Tom was staring at him.

Harry had come down for breakfast alone and was sitting across from him like usual. The Slytherin had set his eyes on him, lingering with what could only be deciphered as disapproval.

"What?" Harry tilted his head. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No," Tom said flatly.

"Then what is it?"

Tom ignored the question for the moment. "Where are your friends?" He reached for another slice of bacon.

"They're your friends, too," Harry told him. Perhaps one day he would believe it.

"Yes," Tom said slowly. "I suppose they are."

Harry smiled. "Hermione wanted to check out a book before class and Ron's with his brothers. Fred and George wanted to show him something."

"I see." Harry finally understood what Tom was looking at. His hair. The older boy was eyeing it with profound distaste. "Do you own a comb?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded and shrugged. "It's always been like this."

"Have you even tried to tame it?"

Harry laughed. Tom did not. Oh, he was serious. "Yeah. Loads of times."

"Somehow I doubt that," Tom muttered with an eyeroll.

"It's not that bad," Harry countered. "Could be worse."

Tom let out a long sigh that indicated great suffering.

/

"There's a quidditch game Saturday," Harry told Tom.

"I'm well aware," The older boy said without looking up from his book.

"You should come," Harry said.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Ron couldn't imagine someone not liking quidditch.

"It's a waste of time."

Hermione nodded, happy that someone else shared her opinion. "I think the same."

Ron was gaping at them both. "You're both mental."

Tom did not care. He shut his book. "It's a dangerous sport and for the life of me, I can't understand why it's legal."

"It's not that bad," Harry cut in to avoid Ron exploding. "I've not heard about any deaths from it."

"Perhaps not at Hogwarts but in the professional leagues there have been," Tom corrected.

"How do you know that?" Ron demanded.

"Simple; I researched it back in my first year. I found everything there was to know regarding the topic."

"Great, another Hermione," Ron muttered.

Whether Tom heard him or not, he didn't acknowledge.

"You should come," Harry said. "Please, Tom?"

"Yeah, you could even wear a Gryffindor scarf to support Harry," Ron grinned.

"I wouldn't be caught dead in one," Tom sniffed.

"It's at ten if you change your mind," Harry said and while Tom ignored that as well, he hoped that maybe...just maybe...he'd show.

/

Harry didn't know if they were supposed to sit with their House during these celebrations but he sat with Tom anyway. Hermione and Ron were with them, of course. They all enjoyed the various sweets and while his friends were still carrying on their argument from this morning's Charms lesson, Tom decided to ask Harry a question.

"Are you sad?"

"What?" Harry was startled to hear such a question from him. Especially with how critically the older boy was looking at him.

"It's Halloween."
"Err, yeah?" Harry furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Your parents are dead," Tom said bluntly. He, too, lacked tact like Hermione was often saying Ron did. Only, Harry was fairly sure Tom's was on purpose. "Doesn't it bother you?"

Harry glanced down at his plate. "It does."

"Then why are you even here? I would've thought you'd be in your dorm or something," Tom said.

"I...I don't know," Harry said truthfully.

"Do you want to be here?"

He couldn't see a reason why he wouldn't be.

"I -" Harry paused and then restarted, carefully, "I want to be here with you three."

Tom chewed on a piece of taffy.

"At least you have your parents," Harry smiled at him.

The Slytherin said nothing.