Eclipse

Chapter 13

Empty spaces, just like the one in which Harry was trapped.

And if Harry could crash through so easily, the same thing could happen to Draco at any moment. Then they'd both be stuck, and Harry would never get out. He couldn't let that happen.

More carefully this time, Draco sized up the ground between himself and the edge of the hole. A little less than ten feet of pitted earth, with a couple of branches sticking out of the dirt. Harry's sunken footsteps were still evident along the surface.

Maybe if he spread out his weight, it would hold him. Even if it wouldn't, there were no other options.

"Harry, hang in there. I'm going to try to reach you." There was no reply, and even though Draco hadn't really been expecting one, it didn't make the silence any easier to take. "I'm coming."

Draco unfastened his cloak from around his neck and threw it aside. Slowly, he knelt on the ground. Moisture seeped from the soil through the knees of his trousers, and he felt his knees sink in far deeper than he would have liked. Swallowing the fear that was creeping up in his throat, he reached forward and slowly, cautiously, laid himself flat on the ground.

With his weight spread out, he didn't sink in as much. Encouraged by this, he crawled forward one inch, then another. The edge of the hole came closer. The moisture sank through his shirt, and the fabric felt damp and clingy against his chest and stomach. Doesn't matter. Keep going.

He could see partially into the hole now. It was a narrow opening, rough-edged, and broken, semi-rotted wood jutted around the perimeter. Just a little bit closer. Just a little bit...

Draco grasped the soft, crumbling edge of the hole, pulled himself the rest of the way, and looked down.

At first, he was terrified to see nothing but dirt. Then he looked closer and realized that some of the dirt had hair. "HARRY!"

The lump of dirt with hair moved, then tipped back to reveal the grime-streaked face of Harry Potter. His glasses were, amazingly, still perched on the bridge of his nose, but under the lenses, his eyes were unfocused. Blood trailed down his cheek from a nasty set of scratches, mixing with the dirt. Harry's vague description had been accurate: he was definitely wedged vertically into a narrow part of the hole, like a cork in the top of a wine bottle. The top of his head was about four feet down, and that was all Draco could see.

"H'lo, Draco." Up close, Draco could tell with startling clarity just how laboured Harry's breathing was, as though he couldn't take a deep breath. Under the streaks of dirt, his skin was frighteningly pale, and his lips had a slight tinge of blue.

"Harry! Are you okay? Can you reach up for my hand?" Draco stuck his hand as far down into the hole as he could, but he could barely reach half the distance. "Reach up... I'll pull you out."

A faint smile ghosted across Harry's face, then faded. "Can't. Arms... are stuck."

Draco looked again, and he could have kicked himself for not seeing the problem immediately. A large branch, so heavily covered with dirt that it was almost perfectly concealed, and easily as thick as a person, was wedged tightly against Harry's chest. The branch forked, and one thick limb crossed over the top of his left shoulder, holding his arm down. His right arm wasn't visible; Draco guessed it was pinned between his body and the side of the hole.