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Draco couldn’t breathe.
He felt like he was suffocating, his breath puffing in the smoke-white air that made his skin tingle. His eyes fluttered shut, and he could’ve sworn he passed out for a few moments then. He couldn’t hear anything, not when high-pitched screams and cries for help echoed above.
“Oh, Merlin—Ron! Ron! Call the curse-breakers, they need to break the spell!”
“I’m trying—I’m trying! Agent Curtis, reporting to Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy—”
His hand gripped over the frail edge desperately, trying to lift his weak body up. But he couldn’t, not when as seconds slowly ticked by, more of his crimson blood ran down his stomach. Not when he still had so much to live for, and someone finally worth being happy with. Not when …
Draco shut his eyes again, letting out a broken sob that he hadn’t realised he was holding for so long. The pain was agonizing, making him feel like it was Sectumsempra all over again, yet this time …
Harry let out a groan of agony beneath him.
. . . it wasn’t just his life on the line.
“Draco,” Harry rasped, his voice barely a whisper. His face was so bloodied, adding to the dirt and soot that had smudged his skin—and yet, Draco thinks he’s never looked more handsome.
Draco looked at him again, fire gleaming in his eyes. “No.” He already knew what Harry wanted to ask of him, but not for one second will he ever do it.
“Draco, listen to me—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he demanded, his voice cracking. Taking in another deep breath, Draco grunted, trying to bring them both up once more, but all it did was make him cry out at the weight that had been addled unto his arm. “We’re—we’re gonna get out of here. Just a few more seconds. I can—I can do it.”
He wasn’t looking, but he could’ve sworn he caught a bare glimpse of Harry’s emerald eyes softening. “Draco.”
He looked away. Just a little bit longer, he pleaded.
Harry shifted below him, and that was when Draco realised with pure terror that the calloused fingers gripping his own was slowly beginning to uncurl themselves.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” snarled Draco, and for once, his voice has never been more steady. His own hand clung to Harry’s in an iron-grip, and all that was in his mind was to never let go. “The emergency team’s going to come soon. Just—just hold on. Please.”
Something prickled at the corner of his eyes. His shoulders shook, his throat closed up, because they both knew that they were mere seconds away from falling to their deaths. Moments ago, Draco could hear aurors bustling about from faraway, shouting orders for help—but now, all he could hear were his own near-silent whimpers and the scrape of rock his elbows kept hitting.
“Love,” his Harry whispered. He didn’t sound as tired as he was—and that was what frightened him. The defiance. “You can—you can lift yourself up, if you let me go.”
“No.” A whirl of blind panic shot up his spine when he saw what Harry was trying to do. “No, no no—please, you—you promised—”
It was as if time itself has slowed, and Draco was staring helplessly at the only thing left of his splintered world.
He found himself screaming, shouting curses and half-croaked cries, but all of it happened too quickly. The hand he’s once held slipped, and Draco hated it. He hated how the bastard smiled weakly, how he glanced at him one last time, leaving lingering touches on his skin that felt like a sparking wildfire.
Draco watched, frozen and shaking as Harry fell into the forest of flames, engulfed by the rolls of white-hot embers and scarlet that buried his body beneath. No, no no—it was too fast—how could’ve it been so fast?
“Draco.”
His body wracked in shaking, uncontrollable sobs. No, Harry would never do that to him—he would never leave him, not like that—he promised, he swore—
“Love, please.”
Draco gasped out, and everything tilted. The scorching fire that burned his skin was gone, melting into darkness. All white noise blanked out of his head, and all he could feel were steady arms holding him with a familiar sort of gentleness. No one ever did that to him. No one other than …
“Shh, love,” the voice was soft and soothing. “I’m right here. It was just a nightmare.”
The blond looked away in a haze, trying to shut everything out. It was too much—everything was hitting him all at once.
“Open your eyes and look at me, love,” that same voice implored, and Draco did. His eyes fluttered open, shaken and petrified.
“I—I saw you fall, and I couldn’t stop it.” Draco was trembling, his hands fisting the blankets drenched in his own sweat. He felt a tight knot form in his throat, and so suddenly, it was hard to speak. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t pull you up, and you—you just fell and—”
“Hey, hey,” the voice whispered gently, “you saved me, remember?” hands cupped Draco’s face, careful and delicate. Harry. That was Harry holding him, murmuring comfort in his ears, letting him crumble in his arms. “You saved us and got us out of that pit.”
Draco’s shoulders began shaking again, a wetness on his cheeks blooming. Harry brought a rough-palmed hand up to his shroud of blond locks, ruffling his hair before letting the blond bury his face in the crook of his neck—safe. This was what safe felt like.
“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice was muffled by the sound of his quiet sniffles and the shift of velvet blankets. “Please.”
Harry didn’t do anything—he just held him there, rubbing small circles beneath his shirt, mumbling sweet comfort. The blond quivered, his breathing slowing down when he felt a kiss atop his head.
“I promise,” whispered Harry, and somehow, Draco knew it was enough.
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