Into Darkness - Moment by Moment Book #1 (Harry Potter, Drarry)

Betrayal

Harry sat in the dark for a long time after the midnight celebrants had left. He was cold, jumpy and fighting a confusion that new opinions of Draco Malfoy were causing. He hated the man, he was selfish, manipulating, scheming, cruel: the descriptions and more ran around in the young wizard's mind, and yet they clashed with the empathy that he had felt for his adversary. He wanted things black and white again, with him on one side and the younger Malfoy on the other. Angrily, he knew it was never going to be like that again. Whatever his existing feelings about Draco, he had watched Crabbe plod into the wizard's circle and pick up the unconscious body and the sheer helplessness in him then had added a new understanding, a comprehension of some of the experience that made the blond wizard what he was.

[It's no excuse,] Harry told himself and ground his teeth with illogical rage.

This wasn't fair, he needed all the ammunition he could get to fight the evil around him, and Draco had stolen some of it.

[It's not fair,] his mind repeated, and with the thought, the surreality of what he was doing seeped into the young man's consciousness. He laughed, a small whisper of the stupidity that crept up on him.

[What the hell am I doing?] he demanded of himself. [I'm on the run in a castle full of my enemies, who will undoubtedly be looking for me by now, and I'm sitting on my arse having a hissy fit?!]

Harry stood up and pushed all thoughts but those of the present to the back of his mind.

Purposefully, he made his way back between the curtains and towards the door.

Outside, the steps to the great hall were as dark as the room itself, and for a moment, Harry considered heading towards the front door. Yet his good sense caught up with him again and reminded him that such bold gestures were foolhardy in the extreme. Instead, he slipped out of the Atrium and up a corridor which had once led to more classrooms. There were many more people about now, and they did indeed seem to be searching for Harry Potter. The fugitive had realised his chance for an undetected escape had passed, and he had already had one too many close calls with patrols. Hence, he was now considering finding a bolt hole and waiting until the search had slackened off. In a castle that had had as many mysteries as it had students, however, Harry was finding it surprisingly hard to scope out a secure location. So it was that he found himself evading his captors by side stepping into the library.

The young man regretted his choice of flight path immediately, because he heard voices from within. Yet, he couldn't go back the way he had come, two groups of determined-looking hunters were heading towards each other from either end of the corridor. Harry dashed for the ranks of shelves and hoped the owners of the voices would be leaving soon. He had had to sprint the last hundred yards to avoid detection, and so the wizard sank to the ground against a bookcase and tried to limit the gasps his lungs wanted to take. He shivered as beads of sweat from both exertion and stress trickled down his spine, taking the heat out of him, and prayed to anyone who might be listening for his corner to remain undiscovered.

Harry tensed, and his ears prickled at the sound of footsteps coming down the aisle beyond his hiding place. He instantly regretted the feeling of stone against his back, as he realised there was no way out, and so the young man just sank further into the shadows.

"Is it there?" a voice called from further down the library.

"Yes, Madam," a young female tone returned lightly, and Harry's heart jumped into his throat; he couldn't quite believe his ears as he recognised the timbre: Ginny Weasley.

The young woman had been disappeared two years ago, along with her mentor, a Madam Flintarrow, just as she had begun a promising career at the Wizards Archaeological Trust. Caution helped the young man resist the urge to jump up and hug the girl he had mourned as another casualty of Voldemort's regime, but he let himself be flooded by the thousand and one questions about her presence on the other side of the bookcase. She didn't sound distressed or under duress, in fact, the young woman seemed bright as Harry heard her flick pages and add, "Old Fumehart's text mentions the orb: 'The Orb of Eternity else known as The Hand of Life, hath many depths, not least of which is the power that placeth it beside The Philosopher's Stone. Yet beware any who searcheth out such power for what the Orb giveth, the Hand may take away, and thy soul willt be lost.' Hmm, uplifting," she joked.