Black Eyes
Chapter Seven: Eidolon
by Capella
A/N: -- Had a revelation. I realized that this is gonna be probably much shorter that Shadow of a Doubt. I tried to figure out why, and then I realized that the first thirteen or so chapters of Shadow a Doubt are abysmally short, and the entire story could have been done in 15 chapters, if I had been more intelligent. But alas. So Black Eyes probably won't be shorter, persay, but less chapters with more content.
-- Just a mid story checkup. I need to know what you guys are thinking -- I'm getting a bit nervous about this story, simply because I'm scared that it won't live up to the first one. So, if you could, just leave me a review saying whether you liked it/improvements/whatever. I just need to know what's on everyone's mind, because I'm getting supremely paranoid. If you're like me (I have a nasty habit of never leaving reviews), then do it just this once. :) And I'll never bug you about it again.
-- One last note -- an Eidolon is an unsubstansial figure or phantom. Way too cool. And yes, it's Poe again. So I'm in love with the man. There is a huge hint in the poem/title for this chapter. C'mon, get those brain's a-workin! It's a puzzle!
-- ...aaand the rating is officially upped to an R. *shrugs apologetically* I can't help myself. Blame Haldir and Draco. Who won't be getting action for a while, if I have anything to say about it. Which I probably don't.
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"By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE — out of TIME."
-- E. Allen Poe, "Dreamland"
_________________________
Only when Draco was sure that Harry was not following after him did he dare to stop and press a shaking hand to his jaw. It was tender to the touch. One of his molars wiggled when he touched his tongue carefully to it.
He turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood from a split lip, noticing absently as he wiped his mouth that he couldn't seem to get his hands to be still.
God -- he couldn't even begin to think of what had just happened. He wanted to be angry so badly, wanted to turn around right there and run back to that room and demand to know what the hell had just happened. But even thinking about it made his knees want to give.
"I'm such a fucking girl," he said to no one in particular, wincing when the bruise on his jaw started to throb. "I should go see Harry. I should ask him what the hell happened. Knock him out and see how he likes it."
But even as the echo of his words came back to him, he knew he'd never do it, because even thinking about hurting Harry brought up memories from the fight they'd had after Dean had been killed. Memories of Harry lying on his back, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, betrayal and rage in his eyes as he raised his wand with an Unforgivable on his lips. The memories got a little blurry after that; the amount of power Harry'd put behind that Cruciatus spell had knocked him unconscious. He'd woken to find that while he'd been out, Harry had gone a bit crazy and tried to carve the Dark Mark out of his arm.
He shivered. Maybe Harry had never been entirely sane to begin with.
The rapid clap of shoes on the stone brought him out of his memories and into a greater kind of panic. Harry couldn't have found him already. He'd run for a good ten minutes, down all the way to the bottom floor. He pressed himself harder against the wall, feeling the cool of the stone seeping into his skin and wishing somehow that he could find a way to do the same. He shut his eyes.
"What are you doing?"
"Haldir," he breathed, surprised to hear that the tremors had almost left his voice. And was equally surprised when he launched himself off the wall and onto Haldir, wrapping his arms around Haldir's middle and pressing his cheek against Haldir's shoulder.
"Draco?" Haldir's hands were on Draco's shoulders, trying to push him back, managing to sound a mix of slightly annoyed and slightly confused. "What are you doing?" he repeated. Draco noticed that his gaze stayed firmly fixed on the wall behind him.
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly Haldir looked down at him and frowned, and Draco's ability to speak was suddenly stolen by the clear blue of Haldir's eyes.
"There is blood on your lip," Haldir said softly, bringing a hand up and gently wiping the blood off Draco's mouth. "Why?" Haldir's fingers stayed, gently tracing his lips even after Draco was sure the blood was gone.
"I don't know." Hs voice was husky, and he had to clear it before he went on. "Harry got -- angry with me. We were -- I don't know. Talking about Valinor. I guess I wasn't telling him what he wanted to hear." An involuntary shiver went down his spine when a pair of icy green eyes seemed superimposed over Haldir's own gray ones. He pressed his face back into Haldir's shoulder and shuddered.
Haldir drew a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice held relief. "Let's see if we cannot get these questions answered now. Hello, Harry."
Draco whirled around just in time to see Harry and Legolas striding up, Harry smiling and resting one hand on Legolas's arm. He looked...normal. "Hello, Haldir. I don't suppose you've happened to see Draco anywhere?" He sounded genuinely worried, a little crease in between his eyebrows as he frowned.. Haldir gave Draco a look.
"He is right here, Harry. He seems to have some misconception that you two had a fight. What happened?"
Harry's head drooped. "I'm sorry," he said in a very small voice. "I don't know what was the matter with me. I guess I'm just stressed out, with Katherine's death and all. I'm sorry, Draco." He sounded appropriately guilty, but somehow his eyes were a bit too focused on Draco and a bit too green.
"It's okay," Draco said quietly, eyes fixed on Harry's face for any trace of that strange expression that had been there before. It could have been paranoia, but Draco was sure that a shadow of menace lurked somewhere under that guilty exterior.
He shifted his gaze to Legolas. Legolas was staring straight ahead, his eyes strangely blank, gaze drifting a bit. He looked, for lack of a better term, completely knocked up.
"We must be going," he said, that eerily empty gaze transferring to Haldir. His voice sounded strangely slurred, like he had trouble getting out the words. "We are going to give Arod some exercise."
Harry laughed and patted Legolas's arm, but there was something sharp about his expression. "We want to get back before dark," he said apologetically. "I'm really afraid he's right. We must be leaving."
Without another word they strode off, arm in arm, Harry leaning over to whisper something in Legolas's ear. Draco heard Legolas chuckle slightly before they turned a corner.
Draco stared after them in shock, tiny shivers still running up his spine.
"He seemed fine to me," Haldir said dryly, looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sure --"
"Yes, I'm goddamn sure," Draco snapped, not taking his eyes off the corner where they'd turned. "You didn't notice anything strange about Legolas?"
Haldir frowned. "I have never seen him so unfocused," he said slowly. "In all my life, never have I met an elf so constantly alert as Legolas, as if he is always expecting attack. Harry changed him, but that was one thing that did not change." Haldir's lips thinned. "Something is wrong."
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The white fog in his vision was swirling fit to make him sick.
"Laugh, Legolas," hissed a voice in his ear. "I just said something amusing. Laugh."
Something compelled him to laugh, so he did, a false doll's smile curving up his lips. As soon as he laughed, the strange headache went almost completely away.
"Very good," the voice purred. "Very, very good. I might not have to kill you after all. Would you like that?"
"Yes," he said, still smiling emptily, trying to think through the fog miring his thoughts. Why had he answered? "Harry?" he whispered and shook his head.
"Stop thinking," Harry snapped, grip curling vice-like on Legolas's forearm. "Do as I say."
Legolas's thoughts sunk back into the pleasantness of white oblivion, fog obscuring every thought but complete submission. There was a low laugh in his ear.
"I was told that this spell can only be resisted by those with a strong will. I always thought you had a stronger will than I, but I suppose I was wrong, wasn't I? Get on the horse, Legolas."
Why should I? He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Harry hissed in displeasure.
"Because I fucking told you to, that's why. Do it."
There was a strange pressure on Legolas's temples, throbbing to the beat of his heart and, strangely enough, throbbing to those two words that Harry had said, repeating themselves over and over in his head. Do it. Do it. Do it do it do it do it
I do not think I will.
Do it. The pressure in his temples increased to a steady ache that made him want to vomit. Everything fiber of his being wanted to get on the horse, and every fiber of his being was beginning to feel as if he was being lit on fire. He burned.
"No," he ground out, shutting his eyes against the sudden onslaught of pain.
"You just have to be difficult, don't you?" Harry snarled. "Finite Incantatem." The white fog as well as the blinding pain suddenly vanished, and Legolas was faintly surprised to find himself on his knees, waist deep in hay, hands covering his face. He took his hands slowly away and was surprised to find that they were wet with tears.
"What have you done?" His voice was raspy, Harry looking strangely wavering through his tears. He had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand before he could see straight again. Harry's eyes were wide with shock, lips trembling as if he had been the one under the curse. "What have you done, Harry?"
Harry knelt down next to Legolas, feeling blindly around until his hands came in contact with Legolas's shoulder. Legolas had to resist the urge to flinch away when Harry's fingers traced their way up to his wet cheeks. "You're crying," he said softly. His voice was filled with guilt. His eyes were blank and glazed over again.
"How did we get here?" Legolas asked, and was shocked to see Harry reel as if he'd been struck.
"I don't remember." Harry bit his lower lip.
"You do not remember?"
Harry nodded, wringing his hands tremulously. "If I have done something -- grievous -- I apologize. I don't remember -- I know I should -- what have I done?" He looked so guilty that Legolas felt his anger fade. He enfolded Harry in his arms gently.
"Nothing of importance," he said softly, rocking Harry in his arms. "Would you still like to take a ride on Arod?"
"If you do," Harry said seriously, voice still wavering just a bit. Legolas smiled down at Harry before he realized the action was wasted.
"Of course I do."
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The ride took almost the rest of the day. They had returned to the kitchens before setting out on Arod, grabbing a small lunch that they ate beside a meandering stream a good distance north of Minas Tirith. They dallied for a good while there, and Harry's tunic got dirty and a bit ripped in the heat of the moment. Legolas laughed and promised to get him a new one, even as he eased his body over Harry's own and used rather pleasant methods to shut Harry up.
The sun was setting by the time they got back on Arod to ride back to Minas Tirith. Legolas felt Harry lean his head between Legolas's shoulderblades, his hair tickling the back of Legolas's neck, and Legolas smiled despite himself.
"Where are we going now?" Harry said sleepily, voice muffled in Legolas's tunic.
Legolas wished he could turn around and see the expression on Harry's face; he loved watching Harry when he was sleepy. "Minas Tirith," he replied, and felt Harry tense from behind him.
"But -- I just thought that -- well, maybe we could take a bit of a trip. See Valinor, like we talked about before. Don't you want to go there? I imagine it's lovely."
"No, Harry." His voice sounded calm enough, but his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought perhaps Harry could hear it, and it felt like a swarm of midges was swirling around in his stomach. "We are going back to Minas Tirith. It is getting late." He was hyper aware of the fact that his bow was hanging off of the saddle and his two knives stuck in his belt. Foolish, foolish, foolish to let down his guard again. But he most grievously did not wish to harm Harry. But if he had to, he would.
Suddenly there was the sharp edge of a knife cutting into his throat.
"Turn this horse around, Legolas," Harry murmured into his ear, and his voice was one that Legolas recognized. It had the sharp edge that he remembered from his -- minutes, hours, days? -- under the curse.
"I will not," he said, tensing his muscles, preparing to turn and take the knife from Harry by force. He had no compunctions about knocking Harry from the horse, if it meant taking that knife from him. But the knife pressed harder into his throat as if Harry knew what he was planning, barely splitting the skin, and a small trickle of blood ran down his neck and pooled in the hollow of his throat.
"Do you want to hit me?" Harry asked conversationally. "Would you hurt me to get free? I don't think you could." Legolas felt a tug at his waist as Harry drew Legolas's two knives and dropped them to the ground. Arod gave a soft, concerned whinny. Harry laughed softly. "Well, I suppose now you certainly can't. Perhaps you could have threatened me with your knives, but do you really think you could bear hurt me with your own hands?" His voice got sharper. "Now, you will turn this horse around, or I will cut your throat."
Legolas pressed his lips together. "Why are you doing this?" he asked before he could stop himself.
The knife at his throat wavered just a bit, loosened up its pressure, and Legolas took the opportunity to knock the back of his head into Harry's own. As Harry sat there, stunned, Legolas twisted and knocked Harry off of the horse and onto the ground. The knife landed a few feet away. Legolas pinned Harry's hands above his head, and managed somehow to pin Harry's legs down with his body.
Harry merely smiled seductively. "Are you going to hurt me?" he asked softly, arching his body up. "Are you angry? Hit me. Hurt me. I know that you want to." Even pinned as he was, he managed to rotate his hips against Legolas's.
"I will not hurt you," Legolas said, horrified, and realized it was true; he could not bring himself to hurt Harry even if his life depended upon it. He realized a few moments later that it was taking a great deal of effort not to press his hips down against Harry's own.
It was with the faint sensation of being run through with a sword that Legolas realized that Harry was staring straight at him. There was no trace of blindness in his eyes. Then Harry smiled again and and shut his eyes, purring, arching up again as if his spine was made out of liquid, and Legolas had a bit of trouble keeping his mind on the fact that Harry was probably plotting how to kill him. Had he ever been this easily distracted?
He felt the cold prick of metal on his throat again, sighed, and realized that Harry had the knife again.
"Get off me and get back on the horse," Harry said, his lip curling. "You disgust me." The knife point pressed against his neck, demanding he comply. He felt strangely numb.
"I will not let you do this," he said. Harry's eyes widened and he suddenly threw back his head and laughed, a deep belly laugh that made Legolas ache with the familiarity of it.
"You won't let me!" Harry said, still laughing, but there was no mirth in his voice and his eyes were cold. "You couldn't stop me if you had to." The look in his eyes changed, turning calculating. "I could pull this knife away and you'd still follow me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Legolas said, the words escaping him before he could help it. But it was the truth -- he would follow Harry anywhere, undergo any cruelty, to make sure Harry stayed safe. He had to try again, even so. "Harry -- please, you must fight this. I do not know what is affecting you, possessing you, but I know how you are feeling -- I know that you cannot control what you are doing --"
"Then let me disabuse you of that notion," Harry said coldly, the same look on his face that Legolas had seen on Orcs playing with their victims. "I know exactly what I am doing. And let me hasten to assure you that unless you do exactly as I say, you will very, very much regret every minute that you spent under Sauron's control." Harry's lips curled into an animal-like snarl. "Make me angry, and you will discover just how sorry you will become for every time that you made me scream." His bright, unblinking eyes stared into Legolas's own until Legolas had to look away.
"I agree," he said softly, and Harry grinned, a crooked boyish grin that was almost painfully familiar.
"That's good," he said cheerfully, all traces of earlier anger gone but for his eyes. "I really didn't want to get my hands bloody. Now, get on the horse. I won't ask you again."
Legolas did as he said, feeling strangely dull. Harry swung onto the horse in front of him and clicked his tongue. Arod started off at a canter. There was a good hour of silence before Legolas chose to speak.
"You will not be able to get to Valinor, Harry."
Harry stopped Arod. "What do you mean?" he asked without turning, voice gone dangerously soft.
The Valar grant permission to travel the Straight Road only to those with no malice in their hearts. You have no hope of ever reaching it."
This time Harry did twist in his saddle, eyes narrowed and deadly. "You think so?" he asked quietly, menace radiating from every pore. "I would not be so certain if I were you." He paused, and that same calculating gaze entered his eyes. "The Valar love the First-born, do they not?" he asked, obviously thinking. He booted Arod, and the horse started walking again.
"They do," Legolas said carefully. Harry turned back around.
"Need is the path to Valinor," he mused. "Perhaps this will give the Valar an incentive to grant me the path to Valinor. If we are not able to travel the Straight Road, I will kill you. And it will not be a pleasant death. Let us see if they are willing to grant us passage if it means keeping the son of the King of Mirkwood alive." Harry sounded satisfied. There was a faintly sick feeling in the pit of Legolas's stomach.
"They will not know," he said, lips numb. Harry chuckled.
"I have heard somewhere that one of the Valar roams the lands of Middle-earth upon occasion. I have a feeling that the disappearance of an Elven Prince will be enough to catch his attention. They will know." He sounded smug. Giving up, Legolas laid his head on Harry's back and drifted into an easy sleep, lulled by Arod's soft footfalls and the heat radiating from Harry's skin.
_________________________
Draco was beginning to feel a bit foolish.
Legolas and Harry had still not returned, and he had had ample time to think about how he'd acted -- like a Hufflepuff, shaking and scared and completely witless. He had been in worse situations and not acted half as idiotic.
Perhaps, he amended, he had been in situations more hopeless with people more depraved, but he'd had no compunctions about hurting them. Hurting Harry had been quite out of the question. Although after he thought about it for a while, it wasn't so out of the question anymore. He would have given a great deal to beat some sense into Harry.
But it was getting dark, and Draco felt a tiny string of worry worm its way into his thoughts.
He ground his teeth. It'd be a cold day in hell before he worried about Harry again. He could obviously take care of himself.
Which is why it seemed strange that he found himself knocking on Haldir's door not a half hour later, his stomach cramping with a mix of nervousness and anxiety. It seemed an eternity before the door finally opened.
"Haldir, I --" The words died on his lips, and Rumil quirked an eyebrow.
"I take it I am not the one you are looking for?" he said dryly. Draco shrugged, smirking. Rumil shook his head with a wry smile on his lips. "Let me get him for you, and then I will leave. Give you two some privacy." To Draco's surprise, he winked before disappearing into the room. He emerged a few seconds later, slipping past Draco with a whispered "good luck."
Draco sighed. If only he was here for something as pleasurable as that. He bit his lip and squared his shoulders before walking into the room.
Haldir was sitting on the bed, in a simple white tunic and green breeches, a book in his lap. When Draco entered, he raised one of his eyebrows sardonically. "Something on your mind?" he asked, but for a wonder there was no sarcasm in his tone. Draco would have sworn that he was worried as well.
"Harry and Legolas aren't back yet," he said without preamble, and Haldir sighed.
"I know," he said quietly, placing his book carefully on the bed and getting up restlessly. "They have been gone for too long. A ride on Arod would not have taken this long, even with their obvious -- distractions." A faint blush stained his cheeks.
"Distractions?" Draco asked, smirking when Haldir shifted his gaze. "Could you elaborate?"
"Oh, will you stop?" Haldir snapped. "I do not know what you want from me, and you are getting quite tiring --"
Draco took a step forward, fixing an intense gaze on Haldir's own. "You don't know what I want?" he asked softly, seeing the muscles of Haldir's throat work as he swallowed convulsively. There was a faint, fading bruise on the junction of Haldir's neck and shoulder that Draco smiled to see. "Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough."
"You are making yourself quite clear enough," Haldir said firmly, taking a step backwards, a wary expression on his face. "Very clear. Now, if you would not mind, I need to you to leave." As Draco continued to advance, Haldir's expression turned pleading. "I need to be alone."
"How nice," Draco said in a conversational tone, finally backing Haldir against the wall and placing his hands on either side of his shoulders. "You can be alone with me." He leaned forward, catching Haldir's lips with his own in a gentle kiss.
Haldir's hands flew to Draco's shoulders, trying to push him off. Draco smiled into Haldir's mouth and pressed his body flush up against the elf's, and the hands dug into his shoulders desperately. Haldir broke the kiss long enough to moan something that started life as "Stop" before Draco pressed his lips against Haldir's again.
"Do you really want me to stop?" Draco said a few minutes later, and knew the answer even as Haldir caught breath enough to reply.
And suddenly Haldir was kissing him with such fervor and skill that Draco let out a surprised moan into the elf's mouth. "What was that?" he gasped, trying to think even as Haldir snuck a hand into his breeches. He felt strangely lightheaded.
Haldir's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Did you think that I had never done this before?" he asked, doing something wicked with his hand that made Draco's knees buckle, and when he slid to his knees, Haldir was there with him, pushing him urgently onto his back.
"On -- the floor?" Draco managed to get out. Haldir busied himself with putting an impressive bruise on his neck in reply, smoothing his hands down the length of Draco's chest. Draco had to bite his lips to keep from making what was sure to be a pathetic whimper.
Haldir was hooking his fingers in the top of Draco's trousers when the door slammed open, followed by several gasps. Haldir took his hands away from Draco's body as if he'd been burned and buried his face in his hands.
Draco turned onto his stomach. "Ever heard of knocking, Aragorn?"
Aragorn had a faintly shell-shocked expression on his face. "I -- apologize," he said, sounding faintly strangled. Arwen gave him a look, and Draco wouldn't have been surprised if she rolled her eyes. She glanced at Haldir and then to Draco, mouthing, "on the floor?" at him. Draco shrugged, unashamed.
"What did you want?" Haldir asked, having finally taken his hands cautiously away from his face. He busied himself with pulling on a tunic, obviously trying to avoid looking at Arwen and Aragorn.
"Harry and Legolas are gone," Aragorn said. With a start, Draco remembered his original purpose in coming to Haldir's apartments. Not that it had gone badly. Quite the opposite.
"We know," Draco said. "They left a half a day ago, saying they were going to take a ride on Arod. They still haven't returned."
Aragorn frowned. "He should have returned by now. Should we send out a search party?"
Draco sighed irritably. "Why don't you go talk to Gandalf about it?" he asked, sending Arwen a significant look. She caught on and tugged on Aragorn's sleeve.
"Let us go, melethron-ne," she said, pressing a gentle kiss on Aragorn's cheek. "We shall send out a search party as soon as we talk to Gandalf." Aragorn reluctantly left, Arwen sending a wink over her shoulder as they closed the door.
But the moment was lost. When Draco finally got up off the floor, Haldir was fussing about with the strings on his shirt, his face white. "They know," he whispered. "They know, and they will tell."
Draco felt a flare of anger. "Would that be so bad?" he asked, narrowing his eyes when Haldir turned a gaze on him that contained a hint of panic.
"They will find out nothing, because this is nothing," Haldir hissed. "This is nothing, and nothing will ever happen again." He ran a hand through his hair and started for the door.
Draco laid a hand on Haldir's arm even before he registered moving. "What is wrong?" Haldir stared down at Draco's hand as if it were a snake.
"I am betrothed."
Draco blinked. He removed his hand slowly, letting it drop to the side. "Betrothed?" he asked, a strange haze of rage clouding his vision. Haldir nodded, not meeting his eyes. Draco clenched his teeth. "Betrothed, and five minutes ago you were ready to fuck me into the floor."
Haldir winced. "Please, leave it be," he said, pleading.
"Fine," Draco ground out. "Fine." He hated the dramatics, hated the fact that despite himself, there was a demanding pressure behind his eyes over an elf that he'd met less than a week previously. Without bothering to put his shirt on, he swept out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the hinges were nearly pulled off.
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A/N: Bad Haldir, bad! But it does make for some fun writing. Ah, how I enjoy this. *grins* And I get to write as much psychotic Harry as I want. Awesome.
Hey, and by the way, gimme some reviews, folks! I'm starving! ...for reviews!
Chapter Seven: Eidolon
by Capella
A/N: -- Had a revelation. I realized that this is gonna be probably much shorter that Shadow of a Doubt. I tried to figure out why, and then I realized that the first thirteen or so chapters of Shadow a Doubt are abysmally short, and the entire story could have been done in 15 chapters, if I had been more intelligent. But alas. So Black Eyes probably won't be shorter, persay, but less chapters with more content.
-- Just a mid story checkup. I need to know what you guys are thinking -- I'm getting a bit nervous about this story, simply because I'm scared that it won't live up to the first one. So, if you could, just leave me a review saying whether you liked it/improvements/whatever. I just need to know what's on everyone's mind, because I'm getting supremely paranoid. If you're like me (I have a nasty habit of never leaving reviews), then do it just this once. :) And I'll never bug you about it again.
-- One last note -- an Eidolon is an unsubstansial figure or phantom. Way too cool. And yes, it's Poe again. So I'm in love with the man. There is a huge hint in the poem/title for this chapter. C'mon, get those brain's a-workin! It's a puzzle!
-- ...aaand the rating is officially upped to an R. *shrugs apologetically* I can't help myself. Blame Haldir and Draco. Who won't be getting action for a while, if I have anything to say about it. Which I probably don't.
_________________________
"By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE — out of TIME."
-- E. Allen Poe, "Dreamland"
_________________________
Only when Draco was sure that Harry was not following after him did he dare to stop and press a shaking hand to his jaw. It was tender to the touch. One of his molars wiggled when he touched his tongue carefully to it.
He turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood from a split lip, noticing absently as he wiped his mouth that he couldn't seem to get his hands to be still.
God -- he couldn't even begin to think of what had just happened. He wanted to be angry so badly, wanted to turn around right there and run back to that room and demand to know what the hell had just happened. But even thinking about it made his knees want to give.
"I'm such a fucking girl," he said to no one in particular, wincing when the bruise on his jaw started to throb. "I should go see Harry. I should ask him what the hell happened. Knock him out and see how he likes it."
But even as the echo of his words came back to him, he knew he'd never do it, because even thinking about hurting Harry brought up memories from the fight they'd had after Dean had been killed. Memories of Harry lying on his back, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, betrayal and rage in his eyes as he raised his wand with an Unforgivable on his lips. The memories got a little blurry after that; the amount of power Harry'd put behind that Cruciatus spell had knocked him unconscious. He'd woken to find that while he'd been out, Harry had gone a bit crazy and tried to carve the Dark Mark out of his arm.
He shivered. Maybe Harry had never been entirely sane to begin with.
The rapid clap of shoes on the stone brought him out of his memories and into a greater kind of panic. Harry couldn't have found him already. He'd run for a good ten minutes, down all the way to the bottom floor. He pressed himself harder against the wall, feeling the cool of the stone seeping into his skin and wishing somehow that he could find a way to do the same. He shut his eyes.
"What are you doing?"
"Haldir," he breathed, surprised to hear that the tremors had almost left his voice. And was equally surprised when he launched himself off the wall and onto Haldir, wrapping his arms around Haldir's middle and pressing his cheek against Haldir's shoulder.
"Draco?" Haldir's hands were on Draco's shoulders, trying to push him back, managing to sound a mix of slightly annoyed and slightly confused. "What are you doing?" he repeated. Draco noticed that his gaze stayed firmly fixed on the wall behind him.
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly Haldir looked down at him and frowned, and Draco's ability to speak was suddenly stolen by the clear blue of Haldir's eyes.
"There is blood on your lip," Haldir said softly, bringing a hand up and gently wiping the blood off Draco's mouth. "Why?" Haldir's fingers stayed, gently tracing his lips even after Draco was sure the blood was gone.
"I don't know." Hs voice was husky, and he had to clear it before he went on. "Harry got -- angry with me. We were -- I don't know. Talking about Valinor. I guess I wasn't telling him what he wanted to hear." An involuntary shiver went down his spine when a pair of icy green eyes seemed superimposed over Haldir's own gray ones. He pressed his face back into Haldir's shoulder and shuddered.
Haldir drew a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice held relief. "Let's see if we cannot get these questions answered now. Hello, Harry."
Draco whirled around just in time to see Harry and Legolas striding up, Harry smiling and resting one hand on Legolas's arm. He looked...normal. "Hello, Haldir. I don't suppose you've happened to see Draco anywhere?" He sounded genuinely worried, a little crease in between his eyebrows as he frowned.. Haldir gave Draco a look.
"He is right here, Harry. He seems to have some misconception that you two had a fight. What happened?"
Harry's head drooped. "I'm sorry," he said in a very small voice. "I don't know what was the matter with me. I guess I'm just stressed out, with Katherine's death and all. I'm sorry, Draco." He sounded appropriately guilty, but somehow his eyes were a bit too focused on Draco and a bit too green.
"It's okay," Draco said quietly, eyes fixed on Harry's face for any trace of that strange expression that had been there before. It could have been paranoia, but Draco was sure that a shadow of menace lurked somewhere under that guilty exterior.
He shifted his gaze to Legolas. Legolas was staring straight ahead, his eyes strangely blank, gaze drifting a bit. He looked, for lack of a better term, completely knocked up.
"We must be going," he said, that eerily empty gaze transferring to Haldir. His voice sounded strangely slurred, like he had trouble getting out the words. "We are going to give Arod some exercise."
Harry laughed and patted Legolas's arm, but there was something sharp about his expression. "We want to get back before dark," he said apologetically. "I'm really afraid he's right. We must be leaving."
Without another word they strode off, arm in arm, Harry leaning over to whisper something in Legolas's ear. Draco heard Legolas chuckle slightly before they turned a corner.
Draco stared after them in shock, tiny shivers still running up his spine.
"He seemed fine to me," Haldir said dryly, looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sure --"
"Yes, I'm goddamn sure," Draco snapped, not taking his eyes off the corner where they'd turned. "You didn't notice anything strange about Legolas?"
Haldir frowned. "I have never seen him so unfocused," he said slowly. "In all my life, never have I met an elf so constantly alert as Legolas, as if he is always expecting attack. Harry changed him, but that was one thing that did not change." Haldir's lips thinned. "Something is wrong."
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The white fog in his vision was swirling fit to make him sick.
"Laugh, Legolas," hissed a voice in his ear. "I just said something amusing. Laugh."
Something compelled him to laugh, so he did, a false doll's smile curving up his lips. As soon as he laughed, the strange headache went almost completely away.
"Very good," the voice purred. "Very, very good. I might not have to kill you after all. Would you like that?"
"Yes," he said, still smiling emptily, trying to think through the fog miring his thoughts. Why had he answered? "Harry?" he whispered and shook his head.
"Stop thinking," Harry snapped, grip curling vice-like on Legolas's forearm. "Do as I say."
Legolas's thoughts sunk back into the pleasantness of white oblivion, fog obscuring every thought but complete submission. There was a low laugh in his ear.
"I was told that this spell can only be resisted by those with a strong will. I always thought you had a stronger will than I, but I suppose I was wrong, wasn't I? Get on the horse, Legolas."
Why should I? He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Harry hissed in displeasure.
"Because I fucking told you to, that's why. Do it."
There was a strange pressure on Legolas's temples, throbbing to the beat of his heart and, strangely enough, throbbing to those two words that Harry had said, repeating themselves over and over in his head. Do it. Do it. Do it do it do it do it
I do not think I will.
Do it. The pressure in his temples increased to a steady ache that made him want to vomit. Everything fiber of his being wanted to get on the horse, and every fiber of his being was beginning to feel as if he was being lit on fire. He burned.
"No," he ground out, shutting his eyes against the sudden onslaught of pain.
"You just have to be difficult, don't you?" Harry snarled. "Finite Incantatem." The white fog as well as the blinding pain suddenly vanished, and Legolas was faintly surprised to find himself on his knees, waist deep in hay, hands covering his face. He took his hands slowly away and was surprised to find that they were wet with tears.
"What have you done?" His voice was raspy, Harry looking strangely wavering through his tears. He had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand before he could see straight again. Harry's eyes were wide with shock, lips trembling as if he had been the one under the curse. "What have you done, Harry?"
Harry knelt down next to Legolas, feeling blindly around until his hands came in contact with Legolas's shoulder. Legolas had to resist the urge to flinch away when Harry's fingers traced their way up to his wet cheeks. "You're crying," he said softly. His voice was filled with guilt. His eyes were blank and glazed over again.
"How did we get here?" Legolas asked, and was shocked to see Harry reel as if he'd been struck.
"I don't remember." Harry bit his lower lip.
"You do not remember?"
Harry nodded, wringing his hands tremulously. "If I have done something -- grievous -- I apologize. I don't remember -- I know I should -- what have I done?" He looked so guilty that Legolas felt his anger fade. He enfolded Harry in his arms gently.
"Nothing of importance," he said softly, rocking Harry in his arms. "Would you still like to take a ride on Arod?"
"If you do," Harry said seriously, voice still wavering just a bit. Legolas smiled down at Harry before he realized the action was wasted.
"Of course I do."
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The ride took almost the rest of the day. They had returned to the kitchens before setting out on Arod, grabbing a small lunch that they ate beside a meandering stream a good distance north of Minas Tirith. They dallied for a good while there, and Harry's tunic got dirty and a bit ripped in the heat of the moment. Legolas laughed and promised to get him a new one, even as he eased his body over Harry's own and used rather pleasant methods to shut Harry up.
The sun was setting by the time they got back on Arod to ride back to Minas Tirith. Legolas felt Harry lean his head between Legolas's shoulderblades, his hair tickling the back of Legolas's neck, and Legolas smiled despite himself.
"Where are we going now?" Harry said sleepily, voice muffled in Legolas's tunic.
Legolas wished he could turn around and see the expression on Harry's face; he loved watching Harry when he was sleepy. "Minas Tirith," he replied, and felt Harry tense from behind him.
"But -- I just thought that -- well, maybe we could take a bit of a trip. See Valinor, like we talked about before. Don't you want to go there? I imagine it's lovely."
"No, Harry." His voice sounded calm enough, but his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought perhaps Harry could hear it, and it felt like a swarm of midges was swirling around in his stomach. "We are going back to Minas Tirith. It is getting late." He was hyper aware of the fact that his bow was hanging off of the saddle and his two knives stuck in his belt. Foolish, foolish, foolish to let down his guard again. But he most grievously did not wish to harm Harry. But if he had to, he would.
Suddenly there was the sharp edge of a knife cutting into his throat.
"Turn this horse around, Legolas," Harry murmured into his ear, and his voice was one that Legolas recognized. It had the sharp edge that he remembered from his -- minutes, hours, days? -- under the curse.
"I will not," he said, tensing his muscles, preparing to turn and take the knife from Harry by force. He had no compunctions about knocking Harry from the horse, if it meant taking that knife from him. But the knife pressed harder into his throat as if Harry knew what he was planning, barely splitting the skin, and a small trickle of blood ran down his neck and pooled in the hollow of his throat.
"Do you want to hit me?" Harry asked conversationally. "Would you hurt me to get free? I don't think you could." Legolas felt a tug at his waist as Harry drew Legolas's two knives and dropped them to the ground. Arod gave a soft, concerned whinny. Harry laughed softly. "Well, I suppose now you certainly can't. Perhaps you could have threatened me with your knives, but do you really think you could bear hurt me with your own hands?" His voice got sharper. "Now, you will turn this horse around, or I will cut your throat."
Legolas pressed his lips together. "Why are you doing this?" he asked before he could stop himself.
The knife at his throat wavered just a bit, loosened up its pressure, and Legolas took the opportunity to knock the back of his head into Harry's own. As Harry sat there, stunned, Legolas twisted and knocked Harry off of the horse and onto the ground. The knife landed a few feet away. Legolas pinned Harry's hands above his head, and managed somehow to pin Harry's legs down with his body.
Harry merely smiled seductively. "Are you going to hurt me?" he asked softly, arching his body up. "Are you angry? Hit me. Hurt me. I know that you want to." Even pinned as he was, he managed to rotate his hips against Legolas's.
"I will not hurt you," Legolas said, horrified, and realized it was true; he could not bring himself to hurt Harry even if his life depended upon it. He realized a few moments later that it was taking a great deal of effort not to press his hips down against Harry's own.
It was with the faint sensation of being run through with a sword that Legolas realized that Harry was staring straight at him. There was no trace of blindness in his eyes. Then Harry smiled again and and shut his eyes, purring, arching up again as if his spine was made out of liquid, and Legolas had a bit of trouble keeping his mind on the fact that Harry was probably plotting how to kill him. Had he ever been this easily distracted?
He felt the cold prick of metal on his throat again, sighed, and realized that Harry had the knife again.
"Get off me and get back on the horse," Harry said, his lip curling. "You disgust me." The knife point pressed against his neck, demanding he comply. He felt strangely numb.
"I will not let you do this," he said. Harry's eyes widened and he suddenly threw back his head and laughed, a deep belly laugh that made Legolas ache with the familiarity of it.
"You won't let me!" Harry said, still laughing, but there was no mirth in his voice and his eyes were cold. "You couldn't stop me if you had to." The look in his eyes changed, turning calculating. "I could pull this knife away and you'd still follow me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Legolas said, the words escaping him before he could help it. But it was the truth -- he would follow Harry anywhere, undergo any cruelty, to make sure Harry stayed safe. He had to try again, even so. "Harry -- please, you must fight this. I do not know what is affecting you, possessing you, but I know how you are feeling -- I know that you cannot control what you are doing --"
"Then let me disabuse you of that notion," Harry said coldly, the same look on his face that Legolas had seen on Orcs playing with their victims. "I know exactly what I am doing. And let me hasten to assure you that unless you do exactly as I say, you will very, very much regret every minute that you spent under Sauron's control." Harry's lips curled into an animal-like snarl. "Make me angry, and you will discover just how sorry you will become for every time that you made me scream." His bright, unblinking eyes stared into Legolas's own until Legolas had to look away.
"I agree," he said softly, and Harry grinned, a crooked boyish grin that was almost painfully familiar.
"That's good," he said cheerfully, all traces of earlier anger gone but for his eyes. "I really didn't want to get my hands bloody. Now, get on the horse. I won't ask you again."
Legolas did as he said, feeling strangely dull. Harry swung onto the horse in front of him and clicked his tongue. Arod started off at a canter. There was a good hour of silence before Legolas chose to speak.
"You will not be able to get to Valinor, Harry."
Harry stopped Arod. "What do you mean?" he asked without turning, voice gone dangerously soft.
The Valar grant permission to travel the Straight Road only to those with no malice in their hearts. You have no hope of ever reaching it."
This time Harry did twist in his saddle, eyes narrowed and deadly. "You think so?" he asked quietly, menace radiating from every pore. "I would not be so certain if I were you." He paused, and that same calculating gaze entered his eyes. "The Valar love the First-born, do they not?" he asked, obviously thinking. He booted Arod, and the horse started walking again.
"They do," Legolas said carefully. Harry turned back around.
"Need is the path to Valinor," he mused. "Perhaps this will give the Valar an incentive to grant me the path to Valinor. If we are not able to travel the Straight Road, I will kill you. And it will not be a pleasant death. Let us see if they are willing to grant us passage if it means keeping the son of the King of Mirkwood alive." Harry sounded satisfied. There was a faintly sick feeling in the pit of Legolas's stomach.
"They will not know," he said, lips numb. Harry chuckled.
"I have heard somewhere that one of the Valar roams the lands of Middle-earth upon occasion. I have a feeling that the disappearance of an Elven Prince will be enough to catch his attention. They will know." He sounded smug. Giving up, Legolas laid his head on Harry's back and drifted into an easy sleep, lulled by Arod's soft footfalls and the heat radiating from Harry's skin.
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Draco was beginning to feel a bit foolish.
Legolas and Harry had still not returned, and he had had ample time to think about how he'd acted -- like a Hufflepuff, shaking and scared and completely witless. He had been in worse situations and not acted half as idiotic.
Perhaps, he amended, he had been in situations more hopeless with people more depraved, but he'd had no compunctions about hurting them. Hurting Harry had been quite out of the question. Although after he thought about it for a while, it wasn't so out of the question anymore. He would have given a great deal to beat some sense into Harry.
But it was getting dark, and Draco felt a tiny string of worry worm its way into his thoughts.
He ground his teeth. It'd be a cold day in hell before he worried about Harry again. He could obviously take care of himself.
Which is why it seemed strange that he found himself knocking on Haldir's door not a half hour later, his stomach cramping with a mix of nervousness and anxiety. It seemed an eternity before the door finally opened.
"Haldir, I --" The words died on his lips, and Rumil quirked an eyebrow.
"I take it I am not the one you are looking for?" he said dryly. Draco shrugged, smirking. Rumil shook his head with a wry smile on his lips. "Let me get him for you, and then I will leave. Give you two some privacy." To Draco's surprise, he winked before disappearing into the room. He emerged a few seconds later, slipping past Draco with a whispered "good luck."
Draco sighed. If only he was here for something as pleasurable as that. He bit his lip and squared his shoulders before walking into the room.
Haldir was sitting on the bed, in a simple white tunic and green breeches, a book in his lap. When Draco entered, he raised one of his eyebrows sardonically. "Something on your mind?" he asked, but for a wonder there was no sarcasm in his tone. Draco would have sworn that he was worried as well.
"Harry and Legolas aren't back yet," he said without preamble, and Haldir sighed.
"I know," he said quietly, placing his book carefully on the bed and getting up restlessly. "They have been gone for too long. A ride on Arod would not have taken this long, even with their obvious -- distractions." A faint blush stained his cheeks.
"Distractions?" Draco asked, smirking when Haldir shifted his gaze. "Could you elaborate?"
"Oh, will you stop?" Haldir snapped. "I do not know what you want from me, and you are getting quite tiring --"
Draco took a step forward, fixing an intense gaze on Haldir's own. "You don't know what I want?" he asked softly, seeing the muscles of Haldir's throat work as he swallowed convulsively. There was a faint, fading bruise on the junction of Haldir's neck and shoulder that Draco smiled to see. "Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough."
"You are making yourself quite clear enough," Haldir said firmly, taking a step backwards, a wary expression on his face. "Very clear. Now, if you would not mind, I need to you to leave." As Draco continued to advance, Haldir's expression turned pleading. "I need to be alone."
"How nice," Draco said in a conversational tone, finally backing Haldir against the wall and placing his hands on either side of his shoulders. "You can be alone with me." He leaned forward, catching Haldir's lips with his own in a gentle kiss.
Haldir's hands flew to Draco's shoulders, trying to push him off. Draco smiled into Haldir's mouth and pressed his body flush up against the elf's, and the hands dug into his shoulders desperately. Haldir broke the kiss long enough to moan something that started life as "Stop" before Draco pressed his lips against Haldir's again.
"Do you really want me to stop?" Draco said a few minutes later, and knew the answer even as Haldir caught breath enough to reply.
And suddenly Haldir was kissing him with such fervor and skill that Draco let out a surprised moan into the elf's mouth. "What was that?" he gasped, trying to think even as Haldir snuck a hand into his breeches. He felt strangely lightheaded.
Haldir's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Did you think that I had never done this before?" he asked, doing something wicked with his hand that made Draco's knees buckle, and when he slid to his knees, Haldir was there with him, pushing him urgently onto his back.
"On -- the floor?" Draco managed to get out. Haldir busied himself with putting an impressive bruise on his neck in reply, smoothing his hands down the length of Draco's chest. Draco had to bite his lips to keep from making what was sure to be a pathetic whimper.
Haldir was hooking his fingers in the top of Draco's trousers when the door slammed open, followed by several gasps. Haldir took his hands away from Draco's body as if he'd been burned and buried his face in his hands.
Draco turned onto his stomach. "Ever heard of knocking, Aragorn?"
Aragorn had a faintly shell-shocked expression on his face. "I -- apologize," he said, sounding faintly strangled. Arwen gave him a look, and Draco wouldn't have been surprised if she rolled her eyes. She glanced at Haldir and then to Draco, mouthing, "on the floor?" at him. Draco shrugged, unashamed.
"What did you want?" Haldir asked, having finally taken his hands cautiously away from his face. He busied himself with pulling on a tunic, obviously trying to avoid looking at Arwen and Aragorn.
"Harry and Legolas are gone," Aragorn said. With a start, Draco remembered his original purpose in coming to Haldir's apartments. Not that it had gone badly. Quite the opposite.
"We know," Draco said. "They left a half a day ago, saying they were going to take a ride on Arod. They still haven't returned."
Aragorn frowned. "He should have returned by now. Should we send out a search party?"
Draco sighed irritably. "Why don't you go talk to Gandalf about it?" he asked, sending Arwen a significant look. She caught on and tugged on Aragorn's sleeve.
"Let us go, melethron-ne," she said, pressing a gentle kiss on Aragorn's cheek. "We shall send out a search party as soon as we talk to Gandalf." Aragorn reluctantly left, Arwen sending a wink over her shoulder as they closed the door.
But the moment was lost. When Draco finally got up off the floor, Haldir was fussing about with the strings on his shirt, his face white. "They know," he whispered. "They know, and they will tell."
Draco felt a flare of anger. "Would that be so bad?" he asked, narrowing his eyes when Haldir turned a gaze on him that contained a hint of panic.
"They will find out nothing, because this is nothing," Haldir hissed. "This is nothing, and nothing will ever happen again." He ran a hand through his hair and started for the door.
Draco laid a hand on Haldir's arm even before he registered moving. "What is wrong?" Haldir stared down at Draco's hand as if it were a snake.
"I am betrothed."
Draco blinked. He removed his hand slowly, letting it drop to the side. "Betrothed?" he asked, a strange haze of rage clouding his vision. Haldir nodded, not meeting his eyes. Draco clenched his teeth. "Betrothed, and five minutes ago you were ready to fuck me into the floor."
Haldir winced. "Please, leave it be," he said, pleading.
"Fine," Draco ground out. "Fine." He hated the dramatics, hated the fact that despite himself, there was a demanding pressure behind his eyes over an elf that he'd met less than a week previously. Without bothering to put his shirt on, he swept out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the hinges were nearly pulled off.
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A/N: Bad Haldir, bad! But it does make for some fun writing. Ah, how I enjoy this. *grins* And I get to write as much psychotic Harry as I want. Awesome.
Hey, and by the way, gimme some reviews, folks! I'm starving! ...for reviews!