It was quiet, uneventful, and mundane at Wool's Orphanage.

The wind that blew soft never picked up, it was always still - even during the cool winters where it never snowed for more than an hour each year.

Autumn had just passed, the vibrant oranges and yellows had already disappeared - the trees bare, skinned of any remaining leaves.

Seven year old Tom was leaning against one of these trees - tall for his age, dark haired and pale - quietly reading a book about a killer clown in solitary for the ninth time - the other orphans running around far away from him, laughing and cheering happily as they played little games.

A boy wearing the same boring grey clothes that everyone wore approached him, also around the age of seven with fluffy hazel brown hair and wide curious azure eyes.

"Hey, you've been reading that same book over and over again." Tom gave the little boy a look of acknowledgement, not speaking.

The brunet held out a small stack of books, crouching down so that he was eye level with the other.

"Do you want to read these books?" The dark haired boy's striking green eyes widen in excitement, looking from the boy to the books he held, and back to the boy again.

"Really?" The brunet nodded, holding the stack out.

"If you let me borrow the book you have." Tom nodded and closed the novel in his hands, passing to the brunet.

"Don't ruin it." He said threateningly, the other giving a wide dimpled grin.

"Same goes to you." Tom clutched the stack of books he had just been given, to borrow for a while of course, patting the moss green grass beside him.

"Sit."

The brunet gladly complied, gently placing himself down on the space beside Tom - the gap between the two innocent children nearly nonexistent.

"I'm Tom Riddle." The emerald eyed boy said, introducing himself.

The brunet gave another wide cheeky grin.

"I know."

"What's your name?" The brunet's smile faltered slightly, eyes focused on the pages in his lap - whispering quietly.

"I don't have one." Tom looked at him with wide eyes.

"What? You don't have a name?" The blue eyed boy nodded slowly.
"Why don't we give you one now then?"

This time it was the brunet's turn to look at the other excitedly, grin returning as he nodded.
"How about... Aidan? You look like an Aidan."

"Yeah, I like that name."

"Then from now on, I'll call you Aidan."

—

It was the spring of the year after Aidan and Tom met, the two were resting beneath the large tree that they silently claimed theirs - the brilliant wide emerald leaves shielding them from the blistering sun.

The dark haired boy was leaning against the tree, the brunet nestled comfortably between Tom's legs - his back against the other's chest, a chin resting upon Aidan's fluffy brown hair.

A large book was held by the taller in front of the two, the boys reading through it at the same steady pace.

Billy Stubb, an obnoxious chubby blond, ran up to them - pointing a thick finger at Aidan and Tom accusingly.

"You guys can't be together like that." He said rather defiantly.

"Why not Stubb?" The dark haired boy said rather coldly.

"Because boys have to like girls, and none of you are girls - that's gross and icky." Aidan frowned, looking up at the blond with an annoyed expression, not noticing that the grip around him had tightened slightly.

"So? Just go away before I break your neck." Stubb laughed loudly.

"You? Break my neck? You're a pathetic tiny thing, you can't hurt me."

Tom didn't know why, but anger bubbled deep within him - he lowered the book, staring at the blond with harsh eyes.

"Don't talk to him like that, we can be together if we want - now go, or your rabbits dead meat." Fright engulfed Stubb, swallowing thickly before dashing off.

Tom gave a small grin, raising the book back up again - resting his chin gently on the brunet's head.

"It's okay Aidan, no one can tell us what to do, and what not to do."

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