Draco clawed his way up through a wall of dark fog and increasing pain, and forced his eyes open. His eyelids were so heavy and the world was all blurry and dim, his head feeling muzzy, dull. Draco blinked up at the creamy, shadowed ceiling above him, and decided that his throat burnt too much for him to be dead. And a moment later he was assured that he was alive, because he didn't think the afterlife would include a sudden smothering of wild hair that got in his mouth and tickled his nose. Warm lips were kissing him gently but frantically; little dotting kisses on his left cheek, temple and ear, interspersed with murmured phrases.