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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 12

Alone or Otherwise Engaged

Draco was late getting to tryouts on Saturday morning because no one bothered to wake him up. Most of Hufflepuff had gone up to the Great Hall early to get to get breakfast before heading to the pitch to watch the quidditch team hopefuls run their paces, so the common room was practically empty as Draco hurried through it and up the ladder to the basement corridor.

He started running down the lawn to the pitch, realizing mid-sprint that he was, after all, holding a broomstick and deciding it was faster to fly. As the dawn light settled over the castle grounds, Draco sped toward the quidditch stadium where the chorus of many cheering voices reached him on the racing wind.

Why hadn’t they told him they were leaving? James usually made such a racket in the mornings that it was impossible to sleep in anyway. Today, nothing. He didn’t even remember them leaving the dormitory. Draco was a light sleeper. He had been ever since the stress of his sixth year. They had to have snuck out without a sound. Didn’t they want him on the team? The first thing Prescott had ever said to him was about quidditch tryouts and now he was missing them.

He touched down at the entrance to the stadium and ran through the gateway into the field, not panting exactly, but breathless with anxiety. There were a lot of people standing in the center of the pitch, their eyes trained on the goals at the far end where three boys on brooms were zooming around, trying to get a quaffle past Carolyn Stump. Draco recognized her golden hair bound up in a ponytail as she flitted to the right or left, knocking quaffles away from the goals with apparent ease.

“She’s the last one,” said a voice behind him. It was James. He was munching on a piece of toast as he leaning down on his broom, which was floating about eye-level with Draco. “Toast?”

Draco glared at him. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Oh that! I’ll let Prescott explain.” James raised his voice and shouted, “Hey, Capt’n! Look who I found!”

Prescott turned to see Draco with James hovering beside him and jogged over to meet them.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” he said, coming to a stop and jerking his thumb up at Carolyn. “I was going to tell her she got Keeper ten minutes ago, but it’s just so impressive to watch her embarrass those poor guys up there.” James laughed, Draco didn’t.

“Why did no one wake me up? I thought you wanted me to try out!” Draco said angrily. Prescott chuckled, which only made Draco feel worse. It was funny now, was it?

“Keep your panties on, Draco. We didn’t bother to wake you because no one dared go against you for Seeker. Figured we just let you have a lie in.”

“What?” Draco said uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean ‘no one dared go against me’?” Were his Housemates still suspicious of him? Did they think he was some kind of Slytherin spy? It made Draco sick to think anyone in Hufflepuff could mistrust him. Well, except maybe Smith, and he didn’t really count.

“We’ve all seen you play!” said James through a mouthful of toast, cutting across Draco’s thoughts. “Bit intimidating, really.”

“You were the obvious choice. Everyone thinks so,” Prescott said. Then he seemed to realize something. “You didn’t think we let you sleep because we didn’t… Draco, don’t be stupid. I said we needed a Seeker. We have one. It’s you.”

Draco was still unsure. “Really?”

James ruffled Draco’s hair from his broom. “Bless him. Isn’t he cute?” he said to Prescott.

“Not really my area,” Prescott replied tersely. He glanced back at Carolyn as the Hufflepuffs in the stands clapped and shouted. She’d just made a brilliant save on the center goal post and was hanging upside down from her broom holding the quaffle in her hands. “I think it’s time for the Chasers,” he said. “James, go put those poor kids out of their misery and tell Carolyn she’s Keeper. Draco, why don’t you hang out with me?”

Draco was feeling happier than he had done for ages. The trial, his uncertain future, everything he had yet to apologize for, even his still aching lungs; it all melted away. He was the Hufflepuff Seeker. He fought the urge to jump for joy.

As he walked alongside Prescott to the group of people standing at the center line, James flew up at retrieved Carolyn and the three harassed-looking boys and brought them all back down. Carolyn was beaming. Her blue eyes fell on Draco and she waved.

“Alright, you lot, Carolyn Stump is our Keeper. Isaac, you’re reserve.” Isaac nodded, looking unsurprised about Carolyn but pleased all the same. “We’re going to do Chasers next. Get into groups of three, and I want you to fly against each other. Carolyn, Isaac, get up there and Keep.”

“But I just flew all the way back down here!” interjected Carolyn.

“Well then Keep for the other side. Change of scenery will be good for you.” Carolyn cast Prescott a look of annoyance then took off again for the goal posts near the entrance Draco had come through. Isaac followed suit, taking Carolyn’s place at the far end of the pitch. Everyone else, meanwhile, had grouped themselves as instructed. Prescott picked two groups to start, then threw the quaffle into the air for them.

Draco and Prescott stood looking up at the Chasers whizzing around above them. Every so often, Prescott made a comment or switched out a team, but mostly they just watched. James really was very good. And Smith, who had deigned to show up for tryouts despite being furious with them all, also stood out. Since they only needed two Chasers (Prescott was a Chaser as well as Team Captain), Draco thought Smith and James were the obvious choices.

“I agree with you completely,” Prescott told Draco after an hour of watching the Chaser hopefuls fly. He called everyone out of the air and gave them the news. As expected, Ryan wasn’t happy, especially at being beaten out by Smith, but he’d get over it. James started in on a ‘thank you’ speech before anyone could stop him, and they only got him to shut up after he’d gotten down to “and I’d like to thank the Ballycastle Bats, and my lucky socks, and the steak and kidney pie I’m about to devour at lunch…”

Draco had missed the Beater tryouts, but Kevin Whitby and Owen Cauldwell were shoe-ins. They were well-suited for it with stocky builds and long arms, and they could practically read each other’s minds. So, with a last thank you from Prescott, the rest of the Hufflepuffs departed for lunch, leaving only the new quidditch team on the pitch.

Prescott addressed his team for the first time. “Hey guys,” he started, and they all laughed. “So, look around. Take a good, hard look. This is the team that’s going to win that Cup for Hufflepuff this year.” Everyone cheered. “Our first practice is Monday night. Does anyone have a problem with that? No one? Great! Let’s go get some lunch!”

Prescott was diverted by Kevin and Owen, so Draco walked with Carolyn and James back up the lawn, chatting happily about the tryouts.

“You missed it,” Carolyn said to Draco. Her hair was free of the ponytail now, and it caught the light in flashes of brilliant gold as she moved. Her walk was a graceful sway. She was so unlike other the girls who played quidditch, who were either awkward or tomboyish, neither of which Draco particularly liked.

“Yeah, let’s not bring that up,” said James, elbowing Carolyn in the ribs.

“Ouch!” she said, elbowing him back. Now I’m definitely telling him. During Beater tryouts, Kevin knocked James clean off of his broom. Lucky he was only ten feet up.”

James was looked sulky. “It wasn’t exactly like that—”

“And when I say Kevin knocked him off, I mean he caught him in the stomach with a Beater’s bat. James wasn’t even paying attention. I think you did a front flip off your broom. Then I guess you tried to fly or something because you were flapping your arms like an owl—”

“It wasn’t that funny,” said James because Draco was doubled-over with laughter. “And I’ll have you know it was a graceful swan dive to the field—”

“Directly on your face,” Carolyn finished for him.

“Look,” James snarled, barely concealing a smile, “I—”

But he broke off, distracted by a pudgy figure tottering toward them from the oak front doors. It was Professor Sprout.

Prescott hurried forward, apparently thinking that Sprout was coming down to see how tryouts had gone. “The team’s going to be brilliant this year, Professor,” he said, but she bustled past him and came to a puffing halt in front of Draco.

“Draco, I need you to come with me now. The Headmistress has asked to see you in her office. You have a visitor.”

Draco didn’t voice any of his questions out loud as he sped through the castle with Professor Sprout, but his mind reeled. A visitor? Who could it be? Why were they here? Was it his mother, or his father maybe? Or both? No, she’d said just one visitor. Why would anyone be visiting him? It was only the second week of school. Was McGonagall revoking their arrangement? Was he going to be expelled? That couldn’t be it, either. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

It didn’t hit him until the door of the Headmistress’s office swung open and he saw McGonagall standing with a thin, sallow-faced man in long black robes. The trial. It was about the trial. Of course it was. He had allowed himself to forget for a few shining days about the looming threat his future posed. He’d gotten so caught up with everything that he’d forgotten that his past was haunting his footsteps, ready to spring the trap at any moment.

This was the moment.

“Mr. Malfoy,” said the man with a very small bow.

Draco inclined his head in return, his old icy demeanor back in full force. “Counsel Bliswick.”

“I am here regarding—”

“The trial, obviously,” cut in Draco. He’d never liked Bliswick, but he was the best legal counsel in Great Britain. Whether by bribery and cunning or actual skill, he had never lost a case.

Bliswick nodded very slightly and said, “I was just discussing your progress at Hogwarts with the Headmistress.” He motioned smoothly to McGonagall but did not remove his sharp black eyes from Draco’s gray. “She tells me that you have been moved to Hufflepuff House.” It was subtle, but Draco caught the tiny sneer of disgust. Bliswick had been at school with Draco’s father. One guess at what House he’d been in.

Sprout spoke up from behind Draco. “And he’s been a model student. All of his Professors speak very highly of him.”

“Even Professor Hitchens?” inquired Bliswick, his gaze now focused on Sprout. Draco felt the sudden urge to move between them, to shield Professor Sprout from Bliswick’s condescending tone, his haughty face.

But Sprout rose to the occasion beautifully. “Our Muggle Studies Professor believes Draco could be ready to take the N.E.W.T. for her class at the rate he’s going. She says he’s a natural.”

“A natural at Muggle Studies,” Bliswick repeated. “How… nice.”

“Does this visit serve some purpose, Counsel?” Draco asked, “Or are you here merely to inquire after my studies?”

Bliswick seemed to consider Draco for a moment before replying. “I am here, as you said, to discuss your trial. Do you have any objection to the Headmistress or your new head of House being here for our conversation?”

Draco shook his head. “They can stay.”

“As you wish. The Wizengamot has convened and decided, given the circumstances, that your parents should be tried first. Do you wish to contest this?”

“No.”

“Very well,” said Bliswick. “Your own trial, of course, may be entirely dependent on the outcome of your parents’. If they are both found innocent, the charges against you will likely be dropped.”

“Are they being tried separately or together?”

“Your mother has requested her own counsel. It is my understanding that Counsel MacDougal has been commissioned for her case.”

Draco tried not to betray his surprise at this. “Separately then?”

“Yes, separately. Your mother will be tried first, then your father, then you. Counsel MacDougal has his own plans for your mother which he has failed, as of the present, to disclose to me. If you have any questions, I suggest you write to either your mother or Counsel MacDougal and ask them about it yourself.”

There was a pause, then McGonagall said, “Would you like to take a seat, Mr. Malfoy? Counsel Bliswick, tea?”

Draco sat down in one of the hard-backed chairs in front of the Headmistress’s desk as Bliswick replied with a terse “No, thank you,” before sitting down as well. Draco heard Sprout settle herself into a chair near the door.

They all waited for someone to break the silence. Draco decided it might as well be him. “You could have said all of this in a letter, Counsel. Why are you here?”

McGonagall shot Draco a disapproving look, but Bliswick seemed unfazed. “Your father was apprehended last night attempting to leave the country, Mr. Malfoy. He is being held under house arrest at Malfoy Manor until his trial.” Bliswick made it perfectly clear what he thought of Draco’s father’s effort to flee. “I thought this was news better received in person.”

“Very thoughtful of you, Counsel,” Draco said evenly.

“But why wasn’t it in the Daily Prophet?” interjected Sprout from behind Draco.

Bliswick did not turn around. “I have managed to keep the Daily Prophet out of Mr. Malfoy’s day-to-day affairs thus far, and I intend to continue to do so. As I will for you, Draco.”

Draco suppressed a shudder. He didn’t like Bliswick saying his name like that. As if they were old friends. He was not his father.

“What else?” Draco asked, for clearly there was more. Bliswick’s smug expression said it all.

“A few of your fellow classmates have already been contacted to testify at your trial, as well as the trials of your mother and father. You will not, of course, attempt to learn the names of these classmates. And should you find that you have deduced who they are, you are not to speak to them about the trial or any events pertaining thereof. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. Very good.”

“And?” There was more, Draco knew it. His eyes bored into Bliswick’s with an intensity akin to Legilimency. Let’s have it all out, Draco thought. Just tell me everything.

“You should know that the public is not on your side, Mr. Malfoy. It is very probable that more articles like the one in the Evening Prophet a week ago will speculate on you, your family, and your case. I want to prepare you for the pressure that comes with a trial of this magnitude.”

“I am well-acquainted with pressure, Counsel.”

“Of course you are.” Bliswick had all the pretense of graciousness, but none of the sincerity. He was patronizing Draco, and Draco wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

“I think we’re done here,” Draco said. “You will keep me informed?”

“One more thing, Mr. Malfoy.” Producing a slip of parchment from his robes, Bliswick offered it to Draco. “I am calling you as a witness in your father’s defense.”

Draco stared at the words on the parchment and said nothing. It was an official summons. A witness. In defense of his father. He should have expected this.

“Good afternoon to you, then.” Bliswick stood up and bowed to Draco then McGonagall in turn. He breezed by Sprout without a glance and exited through the office door.

+++

Hermione reread the few lines of legal speak under the official Ministry of Magic letterhead, trying not to panic.

Ms. Hermione Granger,

This is document serves as an official summons to testify before the Wizengamot in the trial of Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy on the 15^th of October at 9:00am in Courtroom 7 (Level 10), as per the request of Counsel Hackney MacDougal.

Please arrive at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters no later than 8:00am, as processing may take some time.

Any inquiries should be directed toward Counsel MacDougal at 23 Diagon Alley, London hereafter.

Hoping you are well,

Galophena Felicitude

Then, in a post script written in minuscule handwriting on the back of the parchment, Galophena Felicitude had added:

Ms. Granger, thank you for everything you have done for the wizarding community. I am a big fan.

Ron had warned her that this might happen, but actually seeing the summons, holding it in her hands, was another thing entirely. And this was just the beginning. The letter had mentioned only Narcissa Malfoy, but Hermione felt sure that more were on the way. She would be asked to testify before the Wizengamot for Mr. Malfoy and his son as well.

Lucius was one thing. But Narcissa and Malfoy? She wasn’t sure she could do it.

It was Saturday evening and Hermione lay curled up in her four-poster with Crookshanks snoozing at the end of her bed. Everyone else was in the common room or else at quidditch practice, though that was probably over by now. The owl had come during dinner. At first, Hermione thought it was from Ron or Harry (who else would be writing to her?), but when she’d looked at the envelope and seen the official seal of the Ministry stamped in wax on the flap, she knew this was the letter she’d been dreading.

Everyone had been very curious about it, but Hermione hadn’t wanted to tell anyone just yet. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt so conflicted now and she didn’t feel like hearing Ginny rant about the Malfoys and their just deserts.

So now she found herself alone again, brooding over Malfoy. It would be so much easier if she’d never come back to Hogwarts. She wouldn’t have seen his transformation. She wouldn’t have known all the things she knew now. She could have gone on hating him in peace. All this business with ‘saving himself’ and ‘trying to change’ was just confusing the matter.

He’d done what he’d done and now he had to pay for it, she told herself. He and his family had to answer for the crimes they’d committed.

But it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

“What’s up?” asked Ginny, jarring Hermione from her reverie. She had just come in, presumably fresh from quidditch practice by the look of her clothes. Her hair was wind-swept, her cheeks still pinched red by the cool evening air.

Hermione got up suddenly. She didn’t want to talk to Ginny and she didn’t want to lie there running through the same thoughts over and over again. She wanted to get out of here. Now.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, grabbing her backpack and quitting the dormitory without another word.

She headed west where the windows of the castle had a view of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione couldn’t make out much, though, as the moon was only a sliver in the sky, its light very faint on the treetops of the forest across the lawn. Still, it was peaceful. She found a torch-lit alcove with a big window to sit in and drew out quill, ink, and parchment to write.

Her letter was for Harry. She was still too furious with Ron’s snappish response to her last letter to write to him. Even if he was her boyfriend. Hermione wanted to forgive him. He couldn’t help his prejudices against Malfoy, who had earned the slur of Slytherin for seven years after all. She thought that, had she not been at Hogwarts, she would feel exactly as Ron did now. Could she blame him for being skeptical?

Dear Harry,

How are you? How are things at the Auror’s Office?

I got my summons for the Malfoy trial, but it’s just for Narcissa Malfoy. Are the Malfoys being tried separately? I suppose that makes sense.

Will I see you there? Do you know who else has been called to witness? I’ve never even been to a trial before, but I’ve read all about the history of the Wizengamot and wizarding law, of course. I’ve been thinking of going into law after I graduate. Maybe it will all be a good learning experience.

But it feels almost wrong, doesn’t it? She did lie to Voldemort for you, didn’t she? That’s got to count for something. I get the feeling she didn’t have much of a choice, doing the things she did. Voldemort would have killed her or her husband or Malfoy if she’d tried anything before then, after all.

I’m supposed to be at the Ministry on the 15^th of October, which is a Thursday. Do you know how I’m to get there? If you don’t, I’ll ask McGonagall. I’m sure she’ll figure something out.

I miss you and Ron, Harry. I’m sure he’s told you that I think Malfoy’s been acting differently this year. I wish you could see him now. He’s nothing like he used to be. I even talked to him a few days ago and he wasn’t foul at all.

See you in October either way.

Love from,

Hermione

Hermione read through the letter then folded it up. She’d mail it tomorrow. Right now, she should get back to Gryffindor tower and apologize to Ginny.
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Atonement