Eclipse

Chapter 15

Harry stared. He was still standing ankle-deep in the stream, gripping Draco's wrists, staring at Draco's dirt-smudged and blood-smeared face, trying to process what he was hearing. It couldn't be true! Draco wouldn't have kept something like that from him. It was all some practical joke, or maybe he was hallucinating.

But Draco's wrists were solid under his fingers; this was no hallucination. And judging by the spooked look in Draco's eyes and the lines of tension drawn across his face, this was no joke.

I'm going to die? His question echoed in his mind, over and over. He wasn't even sure he'd said it aloud.

Draco stared back at him, seemingly struggling with his own thoughts. Finally, Draco's head fell forward against his shoulder. Something warm and wet - Draco's blood, Harry realized - was soaking through his shirt. Draco's muffled voice was close in his ear.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know."

Draco's words crashed through his consciousness like shattering glass. The world seemed to be spinning around him. This was too unbelievable. Harry felt his throat squeezing in on itself and his heart thudding unevenly in his chest as the implications sunk in.

Three days? I've... I've only got three days? No... this is impossible... Voldemort can't touch me here. We escaped. I'm safe... Draco would have told me if there was something... I won't believe it... my God... three days...

Harry released his grip on Draco's wrists and took an unsteady step backwards, then another. He briefly caught the helpless look on Draco's face, which was now streaked with tears as well as blood and dirt, before he turned and started walking away. The earth was rocking beneath him with each step as he climbed out of the shallow stream and onto dry ground.

"He has my blood," Harry mumbled to himself, trying to process what he knew. "My blood. That's what he needs for the potion. He has my blood. Three days. I'm going to die in three days..."

The world hazed out for a moment, and he fell to his knees.

"Harry!" There was the sound of Draco splashing after him through the stream, and the muffled thud of footsteps on soft earth.

"I... I'm going to die," he said again. It didn't even feel like the words were coming from his mouth. He suddenly felt very cold, and pitched forward as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He caught himself with his hands, and braced himself on all-fours, unable to move, although he felt like he might fall sideways as the ground kept rocking and swaying beneath him.

Draco's hands were on his shoulders, steadying him enough to prevent him from tipping sideways, or completely collapsing; they were the only thing holding him up.

"Harry! Listen, can you hear me? Come on, Harry, talk to me!"

"I..." He shook his head. He could hear Draco, but he couldn't seem to make himself respond. The revelation had been an almost physical blow, and he was still reeling.

"Harry, sit up and look at me."

The direct command didn't reach through to his brain, but it must have reached his body. With Draco's help, he sat back on his feet and was able to look into Draco's face. As he made eye contact, the numbness that had wrapped around him thinned. He noticed how tightly Draco was gripping his shoulders, and how Draco's hands were still shaking, regardless of the iron grip. Draco was scared. And now, Harry was terrified.