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Atonement	By : absumoaevum Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13720 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor to I make any money from this story. These characters are JKR's, I just play with them.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1

Where We Started

Hermione stood in her room at the Leaky Cauldron, having just finished folding the last of her new school robes. She laid them neatly on her bed along with her glossy school books, cauldron and potions supplies, some muggle clothes, and her fluffy ginger cat, Crookshanks, who was sprawled across The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven and a pile of eagle feather quills. Her brand new dragon hide trunk sat empty, its mouth gaping open, waiting to be packed. Hermione referenced her Hogwarts supply list again, running over the checklist of books and other necessaries listed there and checked off each item as she located it on the bed.

Once she was satisfied that all items were present, she pointed at the trunk with her wand and thought, ‘Pack’. The items on the bed jolted to life and flew into the trunk. Crookshanks hissed as the quills tugged themselves from underneath him and zoomed away. He sprang up and followed them, trying to whack them out of the air with his paws, but a binder had unlatched itself and enveloped the quills before he could catch one. She took one last look at the trunk, its contents settled tidily inside of it, nodded curtly, and shut the lid.

There was a knock at the door, and Hermione turned to see Harry poking his head inside her room. “Nearly ready?” he asked, walking over to stand beside her.

“I wish the two of you were coming with me,” she said. He threw an arm over her shoulder as Crookshanks threaded himself between their legs, purring.

“Yeah, ‘Mione, I know. I’m glad you’re going, though,” he said.

Ron rapped on the open door and came in as well. “Almost done, ‘Mione?”

“Um-hmm,” she said, as Ron joined them in standing around her trunk. The three of them stared down at it, and Hermione felt a knot forming in her throat. Ron chuckled quietly as Hermione ducked from under Harry’s arm and threw her arms around Ron’s neck. “Can’t you two come?” she pleaded. “Finishing school is just as important as beginning Auror training!”

Ron flushed and his eyes darted to Harry. He jerked his head pointedly at the door as if to say “get out while you still can, mate!”

“I’ll just be outside in the hallway, then,” Harry said awkwardly as he made for the door, leaving the couple alone in Hermione’s room.

Ron ran his hands over Hermione’s bare arms and detached her from his neck, taking her hands into his and rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “Look, we’ll be where we’re supposed to be, and you’ll be where you’re supposed to be,” he said gently. Hermione gazed up into his eyes, tears welling up in her own. “We’ll send you loads of owls, and Ginny and Luna will be there, and Harry’s going to give some presentation to the DADA classes, so you’ll see him then. And we’ll all be at the Burrow over Christmas and we’ll meet you in Hogsmead over weekends. It won’t be so bad, ‘Mione.” He brushed away a tear from her cheek, and tilted her chin up. “Besides, you’ll be busy with studying for NEWTs, won’t you?” He shuddered. “Better you than me!” She laughed, and he smiled and kissed her forehead. “That’s my girl. Come on, then! Don’t want to miss the train!”

Hermione nodded and bent to catch Crookshanks to stow him in his carrying case. Ron went to the door and called Harry back in. The two of them took hold of either handlebar on the sides of her trunk as Hermione wrestled Crookshanks into his cage and shut its door. Together, the three old friends turned, apparating to Platform 9¾.

+++

Draco found an empty compartment near the end of the train and stowed his things in the luggage rack over the seat before returning to the platform to say goodbye to his parents. The steam from the scarlet engine made it hard to see, and as he neared the front of the train it took him a moment to make out their silhouettes in the gloom. As he approached, he saw his mother and father whispering heatedly. They halted abruptly as he joined them, and his mother managed a strained smile as her cold hand reached up to cover his cheek.

“I wish you weren’t going, Draco,” she said, her smile faltering a little.

Draco covered her hand with his. “I know, mother.” He was through arguing about it, and despite his parents’ conclusions that his decision to return to repeat his seventh year was a bad one, he was determined. They stood for a long moment as people rushed past them, some staring or glancing back over their shoulder, or else whispering to their companions. The train’s whistle trilled, and his mother started, startled by the sound. Draco took her hand in his and squeezed it, then shook his father’s outstretched hand. He took a step back and turned to leave, but his mother cried out and flung her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He looked up at his father, and watched him gently pry her away from her son.

“You will write, won’t you?” she asked, tears pouring down her cheeks as his father dug around in his robes for a handkerchief.

“Of course I will. And I’ll see you over Hogsmead weekends, and during winter break. It’ll be fine, mother. I want to do this.” She blew her nose into his father’s handkerchief and nodded. He gave her one last hug, and then headed back toward the end of the train.

He hadn’t gone ten steps into the smoky gray mist before he ran straight into a girl, nearly knocking her over. Something she was holding went careening to the ground, hissing and sputtering as it hit the platform with a echoing bang. He caught her flailing hand before she fell, and he held her steady as she righted herself. She looked up, annoyed, and he realized who it was: Hermione Granger. Immediately, she whipped her hand from his grasp and shot him a scathing look before stooping to recover the quaking and yowling animal crate.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” demanded a voice behind him. Draco turned and found himself nose to nose with Harry Potter, wand drawn. A whole gaggle of Weasleys stood menacingly behind Potter, some of their wands also pointing at him. He staggered backward, nearly bumping into Granger again, then strode off down the platform, cheeks flushed and heart racing.

+++

When Hermione’s and Ginny’s trunks were safely stored in a compartment on the train, everyone gathered outside on the platform again to say goodbye. Mrs. Weasley tearfully gathered her daughter into her arms, then hugged Hermione while Harry took Ginny aside for a moment alone. Hermione continued down the line, embracing Mr. Weasley, then George, then Bill and Fleur, before coming to a stop in front of Ron. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I’ll miss you, Hermione.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she said, and then gave him a sheepish peck on the cheek, aware that the whole Weasley family was standing close by.

“Alright, well, hurry up you two!” said Mrs. Weasley as the train gave a final warning whistle. Hermione just had time to give Harry a quick hug before Ginny hooked her arm in the crook of Hermione’s elbow and dragged her off toward the train. She and Ginny made their way to their compartment as the train began to move, and waving from the window, watched the Weasleys and Harry disappear from sight.

Ginny flopped down in her seat and let Arnold out of his cage. “So, I guess we’ll be in the same classes this year, yeah?” she said, watching as her pygmy puff rolled around on the seat beside her.

“Looks like it. Are you going to carry on with Muggle Studies?” asked Hermione, remembering that it has been a mandatory class Ginny’s previous year.

“Yeah. I think it helps me get where Dad’s coming from. Well, I mean, I think it’ll help this year, now that there’s a proper teacher and all.”

“I expect so.” Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Crookshanks meowed from his cage, staring at Arnold hungrily. Ginny changed the topic.

“Do you know if you’re still a prefect? No one told me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I hope you’re not, for your sake. I think you’ll have quite enough to be going on with even without patrols.”

“Talking of patrols, who’s the Head Boy this year?”

“Zacharias Smith.” Ginny put her head in her hands dramatically, looking up through her fingers and sighing. “He’s going to be unbearable, I just know it. He’s such a prat.” They laughed.

“Where’s your badge?” Hermione asked, noticing Ginny wasn’t wearing it.

“Oh, I pinned it to my uniform already so I wouldn’t lose it. I just couldn’t bring myself to wear it in front of George. You know how he gets.”

“And why aren’t you in the prefects compartment?”

“Let them wait. I can’t leave you alone!”

“No, it’s ok. You should go. I’ll be fine,” she said as she dug around in her bag, “I brought a book.” She pulled A History of Magical Symbolism of the British Isles out of her bag and showed it to Ginny.

“Great,” said Ginny flatly. “Well, if you really don’t mind, then I guess I’ll head over there now.” Hermione assured her she’d be fine as Ginny put Arnold back in his cage before exiting the compartment.

Hermione leaned against the window and propped her feet up on the seat. “I’ll be right here,” she called as the door slid shut.

+++

Draco shoved his travelling cloak between his back and the window and leaned against it. He pushed the empty owl cage further into the opposite corner of the seat with his feet and stretched out on the cushion to read. No one had bothered him since they’d left King’s Cross. People out in the corridor stared into his compartment sometimes, but no one had come in. Truthfully, he hoped no one did come in. He preferred to be alone.

Thumbing through the pages to find his place, Draco started in on chapter seventeen of The Definite Guild to Defense Against the Dark Arts by Hector Nighthawrt and wondered vaguely who had assigned it. He had just turned the page when he heard the door of his compartment slide open.

A girl with dirty blonde hair and protuberant grey eyes stood in the doorway, staring fixedly at him. He stared back, unsure what to say or do.

“Hi,” she said. Not waiting for a response, she came in and sat down on the seat opposite him, her hands under her thighs, still staring. He regarded her, nonplussed, then sort of nodded and half-smiled. She didn’t seem to blink; she just stared and stared.

“You’re Draco Malfoy, the boy who made fun of me and my friends for six years, the boy who tried to kill Headmaster Dumbledore, the boy who got the dark mark and became a Death Eater.”

Draco thought about throwing his textbook at her.

She continued, “You’re the boy who called Hermione Granger a mudblood and dueled Harry Potter and tried to have Hagrid sacked and helped Professor Umbridge break up the D.A. and helped those Carrow people torture students last year.” There was a pause. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Luna Lovegood.” Looking expectant, her hand waited there in the space between the two seats. Draco looked at her incredulously.

Her hand hadn’t moved. He sat upright, put his book on the seat next to him, and hesitantly took her hand. She shook it once, then let it go.

“So, why are you going back to Hogwarts?” she asked, repositioning to sit cross-legged on the cushion. He noticed her wand behind her ear, her butterbeer cork necklace and radish earrings, and a magazine tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. She definitely seemed the type of person he would have teased.

He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, considering how to answer her question. “Why do you care?”

“It seems like a realistic question to ask. Didn’t you finish your seventh year already?”

Draco closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I didn’t take the NEWT’s.”

“Can you just take the year over, then?”

“I got special exemption.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my father made a very generous donation to the rebuilding of Hogwarts.”

“Really?” The Lovegood girl cocked her head and thought about this. “Interesting. I wonder if he thinks that will keep him out of Azkaban.”

Draco stood up in fury and took a few steps toward the open door, then rounded on her. She was watching him with dreamy interest. “Do you talk to everyone like this?” he shouted.

She didn’t seem intimidated at all. “I think so,” she said. “Do you mind if I stay in here for a while? It’s much quieter.”

He felt foolish just standing there seething while she regarded him with placid interest. “Sure,” he said awkwardly. She took the rolled up magazine out of her pocket, opened it, and began reading. His eyes widened as he saw the front cover. The title read The Quibbler. The main headline, sprawled over a picture of his father and mother, said “Trial Continues to Decide the Fate of Death Eater Family”. Other, smaller, headlines advertised a quiz called “Do You Know Your Invisible Creatures?”, “Revisiting the Blibbering Humdinger”, and “Magical Parasites and You”.

Draco slumped back in his seat, grabbed his book, and tried to take his mind off of how awful this year was going to be.

“By the way,” said Luna, not looking up from The Quibbler as she spoke, “if I’m ever trapped in your cellar again, gurdyroot tea is my favorite.”
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Atonement