What's Forever For?

But I see love-hungry people

Trying their best to survive

While in their hands is a dying romance

And they're not even trying to keep it alive

From 'What's Forever For?' by Billy Gilman

Sometime between Malfoy Manor and Bristol, Draco drifted into a deep sleep. He dreamed blissfully of darkness and soothing words whispered in a language he didn't understand and when he woke, he was ensconced by warmth and a soothing blue.

"Shush now," he heard somebody whisper. "He's awake. Ginny, go send Hedwig to Harry and get him back here. I'll make sure the lad's comfortable."

There was a soft shuffling sound. Draco flicked his eyes sideways and found that a girl with long brown hair tied in a bun at the base of her neck was sitting on the edge of the bed he assumed Harry had placed him in. She looked worn, he noticed, eyes far too old for her face, but it was a kind face. There was a kind of knowledge in those eyes as well that just screamed Gryffindor. When he realized who was sitting next to him, he started hyperventilating again.

"Don't be frightened," Hermione Granger said warmly. "You have nothing to fear from me, Draco."

Nothing to fear? I've insulted you for the last six years, Draco protested mentally, unable to speak again. And now you're in charge of my care? This is terrifying!

Hermione gently brushed her fingers against Draco's cheek. There was an immediate shift in his emotions. "Don't be afraid of this either," Hermione murmured. "Your fear was giving me an earache."

Please don't tell me that you're an Empath, Draco pleaded.

"Hush," Hermione chided gently. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and she reached deep into his psyche and further, loosening the knots of tension and smoothing the wrinkles caused by his unease. When she was finished, she allowed her hand to drop away and Draco noticed that he felt better than he'd had in years. "I suppose I should start filling you in on the twelve years you've missed," she mused. "You've missed quite a lot, I'm afraid, Draco. Where would you like me to start?"

My mother, Draco thought automatically, screaming at himself in his own mind as if thinking it loud enough would make her hear it. My mother. Is she alive? Narcissa Black-Malfoy! Is she alive!

But he got no answer. Indeed, Hermione didn't even know that he was screaming out for his mother. She patted his cheek and smiled obliviously. "Well, I believe Harry would be quite upset with me if I told you about everything," she mused. "I'd probably leave some very large gaps. I've been Continent-Hopping for the last twelve years. This is the first time I've been back to Britain in about seven."

Hermione started chattering amicably about her travels and Draco found himself listening with interest, despite how quickly she spoke. He was able to imagine the great pyramids of the Mayans and he saw the great temples hidden deep within the Forbidden City in China. It was absolutely and magnificently magical to him.

But hearing about all those exotic places and how much time Hermione had spent in them just created an aching void within him. His godfather Severus Snape had trained him to detect such illusions and to break them at the first sign of a flicker. He should have known better than to allow himself to be taken in by such a trick for such a long time. She touched his cheek again and he brought himself back to the present.

"Harry will be home soon," she promised. "And as soon as he gets back from his errands, he'll explain things better than I ever could."

Draco raised an eyebrow and Hermione blushed slightly. She mumbled something that Draco didn't quite catch - he was sure it was self-derogatory, though - and then quickly excused herself, leaving Draco all alone once again. He heard voices outside his door.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?" It sounded like a more mature version of the littlest Weasley child - Ginny, he remembered suddenly. "He can't move. Surely he hasn't done anything to upset you!"

"N-No," Hermione sobbed. "I'm such an idiot. Harry told us not to go in there until he got back, but he was just to confused and upset! And now I've probably upset him even more."

A third voice joined into the conversation. "'Mione, why don't you take Ginny and go downstairs?" it was a soft-spoken man. Draco couldn't for the life of him put a name to him. "I'll talk with the lad and wait with him until Harry gets home."

Obviously the girls knew not to question the new man. Draco listened as two sets of foot steps receded from the door of the room. There was a few moments of silence and then the door opened, revealing a very handsome man with red hair dressed in deep burgundy and crimson silks. Ron Weasley, Draco realized, but . . . Vampyrized. Ron closed the door behind him and locked it firmly.

"To answer the question that literally bounced off the walls it was so loud, your mother is fine," Ron told him briskly as he took Hermione's place perched on the edge of Draco's bed. "She is living comfortably with Harry's mother's sister on a property that only the Lord of Black House can access. She is perfectly content with Petunia Evans, don't you fear."

Right. Vampires are telepathic, he remembered. Am I dead? he asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Ron chuckled. He rested his hand on Draco's chest and rubbed there for a moment; Draco found he didn't mind, not with the wonderful sensations the rubbing created. "Would you like to know why Hermione is upset?"

He paused for a moment while Draco attempted a nod. "Well, you see Draco, Hermione is . . ." And then he faltered, unable to put it to words; Draco could see the struggle in the deep chocolate-brown eyes. "Hermione told you about globe-trotting for the last twelve years. The reason for that was because Harry needed to keep her out of England. She was raped and tortured by Death Eaters and was on the verge of a complete meltdown. Even now, although the traveling helped her tremendously, she's still extremely fragile. She's so afraid of doing something wrong that she rarely leaves her chambers."

Damn it, Draco cursed. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, even though his muscles groaned in protest at the stretch. I know how to help her and I can't bloody move. Is Harry worried about her?

"More than you know," Ron replied. "But how do you know how to help her?"

Because I knew that if I survived the War, I'd probably have to give up my magic and leave the Wizarding World, I started studying muggle psychology in my free time, Draco told him. It was fascinating stuff. I wonder how far behind in classes I've gotten during my twelve year absence?

Ron started chuckling. He leaned down and started nuzzling Draco's neck, making the blonde's skin tingle pleasantly. "Harry warned us not to come in here until he had a chance to look you over," he purred. "But you seem fine to me. All you need is a bit of physio-therapy to regenerate the nerves in the muscles that your little twelve-year nap destroyed. Or a night cap to regenerate them for you."

Almost warningly, Draco felt the pricking of sharp fangs over his carotid artery. He heard a soothing voice in his mind, whispering to him in an odd language that he didn't understand or recognize. He didn't even feel it when the fangs slid into his neck and released the liquid Ron sought. A wrist damp with thick, hot crimson blood was pressed against his lips and obediently, he drank. After a few moments, the fangs disappeared and the wrist dripping blood into his waiting mouth was removed.

"There," Ron murmured. Draco opened his eyes just in time to see the redhead licking the blood from his own wrist, closing the wound at the same time. "Now all you need to do is get some sleep and you'll be right as rain, kiddo."

"I am not a kid," Draco pouted, his lower lip trembling ominously. "Am not."

Ron simply smiled indulgently and tucked Draco in again. "I know you're not, dear," he said briskly. "You just get some rest now."

Draco was on the verge of saying some very rude things about the parentage of the Weasley boy, but he was too exhausted to open his mouth again. He yawned as best he could being unable to open his mouth and then drifted back into a deep slumber.