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Penance	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 20528 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with it, nor do I make money by writing this.

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A/N: Hey all! This is my new story, hope you like it! Don’t worry, I’m still going to finish Breaking the Chain. I haven’t forgotten! But I couldn’t get this out of my head so here it is! Let me know what you think.

This story takes place after DH. All is the same except for the very last battle, the details of which will be revealed later in the story. Until then, assume everything else is the same.

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“Good night, Janie. See you tomorrow!” Came Tom’s deep voice from the front of the diner.

“Night, Tom! Drive safe!” Hermione called back to the head cook. She heard the front door shut and swept the last of the dust into the pan sitting on the floor and scooped it all into the bin. She stuffed the broom and dust pan into the closet and tied the strings of the trash bag together, hefting it out of the bin and over her shoulders.

She grabbed her jacket hanging from the hook by the back door. Throwing it on, she flicked off the lights and stared at the small tidy diner she had been working at for nearly two and a half years now. She smiled knowing that someday it would be hers. Digging her keys out of her apron, she hoisted the heavy trash bag with one hand and with the other she opened the door, slamming it roughly shut behind her since it always tended to stick. She locked the two locks and dragged the bag to the dumpster at the end of the parking lot by her car, a rusty old Honda. She didn’t care if it wasn’t stylish or that it broke down every once in a while and burnt gas like none other; it was hers. She had saved and saved for it and it was her prized possession.

Hermione grumbled when the orange street light over her car went out and had to grope for the handle of the dumpster so she could throw away the trash. Once that was accomplished she walked around to her little car, her low heels clicking on the slush covered street. It was supposed to snow again tonight and it would probably stick this time. She didn’t mind it so much, no one ever wanted to cook for themselves when the weather was bad, it seemed, and they all rushed the little diner, the best place in town. Tom’s lasagna couldn’t be beat and Brad’s burgers were the biggest and juiciest around. The teenage boys came to ogle Maria, the pretty raven haired girl barely older than herself but a world more experienced in the boy department. Hermione didn’t mind, she wasn’t interested. She had more important things to do than tumble about with immature boys.

It took her three times to fit her key into the dark lock but she finally succeeded and slid behind the wheel flipping on the headlights and starting the engine. It coughed a couple times before roaring to life and Nickleback began screaming at her through her radio about how it was “too bad”. She jumped and hurriedly turned it down and blasted the heater. It took a while for the car to warm up and she waited patiently, looking around at the trees that lined the left and back side of the diner. She felt an odd sensation, that creepy crawly feeling you get when someone is watching you. She scanned the trees but saw nothing. She was being paranoid. No one knew where she was or even who she was. She was safe, finally. She couldn’t let her memories scare her out of a happy existence.

When the air finally turned warm and she could see through her windshield, Hermione pulled out of the parking lot, turned up the music and headed home.

The stretch of highway she took was dark and slippery and she had to slow slightly so she could get traction. She knew she was driving too fast, her music too loud, but she didn’t care. She loved the feeling, the danger. She was alive.

“Nice ride, Granger.”

Hermione’s heart stopped as she jumped, the wheel jerking from her fingers and her tires caught a patch of ice. Screaming she gripped the wheel and jammed the brakes, immediately knowing that was a mistake. The car whirled beneath her turning sideways no matter how hard she pulled at the wheel. She straightened the car out but the wheels couldn’t catch the road. She finally came to a crashing stop in the ditch along the side smacking her head against the wheel.

Disoriented, Hermione fumbled for the radio which was blaring at her. When she could think again she looked around for the person who had spoken. There, in her back seat a man was pulling himself up from the floorboard. Hermione screamed again and ripped open the door. Her flight was hampered by her seat belt which she removed and dove for the slush covered ground. The wet snow rose to her shins but she waded through it putting as much distance as possible between her and the man.

Granger. He’d called her by her last name. How could he know? No one knew!

Turning to look behind her she saw the man dumping himself from the car and starting towards her. Thinking fast she dove for the forest to her left and attempted to lose herself between the trees.

“Granger! Get your bloody arse back here!”

Hermione’s heart pounded. The voice sounded familiar but she couldn’t place it. She turned to see how far her pursuer was and screeched as he lunged and tackled her to the ground, turning her and pinning her wrists by her head. Gasping, she looked into the face of her arch enemy.

Draco Malfoy.

“Geez, you are one tough bitch to get a hold of!”

“It’s that way for a reason, Malfoy! What do you want with me?” Hermione ached all over; her lip and her head throbbed. She hated that she was leaving Earl and Mary Lou to deal with the management of the diner alone. She hated that she would never be able to do all the things she had set out, finish school, travel the world, buy a house. She hated that she was going to die in the hands of this bastard on the cold, wet ground in the little town of Gilchrist, Nebraska.

“You don’t get to ask the questions here, Mudblood. Can you get that contraption to work again?”

“You mean the car?”

“Yes, the bloody car! Whatever, can you get it working?”

“I don’t know it’s pretty stuck…”

“Well let’s see because I don’t want to walk all the way to your little dingy flat, it’s too damn far.”

“How do you know where I live?” Hermione asked shakily. If he could find her, then others could too…

“I’ve been following you for weeks. I know where you eat, sleep, work, shop. I know you leave your house at 7:30 every morning so you can make it to that big building by eight. I know that you leave that building at four and get to that diner at 4:25 for your 4:30 shift. I know you leave every night right after that big man that calls you ‘Janie’ at 11:30 on weeknights and 12:30 on weekends. I know that on Saturday’s you go to that little store on the corner of Barnes and Davis and buy groceries and you spend your weekends at work or at home. You never go out with anyone and no one ever comes to your place. That a good enough answer for you? No more questions. Let’s go.”

He dragged her to her feet and she trudged through the sludge substance shivering from the cold, pain and the realization that this worm had been watching her. Her cozy existence had been shattered.

“Why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with?” She asked, teeth chattering.

“What use are you dead?”

Hermione stopped. “I’ll slit my wrists before you use you for your means!”

He sighed and turned to her. She could barely see his features. “Would you just trust me for once in your life, Granger?”

“Why should I trust you?” She seethed.

His eyes darkened. “I thought I had earned a little.”

“You let Harry die.”

His jaw clenched and Hermione regretted her words. She couldn’t take them back; with her temper she probably would have said them again anyway even if she could. But she could be the bigger person. He already knew her secrets. If she could do what he wanted and get him away from her she could go back to her normal life. Without any magical disruptions.

“Alright. I’ll need your help getting my car out of the ditch. Once we get it on the road I can look it over.”

He jerked his head towards the road as if to say ‘let’s get to it, then’. They walked back in silence, Hermione’s toes frozen solid in her heels. The bottoms of her low rise jeans were soaked to her knees, the entire backside sopping as well. The cold wet snow seeped into her clothes chilling her already icy skin. Her muscles seized and were protesting from the accident.

“Next time you want my attention, try doing it when I’m not driving 65 down an icy highway.”

“Didn’t figure you to startle that easily.”

“Didn’t used to.”

They fell silent again until they reached the car, nose buried in the ditch, one tire on the shoulder.

“How do you suppose we get this out? That car probably weighs a ton,” she complained. Stupid git. Could have gotten them both killed and he probably ruined her car.

“Push,” he said simply. She rolled her eyes and crawled into the car to put it into neutral before taking the passenger corner embedded in the ditch shoulder-to-shoulder with the man who had caused her so much pain. She counted off and they pushed, the car slowly slipping back up the ditch. She had some muscles from working out and he was obviously well built. They eventually won the battle with much cursing and a couple breaks. Once it was settled on the shoulder, Hermione sat in the driver’s seat and turned the key. Nothing happened. She groaned. Turn. Nothing.

“What? What’s wrong?” Draco asked from the hood of her car.

“What’s wrong? Oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe you caused me to put it in a bloody ditch!” She stormed out of the car, slamming the door so that the car swayed. She rounded the hood and propped it open, the latch having broken long ago. It was the radiator. She’d- no, no, no, he’d- cracked her radiator. But that shouldn’t have stopped her from starting the damn thing…Ah. There. A loose plug. She tightened it with her numb fingers and skimmed them over the rest of it, checking every detail. She knew her car inside and out. She knew what was wrong. She could make it home, but she would have to call Bill at the shop to have him tow her car in and fix the radiator. It was going to cost her a fortune. Well, there goes your measly savings, she thought despairingly.

“Well, that should make it work now. Get in.”

Hermione slid into her seat and started the car, smiling when it started the first try. Hearing a knock on the window, Hermione leaned over and unlocked the door. Draco folded his tall frame into her tiny car and she laughed at the fact that he had to bend his head to keep it from hitting the low roof.

“Didn’t they have any bigger ones?” He grumbled.

“Yes, well, I don’t need a bigger one. Fits me just fine.” She snuggled comfortably into her ratty seat and pulled back onto the highway.

“So…what is this thing anyway?” Draco asked.

“It’s called a car. It’s what mug-we use to get around.”

Draco stared at her for a moment and turned away. “You left your back door unlocked.”

“It’s broken.”

Silence. Hermione pulled into her apartment complex and slid into her assigned parking spot. She got out and waited for Malfoy to vacate so she could lock the doors before leading her way to her apartment. Her head pounded. She could not believe she was walking him of all people into her one and only sanctuary. Good thing her lease was nearly up.

Hermione unlocked the door and held it open for Malfoy who seemed semi-reluctant to enter. “Nothing in there will bite, I assure you,” she said scathingly. He finally walked in and she flipped on the lights to her tiny flat. Her bedroom, living room and kitchen resided in one room and her bathroom made for the only other door in her house. It didn’t bother her, small space meant less clean up and she didn’t have the money to furnish it anyway. The only seating was her bed thrown in the corner, an old wooden desk chair and an armchair situated in front of the television she had picked up for ten dollars at a yard sale. She threw her keys onto the kitchen counter and began some tea, her one British tradition she allowed herself. Draco stood awkwardly in the doorway as if unsure of how to proceed. In the light Hermione saw that he was sprouting a black eye and a scratched cheek where he had undoubtedly smacked his face into the back of her seat. Well, good riddance!

Hermione shivered, her clothes stuck to her. She needed to change. She looked at her dresser sitting in the corner and realized that she would have to do so in her postage stamp sized bathroom. Resigned, she dug out some new clothes and marched into her bathroom. She didn’t care if he stole anything or tried to kill her while she was in there; he’d already taken the one thing that mattered.

Her freedom.

Not caring that he’d have to wait, Hermione jumped in the shower and gasped at the pain that radiated from her forehead when her face fell under the spray. Jumping out, she looked into the dull mirror above the sink and saw a gash there as well as caked blood surrounding her bottom lip. Great, just great.

Hermione finished washing and changed into a pair of her yoga pants and an exercise top. He wasn’t going to disrupt her routine. In fact she hoped she took long enough that he’d leave. She had work to do. Finals were coming up and she needed to study. She grinned at the description of ‘the big building’ which housed her community college. She’d had to forge many documents so she could get into the school having burned any about Hermione Granger. She didn’t exist anymore. Stemmed from her middle name she was now Jane ‘Janie’ Ann Palmer. A plain, no nonsense name. She liked Janie. People liked Janie. Janie was going somewhere, Janie was going to finish school and have a career. Janie was going to be a doctor. She was going to do good in the world, help others.

Sighing, she knew she would have to forge a new identity, leave those she knew here behind. She hated Malfoy for taking this from her.

Hermione marched out of the bathroom and threw her dirty clothes in her laundry basket. It was Friday so she would have to go do her laundry in the morning. Ha! Malfoy had forgotten about that when he had cited her oh-so-dull life. She didn’t care what he thought. It was her life, she had rolled the dice and now she was paying her debt.

“Glad to see you’re ready to grace us with your presence,” Malfoy drawled, nodding to Crookshanks who was winding his way between his legs.

“Traitor,” she muttered. She called the cat and dug out her food from under the sink and filled his blue ceramic dish with the paw prints on it before turning to her tea which she was sure had been whistling for a long time. Pouring it into a mug she didn’t ask Malfoy if he wanted any, just dragged the wooden desk chair around to look at Malfoy, waiting for him to begin.

“What is that thing?” Malfoy asked pointing at her television.

“We’re not here to discuss my belongings. Why are you here?”

Malfoy lounged in her old armchair that Max, who used to work at the diner, had given to her when he had moved to Seattle.

“I’m here for your help.”

Hermione stared at him. Malfoy was asking for help?

“No.”

He looked taken aback. “No?”

“You heard me. No. Now if that’s all, please leave me, I have things to do.”

“Wait, you can’t just say no. You don’t even know what this is about-,”

“I don’t care. I don’t do that anymore, I have a life now-,”

“As ‘Janie’?” He asked seething.

“Yes, as Janie. You can see yourself out the door.” Hermione rose and went to the kitchen, her hands shaking.

“I know where Harry is.”

Hermione’s mug crashed to the floor. She dug her nails into her palms as she fought for control.

“Harry is dead.”

“He’s not, and I know where to find him.”

“No, he’s dead. He died. I watched him die-,”

“Maybe you didn’t-,”

“Out. Get out.”

“Make me.”

Hermione rounded on him. “I will call the police and have you arrested.”

“I’m not sure what the police is but we will see how it stands against an ex-Death Eater.”

“No, no you are not doing this, you are not bringing that into my house, my life!”

“This is no life!” Malfoy thundered, gaining his feet. He strode towards her. “You think you can just cover it up, pretend it never happened?”

“I have to.”

He looked at her disgustedly. “You’re weaker than I thought, Granger.”

“That’s not my name. Stop calling me that.”

“No. This is bloody insane! You think that by making a new name, changing your accent and moving to the States you’ll erase what happened? It doesn’t work like that! This is real, Granger. I can’t do this without you, I need your help.”

“Why? What can I do any different?”

He was quiet. “I can’t explain it, not until you give your word that you’ll help me.”

Hermione turned away from him, his blue eyes, which drilled into her mind, accusing her of cowardice. It didn’t matter, she was a coward. But it was how she survived.

Hermione stepped around the broken shards and the hot tea to the small pantry where her broom was kept. While Malfoy looked on she swept it up into the dust pan, making sure to get every piece.

“Why don’t you just use Scorgify?”

“I don’t do magic anymore.”

He watched in silence as she grabbed paper towels and proceeded to clean up the rest of the tea. She gasped when she reached under the cabinet lip and pulled her hand back. Her middle finger was bleeding profusely. It stung, but wasn’t especially painful. But the shock of it had her sinking back against the cabinet, a sob falling through her lips.

“Merlin, Granger.”

Hermione buried her head in her arms and fought for control, gasping and shaking. Images flew through her mind of Harry and Ron, ending in their horrible demise.

“He’s dead! You can’t do this! You can’t come in here and ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for!”

She felt hands on her shoulders and looked up at Draco, his beautiful face marred by bruises. He was beautiful…

“This isn’t your life. This is pitiful bullshit. You ran. Your real friends all think you’re dead. They even had a funeral. You’ve left them all to pick up the pieces alone because you were too afraid to face the facts. And now when your friend needs you the most you’re willing to just throw it all away so you can serve greasy food to small town hicks? Maybe you’re not the girl I remember.”

He was right. She hated him for being right. “I saw him die,” she whispered, afraid. Could it be true? Could one of her friends have survived? Could Harry be alive and scared, waiting for her to rescue him?

“Maybe what you thought you saw wasn’t really what happened.”

She stared at him. How could that be? Her logical mind couldn’t piece it together. She remembered the scene vividly, had seen it replayed nearly every night in her dreams.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t, not until you say you’ll help me.”

Hermione looked beyond him to her living room. The cheap wallpaper was peeling from the walls, her sparse furniture old and mismatched. Was this what she had done to herself? Were her friends really still fighting the fight she had thought to be over?

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

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XOXO

RynStar15
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