All They Want For Christmas...

Wedding

Black. Everything was black. And sticky. And painful. Every breath was painful. Draco heard a muffled voice through the haze of his mind.

"Draco!"

Someone was jostling him and he groaned inaudibly in pain.

"Rennervate dammit!"

The voice cut through the fog of his unconsciousness again, but he wasn't full awake enough to place it.

"You idiot, you're bleeding. What were you thinking coming alone? You've probably got a concussion after that. I need to apparate you to St. Mungo's... Draco, wake up! I need you to wake up." Hermione's voice choked up. "Please be okay. Please wake up."

To Draco the voice droned on incessantly despite his pounding headache. Whoever it was, shouldn't they be more sensitive to his needs? Draco distantly heard another mumbled spell and gradually felt his head begin to clear. He groaned aloud this time and forced himself to ground out a few words. "I'm up," he spoke slowly between gritted teeth. "Barely."

Hermione broke into open sobs of relief when she finally heard Draco speak. After a few moments she managed to rein herself in. "I know you're in pain, Draco, but we need to get out of here."

Draco nodded, his cheek rubbing against the cold stone floor with the action. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to push himself up. Looking at the floor, he finally brought himself to ask. "And my father?" Draco heard Hermione swallow nervously and she looked away from him.

"Dead," she whispered uneasily. "I checked when I took my wand back to make sure."

Draco didn't look at her. He took two slow breaths before fixing his eyes on the body on the floor across the room. "Good."

"Draco...." Hermione tried to find words, but was unable to.

"Really, Hermione." Draco finally looked to her, his eyes holding sincerity. "I'm glad he's gone." With her help, he struggled to his feet. "We can just leave him. I'm sure Parkinson will find him eventually." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but shut it, knowing that nothing she could say would change the situation.

"Alright. We'll go to St. Mungo's to get your head checked and let the others know from there." Hermione took his hand and started to spin to apparate.

"WAIT!" Draco stopped her, his voice hurting his own ears. "There's a jinx if you try to apparate down here because you're not a Malfoy. I'll have to do it."

Hermione hesitated. "Are you sure you can do it? You're still recovering from that stunner and then the impact of hitting the wall... We can find our way out of here and then I can do it."

"Apparating will take less energy than walking out of here," he replied shortly. His headache was still blinding. Hermione nodded at his response and squeezed his hand. Draco held onto her hand tightly as he closed his eyes and concentrated on where he wanted to go. He chanted it over and over in his head and turned.

After a relatively short trip to St. Mungo's, Draco was diagnosed with a cut to his head, a mild concussion, and a few bruised ribs. Hermione was diagnosed with malnutrition. The healers had him fixed up in no time and gave Hermione several potions to provide her body with the nutrients it needed, but recommended they get plenty of rest for the next few days regardless, which is what brought Hermione and Draco back to their flat in London.

"We can postpone the wedding."

"We're not postponing the wedding."

"Are you sure? I'd understand because of everything that happened."