To Kill You With a Kiss

Chapter 12

For a moment, Tom sat frozen. One instant, his face was ghostly white, but in the next, a flush crept over his pale cheeks. It seemed to Harry that Tom had changed a little; there were dark shadows under his eyes now, his glance was burning as if with some strange fever, and there was a slight hollowness about his cheeks. And yet he was beautiful, so excruciatingly beautiful that Harry felt an odd stab to his heart, a melancholy sweetness almost bordering on pain.

Human. He looks human. Not Voldemort, but Tom. My Tom.

A trembling gasp, and then Tom leaped to his feet. Harry felt himself being pulled into the room and clutched in an embrace so tight he could hardly breathe. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Oh, Merlin! You are still alive! Where have you been?"

Tom kissed Harry feverishly, his face, his lips, his throat, every bit of skin his mouth could find, and he whispered against Harry's lips: "You are here. You are real, after all. I was beginning to think that you had been nothing but a dream. You.. You..." The rest of his words drowned in kisses.

Harry returned the kisses frantically. I went to the future and back. But I think it was only a dream. This. This is real. Your lips against mine, your breath against my skin.

Past. Future. Imaginary constellations we have drawn on the starry swirl of time. There is no past or future, there is no truth but the beating of our hearts. There is only you and me. Here. Now.

"You smell like spring," muttered Tom against his cheek. "Like warm grass and lilacs. Merlin, where have you been? In some distant land where lilacs blooms in September? But your skin is cold. You must have come from outside right now. Why weren't you wearing your robes? It's getting chilly out, and your shirt is thin. Here, let me..."

Tom flicked his wand at the marble fireplace, and blazing flames sprang to life in the cold grate, slowly spreading their warmth and brightness through the cheerless grey chill of the room. They huddled together on the carpet in front of the fire, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

Tom stroked the fabric of Harry's shirt and whispered: "I can't believe you are finally back... Did you know that you got the wrong shirt before? What-? Why are you laughing?"

"Oh..." Harry ran his fingers through Tom's soft curls and closed his eyes. "I didn't know if you would remember. About the shirt. About me."

"You didn't know if I would remember? How could I ever forget?"

I don't know, Tom. I don't know. But you did.

"Where have you been these past two weeks, Harry?"

"Two weeks?" Harry stared at Tom. "I've been gone for two weeks?"

"You didn't know?" Tom stroked his hair, a puzzled expression on his face. "What happened to you? I thought I'd lost you forever. I thought that you had been murdered by the dark wizard who killed your parents. Or perhaps that you had left because of what happened between us..."

Harry kissed him furiously. "You didn't think that I would just leave you, would you? Don't you know that I love you?"

Tom sighed contentedly. "I thought you did... but then, when you vanished, I didn't know what to think. I was going mad with fear that I had lost you. I stopped teaching my classes; I spent all my time searching the castle and the grounds and the Forbidden Forest for you, talking to anyone who might have seen you." He flushed a little. "I may have roughed up Malfoy a little bit."

"You did?" Poor Abraxas!

"Mmhmm. Nothing bad, just a few bruises. He had the impertinence to suggest that you had left because of me. Professor Dippet was terribly unhappy with me when he heard of that little incident, but Horace Slughorn kindly interceded on my behalf and managed to convince the headmaster that young Mr. Malfoy must have done something to deserve it. But then, later, I began to think that maybe Abraxas was right. Perhaps you were ashamed of what had happened between us? When I thought that you weren't come back, I felt sick at heart. I made up my mind to leave Hogwarts. I couldn't bear to be in this room any more without you. To remember how we kissed, and to think you weren't coming back... What did I want to be a Hogwarts professor for, anyway? I toyed with the idea of going to London, of taking a post at Borgin and Burkes, of immersing myself in the Dark Arts."