Veela Love

Chapter Forty-Three: Repercussions

Hermione took her first shower in almost seven years and she thought she might faint from happiness. The pounding water worked its way over her stiff muscles in a deliciously seductive manner.

Stepping out she found clean clothing waiting for her. She put on the slytherin jersey and snorted. Draco's taste in her clothing hadn't changed much. She put on his boxers as well before pulling up the baggy sweatpants left for her. They smelled like him and it brought her comfort.

When she stepped out of the bathroom her parents and Cissa were still waiting for her, but Draco was nowhere to be seen.

"Am I discharged yet?" She asked, eyeing the fireplace.

"No, but I think you and my son have a lot to talk about. Unfortunately." Cissa pursed her lips.

"Where is he?"

"He went back to his place. You might not want to follow him there," her mother added.

Giving the room a curious once over Hermione asked, "It can't be that bad, can it?"

Her mother walked over and took Hermione in her arms. "I'm afraid dear it just might be. Just remember that we love you, and we love him as well. When you're done talking to him, you should come over to our house. We'll explain everything."

Hermione nodded and stepped towards the fireplace. She threw in the floo powder and stepped into the emerald green flames. "Dracos apartment!"

When she stepped out of the fireplace she was stunned. The room was furnished with nothing besides a king sized bed and a set of nightstands. The rest of the room was covered in discarded clothing, some of which looked distinctly female.

The room smelled much the same as Draco had - like smoke and alcohol and... and sex. It still smelled like sex. Hermione's heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

She headed towards the doors going out onto a balcony. Draco stood with his back to the room, a cigarette held between his fingers. Hermione slowly opened the door and slid out. "Even if wizards can't die from lung cancer that's still a disgusting habit."

Draco took a long drag from it, refusing to look at her. "Yea," he finally said. "It sure is."

"Then why smoke?"

"Because it gives me something to do with my hands."

Hermione humphed but dropped it for now. She had more important things to deal with. "Draco look at me."

Draco continued to stare off into space, his eyes unfocused.

"Draco we need to talk."

Her words snapped him back to reality. He hung his head and sighed. "I don't know if I can do this, Hermione."

She crossed her arms and waited.

"Blasted woman. Go inside before you get sick it's freezing out here."

Hermione hesitated before admitting, "I'd rather be out here where I don't have to smell the sex you had with someone else." There was no anger in her words, just silent acceptance.

She could feel Draco's heart rip in two at her words. It hadn't been her intention to cause him pain but a tiny bit of her was glad he was aching like her.

"I thought you were dead, darling. I thought you'd been taken from me." He looked at her for the first time, searching her face for something.

"How many were there, Draco? How many women did you invite into your bed?"

He wiped a hand across his face. "I don't know, Hermione. Too many."

She nodded, tears burning. She pushed away the pain he was in. This was for her, not him. "I wanted you to live, Draco. I'll never regret what happened because it kept you alive. I just didn't expect you to live like this." Bitterness dropped from every word.