Veela Love

Chapter Forty-Two: Year Seven

Draco woke up with one of the worst hangovers he'd had that week. Opening his eyes slightly he found a pile of silky black hair next to him.

"For fucks sake," he groaned.

"What is it Draco?" Alexis or whatever her name was asked.

"Get out."

"But babe I thought we could have some breakfast!" Brittney whined.

The thought rolled Draco's stomach. "No, definitely not. Get going Monica."

The girl huffed but slithered out of bed. They were both still naked but Draco couldn't even bring in self to look at the woman. "It's Veronica."

"Whatever Shelby."

"You're a dick!"

"Didn't see you complaining about my cock last night," he hissed. Damn his head was killing him.

Draco didn't open his eyes as the girl got dressed and stormed out. Finally some peace and quiet. He opened his eyes and reached for the sober up potion in his bedside drawer. He always kept a stash there.

After downing the potion the throbbing in his head receded slightly and he was able to sit up. The bed reeked of the cheap perfume whatever her name was had worn and the smell was making him nauseous. He stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. He needed to wash off the smell that clung to him. He smelled like a bar and cigarettes and the woman's perfume. A terrible combination all things considered.

Before he could step inside his mother's patronus swam into the room. The peacock opened its mouth and said "Come to the hospital immediately. There's been a change."

Once upon a time this message would have sent him into a flurry but now his heart was iced over. He knew Hermione was going to die eventually, either with his request to take her off life support or of her own accord. Really there was no telling with the woman. He hated to admit it to himself but he was prepared for the inevitable.

Staring into the mirror Draco traced the lines of his face with his eyes. He was no longer the skinny seventeen year old who had fallen in love with Hermione. No, he had grown taller and filled out, his broad shoulders and muscular frame something women found irresistible. Not that he cared who threw themselves at him as long as he had a willing bed partner at all times. And the marks on his neck proved that.

A second patronus flew into the room. "Now, Draco." His mother sure was insistent.

He quickly dressed in something clean and stepped to his fireplace. His fire had been connected to Hermione's room since he'd moved in, not that he used it much anymore. The only time he visited her was when he felt weak.

It hasn't always been that way. But watching her had become his own personal hell and he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Hermione's room," he called out clearly, stepping into the green flames.

Exiting into the hospital room, Draco brushed off the soot from his pants. "Now what the fuck is so important that you dragged me away from my shower, mother?"

"Hello Draco."

He froze. He knew that voice better than he knew his own. It haunted his every waking moment. "No," he whispered. He didn't dare look up.

"Yes," his mother said simply.

Finally Draco raised his eyes to the room. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were there, tears streaming down their faces. His mother was beaming with delight. And then his gaze fell on the bed.

Hermione sat up, a weak smile on her face. "Hi," she said slowly. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Draco brain couldn't process what he was seeing. His angel, the love of his life, was awake. He stumbled forward until he was next to her. In an out of body experience he watched his hand reach out and brush her cheek. She was real. Or he was crazy. But he was pretty sure it was the first one.

Before he knew it he was crushing his lips to hers. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was rough and greedy, possessive in its fierceness. When he pulled back, Hermione was frowning.

"Why do you smell like a dive bar? And why do you taste like cigarettes and why do you have... hickeys on your neck?"

Draco pulled back as if she had hit him. He'd totally forgotten what state he was in. His stomach rolled over.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he managed to get out before he sprinted from the room into the adjacent bathroom. He emptied his stomach and then sat on the floor, the door locked tight.

A knock on the door broke through his daze. "What?"

"Can i come in?" Hermiones voice was small, hesitant. He hated it.

Unable to deny her anything he waved his hand unlocking the door. He didn't lift his head from the rim of the toilet.

"How is this possible?" Draco asked as her small cool hands brushed away the hair from his face. It felt nice.

Hermione was quiet while she slid next to him. She didn't touch him again and he ached for the comfort. Not that he deserved it.

"I panicked when I fell. I had just enough time to cast a cushioning charm and well I'd been experimenting."

"With what?"

"A type of charm that protects the mind from everything. I just meant to protect my brain from the fall but I cast it too strong and well you know what happened from there."

"We thought you were brain dead." It sickened him to think that Hermione had been in there the entire time and he just hadn't known.

"Yes. So I've been trying to break the spell ever since and this morning I figured out how."

Draco just nodded. He'd thrown up his hangover potion and was woozy again. The cool porcelain of the toilet seat felt like heaven.

Hermione leaned over and kissed his forehead. "What did you do to yourself, love?"

"Survived the only way I knew how."