A week passed. The sessions with Professor Snape proceeded as always, but there was a particularly piercing look in his eyes now when he looked at Harry that made the whole system acutely uncomfortable. It wasn't a sleazy sort of look-nothing like how Uncle Vernon looked at Kitten, thank Merlin!-but nevertheless, it was unsettling. And new. They didn't like new things. New things tended to herald "bad."

Hermione kept looking at them oddly, as well. If she wasn't looking at them like they were a new and fascinating sort of bug, she was staring at them with such naked pity in her eyes, even Tom felt uneasy. She kept rushing off at odd times, her arms full of muggle psychology books. If Tom didn't know better, he'd say she was cracking under the strain of exams, but this was Hermione he was talking about. She thrived on academic stress, much like Raven did. The two really were destined to become the best of friends, he'd thought wryly more than once.

If Hermione had been in Slytherin, Tom would have thought perhaps Blaise had confided in her the snippets he'd let drop about their home life. But she was in Ravenclaw, and Blaise preferred to keep secrets like that in-House, no matter how chummy he might be with someone. And they weren't really friends, anyway. They were Harry's friends, which made them friendly, but they weren't real friends. So Tom was stumped, and with him, the whole system.

But they persisted and went about their life as best as they could until one gloomy, overcast Wednesday morning when Ron Weasley returned to Hogwarts.

Harry was completely unprepared for the suspension to be up, and he stood stock still in the Entrance Hall, watching the red-headed boy gingerly slip in with a slightly dumpy woman with frizzy red hair who must be his mum. She was lecturing him in a low enough tone that Harry couldn't hear it, straightening Ron's collar and flattening his hair.

"And be good!" Harry heard the parting admonition as Ron's mum straightened up, pulled her coat around her, and left.

Though there were many students milling through the Hall on the way to lunch, Harry felt like he was the only one, trapped in a spotlight with the Gryffindor first year. The one who'd participated in assaulting him. Who'd nearly thrown up on his shoes after landing the first punch. He felt sick. His stomach burned like it was on fire. Ron hadn't seen him yet, was too busy scanning the Hall for fellow Gryffindors, messing up his hair with a careless hand and pulling his trunk forward.

"Ron!" Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan bounded forward and Harry melted into the shadows by the staircase, feeling like he was going to sick up on his shoes at any moment. It was too much, and Tom neatly slipped forward, taking control of the body and keeping it hidden. He was quite interested to know how the return of Weasley would be received.

Very well, apparently, at least by his fellow House members. Finnegan clapped him on the back and Thomas smiled so widely, it looked like his face would split. Other Gryffindors passing by gave him at least a friendly nod. All is forgiven in Gryffindor House, is that right? Tom thought viciously, his fingernails digging into his palms. Never mind how he clearly exemplified his House traits by conspiring to beat up another student and then couldn't even handle what he'd done. Running away like a bloody coward. Perfect Lion, indeed. A snort escaped him, but no one heard it. They were well-hidden behind the heavy banister.

Ron looked around, much as a king might survey his kingdom, then turned toward Gryffindor Tower, Thomas helping him push along his trunk. It seemed nothing much had changed at all, save for an extra spattering of freckles on the boy's face.

Lovely, Tom slumped against the stairs when Weasel was out of sight, heaving a heavy sigh and scrubbing his hand through their untidy mop of hair roughly. The same arse he'd always been, at least at first glance. Clearly the suspension had done him good. Tom had never met Molly Weasley, but he knew that she'd lost family in the first war with Voldemort. Perhaps it was her fault Ron held such a casual, long-standing grudge against Slytherin House. In that case, spending two months home with her would have only served to further strengthen his prejudice and uphold his belief that he was in the right for hating Harry.

We don't fucking need this, Jay stated the obvious. He looked angry inside, tension thrumming through every muscle. No, but what choice did they have? It's not like they could leave Hogwarts. The Dursleys was a choice worse than Hell.

We could tell? Blue suggested tentatively. But Tom had already thought of it and discarded that consideration as swiftly as it had been born. No. No one could know that Harry Potter wasn't who he seemed. That his mind had shattered like a broken window. Perhaps if he trusted someone, he could consider it, but then again, he was a Slytherin.

And he knew they couldn't trust anyone.