Tom's expression was stuck somewhere between delight and bewilderment. "Harry? What are you saying exactly?"

"It's just..." Harry trailed off, mind going in circles as the only thing he could come up with to say was that he liked the way Tom looked and he didn't want Tom to look differently, but he sure as hell couldn't tell the man that. "It's just...you've only just got your face back, right?" Harry finally rambled, struggling to find the right words. "So you shouldn't have to look different."

"I'm not going to look that differently," Tom assured him. "It's just going to be a few small changes. Hair and eye colour, the shape of my jaw, that sort of thing. I'll still look like me, just with a few small differences." Tom looked at Harry intently, yet his smile was gentle. "I can't look exactly the same if I'm to be my own son."

"Ah." Harry swallowed against his suddenly dry mouth. "Yeah, that makes sense." He tried to smile back but his heart wasn't in it.

"It'll be fine, I promise. You'll see tomorrow evening." Tom and his stupid, handsome face observed Harry for a few moments as though Harry knew a secret Tom desperately wanted to find out. "Didn't you have your first Quidditch game tomorrow, my dear?"

Harry recognized a distraction when he heard one, but he went along with it since he was in need of a change in topics if his warm cheeks were any indication. "Yep, Terence Higgs is going to have a very convenient case of explosive diarrhoea right before the game so I can step in to save the day. He's brewed the triple strength laxative potion himself. Said it was great practice for his Potions NEWT, to adjust the recipe to strengthen the brew. Without you there to curse my broom I expect it to be a boring game, though."

Tom looked so incredibly fond while Harry babbled that it threw Harry off a little, so he desperately tried to think of a new subject. There was always the shared dreams...but no, Harry was not ready to bring that up. Just when the silence between them was getting a little awkward, Harry remembered something that happened during the Halloween feast.

"Hey! I almost forgot," Harry said as he sat up a little. "What was that about Quirrell breaking that Defence curse?"

Tom laughed, eyes closed and head thrown back, and yet again seeing him this human took Harry's breath away. What was that, and why did it keep happening every time he looked at the man?

"You told me Quirrell was a good enough teacher," Tom finally said as he caught his breath. "That curse needed to go and I figured Quirrell had deserved a reward, so he gets to take the credit for breaking the curse while keeping a job he enjoys. Meanwhile I have a spy in the castle that's a little more trustworthy than dear Severus."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a brief nod. "Quirrell's fine as a teacher. Not the best I've had, but certainly not the worst." Then Harry realized something and his face split open with a huge grin. "And that means we won't have Lockhart next year. Thank fuck! Seriously, you have no idea how happy that makes me."

Tom was back to looking impossibly fond. "I have some idea, I believe."

"Oh, and if you want to make more of a name for yourself, you could always expose Lockhart as the fraud he is," Harry rambled on, on a roll now that he realized Lockhart needed taking down and him accidentally obliviating himself on the way to the Chamber of Secrets was off the table. "Lockhart is ridiculously popular still, and exposing him would put your name on everyone's map for sure."

"Interesting," Tom mused with a little frown as he bit his lip. Harry couldn't look away for some reason. "Could you write down everything you know about that fraud and send it to me? I'm sure Barty wouldn't mind helping to set a little trap using Ravenclaw's diadem."

"Sure, I'll send it off after the game tomorrow." Harry felt better now that the weird subjects were over and done with. "Lockhart will not be able to resist that trap if you let the rumour out you've found Ravenclaw's diadem. He'll want to take all the credit for that himself and he'll try to obliviate you both."

"Exactly," Tom said with a smirk that matched Harry's. "Too bad Barty and myself will be wearing shield charms specifically designed to block memory charms."

"And then all you have to do is present your memories of the confrontation to the Aurors and Lockhart is done for." Harry leaned back against his pillow, feeling deeply satisfied about this plot even though it hardly involved him. He was just genuinely looking forward to seeing Lockhart exposed. That fraud had hurt enough people and he'd always given Harry very creepy vibes. Who knew what else he'd gotten up to with his memory charms at the ready aside from claiming other people's heroics. Harry didn't want to imagine because whatever his mind came up with freaked him out.

"I do owe you an apology, my dear," Tom said, and the sudden change of topic snapped Harry out of his brief state of euphoria at the thought of Lockhart's incoming exposure. "I wasn't Occluding last night and I inadvertently pulled you into my mind while you were sleeping."

"Er.." Harry swallowed and plucked at his pyjama shirt with nervous fingers. "That's fine. It was fine. It felt fine."

Tom chuckled, nose wrinkled with clear amusement. "So what you're saying is that you're fine with it?"

Harry glared at him, but that only made Tom grin in response. "Yes, Tom, it was fine. Much better than the splitting headaches and visions of torture you used to send me."

All the amusement slipped off Tom's face at once and Harry suddenly felt bad even though he hadn't done anything wrong. "Sorry," he blurted, yet he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.

"No, Harry," Tom said with a deep frown. "You do not apologize for my past actions. Not ever." Tom's eyes looked pained. "There is nothing I can do to change my past. I can only go forward and do better. Just know, my dear, that if I could go back to my youth like you have, I would change everything. No horcruxes, no murder, no mayhem and no terrorizing our society, and I would certainly leave you and your family be, ridiculous prophecy or not."

"Thanks," Harry whispered, oddly touched. So much so his eyes welled up a bit and he stared down at his lap, desperately blinking away any tears before they could fall. This was the most outspoken Tom had been about his past actions so far, and it filled Harry with a warm sort of happiness that the former Dark Lord was able to voice his regrets. At least, Harry assumed Tom was now a former Dark Lord. His future plans certainly indicated as much.

"Now, back to the topic at hand," Tom said as he shifted in his seat. "Would you object to experimenting with our connection?"

Harry looked up in surprise. "Experimenting how?" he asked, at once both hopeful and wary. "Have more of those dreams together?" The last part was said with no small amount of desire because Harry very much wanted to feel that complete again, that whole and close to the other part of his soul.

"Yes," Tom said with a firm nod. Maybe it was Harry's imagination but he thought Tom sounded particularly eager at the prospect of sharing dreams. Maybe Harry wasn't the only one who had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. "We can induce those dreams on purpose and eventually try to project our consciousness at each other."

"So we'd be able to talk in our dreams and stuff?" Harry guessed, more than a little interested in trying that out.

"In theory, yes. We'll have to practice, of course. If you're up for it." Tom gave Harry an expectant look, eyebrows raised just a bit.

"Yeah, we can do that," Harry said, doing his upmost to sound casual and not at all as eager as he felt. He couldn't help wanting that sense of completion back, but with that desire still came a strong sense of embarrassment.

"Good. We'll start tonight," Tom said, looking terribly pleased. "And since you have a big game tomorrow, I suggest you get a good night's sleep." Tom's grin was slightly crooked and he winked at Harry.

"Fine," Harry said, still with all the forced casualness he could muster. "I'm going to sleep. See you soon, soulmate."

"Sweet dreams, my dear." Tom closed his mirror and Harry let himself fall back against the mattress.

Sleep, of course, did not come immediately, no matter how hard Harry tried. He resorted to some meditative exercises for what felt like hours but was probably closer to twenty minutes and then he slipped inside the other part of himself and it was like walking right into a loved one's embrace. Warm and safe and no longer alone.

Harry's dream started out with riding along as Tom spent an hour reading a book on Egyptian warding techniques in what Harry realized must be a hotel room. After that he took a hot bath and Harry relaxed further into sleep as Tom sank into the warm water. Half an hour later Tom slipped into bed and his mind joined Harry's as sleep claimed him, too. They dreamed, side by side yet wrapped around each other so tightly neither was sure where the other began.

Morning came too soon. Even though Harry was well rested physically, part of him wanted to stay asleep wrapped around his other half for days, weeks, months. But a bigger part realized such thoughts were silly and he had a life to live, starting that day with the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match.

"Nervous?" Theo asked as he joined Harry in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Harry shook his head, mouth full of toothpaste. He'd played this match before and won. Then he considered what might happen if he didn't win the match because so many things were different now. Just thinking about the undoubtedly smug expression on Malfoy's face and his endless gloating should Harry make a fool of himself today was enough to create a coil of tension in Harry's abdomen. He rinsed his mouth and amended his answer. "Maybe just a little bit nervous."

Theo grinned at him as he put his toothbrush away. "You'll be fine. Flint wouldn't let you play if he didn't think you could win."

"Yeah, you're right." Harry followed Theo out of the bathroom and got dressed. He almost wanted to put on his Quidditch robes right away but remembered at the last moment he wasn't supposed to know yet he needed to play today so he settled for his wizarding leisure wear of a pair of black trousers and white button-down shirt combined with a dark-blue muggle jumper.

Draco was awake at that point and immediately let Harry know. "It must be tough," Draco mused as he slowly climbed out of bed. "Spending all this time training as a reserve player yet never being allowed to play an actual game."

"I wouldn't know," Harry said cheerfully. "But I'm sure you'll let me know what that's like next year."

Blaise snorted while Theo smirked, and they joined Harry for breakfast. Harry managed some toast with strawberry jam and a cup of strong tea. He was pleasantly surprised to receive a card from Barty halfway through his meal. It was delivered by a tiny scops owl with a red ribbon around his leg that said 'express mail'.

The card itself had writing on the front in Arabic script. Harry had no idea what it said but judging by the cheering picture of the Lebanese national Quidditch team on the card it was a good message. Inside Harry found a short message in Barty's messy scrawl.

"Harry,

You got this! Catch that Snitch and win that game! Next time I'll be there to cheer you on in person and I'll even drag Tom along.

Barty'

Harry smiled, feeling a little lighter knowing his closest friends were rooting for him even on the other side of the world. He tucked the card away just as Marcus Flint marched up to him.

"Snape wants to see us," Flint said, and Harry responded with a grave nod, meanwhile thinking 'showtime'.

"What? Why?" Draco demanded from across the table. Flint ignored him and Harry offered Draco his smuggest smile before he hurried after Flint.

Snape stood in the entrance hall with the Slytherin Quidditch team around him, decked out in their green and silver Quidditch uniforms and holding their brooms. McGonagall and the Gryffindor team caught up with them just as Harry and Flint did.

"I regret to inform you our Seeker, Mr Higgs, has been dosed with an extra strength laxative potion and is unable to play," Snape told McGonagall. He then glared at the Weasley twins and snapped, "Thirty points, each, from Gryffindor for trying to sabotage the opposite team."

"Professor Snape," McGonagall admonished him with a pinched look. "Have you any evidence the Messrs Weasley were involved?"

"Do I need to remind you, Professor McGonagall, that I caught those two hellions red-handed in my potions stores last year with all the ingredients for a laxative potion in their thieving hands?" Snape all but whispered as he leaned closer to McGonagall.

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from grinning as he took in the scene before him. Fred and George loudly denied their involvement, yet no one, not even their own Head of House believed them. That was the price they paid for being known for their pranks and usually very publicly claiming ownership of them no matter the point-loss or detention that followed. Do it often enough and everyone automatically assumed you were guilty each and every time, even when you were in fact innocent.

McGonagall glared at the twins. "I am appalled by your lack of sportsmanship. The loss of points stands and I'm adding a week of detention with Mr Filch." She turned back to Snape. "Do we need to postpone the match or can Mr Higgs make the pitch in time?"

"Mr Higgs is out for the count, I'm afraid," Snape said with the utmost regret, even going so far as sadly shaking his head. Meanwhile, Fred and George were practically vibrating with anger. If there were any Gryffindors who might figure out how Slytherins really worked it would be those two. Harry was willing to bet gold the twins had figured out what was really going on, but they were also clever enough to know no one would believe them at this point and they would only lose more points if they said something about it.

Harry expected many bludgers aimed his way during the match.

"Thankfully, our reserve Seeker is ready to step up," Snape continued, grabbing Harry's arm and yanking him closer. "Mr Potter, are you able to play?" His fingers tightened around Harry's arm in a silent warning that his answer had better be 'yes'.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, smiling up at McGonagall. "I've been practicing really hard and I've got a broom and everything."

McGonagall peered down at him with a dubious frown. "A first-year? Are you certain about this, Severus? We could easily postpone the match."

"There is no need for that," Snape said quickly, taking a step back from McGonagall in an obvious attempt to end the conversation. "Mr Potter will take Mr Higgs' place and the match will start promptly at eleven." Snape shoved Harry in the direction of the dungeon stairs. "Mr Potter, you'd best get changed in your Quidditch gear."

Harry all but ran to his dorm, got changed in record time and then ran all the way to the changing rooms under the stadium where he met up with the Slytherin team. Flint handed him his broom.

"You had better catch that Snitch, Potter," Flint told him with a growl in his voice.

"Yes, Captain," Harry said in his most annoyingly childish tone. Flint narrowed his eyes but ignored him as he started going over some formations he expected everyone to use.

As they finally made their way onto the pitch Harry had to admit it was a little strange to see the players he'd had as teammates for years suddenly on the opposite team. Still, Quidditch was Quidditch, no matter what colour uniform Harry was wearing, so he shrugged off any weirdness and concentrated on the game.

Gryffindor had a fourth-year girl named Natasha Summers as the Seeker. Harry didn't know her, couldn't even really remember her. She couldn't be that good a Seeker, he reasoned, or else she would have been on the team in his first life before Harry got roped into playing by McGonagall, which she did because Gryffindor desperately needed a new Seeker.

No, Harry wasn't too worried as he waited for Hooch to give the signal to start the game.

Lee Jordan gave the commentary as was expected. "Terence Higgs has fallen ill, reportedly by accidentally ingesting a potion that made him –"

"Jordan, don't you dare finish that sentence!" McGonagall all but snarled.

"Anyway," Jordan continued with a wide grin. "Slytherin has replaced their Seeker with a first-year, and what a first-year. Harry Potter himself is flying a Nimbus Two Thousand that seems a few sizes too large for him, small thing that he is."

"Jordan, comment on the game, not the size of the players!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Harry tuned the commentary out and circled the pitch, keeping the Gryffindor Seeker in his sights out of the corner of his eye but mostly focusing on finding the Snitch as fast as he could. Summers was also circling, though on opposite side of the pitch from him. Several bludgers were pelted at Harry on purpose and without much use since Harry wasn't even actively participating in the game at this point. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin had scored a few times each and Harry thought those bludgers would be much more effective when used to disrupt the Chasers, but the twins disagreed.

Fred and George were angry and wanted everyone, but especially Harry, to know it.

Harry understood, he supposed. It was rather startling to realize just how underhanded Slytherins could be and how utterly naive most Gryffindors, including the Head of House, were about it. Harry himself hadn't appreciated how sneaky Slytherins could really be until he was a Slytherin himself. As a Gryffindor a lot of Slytherin plots had gone right over his head, much to his current shame. Draco had managed to trick him and Ron with that ridiculous duel at midnight plot, after all. Harry shook his head and concentrated on finding the Snitch.

Gryffindor scored right before Harry saw a glimpse of gold near the grass in the middle of the pitch. He quickly checked Summers' position. She was on the opposite side, about as far removed from the centre as he was but flying an older model Cleansweep. Harry smiled. There was no way she could outfly his Nimbus. He had this.

Accelerating his broom to its maximum capacity, Harry shot right through the gameplay below him, swerving around Adrian Pucey and Angelina Johnson, unintentionally making her drop the Quaffle. Montague, flying just below her, deftly caught it and turned around at once, heading to the Gryffindor goal posts. Harry sped past, aiming for the ground where the Snitch was hovering. Summers had spotted the Snitch as well and was flying as fast as she could, but it was clear to Harry that wasn't fast enough.

A flash of orange appeared briefly in the corner of Harry's eyes and he had to do a quick barrel-roll to prevent a bludger from hitting him. The twins were there and seemed determined to stop Harry from reaching the Snitch. Another bludger came soaring at Harry's head and this time he dipped down and up to avoid it. Harry stretched his arm out, turned his broom just a smidge to prevent a head-on collision with Summers who was coming in fast from the opposite direction, and he closed his fingers around the Snitch.

Pulling his broom up, Harry held the Snitch high above his head, grinning. The next thing he knew was another flash of orange, a sickening crack, and darkness.