AN: The basic idea is a series of oneshots from my Fate's Favourite universe that come into my head, but that I can't currently fit into the story. Excuse any medical errors, my source is google. I take non slashy requests if you want. Enjoy - The Fictionist

Harry flinched, almost unnoticeably, as a scalding hot wave of coffee washed over his head and a fist smacked into his jaw - whipping his head back with a crack as it whacked into the wall.

"Suck on that, death eater!" Mclaggan sneered. "And get out of our common room."

He stared in silence for a moment, heat rising up his face. He had never felt so humiliating. Trying to pretend he wasn't hurt, desperately not looking at anyone, he backed out of the Gryffindor common room. A second later, he was running.

It was DADA in an hour, but who really gave a damn. He was mortified to find that his eyes were stinging with hot tears. Coffee, burning and sticky, clogged his hair and face - blisteringly warm. He swore under his breath; veering into the bathroom.

He dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, praying that no one would enter as he turned on the tap and leaned over. He had to get this crap out before class.

This whole situation was ridiculous - what normal person got bombarded with mocking hisses, coffee and punches when they walked into a room? It just didn't happen. Except to him apparently. Salazar, he was such a freak.

He bent over the sink, dragging his locks beneath them. This was so stupid. He felt like punching someone, cursing them bloody…but he also felt like crying. No one in Gryffindor had said a word to protest to Mclaggan. Some had looked guilty and sheepish sure, but they hadn't done anything. Oh, the fickleness of Gryffindor friendship. They were supposed to be the heroes, with the Slytherins back stabbing anyone and everyone to meet their goals…but it wasn't like that. Slytherins were intensely loyal to each other. They bickered, they put each other down to rally for status and power - but they never excluded a fellow snake for another house…not publicly. The Gryffindors: how many times had they turned on him before? Even the steadfast loyalty of the badgers had wavered in his direction before.

Ironically, the only people who had never treated him different were the snakes.

Damn it all.


He froze at the familiar, velvety voice. Tom. Crap.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Tom replied. There was the soft sound of footsteps, even and ever closer. This day kept getting worse. He narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin heir - just daring him to ask why he had his head under a tap. Tom didn't, pausing only studying him for a moment before drawing his wand.

The wooden stalls of the lavatory shattered, one side splintering off. With a flick, a stool was flying into Tom's hand. He set it down between them. "Come here," he instructed. He raised his eyes to meet Tom's gaze, questioning. Tom rolled his eyes. "Sit."

Hesitantly, he did so.

"Tilt your head back. You're making a mess of yourself."

He didn't move, feeling far too vulnerable and exposed. Riddle sighed. "Harry," he chided.

Slowly, so slowly, he let his head fall back to rest on the sink behind him. He didn't shift his eyes, his hand fisting around the wand in his pocket. If Tom noted the action, he ignored it; pocketing his own wand.

Long fingers threaded into his hair, tugging it back. He felt his shoulders and neck muscles tense. This was so bloody awkward.

He hated anyone seeing him like this, even less that it was someone he may have possible respected like Tom - Tom with his 'loathe anyone weak, laissez-faire if it doesn't benefit me attitude."

The water came on.

"What happened?" Tom asked quietly, not looking at him.

"It's nothing," he said automatically. The Slytherin heir made a sound in the back of his throat.

"You're hiding in a bathroom, with coffee in your hair and blood all over the side of the mouth."

Um. Tom smirked. "You're lying skills are on top form today, aren't they?"

"Shut up." There was no bite to his words.

The next few minutes passed in silence, broken only by the sound of running water. He resisted the urge to wince. Damn it, but it hurt.

Tom's hands stilled for a moment, running over the back of his head. He was starting to feel dizzy. His head was ringing.

"Add possible concussion to that list…sit up." The hand shifted from his hair to grip his shoulder firmly.

Dumbly, he did so. He was supposed to be caring about taking orders…wasn't he? Tom crouched down, shining his wand into his eyes. He flinched.

"Too bright," he mumbled. "Go away."

Tom frowned slightly.

"Are you tired? Stupid question…you get a ridiculous lack of sleep. Do you feel any dizziness, headaches, nausea?"

Did he really have to answer that?

"I'm fine," he lied.

"Hmmm" Tom replied sceptically, doubt colouring his tone.

"Really -" he began.

Tom took his hand away from his shoulder. The next second he was falling, his vision blurring and his world swaying alarmingly. He felt himself pitch forward. Two hands took his shoulders, holding steady.

"I'll take that as a yes, Tom, I have one or more of those symptoms." Riddle's voice darkened. "Don't lie to me Harry. It's not doing you any good." He blinked, his hand jerking to touch his head.

"Ow…" he muttered, surprised. Tom rolled his eyes. "I repeat, what happened?" He shrugged tiredly.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Tough," Tom snapped. "We're talking about it. Damn it Potter, I'm too old for this."

"Oh, so it's Potter now? You're only like…sixteen Tom," he growled. Tom narrowed his eyes. His gaze was shrewd and calculating. "The Gryffindors kicked you out."Was that a guess? Or did Tom know something. His gaze shifted despite himself, giving him away. Tom shook his head.

"I'll see you in our common room tonight then," he said firmly. "To-"

"Be quiet Harry." There was a pause. "Will you go to the hospital wing willingly, or am I going to have to drag you?"

He considered the question for a moment, his brow furrowing. Tom appraised him. "I'll take that as the latter," he said coolly. The next second, he was hauled up and onto his feet. "Lets go, chosen one. Salazar…the things I do for you."