It was almost like looking into a mirror. Harry glared; green eyes met blue and held them. "Let me go," he said. Tom smiled and Harry wanted to hit him.

"Go where?" asked Tom, gesturing to their surroundings with slender hands, and this time Harry did hit him. His knuckles came away bleeding but Tom did not bruise; Tom merely smiled.

"We are alone here, Harry," he said and his voice was much colder this time. "Deal with it."

Harry did deal with it; he rushed at Tom and pounded him with his fists, tackled him to the floor and kissed him, tasting blood on his lips. His rage was soon gone and then he was crying, and still Tom didn't do anything.

Tom never did anything until Harry begged him.

~

He wandered the empty hallways of the school and Tom walked with him. There was no-one left to take points away, no-one left to tell him to get back to class, no-one left for there to be classes. The portraits were gone, slashed to pieces.

Even the ghosts didn't roam there any longer.

They fought and fucked in what used to be the Potions dungeon (Harry wondered what his former professor would say to him now). Harry bled and Tom didn't; Harry screamed and Tom didn't. Harry wondered if Tom felt at all.

He asked him.

"Yes," said Tom thoughtfully. "But only when I want to."

Harry wanted to make him feel. Harry kissed him, hard and violent, their teeth gnashing together, dry chapped lips against smooth ones. Tom kissed back, long and seductive, his hands roaming down Harry's body.

In the end it was Harry who came first, Harry who moaned, Harry who felt.

~

They sat alone in the girls dormitory (the stairs no longer turned into a slide; there were no girls left to protect). He closed his eyes and remembered. Hermione dying as she tried to lead the younger ones out to safety; Parvati and Lavender found clutching to each other, in some obscure hallway, motionless. Their faces had melted. Harry clenched his fists, tears streaming down his face.

"I hate you," he said.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

"You killed them. You killed them all."

"I did no such thing," said Tom.

Harry didn't listen. He saw Ron, falling from the skies, burning as he went down. He had tried to scream but found he didn't have the voice. Neville had killed two and then been tortured by another, screaming until he lost his mind and finally his life.

"You did," croaked Harry. "You brought about the end of the world."

The hundreds of others he hadn't seen die. Seamus, Dean, Malfoy, Cho, Ginny - he wondered how they had gone. He thought about it more and decided he didn't want to know.

Tom's gaze was level. "You brought about the end of the world," he said quietly. "I merely helped you along."

~

Harry walked down to the Quidditch pitch, now a mass graveyard for the hundreds who had died. It was a daily ritual. He picked the poppies and gathered them in his hands, blood-red against his pale skin.

Tom followed silently behind him, twirling a flower between his long fingers.

The graves weren't marked but it didn't matter; he knew by heart who laid beneath each pile of earth. One by one, he stopped and knelt, placed down a flower, muttered a quick prayer for their souls. He wondered what the point was. It was the living who were damned.

"Who are you praying to?" asked Tom. He sounded amused. "There's no-one left who can help you, there is only us."

"God, I suppose," said Harry, even though he wasn't sure he believed such things.

"I am God," said Tom. Green eyes met blue and it was Harry who looked away first.

When he rose to leave, he found that Tom was no longer beside him; Tom had stopped above a grave. Ginny's. Harry walked back to join him.

"I always liked her," Tom said softly, and plucked the petals from the poppy he held, dropping them one by one. They turned black as they hit the dry earth.

Harry felt the jealousy welling up in him before he could do anything to stop it. Tom noticed and smirked.

"I like you too," he said seductively, his lips lingering on Harry's. Harry felt the warmth rise in his face and found that he couldn't wait to get back to the school.

Tom didn't want to wait. Harry felt the pebbles digging into his skin and gritted his teeth as Tom moved into him.

~

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry stood alone and shivering. The fireplace had long since stopped working and he had opened all the windows. The snow blew in and tangled in his too-long hair. Tom emerged from upstairs and looked at him curiously.

"You look frozen," he commented.

Harry gritted his teeth, ran his hands over the scratches on his body, made by Tom's long fingers. "I want to die," he murmured.

Tom frowned. "Why?"

"Because I should have," said Harry, staring at the tinges of blue on his hands. "I should have died with the rest of them but I didn't. For some fucking reason, I didn't."

"You're the Boy Who Lived," said Tom.

Harry laughed bitterly. "Yes. The Boy Who Lived and Lived Too Long. Seven times, and all seven someone else has gone in my place. Why can't I die?"

"You're crazy," said Tom coldly. "Go to bed, sleep it off."

Harry closed his eyes, as if in pain. "Kill me," he pleaded. "If you love me, kill me."

"Kill yourself," said Tom and Harry felt something being pressed into his hand. He opened his eyes, looked down and saw a revolver.

"Russian Roulette," said Tom. "Six chambers, one bullet. You ready to play?"

Harry held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

Click.

"You lose," said Tom. His eyes were colder than Harry felt.

~

Tom found him in his former dorm, naked and rocking on his bed, muttering in a mix of English and Parseltongue.

"You're losing it," he said.

Harry took a finger and opened up his skin, watching numbly as the blood dripped onto the sheets. "I can't stand it anymore. Help me."

"Help you what?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Just...hurt me, kill me, something. I don't want to feel anymore."

"I think you're forgetting something," Tom said quietly.

"What?"

"I'm a ghost," he said. "A memory."

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "You're not. What about what we've done? I felt you."

Tom met his eyes and smirked. "In your head."

Harry thought of a time when he was younger and more innocent, when he left a Chamber beneath the ground with blood and dirt and someone else's sweat under his fingernails. He thought of how Tom had looked when he kissed him and how Tom had looked when he killed him and he knew that Tom was right.

~

It was exactly like looking into a mirror. Green eyes morphed into blue and he walked away from the school.

End.