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He stumbled and would have fallen face first on the ground if strong hands hadn't gripped his forearms and held him up. He looked up and the sight that met his eyes stole his breath away.

Tom's eyes were a hickory as rich as the earth's soil; stained with the colour of hot chocolate on a cold, winter night that wrapped around him like a blanket; engulfed him in its warmth and made him feel at home. Those deep pools of dark-cinnamon swirls seized the depth and heaviness of one thousand untold stories, which imprisoned the sweetness of saccharine chocolate and the bitterness of strong coffee. They consisted of raw emotion and when he observed them closely, they revealed to him the exact thoughts that were crossing the marvels of his ominous mind.

On the other side of all that… His brown-mahogany orbs scintillated with shock that could be noticed next to the umber that rimmed his iris. They possessed a sorrow that placed a melancholic veil, which cloaked his eyes.

His irises were a large stain of wood and ebony pigments… Their size gave them a sense of innocence and purity. This was the part where he could see all the buried kindness eclipsed behind the saturated colour of fine, exquisite oud. There was the slightest hint of goodness in his eyes, which told him that no matter what Voldemort did, Tom was still alive inside of him. The kindness that Voldemort never showed or exposed was all there. Those eyes revealed Tom.

Tom eyes remained trained on him for a few moments. His eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, his irises too stationary. It was as if his brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute. Harry touched his cheek with the side of his thumb, his lips forming a pensive grin. Tom's head tilted upward to his face, his eyes sliding into focus and Harry watched the change happen.

The grip on his forearms vanished and Tom stumbled backwards,

"You are not real…You are not real…"

He advanced closer to him and opened his arms,

"Tom…"

Tom shook his head erratically and closed his eyes as he staggered further back and slumped against the wall,

"Tom…look at me…touch me…feel me…I'm real…"

Tom opened his eyes, turned around and hurried away from the chambers. Harry ran after him but as soon as he stepped into the chambers, a gasp escaped his lips. The wall where Tom had slit his throat was still painted with his blood. He stepped closer to it and ran his finger over the stain before turning around and looking at Tom who was facing the fireplace and staring at it with mirth,

"I guess you came here to haunt me."

He stepped closer to him and spoke,

"No…I am not here to haunt you, Tom…I want to save you…"

Tom laughed derisively,

"Yes, I have been contemplating death with extreme seriousness. I believe that is the only thing that can save me."

He stared wide eyed at him for a moment. Had Tom really been contemplating suicide? He grabbed his arm and turned him around to face him,

"Look at me, Tom."

Tom held his gaze and then broke free of his grasp with a chuckle,

"Nothing you can say can change my mind. You are nothing more than a mere apparition…a ghost…"

Tom bent over as he laughed deliriously,

"When you were new in this castle, you believed me to be a ghost and I longed to see you afraid… I yearned to see fear in your eyes."

He could only stare at him despairingly because he didn't know what to do to make Tom believe that he was real,

"Is that what you want now? Is that the reason why you have returned?"

He shook his head and spoke,

"No, that's not why I'm here, Tom."

Tom only laughed harder at that before turning around and facing him. He conjured a knife…the same blade he'd used to slit his throat, and spoke,

"Revenge then? Come…slit my throat…kill me like I killed you…"

He dropped the knife and it landed on the floor with a loud clatter that resounded around the chamber,

"NO!"

He made a frustrated sound and spoke,

"Why won't you see that I'm here to save you, Tom? I don't want to hurt you…I don't want revenge…I'M NOT A GHOST!"

Tom stared at him for a moment and just when Harry thought that he was seeing sense, he turned away from him again and chuckled darkly. He bent down and picked up the knife from the floor before holding it to his throat and Harry felt his heart lodge in his throat at the sight,

"Will you prefer it if I kill myself? Is that what you desire?"

He didn't know what to do. The manic intent in Tom's eyes told him that he was just on the verge of doing it,

"Stop, Tom…I don't want that…"

Harry watched in horror as the Tom sliced a bit into his neck and beads of blood appeared,

"Stop it…Tom…Stop this madness."

He snatched the knife away from Tom's hand and tossed it as far away as possible before inspecting the wound on Tom's neck and wiping away the blood with his fingers.

He cupped Tom's face and brought it down before kissing him, not rough, but so thoroughly that every inch of his mouth was involved. Tom's lips parted slightly in shock and he took advantage of that and slid his tongue inside. The kiss made him breathless and dizzy when he couldn't get air but it felt like he was floating. Harry swore his fingertips were tingling from it, hell even the tips of his hair, and he wanted…needed…something more… Every part of him rejoiced when Tom gripped the back of his head and wrap the other arm around his waist, pulling him close and growling before taking complete control of the kiss.