Black Eyes
Chapter Six: Winter's Heart
by Capella
A/N: Hooray! I freaked everyone out with the dream sequence at the end of the last chapter! And you know, that was exactly what I was aiming for, too. Heh.
And yes, the chapter title and quote are both pulled from Robert Jordan. What can I say, I'm a hopeless, hopeless Jordanite.
Alright. I think I should explain a few things, cause I'm even confusing myself. About the whole Katherine deal -- since Orcs attacked the camp and Aragorn didn't find Katherine's body, he assumed that she either died at the hands of the Orcs or had a pain attack while captured, and died that way instead. He didn't tell Harry about the Orc attack because as you could probably tell, he was a bit ashamed about not being able to save Katherine.
And just another note -- because I guess I'm not good at explaining things -- when Harry was revived in Valinor, the Valar cleared up the whole Eonwe/indwelling business. So there was no spirit that indwelt Harry after he was revived. And obviously, no spirit inside Fiona/Draco/Harry now. *grins* Wow, am I confusing or what?
Here's chapter six of Black Eyes: Winter's Heart.
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"And in the heart of winter shall winter's heart be born
Amid the wailing of lamentations and the gnashing of teeth,
For winter's heart shall ride a black horse,
And the name of it is Death."
-- A prophecy from Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series
_________________________
It was almost unbearably hot, and Draco had been accosted by a maid the second he had stepped out of his room; the maid had been frantic in her attempts to pull a shirt onto him. In truth, he'd forgotten about his state of undress, but he wouldn't have minded walking around without one on. Especially if there had been a chance of him running into Haldir.
But he was almost positive that Haldir was hiding in his room, and even if Haldir was not, Draco was sure that the elf would use all of his considerable skill to avoid him like the plague. He'd been wandering the castle for a good two hours and hadn't seen Haldir once. He'd seen Aragorn, walking down the hall with a trail of nobles trying to keep up, but Draco had seen Aragorn's thunderous expression and decided to forgo on asking him for Haldir's whereabouts.
So now he was left with nothing to do but wander aimlessly around the castle. And he was almost positive that he had just made a complete circle.
He was just about to go back to his own room when he heard a faint whisper come from the door he'd just passed. He stopped, ears perking in interest, when he realized who had just spoken.
"Legolas?"
Draco smirked, wondering if maybe some eavesdropping would lighten his boredom. He dared to step closer and press his ear to the door. Harry's voice was clearer now, and it had a sharp, worried tone to it.
"Legolas, I know something is wrong. What is it? You got up so quick --"
"It is nothing."
Draco started from where he crouched, ear pressed against the wood, when he heard Legolas speak. Legolas did not sound angry or irritated or amused or any number of things that Draco had heard him be. He was scared, scared as anyone Draco had ever heard before. And considering that in his lesser days, he had been present and even helped his father with information extraction -- torture, he thought with a wry smirk -- considering that, the terror he heard in Legolas's voice was surprising, to say the least.
It took just a moment to realize that there were footsteps heading for the door.
He looked around frantically and spotted a rather convenient, shadowed nook that probably used to contain a statue. He had only just darted into it when the door opened and Legolas appeared; his blonde hair was a wild mass framing his face and his blue eyes looked a little dangerous. Peering into the doorway behind him, Draco saw Harry sitting up in bed, a sheet pulled to his waist. He was staring in the direction of the door and looking lost.
Legolas glanced down the hall and took off running. His boots made no sound, but once Draco had waited a good amount of time, he crept cautiously out of the nook and towards the open doorway.
Harry was still staring blankly at the door with the same expression, but when he heard Draco's boots, his eyebrows lowered. "Who is it?" he asked sharply. He didn't sound in the mood for company.
He couldn't help himself; Draco's eyes drifted downwards to take in Harry's bare chest before he replied. "It's just me. Draco. Where's Legolas?"
Harry sighed and his head drooped, and he shifted a little, making room for Draco to sit next to him on the bed. "I don't know. It was -- it was really strange. We were asleep, but all of a sudden I felt him sort of jerk beside me. He never moves in his sleep, ever. Then he sat up -- he was breathing really fast -- but he wouldn't answer me when I asked what was wrong. And he just left." He got that sad, lost look again but visibly shook it off. "Grab me my pants, will you? They're on the floor. I think they've got my wand in the pocket."
Draco felt the familiar pang of jealousy deep in his chest even as he turned around to give Harry some privacy as he dressed. "I saw him running down the hall," he said reluctantly. "If you want, I can take you to go look for him." In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was willing to do nearly anything to get that look off of Harry's face.
"No, I won't make you wander around with me," Harry said, lips curving into a small smile. "He'll come back eventually, and I'll dig it out of him then." Draco very nearly heaved a sigh of relief. A few moments of silence passed.
"What do you --"
"So, I heard --"
"You go first," Draco said, laughing. "What is it?"
Harry smiled again. "Rumil told me that you and Haldir seem to be spending a lot of time together lately."
For a second Draco couldn't do anything but stare at Harry in shock. "He did?" he managed after a moment. "I guess we have -- I mean, what did he say, exactly?"
Harry's eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, Draco, I know about all your old tricks," he said, smirking. "Don't you remember how Blaise described you to the entire Hall when you two got in a fight? Sarcasm, manipulation, and sexuality at its best. I never could figure out if he meant that as an insult or not."
Draco grinned before he remembered Harry couldn't see it. Harry went on in a more serious tone.
"But try not to hurt him, Draco. And try to remember that he is leaving in a few days. So, what did you two talk about?"
The subject change was so quick that Draco gaped for a moment before he recovered. Harry could be remarkably strange at times. "Well, it took him a bit to open up. But once I got him a bit more loosened -- a bit, mind, that elf is one of the most uptight creatures I have ever talked to -- he started talking about the most fascinating things. Like where's he's moving to. Valinor. Did you know --"
But Harry had suddenly gotten the strangest look on his face that Draco stopped. It looked -- hungry and feral at the same time. And confused, for a moment, but that disappeared in a heartbeat.
"What did he say?" Harry said in a hushed voice that did nothing to conceal the urgent tones within it. "What did he say about Valinor? I have to know. Tell me."
Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Harry, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," Harry said, and let out a strange little laugh. "Just tell me what Haldir said. I'm curious." He certainly didn't sound curious; he sounded mad, and Draco told him so.
He wasn't prepared for the fist that sailed towards his face and connected solidly with his jaw, sending him flying back. He heard a crack as his head connected with the wooden headboard at the front of the bed. He stared at Harry in shock.
"Tell me," Harry said, and he sounded almost normal, but the look in his eyes was not right. His irises were almost completely green, and his eyes locked onto Draco's own with a frightening precision that someone blind should not have.
"Okay," he said shakily, managing to sit up through the ringing in his skull. He reached a hand around and felt a lump on his head. "Just -- just give me a moment to think." He scrabbled for a memory of what Haldir had told him, anything to get that murderous, cold look off Harry's face. For a second the wild thought flashed through his mind that some spirit was inside Harry, like Harry had told him happened to Legolas, but Draco realized that probably was not possible. Harry had said that he had had the distinct feeling that Legolas was not himself -- that Legolas had merely been a shell for something else -- but Draco had no such feeling. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry had just clipped his jaw and probably had no compunctions about doing it again.
The frantic thought skittered across his mind that Katherine was insane and blind, and that Harry was showing signs that he was well on the path to being insane as well.
Suddenly Harry smiled at him, and it would have been warm if his eyes had lost their cold glow. "Take your time," he said, but the tone of his voice was altogether different -- his accent was altered slightly, his tone regal, as if he were sitting on a throne.
Draco cautiously began. "He just talked about how beautiful it was, and how only elves can go there. He talked a great deal about its beauty. And I swear that's all of it."
"Please don't lie to me, Draco," Harry said, smiling all the while. He sounded totally normal, now, and that made what was happening all the worse. He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the corner of Draco's lips. "I hate it when people lie to me. Please, I'm just curious. That's all."
Draco exhaled and began again. He'd been in worse situations than this, had more dangerous people than Harry angry with him. "Well. He said that the only way to get there was if you are an elf or have an elf for a guide, or I think if the Valar let you. He said there is only one way to reach Valinor, but I can't remember what it's called." That was the truth, but he still looked at Harry to see if it was accepted. Harry nodded sharply, impatiently, those keen eyes still trained on his own. "He said that any man who tried to get to Valinor would just circle the earth, but an elf would travel through the air on an invisible bridge. That's all."
"I see." The smile left Harry's face, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell off the bed.
"Oh, my God -- Harry!"
Draco leaned over the side of the bed. Harry was laying on the floor, limbs splayed out, eyes closed. He appeared unconscious. Climbing off the bed, Draco shook Harry's shoulders for all he was worth, but Harry didn't stir. Draco felt panic set in. "If you die, Legolas is going to kill me," he whispered, and it just so happened that at that moment, as Draco reached his hand for Harry's throat to feel for a pulse, that Legolas walked in.
They stared at each other for a few moments, Draco's hand resting on the slim column of Harry's neck. He could feel Harry's pulse fluttering beneath his palm; it was racing as if he had just run a mile.
"What have you done?" Legolas whispered, never taking his icy blue gaze off of Draco's own. "You hate me so much that you would kill him to hurt me?"
Draco felt his eyes widen. "No, that's not --"
Legolas knelt by Harry's side, his hand going to push Harry's hair out of his forehead. A finger traced the outline of Harry's lips. "What is it, then, Draco?" His voice was dangerously soft. A knife had appeared in his other hand, and the way he twirled it between his fingers spoke of a willingness to use it. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas cut him off sharply. "I saw you choking him. I need no explanation." There was a steely glint in his eyes. Draco could imagine that was a fair imitation of the look Legolas had in battle. And as the hilt of Legolas's knife slammed against Draco's temple, he was abruptly dropped into unconsciousness, the image of icy green eyes following him even there.
_________________________
"Harry," Legolas said softly, shaking Harry's shoulders and pointedly ignoring Draco's slumped over form. He felt dizzy, like all the blood had abruptly rushed to his head the minute he'd walked into the room and seen Draco's hand at Harry's throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so frightened, and that in and of itself might have been the most frightening thing of all.
He turned away from Harry's unconscious body for a moment to get his wits back. No good to Harry as he was now, panicked and worried and completely not under control. But he couldn't seem to get himself together. Seeing Harry unconscious struck a bit too close to the eerie dream he had had earlier. Seeing Draco, however, had been even worse. Had his dream had actual significance? Draco had been in that dream.
"How come I'm on the floor, Legolas?" Harry asked from behind him, sounding faintly bemused. "And what did you just say?"
Legolas whipped around. Harry was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. It was with a rush of relief that Legolas noticed he still had his eyes.
Then what Harry had said hit him.
"You do not remember, Harry?" he asked cautiously, sitting himself next to Harry and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Harry shrugged.
"I just remember falling asleep and waking up on the floor." He rubbed his head once more and grinned wryly. "Obviously I fell off, because I have a bump on my head the size of Caradhras. What was that you said, when I woke up? I couldn't understand it."
And it was then that Legolas realized what he'd been muttering, over and over. Saes, melamin. Please, my love.
He pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "It does not matter now," he said absently. He rather hoped that he hadn't killed Draco for no good reason. At least, he assumed Draco was dead, because he wasn't quite sure how hard he had swung the handle of his knife into Draco's temple. Panic and anger had powered the blow.
"Wait!" Harry said abruptly. "I remember something, at least. I think Draco came in here -- I can't remember when -- and we talked about something." He frowned. "It's -- fuzzy. We talked about Haldir and Valinor. But I can't seem to remember anything after that." He sighed softly and turned his face into Legolas's chest. "Well, my Potions professor always did say I had the memory of an dead Hufflepuff. Forget about it, Legolas. I can almost hear you worrying."
He was not about to forget anything, but Legolas agreed anyway. There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke again.
"Do you know anything about this -- this Valinor place? I can't remember much of what Draco told me."
Legolas smiled. Perhaps Harry did have a horrible memory, after all. "Well, you have been there, Harry, remember? After you -- well, after you were brought to life. That was Valinor." He didn't like bringing up that subject. But instead of going quiet like usual, Harry laughed.
"So that's Valinor, and why I can't remember the trip there. Or the trip back." His voice sounded suddenly urgent. "Do you -- do you think I could go there? If I wanted to?" He leaned back, arms going around his knees. His eyes, though blank and staring off into space, seemed surprisingly focused. Legolas blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by Harry's usual drifting gaze.
"I suppose," Legolas replied slowly. "Perhaps if you had an elf along with you. You've already been to Valinor once, so I expect that you would be able to go again. But not without great need. Need is the path to Valinor. And none with malice in their hearts would ever make it to the city of the Valar." He frowned, looking at Harry's furrowed brows and look of concentration. "Why do you ask this so suddenly?"
"Could you take me there?" Harry asked, and Legolas was aware of a faint trembling that overtook Harry's body when he said those words. "Please, Legolas?" He started to shake violently like a leaf in the wind.
"Harry!" Uneasiness at Harry's strange behavior changed into full-blown panic. "Harry, what are you talking about? Why do you want to go to Valinor? Harry!"
Harry opened his mouth to speak and the door flew open. Fiona stood in the open doorway, tears streaming down her face.
"My mom is dead!" she cried, and despite the seriousness of what she had said, Legolas could have hugged her -- the strange, alien look was gone from Harry's face, to be replaced by a blend of anxiety and pity.
"Oh, Fiona," Harry said quietly and opened his arms. She ran over to him and buried herself against his chest, sobbing into his shirt. He enfolded an arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair gently with his other hand, whispering soft, soothing nonsense into her ear.
After a few minutes her shoulders stopped shaking, her sobs quieted into soft little sniffles. She lifted her face from Harry's chest and looked into his blank, unseeing eyes as if he could look back at her. Harry's shirt was damp with tears.
"When did it happen?" Harry asked, just as quietly as he had before. It was a voice that Legolas had used himself, before, to calm a wild horse. It seemed to be having the same effect on Fiona.
"A few hours ago," she said, sniffling. "I went in to talk to her, and she was just -- lying there, really still. Aragorn doesn't know why she died." She bit her lips, obviously trying to get ahold of herself, and Legolas was reminded suddenly that no matter how mature she acted -- or tried to act -- she was still a little girl who was in serious need of compassion.
Harry went deathly still, his hand in Fiona's hair stopping its rhythmic stroking. "She has been talking?" he said softly. His voice trembled slightly, but Legolas was relieved that he didn't sound quite as -- strange as he had earlier. He just sounded nervous.
Fiona closed her eyes and leaned back against Harry. "Just once. I went to see her right after she'd passed out, but she was awake. We talked for a while." She smiled tremulously through her tears. "We sorta had a lot to catch up on."
Harry's face was pale. He had to clear his throat before he continued. "Did she -- did she say anything about the blindness? Or how she got it?" Legolas suspected that it had taken a great deal of control to make those words so calm.
Fiona's head drooped. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I -- I didn't ask. I should have. It's just that I haven't seen her in so long and I just forgot. I'm really sorry." She sounded a bit shaky and on the verge of tears again, and Legolas saw Harry's arm tighten around her shoulders.
"It's okay," he said.
"I want to go home."
Harry didn't look surprised. "Go talk to Gandalf," he said, and squeezed her shoulders in a gentle hug. "I'm glad you came."
Her grin was shaky, but her returning hug and whispered "thank you" sounded relatively happy. Once she was gone, Harry released a trembling sigh.
"She's dead, Legolas," he said, despair on his face. He ran a hand through his hair. "And I still don't know how to get rid of this." He motioned to his eyes. "I can't live with it. I don't care what Gandalf says."
"Pitying yourself will not help either," Legolas snapped before he could help it, and Harry's eyes grew round with indignation.
"Excuse me," Harry started angrily, but he stopped suddenly and shook his head. "I just --" He cut off, pressing a hand to his temple and shaking his head again as if to clear it of something. "What were we talking about before Fiona came in?" he asked, sounding a bit startled. "I can't seem to remember it. Any of it."
There was a danger in Harry's mind wandering down that path again. "It was nothing," he said, and chose the most obvious path to divert Harry. He leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. It worked wonderfully; Harry closed his eyes and brought a hand to the back of Legolas's neck, bringing him closer. Legolas pulled away and skirted carefully around Harry's mouth, kissing the side of his neck and lingering there, feeling the gentle beat of a pulse beneath his lips.
"Oh, will you two stop it already? God, I feel like I just drank fifteen pints of spiked butterbeer."
Draco was pushing himself off of the floor, rubbing his temple in nearly the exact same way Harry had rubbed his. He looked shaky, and Legolas suspected that he would have a bit of trouble walking for a while. Not that he regretted anything.
"Are you still here?" Harry asked, swinging his head in the direction of Draco's voice. "I thought you had left already."
Save for one wary look, Draco largely ignored Harry in favor of glaring at Legolas. "Thanks for letting me try to explain. You're goddamn lucky you didn't kill me."
"That is what I was trying for," Legolas said coldly, returning Draco's glare. He'd been stared down by harder, more dangerous people than an angry teenage wizard in his lifetime.
"Hold on just a second," Harry said, and Legolas remembered suddenly that Harry had no idea of what had happened. "Draco, are you saying that Legolas tried to kill you?"
"He swung that knife handle into my head hard enough," Draco said dryly. "He thought I was strangling you, I guess. And he didn't exactly bother to ask questions." He rubbed his head and winced.
"What exactly am I not remembering?" Harry asked slowly. "Why were you trying to strangle me, again?"
Draco went completely still, and Legolas saw a faint shaking start in his hands, traveling down his sides and up his arms. "We -- we were talking. You just sort of passed out and fell off the bed, so I was trying to get a pulse when your elf decided that I was trying to kill you, and rammed his knife into my head." Legolas gave him a sharp gaze. He sounded like he was hiding something.
Harry obviously felt the same, because his eyes narrowed dangerously. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked, sounding both annoyed and hurt.
"Nothing."
This time, it sounded as if Draco had his voice back under control, but Legolas caught a tiny fluttering in his hands, resting at his sides, and the wounded look in his eyes when he'd glance at Harry. Something had happened -- and Harry didn't seem to remember.
"Draco," he said carefully, "Aragorn might have some spare athelas if I struck you too forcefully."
Draco gave him a look of such gratitude and relief before leaving that Legolas was momentarily stunned. He got to his feet, hands smoothing over his tunic nervously.
"Yes," he breathed. "You're lucky I didn't have my wand with me." But his voice was still a bit shaky, and the sting was taken out of his words by the look of -- Legolas hesitated to call it adoration, but at the least, respect -- that Draco shot him. Draco took a few steps back, stumbled a bit, eyes darting back to Harry for a moment. He turned around and walked out of the room, and by the time he had reached the edge of Legolas's hearing, he had started running.
Harry was still sitting on the floor, staring ahead blankly with a strange, almost contemptuous twist to his mouth. "He was certainly in a hurry," he said wryly, and Legolas blinked -- sometimes he forgot how good Harry's hearing had become.
"So," he said, watching Harry's expressions warily for a sign of the strange, cold mask he had been wearing earlier.
Harry gave himself a tiny shake and smiled. "So. You still will not take me to Valinor?"
Legolas exhaled. He had been hoping that Harry would not remember their earlier conversation. "I am truly sorry, Harry. But unless you can tell me your reason for wishing to go there, than I cannot. It is forbidden."
To his relief, Harry laughed and beckoned him closer. "I understand." Harry brought his lips up to Legolas's own. "I did so wish to see those Valar again," he murmured, lips moving gently against Legolas's mouth, and Legolas was so absorbed in the feeling of Harry's smooth skin that he never saw Harry draw his wand from his pocket.
"Imperio," Harry whispered, a rapturous smile on his face, and the world around Legolas faded to a strange, smoky white.
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A/N: Nothing is more fun to write than a crazy Harry. And sorry this took so darn long to get out, but RL has finally caught up to me. I started school on Wednesday, and with all the essays/stories/math junk combined with kickboxing, the only time I found to write was about an hour after school. So, apologies to you all, and I hope that the next chapter isn't such an intense pain in the ass to write as this one turned out to be.
Chapter Six: Winter's Heart
by Capella
A/N: Hooray! I freaked everyone out with the dream sequence at the end of the last chapter! And you know, that was exactly what I was aiming for, too. Heh.
And yes, the chapter title and quote are both pulled from Robert Jordan. What can I say, I'm a hopeless, hopeless Jordanite.
Alright. I think I should explain a few things, cause I'm even confusing myself. About the whole Katherine deal -- since Orcs attacked the camp and Aragorn didn't find Katherine's body, he assumed that she either died at the hands of the Orcs or had a pain attack while captured, and died that way instead. He didn't tell Harry about the Orc attack because as you could probably tell, he was a bit ashamed about not being able to save Katherine.
And just another note -- because I guess I'm not good at explaining things -- when Harry was revived in Valinor, the Valar cleared up the whole Eonwe/indwelling business. So there was no spirit that indwelt Harry after he was revived. And obviously, no spirit inside Fiona/Draco/Harry now. *grins* Wow, am I confusing or what?
Here's chapter six of Black Eyes: Winter's Heart.
_________________________
"And in the heart of winter shall winter's heart be born
Amid the wailing of lamentations and the gnashing of teeth,
For winter's heart shall ride a black horse,
And the name of it is Death."
-- A prophecy from Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series
_________________________
It was almost unbearably hot, and Draco had been accosted by a maid the second he had stepped out of his room; the maid had been frantic in her attempts to pull a shirt onto him. In truth, he'd forgotten about his state of undress, but he wouldn't have minded walking around without one on. Especially if there had been a chance of him running into Haldir.
But he was almost positive that Haldir was hiding in his room, and even if Haldir was not, Draco was sure that the elf would use all of his considerable skill to avoid him like the plague. He'd been wandering the castle for a good two hours and hadn't seen Haldir once. He'd seen Aragorn, walking down the hall with a trail of nobles trying to keep up, but Draco had seen Aragorn's thunderous expression and decided to forgo on asking him for Haldir's whereabouts.
So now he was left with nothing to do but wander aimlessly around the castle. And he was almost positive that he had just made a complete circle.
He was just about to go back to his own room when he heard a faint whisper come from the door he'd just passed. He stopped, ears perking in interest, when he realized who had just spoken.
"Legolas?"
Draco smirked, wondering if maybe some eavesdropping would lighten his boredom. He dared to step closer and press his ear to the door. Harry's voice was clearer now, and it had a sharp, worried tone to it.
"Legolas, I know something is wrong. What is it? You got up so quick --"
"It is nothing."
Draco started from where he crouched, ear pressed against the wood, when he heard Legolas speak. Legolas did not sound angry or irritated or amused or any number of things that Draco had heard him be. He was scared, scared as anyone Draco had ever heard before. And considering that in his lesser days, he had been present and even helped his father with information extraction -- torture, he thought with a wry smirk -- considering that, the terror he heard in Legolas's voice was surprising, to say the least.
It took just a moment to realize that there were footsteps heading for the door.
He looked around frantically and spotted a rather convenient, shadowed nook that probably used to contain a statue. He had only just darted into it when the door opened and Legolas appeared; his blonde hair was a wild mass framing his face and his blue eyes looked a little dangerous. Peering into the doorway behind him, Draco saw Harry sitting up in bed, a sheet pulled to his waist. He was staring in the direction of the door and looking lost.
Legolas glanced down the hall and took off running. His boots made no sound, but once Draco had waited a good amount of time, he crept cautiously out of the nook and towards the open doorway.
Harry was still staring blankly at the door with the same expression, but when he heard Draco's boots, his eyebrows lowered. "Who is it?" he asked sharply. He didn't sound in the mood for company.
He couldn't help himself; Draco's eyes drifted downwards to take in Harry's bare chest before he replied. "It's just me. Draco. Where's Legolas?"
Harry sighed and his head drooped, and he shifted a little, making room for Draco to sit next to him on the bed. "I don't know. It was -- it was really strange. We were asleep, but all of a sudden I felt him sort of jerk beside me. He never moves in his sleep, ever. Then he sat up -- he was breathing really fast -- but he wouldn't answer me when I asked what was wrong. And he just left." He got that sad, lost look again but visibly shook it off. "Grab me my pants, will you? They're on the floor. I think they've got my wand in the pocket."
Draco felt the familiar pang of jealousy deep in his chest even as he turned around to give Harry some privacy as he dressed. "I saw him running down the hall," he said reluctantly. "If you want, I can take you to go look for him." In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was willing to do nearly anything to get that look off of Harry's face.
"No, I won't make you wander around with me," Harry said, lips curving into a small smile. "He'll come back eventually, and I'll dig it out of him then." Draco very nearly heaved a sigh of relief. A few moments of silence passed.
"What do you --"
"So, I heard --"
"You go first," Draco said, laughing. "What is it?"
Harry smiled again. "Rumil told me that you and Haldir seem to be spending a lot of time together lately."
For a second Draco couldn't do anything but stare at Harry in shock. "He did?" he managed after a moment. "I guess we have -- I mean, what did he say, exactly?"
Harry's eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, Draco, I know about all your old tricks," he said, smirking. "Don't you remember how Blaise described you to the entire Hall when you two got in a fight? Sarcasm, manipulation, and sexuality at its best. I never could figure out if he meant that as an insult or not."
Draco grinned before he remembered Harry couldn't see it. Harry went on in a more serious tone.
"But try not to hurt him, Draco. And try to remember that he is leaving in a few days. So, what did you two talk about?"
The subject change was so quick that Draco gaped for a moment before he recovered. Harry could be remarkably strange at times. "Well, it took him a bit to open up. But once I got him a bit more loosened -- a bit, mind, that elf is one of the most uptight creatures I have ever talked to -- he started talking about the most fascinating things. Like where's he's moving to. Valinor. Did you know --"
But Harry had suddenly gotten the strangest look on his face that Draco stopped. It looked -- hungry and feral at the same time. And confused, for a moment, but that disappeared in a heartbeat.
"What did he say?" Harry said in a hushed voice that did nothing to conceal the urgent tones within it. "What did he say about Valinor? I have to know. Tell me."
Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Harry, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," Harry said, and let out a strange little laugh. "Just tell me what Haldir said. I'm curious." He certainly didn't sound curious; he sounded mad, and Draco told him so.
He wasn't prepared for the fist that sailed towards his face and connected solidly with his jaw, sending him flying back. He heard a crack as his head connected with the wooden headboard at the front of the bed. He stared at Harry in shock.
"Tell me," Harry said, and he sounded almost normal, but the look in his eyes was not right. His irises were almost completely green, and his eyes locked onto Draco's own with a frightening precision that someone blind should not have.
"Okay," he said shakily, managing to sit up through the ringing in his skull. He reached a hand around and felt a lump on his head. "Just -- just give me a moment to think." He scrabbled for a memory of what Haldir had told him, anything to get that murderous, cold look off Harry's face. For a second the wild thought flashed through his mind that some spirit was inside Harry, like Harry had told him happened to Legolas, but Draco realized that probably was not possible. Harry had said that he had had the distinct feeling that Legolas was not himself -- that Legolas had merely been a shell for something else -- but Draco had no such feeling. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry had just clipped his jaw and probably had no compunctions about doing it again.
The frantic thought skittered across his mind that Katherine was insane and blind, and that Harry was showing signs that he was well on the path to being insane as well.
Suddenly Harry smiled at him, and it would have been warm if his eyes had lost their cold glow. "Take your time," he said, but the tone of his voice was altogether different -- his accent was altered slightly, his tone regal, as if he were sitting on a throne.
Draco cautiously began. "He just talked about how beautiful it was, and how only elves can go there. He talked a great deal about its beauty. And I swear that's all of it."
"Please don't lie to me, Draco," Harry said, smiling all the while. He sounded totally normal, now, and that made what was happening all the worse. He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the corner of Draco's lips. "I hate it when people lie to me. Please, I'm just curious. That's all."
Draco exhaled and began again. He'd been in worse situations than this, had more dangerous people than Harry angry with him. "Well. He said that the only way to get there was if you are an elf or have an elf for a guide, or I think if the Valar let you. He said there is only one way to reach Valinor, but I can't remember what it's called." That was the truth, but he still looked at Harry to see if it was accepted. Harry nodded sharply, impatiently, those keen eyes still trained on his own. "He said that any man who tried to get to Valinor would just circle the earth, but an elf would travel through the air on an invisible bridge. That's all."
"I see." The smile left Harry's face, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell off the bed.
"Oh, my God -- Harry!"
Draco leaned over the side of the bed. Harry was laying on the floor, limbs splayed out, eyes closed. He appeared unconscious. Climbing off the bed, Draco shook Harry's shoulders for all he was worth, but Harry didn't stir. Draco felt panic set in. "If you die, Legolas is going to kill me," he whispered, and it just so happened that at that moment, as Draco reached his hand for Harry's throat to feel for a pulse, that Legolas walked in.
They stared at each other for a few moments, Draco's hand resting on the slim column of Harry's neck. He could feel Harry's pulse fluttering beneath his palm; it was racing as if he had just run a mile.
"What have you done?" Legolas whispered, never taking his icy blue gaze off of Draco's own. "You hate me so much that you would kill him to hurt me?"
Draco felt his eyes widen. "No, that's not --"
Legolas knelt by Harry's side, his hand going to push Harry's hair out of his forehead. A finger traced the outline of Harry's lips. "What is it, then, Draco?" His voice was dangerously soft. A knife had appeared in his other hand, and the way he twirled it between his fingers spoke of a willingness to use it. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas cut him off sharply. "I saw you choking him. I need no explanation." There was a steely glint in his eyes. Draco could imagine that was a fair imitation of the look Legolas had in battle. And as the hilt of Legolas's knife slammed against Draco's temple, he was abruptly dropped into unconsciousness, the image of icy green eyes following him even there.
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"Harry," Legolas said softly, shaking Harry's shoulders and pointedly ignoring Draco's slumped over form. He felt dizzy, like all the blood had abruptly rushed to his head the minute he'd walked into the room and seen Draco's hand at Harry's throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so frightened, and that in and of itself might have been the most frightening thing of all.
He turned away from Harry's unconscious body for a moment to get his wits back. No good to Harry as he was now, panicked and worried and completely not under control. But he couldn't seem to get himself together. Seeing Harry unconscious struck a bit too close to the eerie dream he had had earlier. Seeing Draco, however, had been even worse. Had his dream had actual significance? Draco had been in that dream.
"How come I'm on the floor, Legolas?" Harry asked from behind him, sounding faintly bemused. "And what did you just say?"
Legolas whipped around. Harry was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. It was with a rush of relief that Legolas noticed he still had his eyes.
Then what Harry had said hit him.
"You do not remember, Harry?" he asked cautiously, sitting himself next to Harry and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Harry shrugged.
"I just remember falling asleep and waking up on the floor." He rubbed his head once more and grinned wryly. "Obviously I fell off, because I have a bump on my head the size of Caradhras. What was that you said, when I woke up? I couldn't understand it."
And it was then that Legolas realized what he'd been muttering, over and over. Saes, melamin. Please, my love.
He pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "It does not matter now," he said absently. He rather hoped that he hadn't killed Draco for no good reason. At least, he assumed Draco was dead, because he wasn't quite sure how hard he had swung the handle of his knife into Draco's temple. Panic and anger had powered the blow.
"Wait!" Harry said abruptly. "I remember something, at least. I think Draco came in here -- I can't remember when -- and we talked about something." He frowned. "It's -- fuzzy. We talked about Haldir and Valinor. But I can't seem to remember anything after that." He sighed softly and turned his face into Legolas's chest. "Well, my Potions professor always did say I had the memory of an dead Hufflepuff. Forget about it, Legolas. I can almost hear you worrying."
He was not about to forget anything, but Legolas agreed anyway. There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke again.
"Do you know anything about this -- this Valinor place? I can't remember much of what Draco told me."
Legolas smiled. Perhaps Harry did have a horrible memory, after all. "Well, you have been there, Harry, remember? After you -- well, after you were brought to life. That was Valinor." He didn't like bringing up that subject. But instead of going quiet like usual, Harry laughed.
"So that's Valinor, and why I can't remember the trip there. Or the trip back." His voice sounded suddenly urgent. "Do you -- do you think I could go there? If I wanted to?" He leaned back, arms going around his knees. His eyes, though blank and staring off into space, seemed surprisingly focused. Legolas blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by Harry's usual drifting gaze.
"I suppose," Legolas replied slowly. "Perhaps if you had an elf along with you. You've already been to Valinor once, so I expect that you would be able to go again. But not without great need. Need is the path to Valinor. And none with malice in their hearts would ever make it to the city of the Valar." He frowned, looking at Harry's furrowed brows and look of concentration. "Why do you ask this so suddenly?"
"Could you take me there?" Harry asked, and Legolas was aware of a faint trembling that overtook Harry's body when he said those words. "Please, Legolas?" He started to shake violently like a leaf in the wind.
"Harry!" Uneasiness at Harry's strange behavior changed into full-blown panic. "Harry, what are you talking about? Why do you want to go to Valinor? Harry!"
Harry opened his mouth to speak and the door flew open. Fiona stood in the open doorway, tears streaming down her face.
"My mom is dead!" she cried, and despite the seriousness of what she had said, Legolas could have hugged her -- the strange, alien look was gone from Harry's face, to be replaced by a blend of anxiety and pity.
"Oh, Fiona," Harry said quietly and opened his arms. She ran over to him and buried herself against his chest, sobbing into his shirt. He enfolded an arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair gently with his other hand, whispering soft, soothing nonsense into her ear.
After a few minutes her shoulders stopped shaking, her sobs quieted into soft little sniffles. She lifted her face from Harry's chest and looked into his blank, unseeing eyes as if he could look back at her. Harry's shirt was damp with tears.
"When did it happen?" Harry asked, just as quietly as he had before. It was a voice that Legolas had used himself, before, to calm a wild horse. It seemed to be having the same effect on Fiona.
"A few hours ago," she said, sniffling. "I went in to talk to her, and she was just -- lying there, really still. Aragorn doesn't know why she died." She bit her lips, obviously trying to get ahold of herself, and Legolas was reminded suddenly that no matter how mature she acted -- or tried to act -- she was still a little girl who was in serious need of compassion.
Harry went deathly still, his hand in Fiona's hair stopping its rhythmic stroking. "She has been talking?" he said softly. His voice trembled slightly, but Legolas was relieved that he didn't sound quite as -- strange as he had earlier. He just sounded nervous.
Fiona closed her eyes and leaned back against Harry. "Just once. I went to see her right after she'd passed out, but she was awake. We talked for a while." She smiled tremulously through her tears. "We sorta had a lot to catch up on."
Harry's face was pale. He had to clear his throat before he continued. "Did she -- did she say anything about the blindness? Or how she got it?" Legolas suspected that it had taken a great deal of control to make those words so calm.
Fiona's head drooped. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I -- I didn't ask. I should have. It's just that I haven't seen her in so long and I just forgot. I'm really sorry." She sounded a bit shaky and on the verge of tears again, and Legolas saw Harry's arm tighten around her shoulders.
"It's okay," he said.
"I want to go home."
Harry didn't look surprised. "Go talk to Gandalf," he said, and squeezed her shoulders in a gentle hug. "I'm glad you came."
Her grin was shaky, but her returning hug and whispered "thank you" sounded relatively happy. Once she was gone, Harry released a trembling sigh.
"She's dead, Legolas," he said, despair on his face. He ran a hand through his hair. "And I still don't know how to get rid of this." He motioned to his eyes. "I can't live with it. I don't care what Gandalf says."
"Pitying yourself will not help either," Legolas snapped before he could help it, and Harry's eyes grew round with indignation.
"Excuse me," Harry started angrily, but he stopped suddenly and shook his head. "I just --" He cut off, pressing a hand to his temple and shaking his head again as if to clear it of something. "What were we talking about before Fiona came in?" he asked, sounding a bit startled. "I can't seem to remember it. Any of it."
There was a danger in Harry's mind wandering down that path again. "It was nothing," he said, and chose the most obvious path to divert Harry. He leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. It worked wonderfully; Harry closed his eyes and brought a hand to the back of Legolas's neck, bringing him closer. Legolas pulled away and skirted carefully around Harry's mouth, kissing the side of his neck and lingering there, feeling the gentle beat of a pulse beneath his lips.
"Oh, will you two stop it already? God, I feel like I just drank fifteen pints of spiked butterbeer."
Draco was pushing himself off of the floor, rubbing his temple in nearly the exact same way Harry had rubbed his. He looked shaky, and Legolas suspected that he would have a bit of trouble walking for a while. Not that he regretted anything.
"Are you still here?" Harry asked, swinging his head in the direction of Draco's voice. "I thought you had left already."
Save for one wary look, Draco largely ignored Harry in favor of glaring at Legolas. "Thanks for letting me try to explain. You're goddamn lucky you didn't kill me."
"That is what I was trying for," Legolas said coldly, returning Draco's glare. He'd been stared down by harder, more dangerous people than an angry teenage wizard in his lifetime.
"Hold on just a second," Harry said, and Legolas remembered suddenly that Harry had no idea of what had happened. "Draco, are you saying that Legolas tried to kill you?"
"He swung that knife handle into my head hard enough," Draco said dryly. "He thought I was strangling you, I guess. And he didn't exactly bother to ask questions." He rubbed his head and winced.
"What exactly am I not remembering?" Harry asked slowly. "Why were you trying to strangle me, again?"
Draco went completely still, and Legolas saw a faint shaking start in his hands, traveling down his sides and up his arms. "We -- we were talking. You just sort of passed out and fell off the bed, so I was trying to get a pulse when your elf decided that I was trying to kill you, and rammed his knife into my head." Legolas gave him a sharp gaze. He sounded like he was hiding something.
Harry obviously felt the same, because his eyes narrowed dangerously. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked, sounding both annoyed and hurt.
"Nothing."
This time, it sounded as if Draco had his voice back under control, but Legolas caught a tiny fluttering in his hands, resting at his sides, and the wounded look in his eyes when he'd glance at Harry. Something had happened -- and Harry didn't seem to remember.
"Draco," he said carefully, "Aragorn might have some spare athelas if I struck you too forcefully."
Draco gave him a look of such gratitude and relief before leaving that Legolas was momentarily stunned. He got to his feet, hands smoothing over his tunic nervously.
"Yes," he breathed. "You're lucky I didn't have my wand with me." But his voice was still a bit shaky, and the sting was taken out of his words by the look of -- Legolas hesitated to call it adoration, but at the least, respect -- that Draco shot him. Draco took a few steps back, stumbled a bit, eyes darting back to Harry for a moment. He turned around and walked out of the room, and by the time he had reached the edge of Legolas's hearing, he had started running.
Harry was still sitting on the floor, staring ahead blankly with a strange, almost contemptuous twist to his mouth. "He was certainly in a hurry," he said wryly, and Legolas blinked -- sometimes he forgot how good Harry's hearing had become.
"So," he said, watching Harry's expressions warily for a sign of the strange, cold mask he had been wearing earlier.
Harry gave himself a tiny shake and smiled. "So. You still will not take me to Valinor?"
Legolas exhaled. He had been hoping that Harry would not remember their earlier conversation. "I am truly sorry, Harry. But unless you can tell me your reason for wishing to go there, than I cannot. It is forbidden."
To his relief, Harry laughed and beckoned him closer. "I understand." Harry brought his lips up to Legolas's own. "I did so wish to see those Valar again," he murmured, lips moving gently against Legolas's mouth, and Legolas was so absorbed in the feeling of Harry's smooth skin that he never saw Harry draw his wand from his pocket.
"Imperio," Harry whispered, a rapturous smile on his face, and the world around Legolas faded to a strange, smoky white.
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A/N: Nothing is more fun to write than a crazy Harry. And sorry this took so darn long to get out, but RL has finally caught up to me. I started school on Wednesday, and with all the essays/stories/math junk combined with kickboxing, the only time I found to write was about an hour after school. So, apologies to you all, and I hope that the next chapter isn't such an intense pain in the ass to write as this one turned out to be.