Most of the Slytherin house was gathered in the middle of the table; Tom was not. He made it a point to sit away from them, having no patience to deal with any of his housemates. They grated on his nerves rather quickly, faster than humanly possible. Malfoy in particular. There were only so many times he could withstand hearing the little blonde cretin announce that his father would hear about this before his hand itched to grab his wand and curse him.

He didn't. Much as he yearned to. He did have some self control, more than enough to not give in to his desires. It was sorely tempting though; Malfoy didn't know it but he chipped away at Tom's sanity every time he opened his mouth.

He was in the midst of working on a potions essay. It was quite lengthy; Professor Snape had gotten angered by one of the Gryffindor's messing up the potion for the day's lesson on Monday and as punishment, assigned the entire class six feet worth of parchment due on the origin, effects and usage for the potion they'd attempted to make. He was nearly finished, just touching up on the last couple of paragraphs. There came a shadow over his parchment, his grip tightening on his quill. He didn't have to guess twice as to whom the shadow belonged to.

Malfoy.

"Riddle," The blonde said as some sort of greeting.

Tom ignored him in favor of continuing to work.

A hand slammed down on his parchment, effectively stopping him from writing. He wondered how Snape would react to him cursing a fellow housemate. He'd probably wind up with a detention or two, the first for him since he'd started at Hogwarts. It was considered a disgrace for a Slytherin especially to receive such a punishment, but all things considered, he hardly cared.

"I'm talking to you, Riddle," Malfoy said as though he were relatively important and not some mere first year who thought he owned the place.

"And?" Tom retorted, finally lifting his eyes. "Pray tell, why should I care?"

It was a brief stare down. Malfoy momentarily faltered at being challenged, of which he wasn't used to seeing it happen, Tom concluded. He'd hoped it would be enough to get the brat to leave him alone, having grown fed up with his presence already.

Naturally, it wasn't. Malfoy was stupidly brave in ways that made him appear Gryffindor-like.

"Because," Malfoy puffed up his chest, "I think you'll find I can make your life better. Much better."

Tom barely refrained from snorting.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll see sense and agree."

Tom plastered on a smile that was far from pleasant. "I think you'll find I can figure out things for myself and if you have to resort to threatening others, then perhaps you're not as powerful as you think you are," He said in a soft whisper.

His words ticked the blonde off. "You-you-" He seethed.

Tom simply smirked.

For a split second, Malfoy was on the verge of a conniption fit. He backed off at the last second, cooling down much too quickly to be genuine. "What kind of a name is Riddle, anyway?" He said nastily.

Tom's face hardened.

"You're not a mudblood, are you?" Malfoy said without minding his volume. Some of their other housemates were looking in their direction. "Salazar Slytherin would be rolling in his grave at what his house has become," he spat.

Whispers and not so subtle laughter hit Tom's ears. It reminded him of the orphanage, the flashbacks flooding his mind all at once; he remembered how Billy and Amy used to corner him, taunting him, shoving him around when he'd been much smaller, vulnerable. The other children called him a freak. Their voices rang in his ears.

"Freak, freak," They chanted over and over.

Tom's grip on his book was starting to hurt his hands. He tried not to pay attention to them, to focus on the book but the words blended together and he could not turn his attention to anything but them.

"Stop it!" He hissed, losing some of his control. "Stop!"

"Freak! Freak!"

He suddenly came back.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," Tom said through gritted teeth. He made to write again but Malfoy put another hand down in front of him.

"Or what?" The blonde said mockingly.

Tom jumped when his inkwell tipped over on purpose and spilled all over his parchment, the table and his uniform.

"Oops," Malfoy said flatly.

Tom's hands curled into fists. He glared at the blonde with an icy stare in his eyes.

"How dare you-"

"Are you threatening him?" A fellow Slytherin that Tom didn't care to remember the name of snarled.

"I think someone needs to be taught a lesson," Another person smirked. She turned her head and called, "Say, Flint. Come deal with this runt."

Tom had heard fellow students rumoring that Flint had troll blood in him for his size and appearance. He'd never paid much mind to it until now. While he was on the tall side, he was still under six feet while Flint was not. Tom refused to cower under him, stubbornly staring him in the eye.

"I suppose this is all you're good for, then?" Tom spoke up. "Physical labor? I've heard about your scores and I must say it's a wonder you've made it as far as you have."

He was abruptly seized by the front of his uniform, pulled forward to where he was nearly over the other side of the table.

"What did you say, mudblood?" Flint hissed.

"I think Riddle here needs to be taught some manners," Malfoy said smugly. "He should know how to treat his superiors."

"I hope you're not talking about yourselves," At this, Tom did snort. "You're not worth a scrap-"

Tom was pushed backwards. He fell with his head and back smalling on the floor of the Great Hall. Pain radiated through his body and he only vaguely registered the laughter that erupted from other students. By this time, Flint had come to the other side, hovering above him.

"You want to try saying that again?"

"Leave him alone!"

The atmosphere went still in the general area. Tom moved his aching head to glance to the right of him. Potter was standing with his two friends, stupidly determined like the Gryffindor he was.

"What did you say?"

"I said, leave him alone," Potter marched up to Flint, staring at him without an ounce of fear. Or perhaps he was merely good at hiding it. Tom saw his eyes widen a smidgen at first but that vanished seconds later.

"Yeah?" Flint shoved Potter easily. He really was a small thing. "What are you going to do about it?"

Weasley came beside Potter. "He'll fight you!" He declared.

He and Potter apparently weren't on the same page, Tom deduced, by the way Potter had looked at the red-head incredulously.

Granger must have thought it was an incredibly stupid thing as well. She looked thoroughly disapproving, mouth in a thin line.

Flint let out a bark of laughter. "Is this what's coming to Riddle's rescue; Gryffindor's golden boy, a mudblood and a blood traitor?" He smiled in a wicked way, showing them all his horrid looking, yellowed, crooked teeth. "You're a disgrace to the Slytherin house."

He gave Tom a kick to his side. He hissed in pain, clenching it.

"You...you rude person!" Granger cried out.

Weasley rolled his eyes. "Go easy on him, Hermione," he said dryly.

She gave him a dirty look.

Flint was already gone by the time Tom was on his feet again. He and the other Slytherins were yet again laughing.

At Tom.

People were always doing that to him. It didn't matter whether he was freaky little Tom Riddle, the one that everyone assumed was a fellow muggle at Wools, the one that they knew had something wrong with him or Tom Riddle the wizard; the one that invaded the noble Slytherin house with dirty blood.

And he didn't need Harry bloody Potter to protect him.

"Tom," Potter's voice made blood pound in his ears. "Tom, are you okay?"

"Looked like that hurt," Weasley mumbled.

Tom was aware of everyone's gaze that lingered on the four of them. He pushed Potter away, glaring at him. "Bugger off!" He snapped.

Weasley looked angry. Granger's eyes widened. Potter was surprised and then unsure.

"I'm just trying to help," Potter frowned.

"Well don't!" Tom snatched his belongings and stormed out of the hall. He could hear hurried footsteps behind him, alerting him to the fact that Potter and his friends were following him.

"Tom, wait!"

Tom whirled around, scowling deeply.

"What's your problem?" Weasley demanded. "Harry defended you from Flint and bugger off is all you've got to say?"

"I didn't ask him to!" Tom's temper was skyrocketing, the taunting, the laughter coming back to him.

"I know," Potter shifted. "But we're friends and you looked like you needed it-"

The boy stumbled back after yet another shove, letting out a noise of alarm. Weasley caught him before he tumbled all the way to the floor. Tom stared at them coldly, not reacting to how hurt Potter looked.

"We aren't friends and I don't need Gryffindor's golden boy to defend me."

"I just wanted to help," Potter said.

"Right. Got to make yourself look good," Tom sneered.

"It's not like that!"

"Don't kid yourself, Potter. We both know you don't actually care."

/

Harry watched Tom storm off again. He didn't follow this time around, stomach dropping to the floor as Ron and Hermione came beside him. Ron was furious, rattling off how he knew it wasn't a good idea to try and befriend a Slytherin.

"They'll just stab you in the back anyways," Ron continued. "Don't you see? He isn't even grateful."

Hermione was frowning. "Perhaps he's embarrassed," She wondered. "You saw how-what was his name?-Flint was in his face. Everyone was laughing at him. He's probably just lashing out. I found an intriguing book on psychology in the muggle library that I frequently visit and-"

"No offense, Hermione, but I'm not in the mood to hear it right now," Harry muttered.

/

Potter didn't seek him out.

Tom should have felt relieved. After all, the tiny first year kept trying to wave and say hello to him whenever they happened to be close in the corridor since they'd met on the train. It was a great annoyance, one that he wished could easily be flicked away like a bug that landed on his arm.

And now at last, he was free.

Finally, there was no more. Tom could be at peace without being talked to, usually while in the midst of doing his coursework and he didn't have to force himself to socialize with Potter's friends. Which he hadn't wanted to the day they sat down with him, not that he was given much of a choice.

He sat in one of the windowsills, curled up enough to fit while his knees were pulled up, balancing his parchment. It was steadily raining outside, the drops falling on the exterior of the window. He exhaled, finishing up on the last of his essay.

Tom was finally free of the tiny nuisance.

He paused.

So why did he not feel as happy as he should have?

/

"You've got to stop staring at Riddle," Ron muttered. "People are going to talk."

They were in the hall, sitting at the Gryffindor table with the rest of their housemates. Harry's eyes kept wandering from his plate over to the Slytherin table where Tom was. Seeing Tom made Harry's chest ache. He'd really thought they would be good friends. He'd brushed off Ron's worries about his house, thinking that surely it didn't amount to much.

But maybe it did.

Maybe Gryffindors and Slytherins weren't meant to be anything beyond rivals.

Hermione was more sympathetic. She understood where he was coming from. Harry wished that for as smart as she was, she could do something to help the situation. "Leave him alone," Hermione ordered Ron. "He's upset."

"Dunno why," Ron said after he swallowed.

"You know why! He really wants to be Tom's friend."

Ron patted Harry awkwardly on the shoulder. "You've still got us, mate. We're your friends."

"That's right," Hermione nodded.

"Thanks," Harry gave a half smile.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful for what he had, Ron and Hermione were his first real friends, but he'd hoped for the same in Tom. It was hard to describe, but he felt drawn to him, a strong feeling that he needed to be there for the older boy. It was of nothing he ever felt before. He didn't anticipate on Tom rejecting him. He'd thought after that day in the library they had come to an understanding of some sorts. If not friends at that point, at least Tom seemed a little more open to it.

He sighed.

"Everything alright over here?" Percy was there, standing by them. Oliver Wood was with him as well as they sat down. Harry liked him well enough, although he could be a bit harsh when it came to their quidditch practices. "You're looking a bit down," he addressed Harry.

Oliver popped a grape in his mouth, not bothering to chew with his mouth closed as he said, "Don't 'orget we 'ave quidditch practice."

Percy wrinkled his nose. "Don't you have any manners?"

Oliver swallowed and grinned. "When my Mum makes me use 'em."

Percy rolled his eyes.

"It's nothing," Harry said with a shrug.

"It's Riddle again," Ron told them, making a face.

Hermione shot him a look.

"You're still trying to be friends with him?" Oliver said. He blinked. "Why?"

"Right?" Ron nodded, glad someone saw things the way he did. "It's...strange."

"It is not," Percy shook his head. "I'm glad Harry's taking the initiative to not fall for some immature rivalry."

"He's not letting me, though," Harry said. "I thought...I thought we were fine and then last week happened."

Something akin to pity came onto Percy's face. He looked to Oliver for a moment and then turned back to Harry. To him, it seemed like the older boy was struggling on coming up with an appropriate response. "He may be...unaccustomed to your advances," He said carefully.

Oliver snorted. "Do you have to say it like that, Perce?"

Like Hermione had to Ron, Percy was giving Oliver a dirty look. "Ignore him," The red-head said. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Oliver mumbled incoherently.

Evidently, Percy heard him, using that 'mum hearing' Ron swore his brother had. "You wouldn't have done so poorly if you would have studied! Next time, use your free time for Transfiguration instead of gliding around on a broom and maybe you won't fail."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what that had to do with this conversation now.

"As I was saying," Percy said pleasantly, reminding Harry distinctly of Aunt Petunia when she would stop yelling at Harry long enough to talk to one of the neighbors at the door or on the phone, her tone abruptly switching something much friendlier. "I told you no one really talks to him. He's likely not used to people that keep trying. Most give up and even less approach him because he's a Slytherin."

"That's sad," Hermione murmured. Harry had to agree, remembering his primary school days. He'd wished over and over for a friend; a true friend, anyone to make him not feel alone anymore.

"Yes," Percy nodded. "And while I admire your persistence, Harry, you must also understand that Riddle may very well wish to remain alone. You cannot make someone be your friend."

A flush came over Harry's cheeks. "I know..."

Percy smiled kindly. "Perhaps it would be best if you left him alone for now," he suggested.

"Maybe," Harry echoed.

Oliver put his drinking glass back down, using his uniformed arm to wipe off the excess pumpkin juice on his lip. Percy looked in distaste at this. "Gotta say, was pretty brave of you to go against Flint like that."

"You could have gotten hurt," Percy countered. "He's much bigger than you."

"And yet Ron told him Harry would fight him," Hermione spoke up.

"Thanks a lot," Ron hissed at her.

Percy rounded on his brother. "You what? What were you thinking?"

"He wasn't," Hermione muttered.

"You know better than to start fights, Ron," Percy lectured. Harry saw the worried gleam in the older boy's eyes. "I don't want any of you getting hurt."

"We'll be fine," Ron said. "He didn't even do anything."

"This time," Oliver snorted. "Trust me, you don't want to mess with Flint. 'Less you've got the right spell. I can teach-I mean," he corrected himself when Percy glared at him, "Fighting is wrong. Don't do it."

A small grin of amusement peeked out from Harry.

Ron snickered.

Hermione was clearly unimpressed.

"There's one more thing," Harry said which drew Percy's attention back to him. "Flint was calling Tom a mudblood." He looked confused. "What's that?"

Oliver sucked in a breath. Ron and Percy exhaled deeply. Harry looked to Hermione for an explanation but she was just as lost as he was.

"What? What did I say?"

"It's a dirty word, mudblood is," Percy spoke very low to where only they could hear. "It means dirty blood. It's used for people like Hermione who are muggleborns. Ancient pureblood families like the Malfoys usually use it to mean that magical blood has been tainted with."

"But Tom's a half-blood," Harry said.

"It can still be directed towards half-bloods. It's more common toward muggleborns because they have no other magical people within their families."

Harry frowned.

"Bunch of rubbish it is," Oliver said strongly. "Blood shouldn't matter, anyhow. It doesn't mean you'll be a good witch or wizard. Blimey, I know plenty of purebloods that don't know how to cast a spell if their life depended on it."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "And if Tom is as smart as we've heard he is, then it's definitely not true."

"Right," Percy said. He then put a hand to Harry's shoulder just like Ron done. Awkwardness must run in the Weasley family. "Just give him some time. He might come around. And if he doesn't, you know you've tried."

"Alright," Harry said. "Thanks Percy."

"Anytime, Harry."

/

Tom adjusted the strap over his shoulder, maneuvering through the corridor with ease. He ignored the stares that came from people who still remembered the confrontation between him, Malfoy and Flint. He just wanted to get back to the dungeons where he knew no one else was at the moment and he could be in peace.

He didn't expect to hear his name come off anyone's lips.

Coming to an abrupt halt, his eyes swiveled to a class where Potter, his friends and Malfoy were. It was just the four of them. Malfoy was smirking at them, sounding haughty like usual.

"Don't talk about him like that," Potter said defensively.

Malfoy's eyes locked on Potter. "Why do you care? I heard he doesn't want to be around you."

Potter's face hardened. "I don't care. I'm not going to let you talk about him like that."

Malfoy came closer and soon the two boys were staring at each other rather aggressively.

Granger decided to put her two cents in. "I think you're jealous," She said confidently.

Malfoy broke away from eye contact with Potter to scoff at her. "Jealous of what, a mudblood?"

"Don't call him that," Potter snapped.

A nasty smile came on Malfoy's face. "Isn't this touching, Gryffindor's little golden boy defending the mudblood of Slytherin."

"We're warning you, Malfoy," Weasley, surprisingly enough, said. "Leave him alone."
"Or what?" Malfoy said.

"Or-" Weasley faltered. "Or I'll get my brothers after you! Fred and George will take any opportunity to go after one of you."

"I'm shaking," Malfoy sneered.

"I'm serious, Malfoy," Potter said, his gaze never wavering. "Leave Tom alone."

"Or you'll have to deal with us," Granger added.

"Right," Weasley said. "We'll make you regret it."

They weren't nearly as threatening as they thought they were. Not as three tiny first years. Just as Malfoy wasn't intimidating like he assumed he was. It was all laughable really.

"That's what you think," Malfoy hissed and stomped out of the classroom.

For a brief second, Potter, his friends and Tom made eye contact.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. He wasn't used to this, to the boy's persistent efforts or knowing that he still defended Tom even after he'd snapped at him and effectively got him to leave him alone. Why? Why had he done it? It hardly made sense.

Tom walked away quickly after that.

But he'd deny it until his dying breath.

/

It was nearly three weeks later.

They'd made eye contact, staring blankly at each other. It was the first time since the incident that they'd looked at each other. Harry hoped for a split second that everything could be patched up.

But of course, it didn't happen.

He'd watched as Tom walked away without looking back.

Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe they weren't destined to be friends after all.

/

"Potter, a word."

Potter turned in disbelief, staring up at him stupidly. He'd caught the first year just before he went up the long staircase to get to Gryffindor Tower. Weasley and Granger had started to go up but once they realized he was there, they stopped, watching him.

"Oh, okay, sure," Potter blurted out. "What is it?"

Tom shifted uncomfortably. He'd done much thinking for the past three weeks. Mostly in regards to how Potter had acted towards him despite his own behavior. He'd thought that by coming to Hogwarts he would finally get a friend that he'd been longing for all these years. When two years swept by without any change, he became resigned to the fact that no one was ever going to want to willingly be around freaky little Tom Riddle.

Until a stubborn little Gryffindor first year did.

Tom cleared his throat. He'd always disliked having to admit when he was wrong. "I...I suppose I owe you an apology."

"You suppose?" Weasley said. He grunted in pain when Granger roughly elbowed him in the side.

"Ron!"

Tom resisted the urge to curse the boy. It was difficult. But he managed.

"You don't have to apologize," Potter said.

What? Tom stared.

"What?" Weasley said loudly.

Potter paid him no attention. "I shouldn't have come off so strong. You told me you didn't want to be friends and I should have respected that."

Had he said this a week ago, Tom would have agreed. But he'd rehearsed his apology over and over so he wouldn't keep grimacing while he said it and now the boy didn't even want to hear it?

"No, you're going to listen-" Tom started.

Potter shook his head. "It's okay, Tom. You don't have to."

Tom was going to throttle him if he didn't shut up. How dare he? After all that practicing!

Potter continued, "I'll just leave you alone from now on." He turned around on his heel after giving Tom a small smile.

"Wait," Tom said and for the second time, Potter froze. "I have found that your presence isn't entirely...irritating. I wouldn't be against you coming around sometimes."

Potter beamed.

And then he looked at him questioningly.

"Does this mean...are we-?"

Tom sighed heavily. "I suppose, yes. We could be considered..." He made a bit of a face as he said it. "Friends."

"All of us?" Potter clarified, gesturing to Granger and Weasley. The red-head seemed a little less than pleased.

"All of you," Tom confirmed with some hesitation.

/

Tom walked back to the dungeons, mulling over the turn of events.

To think, a Slytherin and three Gryffindors.

He wondered how this would turn out.