Harry was aware of the fact that every time he blinked, several minutes had passed. The lighting was different every time he regained consciousness, but with his eyesight this blurry (Merlin knows where his glasses had ended up) it was hard to make out the shapes around him; that was, unless someone occasionally stuck their wand in his face to stop the bleeding from the bruises on his jaw, and even then his attempts to focus on the objects would just made him nauseous and worsen his headache. Instinctively, Harry closed his eyes and a frown appeared between his brows each time his shoulders tensed with a flash pain.<br/>He was just about to drift off again - he felt how the pain slowly was replaced with exhaustion - as a familiar voice surprised him enough to open his eyes. The quality of his eyesight hadn’t changed, and in useless an effort to place the voice with a silhouette, Harry blindly turned his head to one side, to a female nurse’s displeasure. His throat was raw, and as he mumbled weakly, his throat tasted overwhelmingly like iron. "Draco?”"