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Atonement	By : absumoaevum Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13723 -:- 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.

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Chapter 11

Eyes on Fire

I don’t care what colors he wears, Hermione, Malfoy is a Slytherin.

There it was. After waiting a whole three days for an answer to her letter, that’s all Ron had bothered to write in his reply.

Did Ron think she was stupid? Did he think she wouldn’t be able to see if Malfoy’s strange behavior was anything less than genuine? He’d been nothing but nice to everyone she talked to, especially his fellow Hufflepuffs. He seemed to have made real friendships there at lightning speed. He ignored Slytherin jibes in the halls and during class. He joked around at mealtimes and did his homework and caused no trouble. He had changed. Just because Ron didn’t see it didn’t make it untrue.

Hermione fumed over the letter all during Potions and Charms and through lunch to D.A.D.A., where she now sat with the other Gryffindors taking notes as Professor Jones talked about curses. They were learning about the cruentintus curse, which produced a streak of purple flames and caused the victim serious internal injury without any external symptoms. She’d had this very curse cast on her during the battle in the Department of Mysteries by Antonin Dolohov, a Death Eater who had killed Mrs. Weasley’s brothers during the First Wizarding War and Lupin, among others, only months ago.

This effectively took her mind of off anything Ron had to say. She recalled perfectly the purple flash and the blinding pain, then nothing until Madame Pomfrey’s face loomed over her in the Hospital Wing days later. The nurse had said that the curse had done “quite enough damage to be going on with”. The way Professor Jones was describing it didn’t really seem to communicate the severity of the spell.

Her heart ached when she thought about Lupin. And Tonks. It was so unfair. Their son, Teddy, was given over to the care of his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks. He was such a wonderful baby, so full of life…

Hermione dropped her quill and hid her face in her hands. Why did everything have to remind her of death? Her whole life seemed consumed by it. She felt like she would never outlive all of these terrible memories, like she had a Dementor following her around, sucking all the happiness from her mind.

Ginny nudged her. “Are you ok?” she whispered. Hermione looked up at her and couldn’t hide her red-rimmed eyes, her cheeks flushed from trying to hold it together. She could not break down here in the D.A.D.A. classroom in front of everyone. She just wanted to be alone.

Ginny cocked her eyebrow significantly and pointed with her quill. Hermione looked across the room to where Malfoy sat with a group of Hufflepuffs. He snapped his head forward to face Professor Jones again, who was writing something on the board.

While she watched out of the corner of her eye, Cadwallader glanced from her to Malfoy then to the tall, wiry boy she remembered Malfoy talking to in the Entrance Hall on Sunday, who reclined in his seat beside the Quidditch captain with his quill behind his ear. The boy put a finger to his lips then jabbed it at Professor Jones, clearly telling Cadwallader to pay attention. Hermione almost laughed. Cadwallader narrowed his eyes at the wiry boy then elbowed Malfoy, whose gaze was fixed in Hermione’s direction again. Malfoy’s hand slipped and his quill dragged a bold line of ink across his notes. He shot Cadwallader a dirty look and siphoned off the still-wet ink with his wand. After that, he turned his attention back to Professor Jones.

Ginny wrote on the corner of her notes: He’s been staring at you all day.

Hermione wrote back underneath: What does he want?

Ginny shrugged almost imperceptivity and added a question mark under Hermione’s question.

“If you would turn, please, to page twenty-seven,” said Professor Jones from the blackboard, “we will continue on to the hacktor curse.” Hermione sighed and started taking notes.

+++

Prescott and James caught up to Draco after D.A.D.A. despite his best efforts to get away from them and retreat to Arithmancy before they could interrogate him.

“Prescott here told me a pretty funny joke just now,” said James, coming up beside Draco and keeping pace with him as they climbed a flight of stairs. “I know it’s a joke, because there’s no way you were staring at Hermione Granger with those widdle puppy dog eyes of yours.” Draco didn’t look at him; he just kept walking. Two more corridors and three flights of stairs. They couldn’t follow him all the way there, could they?

“Hey!” barked James, getting ahead of Draco and putting a hand on his chest to slow him down. Draco tried to get around him, but James laughed and wouldn’t let him by.

Finally, Draco stopped and just stood there facing James. Prescott dragged them both out of the way of a group of Ravenclaws and into the doorway of a deserted classroom. “I’m going to be late,” growled Draco.

“Whoa! It’s a joke, right? This is a joke!” James eyes roved from Draco to Prescott and back again. His smile vanished. “Wait, you were staring at Hermione Effing Granger?”

Draco shut his eyes. If they wanted to talk about it, fine. He’d talk about it. But he didn’t have to like it. “Yes,” he began, “but—”

“What, yes? Yes?! You can’t be serious!” James glanced over at Prescott again, who said nothing.

“It’s just because—” Draco broke off and waited for two little Gryffindor girls to pass them. He licked his lips and started again. “It’s because she talked to me,” he finished rather lamely.

James threw up his hands and staggered back. “Oh, she talked to you, did she? Well, then, that sorts that out. Prescott, did you hear that? Granger talked to Draco, here! What a revelation!”

“It is, kind of,” said Draco quietly.

“Let him explain,” Prescott said, speaking for the first time. He was looking grim.

“What’s there to explain? Didn’t you hear him say she talked to him? Bloody hell, Draco, I knew you were dense, but this is just a whole new—”

“Shut it, ok? She talked to me. As in, we spoke to each other without me calling her a ‘mudblood’ or her slapping me in the face. It’s not exactly something that happens every day. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean anything like that,” Draco said. “It was just… nice, for a minute. To pretend like everything was really different.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Prescott.

“If she could like me, just… as a person, you know? If I could explain things to her and make her understand that I’m trying to be different, that I am different, maybe… maybe there’s hope for me. If I can convince her.”

“So she’s the one to impress, then?” James cut in, folding his arms.

“Not impress. No.” This was really hard for Draco. He couldn’t exactly put into words how he felt. When he said it out loud it sounded stupid. He told them so.

“Yeah, it does sound stupid. You don’t have to convince anyone of who you are, Draco,” said James, his gaze intense, as if this was the crux of things. Draco thought maybe it was. “You don’t need to prove anything.”

“He’s right, Draco,” said Prescott.

James leaned an elbow on Prescott’s shoulder. “Listen to Prescott, Draco. I’m right. I’m always right. You will come to know this in time.” They all tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t.

Draco was baffled by how he could possibly deserve their friendship. Their loyalty to him after only a few short days was stunning. He thought about telling them how much it meant that they’d befriended him and accepted him, that they even cared at all.

Instead, he said, “I’m definitely late now.”

James patted his shoulder sagely. “Alright, you are free to go. Just remember,” he said, “don’t measure yourself by anyone’s standards but your own.”

Draco nodded and shuffled his feet. Prescott punched him in the arm and said by way of goodbye, “See you at dinner, ok?”

They headed back down the hall and out of sight. Glancing at his watch, Draco broke into a run. Professor Vector was going to murder him.

+++

Hermione was starting to lament ever agreeing to be Luna’s partner in Transfiguration, but she couldn’t keep listening to Ginny criticize Percy’s teaching strategies. It was distracting, not to mention annoying. So, Ginny paired up with Jimmy Peakes instead and, with Vicky and Ritchie being disgusting between herself and the snide comments issuing from Ginny every three seconds, Hermione could finally concentrate on getting down the finer points of human facial transfiguration. She’d had a go of it earlier that year with Ron when they broke into Gringott’s Wizarding Bank, but it was so much better with a book in front of her.

Now she just had to get over her frustration with Luna. Almost everyone in the class was a complete novice at this kind of transfiguration. It took finesse and a certain artistic eye that Hermione felt she lacked. Luna, however, was a skilled artist. If only she could stop being so outlandish.

They were supposed to be altering each other’s faces to look like themselves. Luna had already had her turn on Hermione, who, by the time it was over, looked like the frizzy-haired reflection of Luna, protuberant eyes and all.

After she’d wiped her face clean of transfiguration spells, it was Hermione’s turn to try on Luna. A duel-sided mirror was hovering in midair between them, and Hermione was glancing down every second or so to get a detail down before trying to replicate it on Luna’s face. It wasn’t going well.

Luna made it worse by making comments like “this feels strange” and “I think your mouth is a little wider” and “your eyes are really small” every so often. Her penchant for blatant truths was doing nothing for Hermione’s morale.

It had occurred to Hermione that now would be an ideal time to talk to Luna about Malfoy. So, in an effort to steer the conversation toward Malfoy and away from Luna’s running commentary on the task before them, Hermione said, “That was pretty nice of you to stick up for Malfoy.”

“It was nothing he wouldn’t have done for me,” said Luna airily. “You’re teeth are bigger.”

Hermione sighed inwardly and flicked her wand. Luna’s teeth grew slightly larger. “Better?” Luna nodded. Hermione tried again. “What made you do it?”

“They were going to hex him.”

She waited for Luna to continue, but when she didn’t, Hermione really did sigh. “I think I’m done.”

“I still have my chin.”

“Right. Sorry.” Hermione scrutinized her own chin in the mirror before setting to work on Luna’s. “Have you talked since…?” Hermione decided she didn’t want to elaborate, but Luna seemed to know what she meant.

“We met on the train. Did you know we hadn’t met officially before then?”

“No,” said Hermione. That was a bit of a surprise, though on second thought Malfoy didn’t exactly make a habit of going around introducing himself to the people he bullied. “What did you two talk about?”

“Him,” replied Luna simply.

She was being infuriating. Why wouldn’t Luna just tell her what she and Malfoy had talked about on the train? Hermione finished Luna’s chin and sat back in her chair while Luna examined her face in the mirror.

“I almost look like you,” she said. Hermione wanted to gouge out her own eyeballs with her wand.

“Thanks.”

Ginny came over to see Luna and Hermione wearing an inexpert interpretation of Jimmy Peakes’ grin. “Hey Hermiones!” she said. Hermione smiled and tried not to stare at Vicky kissing a weird double of herself behind Ginny.

“Oh, I’m not Hermione,” said Luna matter-of-factly. “I’m Luna.” Ginny rolled Jimmy’s eyes in amused exasperation.

+++

At breakfast on Thursday, the thing Draco had been both eagerly anticipating and absolutely dreading arrived. He wavered somewhere between regret and elation whenever he thought about the idea he’d put into action a few days before. Meeting Granger had pushed it from his mind for a while, but as the days progressed, he spent more and more time dwelling on what would happen. He honestly didn’t know what she’d do. She was so unpredictable.

So, as the owl carrying a brightly-colored package soared in through the high mullioned windows and came to rest before Luna Lovegood, Draco had to suppress the urge both to run out of the Great Hall in fear and whoop with excitement. He watched her relieve the owl of its parcel and feed it a bit of bacon before it flew off again.

Draco could barely stand it. She was turning it over in her hands. Other Ravenclaws had stopped examining their own mail to watch. With careful fingers, she untied the packing string and opened the package. Inside, he knew, was a box of Gertrude’s Best Organic Gurdyroot Tealeaves and a little note.

Open the note, open the note! he thought excitedly, which then fought, don’t open the note, don’t open the note!

She put the box to her nose and breathed deeply, a little smile on her lips, before turning to the folded slip of parchment. She flipped it open and read. Draco held his breath.

If Luna was confused, she didn’t show it. She set down the note and started opening her box of tea. Her friends leaned in to her, apparently asking her who the package was from. She shook her head.

One of the Ravenclaw girls grabbed the note and read it aloud. “’I’m sorry’?” she trilled loudly enough for Draco to hear. He felt himself flush scarlet and started shoveling food into his mouth to avoid staring. When he chanced a glance back over at the Ravenclaw table, teacups and a jug of hot water had appeared before Luna. She was making tea for everyone. Great. This was not going at all the way he planned.

A few minutes later, Draco heard a series of disgusted noises emanating from where Luna sat surrounded by people holding their teacups away in obvious revulsion. Draco had never actually had gurdyroot tea. Was it bad? Did she hate it?

No, Luna was sipping her tea mildly amid her friends’ upturned noses and pinched, sour faces. Maybe gurdyroot tea was an acquired taste. Luna certainly seemed to be enjoying herself.

Still, she didn’t so much as toss her hair in his direction during the rest of breakfast, but as Ravenclaw table emptied, she remained seated, eating slowly and pouring herself more tea.

“Draco. Let’s go,” said James, slapping Draco on the back and momentarily distracting him. “Class, remember? That thing we do here?”

He looked around. The rest of Hufflepuff was already gone. Prescott and Ryan were waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. “You go on,” Draco said. “I’ll catch up.”

James eyed him beadily, but seemed to decide to let it go. “Alright, mate. See you in Greenhouse Six.”

“Greenhouse Six,” Draco repeated to James’ retreating back.

In just a few short minutes, he and Luna were the only ones left in the Great Hall. She still hadn’t looked at him. She wasn’t ignoring him, exactly. In fact, her manner seemed more inviting than anything. Plucking up all the courage he could manage, he stood and made his way over to where she sat alone, still drinking her tea.

“Hello,” she said when he sat down across from her.

“Hello.”

She bit into a piece of toast and took her time chewing. There was a long and extremely awkward silence, then Luna said, “Thank you for the tea.”

“Do you like it?” Draco asked keenly.

“You don’t need to buy me gifts or write me notes to tell me that you’re sorry, Draco. It’s much simpler just to come to me and say it.”

Then she looked at him, and her huge gray eyes captured him within her gaze. It seemed to reach inside him and wrench his heart from his chest. All the things he’d been wanting to say to her – how sorry he was, how he could never feel sorry enough, how he would never, ever forgive himself that he had done nothing, watched her imprisoned and tortured in his own house – all of it felt utterly insignificant.

Even though he wanted to run away and find somewhere to hide where those eyes could never look at him like that again, Draco held her gaze and tried to say without trembling the thing that he absolutely could not live for another second having let gone unsaid. “It will never be enough, Luna, but I am so sorry for what I did to you. I am so, so sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Draco lost it. He looked away, tears spilling over his cheeks. He felt drained, helpless, exhausted. And relieved. Some pressing weight he hadn’t even known was there a moment before had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Do you want to try some tea?” Luna asked after a little while.

Draco nodded, and she poured him a cup. He sat there, across from her, with the cup of tea warming his hands. “Thank you,” he said. He tried to put a lot of things into those words.

Luna seemed to understand. She smiled. “Try the tea.”

It was disgusting.
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Atonement