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Summary
Harry used one hand to brush the boy's bangs away from his eyes, using the other to tilt his chin up. Slowly, his features were exposed. Smooth, pale skin, a straight, aristocratic nose, high cheekbones…
He gasped and flung himself backward, ripping his hands away as if he had been burned. An icy feeling of dread crept through him. He knew that face.
He was trapped in here with Tom Riddle.