The Ugly Truth 〚drarry〛

truth #7

October 18

Truth #7: "You know, I think you're the only one here who I wouldn't want to punch."

Draco was fucking panicking.

He could barely see through the black, thick smoke, which irritated his eyes and made them water. His lungs were filled with smoke and he could hardly breathe. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't find the fire extinguisher in the smoke, he was panicking, oh God is this how he was going to die?

He heard the door open, and Draco couldn't see the door, but he hoped to God it was Potter.

"Oh my God, Draco, is that you?" If he could breathe properly, he'd probably smile at the use of his first name, but he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't think and God he was going to die here.

"Draco!" The yell was near his ears, and he would have yelled back, but he found himself unable to speak. His head was absolutely spinning and it really was a wonder that he was still standing.

He felt arms wrap around him and pick him up, and he felt more fragile than ever as he felt himself leaning into the chest that he assumed was Potter's. Potter must've been strong to pick him up like this, but it might just be the adrenaline.

He heard the door opening again, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that they were standing in the hall. He glanced at the staff room and found thick smoke coming out of it. His eyes wandered to Potter, who seemed to be panicking as well. He fumbled with something in his pocket and pulled out a phone, then proceeded to dial what Draco assumed was 911. He watched as Potter spoke to the operator. Smoke still came from the door and Draco still felt like he was going to pass out but it was certainly better in the hall than in the staff room.

Draco's head cleared up a bit, and he realized that the alarms were going off, which was probably why the school was so empty. He wondered why Potter was here with him and not outside with the rest of the school, but he found he didn't really care as he coughed for the millionth time.

He watched as Potter hung up the phone and picked Draco back up, wrapping one arm beneath his knees and another under his torso. Again, he leaned into it, sighing as his head hit Potter's chest. He felt so relaxed, so calm... he was so warm... His eyes began to close, and before he knew what was happening, everything went black.

When he came to, he was lying down somewhere. The sheets were scratchy and rough, but since his breaths were still laboured, he didn't care about whatever he was lying on. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was white and Harry Potter sitting beside him. He wasn't wearing his glasses for some reason, and God, his eyes really were brilliant when they weren't hidden. Draco felt himself smile at the sight of Potter.

"My saviour," he joked, but immediately began coughing after attempting to speak.

"Don't speak," Potter said, and Draco rolled his eyes, biting back a sarcastic comment. "Actually, yeah, do speak. Tell me, what the actual fuck happened in there?"

Draco would've thought his concern was endearing, but he was sitting in what he recognized as a hospital bed and he really didn't have time to swoon over a married math teacher.

"Exploded. Microwave. Kaboom," was all he could say before coughing again. His throat was certainly rough but his lungs felt normal, so that was a relief. "What happened?"

"You gave me a god damn heart attack, that's what happened, Draco," he said, and Draco smiled.

"That's Mr Malfoy to you," he joked, and watched as Potter frowning.

"Now's not the time for jokes, you nearly fucking died!"

Draco hummed in reply. Somehow, the thought of nearly dying didn't bother him as much as it should have. It was probably because he didn't die in the end, but he didn't really know. "My saviour," he joked again, desperately wanting to lighten the mood. This seemed impossible to achieve, though, since they were sitting in a hospital room and Potter was frowning. That wasn't good; Potter always smiled.

"I swear, you're going to get yourself killed one day. You're a bloody idiot," he insulted, but Draco didn't care. It was out of concern, he knew.

"Do I still owe you a coffee?"

Finally, Potter smiled and Draco felt himself melting, which was pretty funny considering he could've been burnt to death a while ago. "Actually, I'm bringing that number up to two. I saved your life, the least you can do is invite me for a coffee."

Draco smiled, and even though he was literally in the hospital, he felt okay again. Potter's banter always made him feel better.

Maybe it was nearly dying, maybe it was being saved by none other than Potter, maybe it was him just thinking about it, but he realized he really did appreciate Harry.

"You know, I think you're the only one here who I wouldn't want to punch," he said, and it was the truth.

Potter laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

They were surrounded by white and his throat felt unnaturally scratchy, but Draco felt pretty great.