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Tom Riddle was a bully. Taller than many of the other children, mean streak a mile wide, and just sly enough to get away with it. He was a nightmare for most students at Hogwarts elementary school. His father was a nightmare for the parents and school board, an important donor and an even more important member of the community.
So unfortunately for the poor souls of Hogwarts, Tom Riddle was free to do as he pleased. He preferred it that way, he was the strongest after all, the smartest. Everyone else was beneath him and they should know their place.
And then Harry Potter moved to town.
He didn't seem very interesting at first. The other kids warmed up to him quickly, he was friendly and playful. Tom considered showing him the order of things, pushing him down to see his knees bleed and his eyes tear up. But he lost interest quickly, his attention turning to one who never disappointed him as they were released onto the playground.
“Hello, Neville,” He purred and smiled at the way the smaller boy paled. Neville was round and weak, so easy to poke and prod. It was almost too easy to have the sensitive boy sniveling, like the crybaby that he was.
“Leave him alone!” And suddenly Harry Potter was interesting again. It had been a long time since anyone stood up to Tom. And this little boy was nearly a head shorter, all glasses and curls but his eyes were bright in defiance. For just a moment Tom was impressed by the anger burning there in the green.
“Why would I do that when we were having so much fun? Right, Neville?” Tom offered the crying boy a mean grin and Harry stepped between them with a scowl.
“Why are you being a bully? No one likes a bully!”
Tom scowled, something about the words pressing just right on the wrong button to truly upset him. As if he cared what any of these children thought of him. With a strong shove he sent Harry toppling to the ground. A gasp from the other kids on the playground and Tom knew the teachers would be coming soon. His father would be displeased with him.
Harry didn't stay on the ground like Tom had expected, he didn't even look like he was going to cry. Instead he stood back up, raised a sure fist and socked Tom right in the nose.
Now it was Tom's turn to stumble backwards, hand cradling his face in shock. He’d never been hit before. He pulled his hand away to find it red. Harry Potter had made his nose bleed.
“Harry!” A distraught teacher yelled, rushing over. “What in the world has happened? Inside– both of you!”
Tom could only blink as he held an ice pack to his nose. Harry sat in the chair beside him, sullen with his arms crossed.
“I know this wasn't a good first impression but my kid is not going to punch someone for no reason,” Harry's dad looked alot like him, same tan skin and curly hair.
“And you believe my seven year old deserved to be punched?” Tom's dad responded, much calmer though he knew better than anyone his son's temperament.
The principal worried her wrists behind her mahogany desk, glancing between the bickering parents and Tom's eyes kept straying back to Harry.
He had dirt on his clothes from where Tom pushed him, his cheeks still flushed either from the outside heat or his anger. It was a pretty red.
“Why are you angry?” Tom asked curiously, taking a guess. He’d never understood righteous anger, Tom hadn't been bothering Harry at all by picking on Neville.
Harry turned to him with a glare.
“You pushed me. And you were mean to Neville,”
Tom considered apologizing. His dad always said you were meant to apologize when you got into trouble.
“You punched me,” Tom replied instead and Harry's glare wavered.
“You deserved it,”
“Because I was mean to Neville?”
Harry squinted at him, less angry, more like a puzzle. Their dads continued to bicker overhead.
“My mom says that if you're mean, people will be mean back so you should be nice to everyone.”
Tom considered this advice. He found being nice boring and exhausting.
“I don't have a mom,”
“Oh,” Harry's face seemed to clear at this knowledge, like this explained some deep question.
“Get up, Harry we’re leaving,” Harry's dad huffed, gathering their things.
“Okay. Bye, Tom, see you tomorrow,”
The adults faltered as Harry waved goodbye like they hadn’t nearly brawled on the playground. Tom himself wasn't entirely sure what had just transpired.
“Goodbye,”
“So…” Tom's dad started on the drive home. It always annoyed Tom how he started conversations that way.
“I got punched on the playground,” Tom supplied helpfully and his dad hummed, tapping the steering wheel.
“That you did. Do you know why you got punched?”
Tom considered this, kicking his feet as he looked out the car window. His nose ached, the coppery smell of blood strong.
“Harry didn't like that I was mean to Neville,” Tom frowned. This still didn't make sense to him. “Dad, why was Harry upset? I wasn't mean to him,”
Tom Senior sighed and glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. The kid was growing into an unempathetic menace.
“I don't know. Maybe Harry likes Neville and didn't want him to be upset. Or maybe he just thought it was the right thing to do,”
This wasn’t comforting to Tom either. Harry likes Neville? It was only his first day at school, how could he decide he likes Neville more than he likes Tom? He scowled, a warm trail drawing his attention to his chin.
“Dad my nose is bleeding again,”
A long suffering sigh, “We’re almost home,”
Tom's dad was away on a business trip the next morning so Martha got Tom ready for school and made breakfast. Tom figured he saw Martha more than his dad but that was okay she didn't ask as many questions. He did that a lot when Tom got in trouble for something, asked him a ton of questions and then disappeared to work for a while.
He’d called Tom ‘exhausting’ once, which was fair, Tom considered most people exhausting as well.
“I don’t want to hear that you’re getting into fights again okay?” Martha said as she drove him to school. Tom could feel her eyes on him from the rearview mirror but he ignored them. He wouldn't make any promises, after all just because he didn't feel like fighting now didn't mean he wouldn't feel like fighting later.
Tom walked himself to class, putting away his bag and finding his desk, only to be interrupted by a chipper voice.
“Goodmorning Tom!”
Tom turned to Harry, confused. Harry was smiling, eyes bright behind his too-big glasses.
“Goodmorning,”
The other children were also listening with confusion, Tom caught their teacher glancing over in worry from where she was stuck in conversation with another parent.
“How's your nose? It doesn't hurt too bad does it?”
His worry seemed genuine, though Tom had never been great at telling the difference. Had he decided he liked Tom more than Neville after all?
“It’s fine,” His nose still ached, bruised and fading already to a sickly yellow under his protective bandaid.
Harry's strange behavior continued throughout the day.
“Tom, come sit with us!” He called at lunch and Tom nearly tripped in surprise. Tom ate with the same dull children that followed him around every day like dogs. The ones that laughed at his mean jokes and urged him to push around Neville so that they were never on the wrong end of his attention.
Tom glanced at Harry, taking note of the empty seat by his side and the unenthused looks of his friends. Neville was there looking a tinge green. It would certainly be more entertaining than his usual crowd. He did not spare them a glance as he joined Harry, lunch box in hand.
“Does your dad make your lunch?” Harry asked curiously as Tom unpacked his food.
“Of course not, Martha does,”
“Who's Martha?” One of Harry's friends, Ronald, asked curiously. Tom shrugged in response.
“She’s the housekeeper and cook. She works for my dad,”
“You’ve got a maid? ” Ronald asked mid-chew and Tom grimaced at his open mouth. “Are you rich or something?”
“Don’t be mean, Ron. He hasn't got a mom so it’d make sense to have a maid instead,” Harry scolded as if this made perfect sense.
Tom would like to know Harry's definition of mean, it wasn't like he’d said anything untrue or hurtful.
“Why haven't you got a mum?” Ron asked and Harry frowned at him, the bushy haired girl in their group gasping.
“Ron! Honestly you can't ask things like that,” Hermione, if Tom remembered correctly.
“She died when I was born,”
Despite their judgement towards Ron the other kids seemed very interested in this story.
“That's awful,” Hermione commented and Tom shrugged.
“I can take care of myself mostly,” And he could, Tom Riddle had learned to be a very independent child. He could tie his own shoes, dress himself, and hardly ever needed help with his homework.
“Is your house very big?” Ron asked and Tom felt the boy may be too nosy for his own good. He eyed up his pale, freckled skin, his rust colored hair and second-hand clothes.
“Larger than yours, I would guess,”
This seemed to upset Ron whose pale skin grew rapidly red, his eyes suspiciously wet. Tom watched on with interest until Harry tugged at his sleeve and drew his attention.
“You’ve upset him,” He hissed, displeased and Tom frowned in turn. What did it matter who Tom upset? Would Harry defend every student at the school? “You’ve got to say ‘I’m sorry’,”
Tom didn't much like being told what to do. Harry looked at him expectantly and Tom sighed.
“I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to upset you,” He lied. Ron sniffed, appeased in the way children often were by such simple words. Tom didn't understand it but Harry grinned in his pleased way, green eyes impossibly bright and Tom thought maybe it didn't matter if he understood.
“You should come to my house for dinner,” Harry called from the swings at recess. Tom sat on the swing next to him, kicking his feet at a much calmer pace.
“You can meet my mum, and my cat, and we can play. Maybe we can have a sleepover,”
Tom wondered what his dad would say to that idea, Tom had never been to a sleepover before. He’d never been much interested in playing at all.
“Okay,” He called back and Harry rewarded him with a grin.
When pickup time came instead of waiting at the carline for Martha, Tom followed Harry to his bright yellow school-bus. Harry grabbed his hand and tugged him along. Tom stared at their interlaced fingers until they’d found seats and Harry released him.
“Does your dad and Martha care that you’re coming over?” Harry asked, looking out the window as the bus peeled away.
“No,” Tom answered, though in fact he’d had no way to ask for permission without borrowing the phone in the front office. Too afraid that his father would say no, Tom hadn't asked at all.
“Okay good. My mum is always happy when I have friends over, and she cooks really good. If we eat our greens we can even have dessert,”
Harry talked a lot. He prattled on about what toys he had, what he’d done with his parents, his favorite foods, and color.
“What's your favorite color Tom?”
He’d never really thought about it. “Green,”
“Well mine is red because–”
And so it went. Tom usually grew bored of others quickly but his attention was rapt even on Harry's most inane comments. Is this what having a friend felt like? It felt a little like hunger. The same feeling Tom got before he stole a toy or trinket, the need to possess.
“Oh! This is my stop, c’mon Tom!” Harry shot up, hiking his bag higher on his shoulders and seizing Tom's hand once again to pull him along.
Harry's mom was waiting for him at the corner of the street, eyes that looked strikingly similar to Harry's growing round at their joined hands.
“Hi mum!” Harry waved with his free hand and Mrs. Potter waved back.
“Hi, Love, who have you brought with you?”
She seemed kind, soft in the same ways Harry was though it was clear he’d inherited much from his father. Her hair was a brilliant red, and she smoothed it back a tad nervously.
“This is Tom,” Harry introduced and Tom nodded politely.
“Hello Mrs. Potter,” He’d always been taught to offer his hand but he didn't quite want to pull away from Harry's warm grip.
“Tom Riddle?” She questioned, eyes rounder.
“Yes,”
“Lovely to meet you,” She plastered on a smile and ushered them past her towards a small cottage up the street. “Do your parents know you’re here, dear?”
“Yes,” Tom lied again, and this seemed to settle her nerves.
“Well that's alright then. Come in, dinners almost ready,”
The garden was well-kept, if a little unorderly, the flowers wild and leggy with all of the colors mixed together in one bed. Tom wondered what the gardener at the manor would have to say about that.
“James, Harry's brought a friend home,” Mrs. Potter called as they stepped inside. The cottage was warm, the entrance cramped with a coat rack and shoes piled by the door. Harry kicked his shoes off into the pile and Tom followed his example, carefully toeing off his own.
Tom recognized Harry's dad when he poked his head around the corner, his hair the same wild nest that Harry's was.
“Hello Mr. Potter,”
“Well, hello there Tom,” He greeted, sounding surprised. Harry tugged him along the hallway into what seemed like a small kitchen and dining room. James was busy at the counter making dinner. It smelled good, the whole house smelled sweet like vanilla, but the scent of dinner had Tom's stomach growling. Mr. Potter laughed at the sound.
“Just adding the final touches. Set the table, will you, Harry?”
The table had just four chairs and Harry sped about depositing napkins and silverware at each seat.
“No more fights, I hope?” Mr. Potter asked and Tom shook his head.
“He even said ‘i’m sorry’ to Ron earlier when he almost cried,” Harry puffed out his chest at this admission as if it was a personal victory.
“Well that’s very good of you, Tom”
Tom shifted in place, the praise making him uncharacteristically shy. At the same time there was a pleased feeling, like a purring cat in his chest that preened at his efforts being acknowledged.
“Will you be staying the night, Tom?” Mrs. Potter asked as she gently took his bag and placed it aside with Harry's. Tom bit his cheek unsure how to respond. He’d like to stay with Harry, but he wasn't sure how much trouble he’d be in if he was gone all night long.
“Your dad does know you're here, Tom?” Mr. Potter asked and Tom shifted.
“Yes,” It came out less convincing this time and the Potters shared a look.
“Alright, you might as well sit down for dinner. I’ll go call the school just to be safe,” Mrs. Potter ushered him onto a cushioned chair and kissed Mr. Potter on the cheek on her way out of the room.
Harry climbed into the seat next to him, oblivious to the situation.
“We’re having mac’n cheese and chicken,” He grinned. He was missing a tooth right at the corner of his smile.
“Okay,” Tom liked mac’n cheese. Martha only made it when she knew his dad wouldn't be home.
Mr. Potter set out the plates, each full of good-smelling food. Though alongside the mac’n cheese was a small pile of broccoli which Harry had not mentioned. Tom didn't like broccoli.
Mrs. Potter returned and everyone sat down at the table like one big family and began to eat. Harry was a very messy eater, stuffing food quickly into his mouth despite his parents' admonishments. Tom ate slower, picking around the broccoli.
“If you don’t eat your greens you can’t have dessert,” Harry reminded him and Tom looked to the adults. Mr. Potter nodded solemnly.
“Rules are rules kiddo, even I have to eat my greens,” He punctuated this with a big bite of broccoli and a dramatized face of disgust. The sight made Harry laugh, a sound Tom was coming to like.
Tom looked to his plate considering his options before pushing it away.
“That’s okay,” He could have dessert whenever he wanted at home after all. Harry, however, was baffled.
“You don't want dessert?”
Tom shrugged but before he could answer the phone rang in the hall. Mrs. Potter got up to answer, calling Tom along with her.
Tom shifted on his feet as she talked for a moment, feeling as if he’d been sent to the office at school again.
“It's your dad,” She said, handing him the phone. He took it, twisting the phone chord around his finger.
“Hi dad,”
“Hey Tom,” His dad answered, sounding not angry at all. “So a sleepover?” He asked and Tom nodded before remembering to answer aloud.
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
His dad laughed, an uncommon sound.
“A little late to ask now, isn't it? Of course it's okay, son. Martha will drop you off some clothes for school so you can go with the Potters tomorrow,”
“Okay,” Tom couldn't help his smile. A sleepover with Harry.
“But next time, tell me or Martha before . Ok?”
“Okay,” Tom said again.
“Alright, have fun. Hand me back to Harry's mom now,”
Tom did as asked and bound back to the kitchen.
Harry and Harry's dad looked up expectantly and Tom gave them his most charming grin.
“I can stay for a sleepover. I’d like to eat my greens now,”