Black Eyes
Chapter Seventeen:
by Capella
A/N: This is it. The Ending Chapter to end all chapters. Sorta. Didn't think I'd ever do this.
It's been a great trip, you guys. I appreciate all of your reviews and your support. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have.
"He is at peace--this wretched man--
At peace, or will be soon:
There is no thing to make him mad,
Nor does Terror walk at noon,
For the lampless Earth in which he lies
Has neither Sun nor Moon."
-- Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol
He woke, and it was dawn. Soft, new sunlight streamed in the open window into Harry's eyes and he blinked stupidly, slowly, struggling to remember even his own name. He was reclining in a bed, the padding so soft it ought to be sinful, his head propped up on a pillow, a light blanket of some shimmery material draped over his naked body. There was a chair next to the bed, and a figure sat in it, shining blonde head lowered to a chest in sleep.
Harry shut his eyes tightly, the memories of what had happened flooding back so suddenly it was hard to breathe. God, why was he still alive? Shuddering, he had to lift a hand to his face to make sure the skin was still his, that the black mist he had seen seeping off his flesh was truly gone. In an attempt to forget what he had done and seen, he looked at the figure beside the bed again, and realized that he had last seen him an ocean away.
"Draco?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
Draco stirred, his head lifting from his chest, his hair disheveled and lanky, eyes red from too little sleep. "Harry?" Draco whispered slowly, staring at Harry with slanted gray eyes; Harry was saddened, but not surprised, to see a little wariness in them. He offered a crooked smile that Draco did not return, and dropped it immediately when Draco got up and walked to the window, staring out at the sunrise in a way that made it obvious he was looking anywhere but at Harry.
"Draco," Harry tried again when Draco did not speak.
"Just -- give me a minute." The lines of Draco's neck were tense, his head bowed. Harry saw his fists clenched at his sides.
"Where's Legolas?"
A muscle in Draco's arm jumped as he tightened his fists, but he still did not turn to face Harry. After a long moment, he said, in a voice tight with anger, "Do you really think you have the right to ask that question, now?"
"Please talk to me," Harry pleaded. "Please tell me what's happened. I can't -- I can't sort it all out in my head."
That turned Draco away from the window. "You don't remember?" he said, a faint tone of accusation in his voice. His eyes hardened.
"No -- no, that's not what I meant." His voice sounded desperate even to his own ears. How could he explain? "I kept forgetting, at the beginning, but I remember -- I remember everything now. I just..." He trailed off into silence, unsure of what to say in the face of Draco's cold anger. "Please," he finished weakly. "Please don't hate me, Draco."
Draco stared at him stonily, and Harry remembered what kind of pain Draco's sharp tongue and quick anger could inflict.
Harry turned his face away, breaking eye contact. "Is Haldir --" alive, he wanted to ask, but he settled for "-- all right?"
Draco's face twisted, and the expression was so rare that it took Harry a moment to figure out what he saw on Draco's face was pain.
"He's alive."
Harry exhaled softly. "Have you -- talked to Legolas? Did he tell you anything about what happened?" He felt an embarrassing wetness gathering in his eyes. "Is he here?"
Draco sighed, reluctantly coming back to the chair beside Harry's bed and sitting down, slumping, his elbows resting on his thighs, staring down at his hands.
"I should start from the beginning," Draco said softly, and Harry nodded even though Draco could not see the gesture. And then he thought of something awful, and just as Draco opened his mouth to speak, he burst out:
"You know it wasn't me, right? Legolas told you?"
Harry jumped as Draco erupted into harsh, cruel laughter, laughter with no real enjoyment or mirth, his head thrown back as his shoulders shook.
"That's what Gandalf told me," Draco sneered, and Harry flinched away from the coldness in his eyes. "Maybe I believed that at first. But after Haldir, and that town -- with those children? You, who could resist the Imperius before anyone else?" Draco shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's. "Maybe it was some kind of coercion. But influence can be resisted if the victim truly abhors what he is forced to do."
Harry bit his lip and turned his head from Draco's burning gaze, remembering Morgoth's mocking, insinuating words: you wanted it, you could have thrown me out, you took him and you enjoyed it. "Draco, I'm sorry, I --"
Draco's lips thinned as he pressed them together tightly. "Rumil's dead," he said shortly. Harry's head came up and he stared at Draco incredulously. It was one death for which he could not remember being the cause.
"What?" he gasped. "When? What happened?"
"Rumil was with us at the Gray Havens. He was in love with Thaliephel. After you killed her, Rumil refused to come with us. Somehow, they found out here that his soul had passed on. He faded because he had loved her so much and you killed her." Draco's tone was hard, accusing, unforgiving. Harry bowed his head and could not think of anything to say; although he knew that Draco had liked Rumil, he knew the real reason, finally, of Draco's anger -- Rumil had been Haldir's brother.
"Where's Legolas?" Harry asked finally, his voice shaking and weak. He did not try to look at Draco again. There was a long silence, and then Draco heaved a weary sigh.
"I'll start from the beginning. I'll try to be brief." Harry heard the unspoken 'so I can leave you' in Draco's words and bit his lip hard, tasting blood in his mouth. Draco's words were short, clipped, and impersonal. "I found Haldir the day after you beat him and left him for dead. I returned with him to Minas Tirith with all intentions of nursing him back to health; however, the following morning he escaped me to follow you and Legolas. Legolas's father, Thranduil, Rumil, and I followed him. We caught up to him at -- at the Gray Havens." Draco's voice caught, but he continued on after a moment. "When Rumil found Thaliephel dead, he remained in the Gray Havens. We found Haldir near death, but he insisted on following you to Valinor. According to Gandalf, we reached the shores just as you and Legolas were skirting 'round the mountains. He says we were only a half a day behind you -- I don't know how it was possible, but Gandalf said that some water spirit thing helped us catch up. Gandalf found us as we reached the shores; he gave us horses -- and we ran them nearly to death trying to catch up to you. Haldir, we left in Valimar under the care of some elves.
"We came across this big -- mountain-thing -- it had a couple of doors in it, and it opened up into this -- fog --" Draco stumbled on his words as he tried to find the right ones to describe the Doors of Night; then Harry looked at him and said quietly,
"I know what was inside the doors."
Draco narrowed his eyes and continued on coldly. "Gandalf led us into the fog in these doors. Said it was some preordained shit and everything was going to turn out fine. We came across you maybe an hour later -- we got there just in time to see Legolas slit the throat of that elf -- the spare, you called him --"
"God," Harry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, gritting his teeth together so hard that his jaws hurt. The spare. Oh, God. Draco paused, and continued on, a tight note of tension in his voice.
"You passed out. This weird black fog engulfed you and then you just sort of -- crumpled. Legolas nearly went mad. Gandalf managed to subdue him somehow and got him on the back of the horse, and swung you onto the pommel. We had to --" Draco shut his eyes tight for a second. "We had to leave the body of the elf there. We tried to take it out and the ground just -- held on to it. It was already starting to decompose when we left."
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered in a small voice, not knowing what he was apologizing for but desperately hoping that the apology would somehow cover -- everything. All of what he'd done. There was so much pain and blood and death and it had all been because of him -- he'd beaten Haldir, he'd raped Legolas, he'd killed God knows how many elves in the Gray Havens, he'd forced Legolas to murder two of his innocent brethren -- how could he make up for it all? How could he even start to try?
Draco barely paused, his next words riding over Harry's soft apology. "We came back to Valimar fast. You were barely breathing and Legolas was not much better. When we arrived, Gandalf dumped us off at some healers and ran off to God knows where -- I found out later he went to talk to some council of gods or whatever. The healers whisked me away after they determined I was unhurt. They put you and Legolas in beds. Legolas slept for hours while they worked on him. He was --" a muscle jumped in Draco's jaw -- "raped, and maimed. He had marks on his back from being beaten, broken ribs from being kicked, bruises from who knows how many abuses. He had one finger broken from -- what, maybe you got pissed when he tried to defy you and you broke it to prove you could? The healers fixed him up as much as they could. He woke up, almost none the worse for wear, at the end of the day. You -- you, no one could wake up. Physically, you were fine, but something was broken up here," Draco said, tapping a finger to his temple. He shook his head. "Legolas -- God, I can't imagine why the hell he stuck around for you. But he did. He just stayed over you, sitting in this chair, calling to you for hours, in this voice -- I couldn't even listen to it. 'Harry,' he said, over and over and over. 'Harry, Harry --' "
"-- Harry, wake up, please," Legolas whispered. "Harry, Harry, please. Please." He stroked the cold face gently, his hands shaking, newly healed finger tracing Harry's lips. "Harry, gods, please. Do not do this to me again." He pushed Harry's bangs back from the pale forehead, touching Harry's face as if he were trying to memorize its shape. Legolas's voice was pained, but his eyes were dry.
Draco and Haldir stood in the corner of the room together, unnoticed. Draco tried not to notice the careful foot of space Haldir kept between them.
He blinked at something Legolas had said. "Again?" he whispered to Haldir -- whispered, even though he knew Legolas would not hear his words. Haldir nodded.
"It was during Harry's first time in Middle-earth. Did he not tell you?"
Draco frowned. "One of Harry's friends told me about what had happened. I knew Legolas hurt him, but that's the extent of it."
"Part of what happened is Harry's to tell alone. What I will tell you is that after spending a time as Sauron's captive, both Legolas and Harry escaped; however, at the final battle in front of the gates of Mordor, Harry was killed. Legolas nearly died from grief." Haldir shut his eyes briefly. "I do not know if that is what will happen now. By all accounts, he should already be faded from -- what Harry has done to him. But I do not know what will happen to him if Harry dies."
Haldir's eyes were shining suspiciously, and Draco knew that while Haldir was saddened at the prospect of Legolas's death, it was not Legolas who Haldir was thinking of now, but his dead brother. Saying fuck-all to Haldir's reservations, he sidled up close to the elf and wrapped an arm around the slim waist. Haldir stiffened but did not pull away. He could feel the elf shaking from exhaustion.
"We can't do anything else here," he whispered sadly, looking at Legolas, who sat in the bedside chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands, and at the unmoving Harry, with his innocent, angel's face. "You need to rest some more. Come." Even as they left, he could still hear Legolas's soft calls.
Harry was quiet as Draco trailed off, obviously waiting for him to fill in the blanks. Shivering, he pulled the blanket up to his chest, trying not to think of the time in Sauron's captivity to which Haldir referred. Finally, Draco asked the question himself, tired of waiting for Harry to answer.
"Harry," he said to get his attention, and then: "What happened when you and Legolas were held captive?"
Harry shuddered and did not speak. The faded, barely-visible marks on his back seemed to burn. He had already discussed this once, with Hermione; he did not want to discuss it again.
"Harry." Draco's voice was hard. "What happened?" When Harry continued to remain silent, Draco's voice got louder and angrier. "I can go pry it from elf-boy if you want me to, but I'm sure it's not something he wants to talk about either --"
"I was raped, okay?" Harry ground out. "Jesus. Just -- that's what happened. Okay?"
It was Draco's turn to be silent. And then, in a quiet voice, as if he expected Harry to fly to pieces, he said, "It was Legolas."
Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"What happened?"
His voice was hoarse, unsteady. "Legolas was taken by a band of Orcs. I caught up to them but was captured myself and brought to Sauron. He -- he'd possessed Legolas. Not like Morgoth did to me, but differently. Like the Imperius curse, but stronger, unresistable. But I didn't know." He lowered his head, staring down at his hands. He spoke softer now. "Legolas took me to a cell and whipped me. He raped me later. And -- again. It wasn't really him; it was Sauron. But I still...I still blamed him for it."
Draco's eyes had a light of understanding in them. "Is that why --"
"Yes. I -- when I raped Legolas, that was all I could think of." He bit his lip when his voice threatened to break. "I knew it wasn't his fault. There was nothing he could have done to resist what happened. He hated it, maybe even more than I did. But still, I..." He felt the first sting of tears in his eyes and hated them. "I did so many things. But I think, even worse than the murder, is what I did to Legolas. Because the murder I could feel was wrong in the back of my mind. But the entire time I was -- I was raping him, I kept thinking, he deserves it. That I was giving to him no less than what he gave to me. That I was being fucking merciful, because he beat me and raped me and I was just going to do it this once. I thought --" But his voice broke, and there was a lump in the back of his throat that prevented him from going on. He felt a betraying tear start its way down his face and wiped it angrily away. Draco's eyes were wide.
"Harry --"
"Can we just -- talk about something else. Please."
Draco nodded slowly, and then smiled ruefully. "I was going to yell at you again -- well, continue to yell, I guess -- but we can skip that, and you can tell me what actually happened."
Harry blinked. "What -- happened? What do you mean?"
Harry recognized the intent look in Draco's eyes from the Quidditch field. "I want to know your side of the story. I know Gandalf's – which I think you'll find out from the Valar later-- and I know Legolas's, which you can hear from him yourself. What I want to hear now is what you say happened. And I want to know everything. Starting from when you clocked me in the face."
So Harry took a deep breath and told him everything. He told him about the initial blindness and the weird, black-out periods he had at the beginning; the periods of blindness interspersed with the times he could see; how it was only when he was blind that he felt completely normal, but that when he was able to see -- times which had grown more and more often until they ran completely together -- he felt different. Not as if there were something actively telling him what to do, but -- he'd had impulses. Violent ones. And when he wondered why he was doing the thing he was doing, he found a way to rationalize it. Draco seemed skeptical but continued listening patiently, although his brows drew together thunderously when Harry told him of what he'd done to Haldir.
Harry glossed over the murders at the Gray Havens and Legolas's subsequent rape, focusing instead on his feelings of rapture as they grew closer to the shores of Valinor. Hesitantly, he told Draco of using the Imperius curse to force Legolas to kill his brethren. Draco pressed his lips together tightly but said nothing. Harry finished by telling of his encounter with Morgoth, wracking his brains as Draco asked him probing questions. He stopped when he could think of no more and Draco seemed satisfied.
"So," Draco said, his face blank and impossible to read. "You're saying it wasn't you."
"It was --" Harry said, hesitantly. "It was like an Imperius curse. I know, I know --" he said when Draco seemed poised to interrupt. "I know I was the first one in our class to resist it. But it was -- an Imperius curse that I couldn't resist, because I didn't know it was there. It just -- pushed me in a direction and gave me a reason to do it." He wondered if those words sounded as hollow and false to Draco as they did to him. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him.
"But you said that Morgoth told you he only pushed you enough so his desires mirrored your own, that you could have pushed him out."
"I know." Harry bit his lip. "I can't say anything to that. But I never wanted to hurt anyone. I -- I didn't want to hurt Legolas." He felt the tears come again, sliding down his cheeks. "And I'm sorry." Suddenly he was crying, unable to stop himself, even when Draco's eyes widened and he got out of his seat, sitting on the edge of the bed instead and enfolding Harry in a hug. Harry buried his face in Draco's shirt, open-mouthed and sobbing for breath, clutching onto Draco's forearms as if he were falling. Draco's hands stroked steadily over his back, intending to comfort but only wringing more tears from his body.
"Shh," he said quietly. "I understand, Harry. It's okay."
"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed, over and over, muffling his words in Draco's shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Draco lifted his head when he heard a tiny creak, almost drowned out by the sounds of Harry's crying. He widened his eyes to see Legolas standing in the doorway, one hand on the post, frozen. His eyes were trained on Harry's heaving, shuddering back, on Harry's face tightly pressed into Draco's shoulder, on Harry's white-knuckled hands kneading Draco's arms.
'He's awake,' Draco mouthed to Legolas unnecessarily, wincing as Harry's fingernails dug into his skin. His hands never slowed on Harry's back. 'Come in.'
Legolas shook his head, his eyes wide, filled with too many conflicting emotions for Draco to separate -- fear, anger, love, desire, sadness. He backed out of the room, never taking his eyes off of Harry. Legolas did not make a noise, but Harry stiffened in Draco's arms.
"He can't even stand to be near me, can he," he whispered, nearly inaudible. "He can't even come into the same room." He clutched onto Draco harder. "I've ruined everything." He sounded so frail and lost that Draco held him tighter.
"It will be all right," Draco lied, and he knew the words sounded as false to Harry as they did to him, even though Harry nodded blindly into Draco's shirt, breath coming in unsteady, now-quiet sobs. Draco smoothed Harry's sweaty hair back from his forehead. "It will be all right."
It was later, much later, when Draco had left and Harry was left alone to think, that he received a summons from the Valar. Harry shot up in bed when he heard the footsteps approaching the door; it was a tall, graceful blonde elf, with deep green eyes. He looked down at Harry, and Harry was shocked to see no look of hatred or fear.
"The Valar do summon you to their court," he said gently. "A guide will be waiting outside this room for you, to lead you to where the Valar wait." With that the elf left, as silently as he had come. Harry got out of the bed slowly, his joints stiff, and saw a pair of clothes waiting on the chair by the bed for him. He pulled them on, wondering all the while if he was being lead to his execution.
Later, looking back, he hardly remembered the trip to Mahanaxar and the Ring of Doom, where the Valar held council. He remembered studying gleaming white stones under his feet, following the elf guide in front of him only by listening to the soft steps of his boots on the ground; he did not look up at the beautiful buildings surrounding the path nor at the clear blue sky. All of a sudden, an almost painful light forced its way past Harry's eyes into his skull, and he saw the elf guide in front of him back away. Harry winced, shielding his eyes and resisting the urge to fall to his knees in the face of such an awesome presence. The light slowly faded -- or perhaps his eyes adjusted -- and he found himself facing thirteen beautiful, glowing figures. He blinked and realized that one was missing -- the sea-god whom he had confronted.
Welcome.
Harry recognized this presence as Manwe, and he bowed his head in respect, although a little anger simmered underneath the surface -- he knew that any of these beings, powerful as they were, could have stopped him at any time in his trip, Legolas's threatened death be damned.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
There is much sadness in you, the beautiful gray-eyed spirit whom he recognized as Nienna said. You are not much improved since last I saw you.
Harry bit back a sarcastic reply and waited. He knew there was a point to this meeting -- and it was not to discuss his feelings. If they were going to execute him, he wished they would hurry up with it. A little knot of fear grew in his stomach.
You are wondering why we have called you here, Varda said softly, her voice like bells. We will not punish you in any way.
At that, Harry's eyes widened despite himself, and she smiled. You are a hero in this world, Harry. You have done what none of us had the authority to do.
"What?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You're -- gods. You have more power than I could ever even imagine. How did I do --" He shook his head, lost. "I don't understand."
Manwe took over where Varda had left off. Morgoth was once a Valar of great standing, equal or greater than myself. When he turned to the paths of evil, it took many of us -- and many lives of First-born and Men -- to imprison him. But it was decreed that his fate should not be decided until the due time, a time of which we were all ignorant; it was a time only Illuvatar, our father, knew. But we did know that this time would come when someone not of this world came to us and defeated him. Your predecessor in this world, Katherine, was captured by Sauron, for he thought that he could imprison her for Morgoth's spirit. But she was too weak for him to use, and her mind broke under his power. We thought then that all was lost.
And then you came to our world. We knew from the beginning, Harry Potter, what was happening to you. We did not know how events would unfold, but we did know that you were our last hope. Eonwe's indwelling of you was not a mistake. We had to make sure you were powerful enough to stand Morgoth's mind when he finally attacked you, as we knew he would. We did not realize that it would result in your death, but when you did die, Mandos retrieved your soul from the dead so you could go on to face Morgoth and judge him.
There was a dull roaring in his ears. He realized faintly that he was shaking all over.
"You used me," he said numbly. "You didn't even tell me what was going to happen. Did anyone else know?"
No, Manwe answered, almost sadly. We did what we had to do to defeat a powerful enemy. We could not tell you lest he glean the plan from your mind. Only the Valar and Istari knew. Gandalf was the sole creature in Middle-earth to know of our plan. None else.
Harry could not find the words to reply. He suddenly felt drained, tired -- empty.
"I have to -- go," he mumbled, not knowing to whom he was speaking anymore. God. The whole torturous experience had been some sort of plan to kill Morgoth. All those elves dead at the Gray Havens -- he had some idea of how horrifying Morgoth had been when free, for the Valar to have been willing to sacrifice so many.
Wait a moment, Manwe said. Harry turned to face him, moving tiredly, like an old man.
Now that your world and ours has no need of connection, we have decided to close the link between there and here. We do not want to risk an unwitting member of your society stumbling upon this world. The link will be closed tomorrow. We ask that you make a decision as to where you wish to live.
"A -- decision?" Harry asked blankly. Suddenly the situation seemed insanely familiar to him, and he remembered one other time he had stood in front of this council, asking to leave Middle-earth. It hit him that this time he would not be coming back. Legolas would not be coming for him. But he realized that he could not stay here -- among the people, whose kin he
had murdered, and with Legolas, who hated him. At least he had tentative friends at Hogwarts. He had a life. At least there, he could pretend that this had all been a dream, that he never had killed and raped and betrayed, that the one person he'd loved no longer felt the same.
"I'll go," he whispered.
We will summon you tomorrow. You are dismissed.
Harry turned around and trudged back down the stairs, his mind empty and echoing, too numb even to scream.
The shadows dancing on the ceiling, created by the flickering fire from a candle, had never been so entrancing before. Legolas stared up at the wooden planks forming the room's ceiling from where he lay on his back on the bed, watching the flickering light and trying desperately, unsuccessfully, not to think about Harry. But every time he tried to sleep, all he could see, feel, were --
-- hands on him. Hurting him, pressing his face down into the wood planks of a ship; a voice, telling him that he deserved it; and it was the voice of his lover.
Weak, he railed silently. Foolish, to keep dwelling on the past that hurt no more than an orc attack. Foolish. Weak.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Pain with the face of an angel and the voice of a tempter, pain in a form that he had loved -- did love, gods help him. Pain that -- that he would accept, if only in the form of whom he loved. His mind flailed about, trying so hard to separate the actions of someone he loved from one who had hurt him -- tried and failed.
It was no fault of his.
He knew it to be true, now. After Legolas had finally given up his vigil at Harry's side, Gandalf had talked to him and explained everything – Morgoth's possession of Harry and the Valar's plan; Legolas knew that nothing Harry could have done would have changed anything. He had been entirely unaware of the voices in his mind, pushing him.
But in the back of Legolas's mind, he could not help but wonder, as much as he hated it. Was there nothing Harry could have done? Could he not have resisted?
It was no fault of his.
Thinking that made him feel a modicum less sick, so he whispered it aloud to himself.
"It was no fault of his."
"Do you really believe that, Legolas?"
Legolas sat up in bed quickly, head whipping in the direction of the voice. Harry stood in the doorway, his hand on the frame as if he needed it to support himself. All his emotions flickered across his face -- guilt, exhaustion, longing -- in one instant as Legolas's eyes met his. Harry was never good at hiding how he felt under times of extreme duress. This was one of those times. Harry continued only when it was obvious that Legolas would not speak.
"I know -- that you heard what Morgoth said," Harry said hoarsely, taking a few steps into the room. He was obviously under too much emotional distress to even pretend at holding conversation. "That he had to compel me to go to where he wanted, but that he only had to press -- lightly -- to make me do what I did to you." Harry looked at the ground. "All the things I did to you."
"Harry, you know that Morgoth does not often tell the truth."
"I didn't want to do that to you." It sounded as if Harry was trying to convince himself. Legolas remembered walking in on him and Draco earlier, remembered Harry's heart-rending sobs, and the words he'd whispered over and over: I'm sorry. He knew Harry did not believe what he said now. But instead of saying that, Legolas found himself saying:
"Of course not."
Harry looked up at Legolas, his green, green eyes glistening in the candlelight.
"I'm leaving tomorrow morning."
Legolas felt as if he had been hit in the stomach.
"What?" he asked, wishing his voice did not sound quite as desperate as it did.
Harry looked at the ground again, as if extended eye contact with Legolas was too much for him to bear. "Manwe doesn't want to risk anything else happening. He's closing the link between here and Hogwarts. I agreed to go back. There's -- there isn't anything for me here." He looked up at Legolas, and the tears Legolas had seen glistening his eyes now spiked his lashes, and one trailed a doleful, shining path down his cheek. "I -- I don't suppose --"
"I will stay."
Legolas surprised even himself with the vehemence of his statement. Harry's eyes widened, and then closed. He was silent for a long moment, and when he opened his eyes again, the tears were gone.
"Of course." The words were softly spoken. And then: "I should leave."
Legolas said nothing to stop him, his tongue almost frozen inside his mouth, watching helplessly as Harry turned towards the door.
Harry paused, a hand on the doorframe and turned, his eyes burning bright into Legolas's own.
"Legolas," he whispered. "I know that you don't want to see me again. But just -- for one night. Make me forget that -- that you don't love me." He bit his lip before continuing. "Please, Legolas," he said brokenly. "Please don't hate me."
Legolas stared into Harry's eyes.
"Yes."
Harry walked forward as if he had known what the answer would be, reached the bed where Legolas sat, gently sat down next to Legolas on the covers and stretched a hand forward to touch Legolas's cheek --
painfearhurtingletmegoletmego
-- and Legolas jerked his head back, startled and breathing harder and a little bit frightened despite himself. Harry's eyes widened.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Legolas," he said sadly, and when he touched Legolas's cheek this time, Legolas let him. Harry cupped his face in his palm, stroking his thumb across Legolas's lower lip, lingering on a slight swell from a split still healing.
Then Harry was lifting a leg and swinging it over Legolas's body until he straddled Legolas's hips, pushing gently on Legolas's shoulders until he lay back. One hand was on either side of Legolas's head, and Harry stared down at him with bright green eyes. Legolas had to remember how to breathe. Flashes of memories played before his eyes -- moments of passion and hurting so mixed together in his head that he could barely separate the two.
"I won't do anything to hurt you," Harry said seriously, and Legolas nodded, trapped by the look in Harry's eyes. "If you want me to stop, just tell me," he said, and then Harry's mouth was on his own.
Legolas closed his eyes, shivering at the tiny moan he heard Harry make, and he wound his arms around Harry's waist almost without thinking as Harry's tongue slipped past his parted lips. Harry's lips, warm and soft, moved down to kiss the spot where his shoulder and neck met, and Legolas stifled a moan between his teeth and brought Harry's head back up for another kiss.
It was almost perfect, somehow, and bittersweet that something so close to perfect could never last, that tomorrow it would be gone.
He reflected on that as Harry lowered himself delicately onto Legolas, gasping out ohgodohgodohgod in a low, trembling tone, clutching desperately to Legolas's shoulders for support, his head bowed to his chest and the muscles of his neck corded almost as if he were in pain. Reflexively, Legolas grabbed Harry's sleekly rounded hips to support him, and Harry's skin felt like wet silk beneath his fingers.
And then he was seated on Legolas's lap and he let out a low moan, leaning down to capture Legolas's lips in a kiss; Legolas arched his back when Harry finally started to move, feeling so good it was almost painful. He ran his hands up Harry's heaving, shuddering back, feeling the lean muscles moving smoothly beneath Harry's skin; he traced the twisting, sinuous corded scars, felt the roughness of the brand he had left on Harry's hip, desperately held on to what he did not own.
Harry cupped Legolas's face as he began to rock on Legolas's lap, staring into Legolas's eyes with his own green ones, and for those precious few moments, Legolas let himself believe that nothing had happened, that he still loved Harry and that everything would turn out the way it should. He saw that Harry was crying softly and trying to stifle it.
He wanted it to go on forever. He wanted to stop. He could tell that Harry was close, and he reached up and traced the outline of a cheekbone gently with one finger, and Harry turned his face into Legolas's hand. Legolas felt the wetness of tears on his palm.
"I love you, God, I'm sorry," Harry sobbed, and Legolas wondered what he was apologizing for but suddenly it didn't matter because Harry was coming, crying and bruised and more beautiful than Legolas had ever seen him, his hands clutching at Legolas in desperation. Legolas arched as he felt Harry clenching around him, so tightly that he could barely breathe and he opened his mouth in a silent cry and grabbed Harry's hips, burying himself deep inside Harry as he came, wishing that he could somehow make things right again, wishing that he could crawl inside Harry and never come out, wishing that they could stay inside this house and not have to face reality, where Legolas was hurting and Harry was leaving and nothing would ever be right again.
Harry slumped onto his chest, his chest heaving with his racing breaths.
I love you, Harry had said.
After a few moments, Harry's chest slowed as he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Legolas lay awake a while longer, staring at the ceiling again, wondering why the heavy weight of Harry laying across his chest suddenly seemed so abhorrent and unbearable.
He shifted out from under Harry without disturbing his rest and rolled onto his side, sometime during the night managing to fall asleep.
When he woke in the morning, Harry was gone.
The next morning, Draco rolled out of his bed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake Haldir, sleeping next to him; of course it did not work, and he leaned over and gave Haldir a soft kiss in answer to the question in his eyes.
"I'm going to find Harry," he said softly, and Haldir nodded. Draco pulled on a sinfully silky white shirt and a pair of brown breeches, stepping into the buttery-soft leather boots waiting for him at the door.
He didn't have to look far. As soon as he stepped outside of the house, he saw Harry standing in the street, staring emptily at where Legolas was staying. It looked suspiciously as if he were trying to say goodbye.
"Harry," he called out and walked to where Harry stood, trying not to shudder at the haunted look in Harry's eyes.
"Good morning, Draco."
Draco didn't even make an attempt at small talk. "They're closing the portal this morning, you know."
Harry let out a soft sigh. "I know." When he didn't continue, Draco raised an eyebrow as if to encourage him. "I'm leaving for Hogwarts."
Running a hand through his hair, Draco let out a sigh of his own. He had been afraid that would be Harry's answer. He thought he knew the reason, but he decided to try and figure it out for sure. "I guess you couldn't leave Voldemort there, could you?" he asked, trying not to sound probing. Harry's lips quirked up in a little, humorless smile.
"It's Neville," he said softly, laughing a little at Draco's dumbfounded expression. "It's always been Neville. Dumbledore knows – maybe McGonagall and Snape. Voldemort certainly doesn't. I can't wait to see his expression when it happens."
Draco's mind reeled. He had thought Harry's sense of duty would have been pulling him back to Hogwarts. "Then – why are you leaving?" he asked, because he could not think of another reason. The smile dropped off Harry's face.
"Everyone hates me here," he said softly. "Not you, maybe, and not Gandalf or those – demigods. But everyone else. The elves – I killed their kin, brutally. I could go live with the Men – maybe with Aragorn – but I don't think I could stay there, knowing that Legolas was – somewhere; that I could find him, but if I did, he wouldn't want to see me." Draco saw a small shudder run through Harry's body. "I just want to forget everything, Draco. I want to go back to Hogwarts and pretend like this has all just been a dream. I don't want to remember anything that's happened." A corner of his mouth twitched in an attempted smile. "Maybe I'll ask someone to Obliviate me." It did not sound as if Harry were joking. "What about you?" he asked before Draco could say anything.
Draco smiled, a little sadly. "There's nothing for me at Hogwarts, or anywhere in that world. I would surely be killed when I returned; a new Death Eater who disappears for any length of time without informing Voldemort is thought to have changed their mind and is given no mercy. I have no close friends that I'll miss. Here, I have Haldir. And look --" He held out his arm. The Dark Mark was nearly faded. Draco smiled at the soft look in Harry's eyes. "I really can start over here."
He grabbed Harry's shoulders, forcing Harry to turn and look him straight in the eyes.
"No one hates you here, Harry. The elves understand. They've lived their lives in fear of Morgoth, hearing stories of what he has done. They understand that it was he who made you do those terrible things, and they understand that in the end, it was your strength and will that killed him. You don't even need to ask forgiveness; they've already given it. You're a hero, Harry."
Harry tore out of his arms with surprising strength. "I'm no hero," he said fiercely. He stared at his feet. "I need to go. They're going to close the portal soon." He looked up at Draco, smiling half-heartedly.
Draco blinked sudden tears out of his eyes and pulled Harry into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you, Potter," he said, an inexplicable lump in the back of his throat. "No matter what I've said."
"I know," Harry said softly. "I'll miss you, Draco." He pulled away, looking one last time at the house in which Draco was sure Legolas slept. "Tell him –" Harry bit his lip, looking away from the house. "Tell him that I –" He couldn't continue. Draco felt an overwhelming wave of pity.
"I'll tell him."
Nodding his thanks, Harry started the slow trudge up to the Ring where the Valar waited. Draco watched him go, noticing the slow footsteps and hunched back, as if Harry carried a great weight upon his shoulders. He gave Harry a five-minute head start before dashing into the house.
Legolas awoke with hands roughly shaking his shoulders; reflexively, he grabbed the wrists of the person and threw him across the room. He blinked when his vision cleared and he saw a rumpled blonde figure getting up from the floor.
Draco smiled ruefully at him. "I guess that really wasn't such a hot idea," he said, rubbing his hip where it'd connected with the floor.
Baffled, Legolas asked, "What are you doing here?"
Draco's face was grave. "Harry is leaving this morning. Now."
Legolas felt a little twist of pain in his chest and it was hard to breathe suddenly. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I know."
"What?" Draco erupted, startling Legolas into sitting up again. "You know? And you're just – letting him go? What kind of idiot are you?" Legolas felt an answering wave of anger.
"It is his choice." The words sounded hollow to himself. "He may do as he pleases."
"Idiot," Draco hissed. "I know you don't blame him for what he did under the influence of that creature. And I know you love him, and he loves you. Don't make the same mistake you did the last time Harry left. Once he leaves, you'll never get him back."
"It is – for the best that he..." But Legolas trailed off, the sentence sounding so false that he could not continue it.
"Harry is in the Ring now, making his decision." Draco's eyes were hard. "If you love him as much as I think you do, you will not sit here and wait for him to leave you forever." Draco slammed the door on his way out, and the sound jolted Legolas back into reality.
Harry was leaving him – again. Legolas's stomach did a painful lurch.
He flew out of bed, ignoring the aches and pains of his still-healing body, throwing on clothes that were lying on the small table by the window. Barely taking the time to slip on his boots, he ran out the door and up the path as fast as he could, the houses a blur on either side of him. He could see the shining lights in front of him and knew that the Valar had gathered to send Harry away. He ran harder, faster than he ever had, hoping against hope that Harry would not be gone already.
He skidded to a halt at the edge of the ring.
The Valar were gathered in a semi-circle, and Harry was in the middle, holding a green glass ball in his hands. His back was to Legolas, and his head was bowed, his back tense; Legolas could barely see him, backlit against the Valar's shining brightness as he was. He saw Harry's hands tighten on the glass ball and knew Harry had heard his arrival. Ignoring the Valar, he spoke.
"Harry." There was no response. Legolas felt himself growing desperate. "Harry, please. Please stay with me."
Harry still did not move or put down the glass. Legolas felt hysteria growing in his mind, wanting nothing more than to run to Harry and enfold him tight in his arms.
"Harry. I love you."
He watched in apprehension as Harry stiffened and slowly turned, dreading the expression he would see on Harry's face. He took a step forward involuntarily..
The glass ball dropped from Harry's hand and shattered into a thousand pieces of glittering light on the ground.
Harry turned to face him, and smiled.
end