The Hearts Eclipse

Chapter 7: The Darkest Hour

There's no way out. Hours blended together, and in the hazy stretch of time, that was the only coherent thought that permeated Harry's emotion-addled mind and pain-wracked body. There's no way out. Curled up against the wall, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, his every effort had been given over to blocking out the entire cruel, painful world. Imprisonment had worn him down much more than he'd realized, and recovery was taking much longer than he thought it would. Or maybe it just felt longer. Every so often a random muscle would twitch of its own accord, and the ghosts of the Cruciatus Curse would run up and down the muscle and straight into the pit of his queasy stomach.

Other than the occasional spasm, Harry hadn't moved once, refusing to shatter the tiny bubble of seclusion he'd created for himself. If his silent vigil was disrupted, his last grasp on sanity would disappear, and that was just about all he had left. Trapped, without his wand, without an ally, without a prayer, the reality of the situation had finally struck home. There's no way out. Harry had never been trapped quite like this. Every brush with death, every battle with danger, every encounter with Voldemort, had been fast and furious. There hadn't been time to brood; to dwell on his impending fate. No thought, just action. In retrospect, that was probably the only reason he'd survived the other times. This time, however, there were no curses flying, no people screaming, no sudden panic. Just sit and wait. Sit back and pass the time agonizing over a fate that until now had only seemed like a twisted sort of abstract.

Since the attack at the Ministry the previous spring, there had been so many abstract things. Vague hints of Voldemort's whereabouts, extra lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts sent via owl during the summer months, attempts at reassuring glances from friends; it all fed into this nebulous web he called his life. The completely familiar patterns of terror, determination, and hope; the constant threat, but none of it felt quite real. There was always the underlying knowledge that in the end everything rested on him; but the cold reality of it had always been muted by time and distance. "When it comes..." "Eventually..." "In the end..." Those weren't "here and now." Those weren't real yet.

This was real though, and it was all wrong. He'd had a distant mental picture of the impending showdown, as if part of him had already decided how it was going to happen, how everything was supposed to end. The Order would be there to back him up, to ensure he'd make it to the final confrontation. It would be a battle, head to head, curses flying, kill or be killed; just as it had been before. It wasn't supposed to end this way. There's no way out. Where was Dumbledore? Where was Remus? Where was this bloody Order that was supposed to be protecting him? Where was everyone now that he really needed them? Searching, using every resource at their disposal, and worrying out of their minds, he was sure, for all the good it would do. Trapped in an Unplottable fortress, and probably hidden by countless spells and shields, Harry's hopes that even Dumbledore would find him were growing dimmer by the hour. At first, in the back of his mind, he's believed that help was on its way, but now, he knew with aching certainty that he was on his own. Of course, he was used to being on his own. He'd learned over the years to rely on his own devices, whether or not his intuition was correct. In the end, the battle against Voldemort It was supposed to be up to him anyway... But imprisoned, with no wand, no help... There's no way out.

There had almost been help. Somewhere along the line, subconsciously, he'd put his only real hope for escape in Malfoy. At first the banter and his antagonizing of the other boy had been nothing but an angry backlash at the bastard who'd trapped him, but soon they began to take on a deadly serious purpose. Manipulation – not the most honorable of activities, but what choice did he have? He'd hoped there might be some way to needle under the skin of the obnoxious Slytherin. With that lever, maybe, just maybe, he might have been able to push Malfoy enough to drop him off his guard, possibly giving Harry a chance to escape. It was a survival move; any port in a storm.