Tom Riddle's favourite colour was green.

And not just any shade of green. It was green.

He had yet to pinpoint the name of that exact shade, but he knew it existed out there. He'd find out what to call it, one day.

Not many years later, at the age of 16, he discovered it when he murdered his father and grandparents.

Tom Riddle's favourite colour was green. Killing curse green.

50 years after, he still recalled the exact shade it produced—oh and how the terrified face of his father was so beautifully illuminated by it—as he committed patricide that day.

50 years later, when Ginny Weasley first touched the pages of his diary with her pink-coloured, frilly feather, he knew he'd find it again. He'd see the beautiful colour as bodies fell around him again and again and again and again… She poured her soul into him, and with each day, he felt himself grow stronger.

Tom Riddle laughed in realisation: he'd walk the earth once more.

He took it all with greed. Ate every single word up like a starving wolf. She was his now. She was too deep to ever surface again without permanent damage. She would never be able to get away… His. His. His.

And she wrote about Harry Potter. So much about Harry Potter. This curious boy… her celebrity crush, and apparently the defeater of his other version at the age of one? What an interesting boy. The Boy Who Lived, hero of the Wizarding World.

He really did want to meet this boy.

Luckily, it was Harry Potter who picked up his diary after… he did get a bit too excited, yes. Scared poor Ginerva away. After my offhand comment about blood purity combined with the petrifactions, she did rather frightened. But she will come back. She's too deep…

And Harry Potter was certainly interesting. A strange boy with strange eyes… Tom was disappointed when poor Ginny decided she couldn't handle the loss anymore.

But he knew he'd meet him again.

And so he did. Standing above Ginny Weasley's body watching with fascination as her breath became shallower and shallower was something he could've done for hours. Watching as her soul ultimately became his. But eventually, people always die. And so would Ginny Weasley.

But then he heard pair of running footsteps.

Harry Potter.

Arriving beside them, he said something about saving her. Or whatever rubbish he spouted off. But the moment Harry had come close enough, Tom had been lost to another world:

Seeing Harry Potter outside of the diary, made him realize that the darkest of magic could never even come close to imitating or conveying real life. Real life such as Harry Potter.

Mesmerising green eyes stared up at him in desperation. Mouths forming words lost to Tom's ears. Green. So green. They were green. Killing curse green.

Beautiful. Exquisite. Gorgeous.

There were no worthy words to describe them.

"Harry," Tom said, closing the distance between them. He stared into those killing curse green orbs as placed a finger over the boy's lips.

"Shhhh…" he said, feeling magic stream over his fingertips, effectively silencing the boy.

Harry looked close to panicking as he realized his voice was lost and he attempted to step backwards.

But Tom grabbed his arm and sent another push of magic to keep Harry's feet on the ground. With his other hand, the Slytherin cupped his face and tilted it up forcefully, still gazing into the green colour. He smiled.

Fear shined through in the younger boy's expression. He struggled against Tom's grip, but soon realised it was futile: the older boy was too strong.

Why are you doing this? His lips shaped the words, as no words came out.

"Hmm?" Tom made a distracted sound, but answered nonetheless. "Have anyone ever told you, that your eyes are beautiful?"

Harry moves his head slowly a little bit to the right, and then a little bit to the left, in a parody of shaking his head. He didn't manage to make a more sudden motion as Tom's hand was still gripping his chin.

"Good… wouldn't anyone else to have their eyes on you. Well, other than dear Ginerva here, but she is no longer a problem." He took a quick, uninterested glance at her still form—any disappointment of not having seen her last breath drowned in the sight of those green eyes—before returning his staring. "You're mine after all. This must simply be… destiny."

Harry looked terrified. Staring back at Tom with wide eyes, his breathing begun hyperventilating. He opened his mouth to cry out. Scream for help. For anyone. Anyone…

No sound came out. The silence was loud. Harry could only stare back.

Tom loved it. The younger boy's wide eyes did show off the exquisite green colour in such a wonderful way…

"Mine." He whispered, a wide grin forming on his lips. "You're mine now."