He waits patiently. Suddenly, the eyelids begin to flutter. Those eyes before him are open, hazy from previous unconsciousness. Those beautiful eyes of a million colors; all looking at him, from every possible angle it seems.
His bony hand reaches forward, to cup the man's face – the owner of those beautiful eyes – but his pupils shrink, his breath stops just for a moment. The man stares at him and the stark fear seems to have drained all those pretty colors from his eyes, leaving them an ordinary dark green.
Harry sees clearly now, and he feels betrayed; like he's been lead on. The man before him is hyperventilating now, those once beautiful eyes watering, clenching shut – his lips are moving but Harry doesn't hear him.
Fixing his gaze on the man's, he notices the visible lines of blood vessels in his panicked eyes, all gathering by his pupils that dilate and shrink, dilate and shrink... Harry sees his own reflection in them, sees a fire in them. He fantasizes about pushing his thumbs into those eyes, gorgeous blood and gore running between his fingers as he presses deeper; so that they may become one. How he'd love to punctuate the man's world... but he doesn't do it. Instead, he reaches forward again, cupping the man's shaking head with his hands. Those ordinary, ugly eyes are almost rolling in the man's head by now, so Harry calms him down. He leans forward, kissing the man's cold lips and he finally stills, finally stops thrashing.
When Harry leans back and looks into the man's eyes once more, the colors are all back. He couldn't even name half of them but it doesn't matter; it's all beautiful again. Something wet travels down to meet his hands... those eyes are wet and glittery now (beautiful); the man is crying – Harry smiles.