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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.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter 14

Everything You’re Not Supposed to Be

Draco found James sulking in their dormitory. He had a book open in front of him, but his eyes weren’t moving. When Draco came in, he stiffened and shrank further down on the backboard. The temperature in the room might have dropped ten degrees. Prescott, Draco noticed, was sitting tight-jawed at the edge of his bed, saying nothing. Draco shut the door behind him and Prescott looked up at him, shaking his head.

“What—” Draco started, but he wasn’t sure where he was going with it. He wanted to apologize to James, but it suddenly struck him that James was really the one who needed to say he was sorry. Isn’t it a curious thing to want to patch things up so badly that you’re willing to take the blame? It was a new feeling for Draco.

Prescott picked up where Draco left off. “I think what Draco is trying to say is, ‘what the bloody hell is your problem, James?’” That was not, in fact, what Draco was trying to say, but it was as good a start as any. At least Prescott had said it, not him.

James didn’t look up from his book. “My problem,” he said, turning the page he clearly hadn’t read, “Is that I am an ass.”

That took Draco by surprise. Was James ignoring him because he was actually angry with himself? Did he avoid looking at him because he thought he had ruined their friendship?

Again, Prescott filled the silence where Draco’s responses should have been. “You’re doing a pretty good impression of one, yeah.”

James might have smiled, but he still didn’t look up from the book. “Girls suck,” he said, as if commenting on the weather.

“Undoubtedly,” said Draco. Prescott glanced over at him and cocked his eyebrow.

“And I am an awful friend.” James turned another page.

“Definitely not,” countered Draco.

“If you continue on in this shameful way I shall be forced to hex you,” said Prescott, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at James. It sounded so ridiculous, and the sight of Prescott biting his tongue in mock-concentration and squinting his eyes as if taking careful aim at James’ nose was so asinine, that Draco snorted with laughter.

James looked up to see what the joke was and ended up smiling himself. “I think that pink would be an appropriate color, Prescott, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I think Draco should do the honors,” Prescott returned, nodding at Draco.

James addressed Draco instead. “Draco, pink with orange polka-dots.” He threw out his arms, presenting his chest as a target.

“I’ll pass,” said Draco, “I don’t want to be seen with a pink guy, especially not one with orange polka-dots. That would be really embarrassing.” James locked eyes with Draco, his hazel gaze searching for some hint of anger and finding none. Draco couldn’t stay mad at James if he wanted to. Besides, James wasn’t in control of himself. He liked Carolyn, and that was like a form of temporary insanity. Boys did stupid, stupid things when girls entered the picture.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I shouldn’t have said anything of those things. I didn’t mean them. I just…”

“He knows,” interjected Prescott. “Look at him, James. Draco practically wrote the book on ‘dumb shit I’ve said in the past and am now really sorry about’.” They all laughed, though Draco joined in a little peevishly, and Ryan backed into the room carrying food.

Prescott tossed his wand over his shoulder onto the bed behind him and shouted, “Finally! I am starving.”

“What, didn’t you eat?” asked Draco, who was actually pretty hungry himself now that he thought of it.

“Nah. James was having his period all over the place after you left so we gave up on dinner and came back here to talk about his feelings.”

“Stuff it, you prat! I can’t help it that I’m sensitive!” And James feigned bursting into tears, but stopped abruptly when Ryan brought over a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice for him.

Ryan held James’ food just out of reach and cooed, “What do we say, Jamesy?”

James affected a bashful demeanor and replied in a baby voice. “Thaaaank Youuuuu.” Ryan nodded his approval and handed everything over.

“Draco, are you hungry? I brought enough for you as well.”

“Really?” said Draco, taken slightly aback.

“Well, I knew you had to come back at some point. Roast beef, right?” Ryan handed a sandwich to Draco which he took with his thanks, leaning up against one of the posts of Prescott’s bed to eat.

“So, you’ve got it bad, huh?” said Draco to James between mouthfuls of roast beef sandwich.

James pretended not to hear him.

“He’s liked Carolyn since third year,” said Prescott after a gulp of pumpkin juice. “No one else has been allowed anywhere near her since. Doesn’t seem able to get up the nerve to ask her out, though.”

“I’m building the suspense,” said James with dignity. They all laughed.

Ryan said, “She’s stayed single so far. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make your move.”

“I’m like Draco here. I like to admire from afar for a few years before I pounce on a girl. You have to make them want it, right Draco?”

Draco turned to James in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“Hermione Granger,” said Prescott. “He’s been comparing the two situations all night.”

“But there’s nothing between me and Granger!” Draco retorted.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," said Prescott.

Draco looked at him in blank confusion. “What the bloody hell is that?”

“It’s Shakespeare, you uncultured swine! He’s a muggle playwright.” said Prescott, looking offended.

“His mum’s an English professor at a university in the States,” Ryan explained. “He’s always coming out with rubbish like that.”

Draco nodded his understanding for a moment, then snapped his head up to look over at Prescott. “Hang on, did you just call me a ‘lady’?”

+++

On Tuesday evening, Hermione sat with her head against her four-poster listening to Ginny talk, sitting opposite her at the end of the bed. Crookshanks lay stretched out between them, inviting Hermione to scratch his tummy. She obliged, and he purred loudly. Hermione wished that he could drown out Ginny’s words.

“…And the fact that he’s Seeker for Hufflepuff is just disturbing. What are they playing at? They’ve got to know that he’s just putting on a show so that people will like him for the trial. Too bad Skeeter’s not buzzing around Hogwarts. It’d be great to get it out in the papers what a joke he is. It’s pitiful, really…”

Hermione focused on Crookshanks, who had taken her hand into his paws and was licking her knuckles. “I don’t think it’s pitiful. And I don’t think he’s pretending, really.”

That shut Ginny up. Now she was just staring at Hermione incredulously. Then she broke out into giggles. “Come on, Hermione! You can’t be serious. This is Malfoy we’re talking about.”

“You sound like Ron.”

“Aw, Hermione, don’t say that,” said Ginny, affecting a shudder with a smile still on her face. “Listen, Malfoy’s a buggering Slytherin. He deserves to go to Azkaban. Look what he did! He tried to kill Dumbledore, and he’s a Death Eater. Who knows what all he got up to did that we don’t even know about!”

“I’ve already thought of all of this. But Luna believes him. He apologized to her. ”

Ginny made a sound like “pft” and waved this away dismissively.

“No, I mean it. Luna was there in the worst of it. She was trapped in his house, remember? If he can apologize to her and she can forgive him, that means—”

“—that means dick,” Ginny finished for her. “She’s not right in the head. She only believes in stuff that doesn’t exist! That just proves—”

“—proves that Malfoy’s pretending? Because Luna believes him? Nice, Ginny.” Hermione gathered Crookshanks up into her lap and glared at Ginny.

Ginny glared back. “You can’t actually be taking Luna’s word over mine?”

Hermione tried to bite her tongue, but she couldn’t hold back. “What is your opinion, exactly? That Malfoy’s a Malfoy? That he’s a Slytherin so he can’t be trusted?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s just stupid, Ginny.” Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Ginny sounded so full of blind hate and bitter judgment. Was this how she had sounded? No wonder Luna had walked out on their conversation. Hermione was just barely resisting the urge to walk out on this one right now.

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but just then Natalie Fairbourne opened the door and headed straight for Hermione holding a note. “McGonagall wants to see you,” she said and handed the folded parchment over. It said very simply:

Ms. Ganger, I would like for you to come to my office as soon as is convenient. If not sooner.

Gloria Magnus

- MM

Hermione looked up to see Ginny sliding off of her bed and heading toward the door with Natalie. “Fancy a game of exploding snap?” Natalie was saying. They were gone before Hermione could say another word.

That was just as well, she thought as she pulled a sweater over her head and slid into some flats. Maybe she was being hard on Ginny. Of course the hot-blooded redhead would refuse to hear any defense of Malfoy. She knew how awful Malfoy had been to Harry during school. She would hate him on principle, even if Malfoy hadn’t been a complete prat to her personally as well.

And he had. He’d been a gigantic jerk to all of them. But… It was different now. Hermione felt like she understood him. She may not know the whole story, but she knew he was trying to change the ending. He was working toward something that Hermione had always struggled with as well: acceptance. Working hard. Hoping people would see he was trying. The Hufflepuffs had noticed. Luna had noticed. She was weird, and frustrating, and right. Malfoy did not need Hermione’s or anyone else’s permission to change. And change he had. She wished she could talk to him again, just to see it in his eyes for herself. What if he apologized to her, too? Could she forgive him? Maybe she would get the chance to find out.

She took a few shortcuts to the Headmistress’s corridor where the gargoyle stood guard at the entrance to the staircase. Still, she had plenty of time to over-think everything, and when she whispered “Gloria Magnus,” to the ugly statue blocking her path, she had already started coming up with excuses to get him alone to talk.

Then there he was, opening the door of the office. Malfoy saw her and took a startled step back, then leaned forward and grabbed her wrist to keep her from toppling back down the spiraling steps in surprise. He smiled a little, and she knew he was thinking of how he always ended up catching her right before she fell. Her cheeks flushed violently red. She forgot to thank him as she brushed past him into the Headmistress’s office. He closed the door behind her. She heard his footsteps down the staircase.

“Ms. Granger. That was fast.”

“Well, you said sooner than was convenient, Headmistress. That means now, right?”

McGonagall allowed herself a smile and gestured to one of the seats in front of her desk. But Hermione wasn’t looking at her. Instead, her gaze fell on Dumbledore’s empty portrait. Then on the other painting right next to it, the one Harry had insisted be placed in this office despite countless protests. Snape. He was glaring down his hooked nose at her, awake and alert while the other portraits snoozed. He said nothing, but he nodded his head very slightly. Hermione nodded back and sat down, still watching him watching her.

“Ms. Granger, I wanted to speak to you about—” There was a knock at the door and McGonagall said, “Enter!” Luna came in and sat down without being asked. “Ms. Lovegood, thank you for coming.”

“Hi Luna,” murmured Hermione, wondering what the other girl was thinking. Was she still angry with her over what had transpired between them in that empty classroom on Sunday?

Luna turned to look at Hermione. “Hello, Hermione,” she said with her usual haze of dreamy ambiguity. She seemed to recognize something in Hermione’s eyes, because she smiled. “You feel differently about it all now. I’m glad.”

Hermione was completely distracted by this off-putting observation, but McGonagall had apparently discerned nothing strange from the situation because she continued with what she had been trying to say before. “I wanted to speak to both of you about the upcoming trial.” Hermione stiffened, her unease strengthened by the fact that Luna had not stopped looking at her approvingly.

“You will both be excused on the 15^th to testify, as will Mr. Malfoy. He’ll be missing a lot of school to attend the whole of all three trials, but hopefully you two will only be missing just three days of classes, one for each trial. Of course, we don’t yet know if you’ll be summoned for Lucius Malfoy’s trial or even for Mr. Malfoy’s trial, but I think it is a safe assumption to make at the present.

“I will have a classmate of yours take careful notes and present them to you with the day’s homework upon your return. Does that sound alright?” Hermione nodded, and Luna finally turned her huge, gray-eyed gaze to McGonagall, though she made no other sign that she’d even heard the Headmistress.

McGonagall ignored Luna’s strange behavior and continued, “Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley will be coming to collect you in the morning from this office, which will be connected to the Ministry by the floo network for the day.” Then McGonagall took of her spectacles and set them heavily on her desk. She peered at them both earnestly. “Lastly, I want to offer my support to both of you. I know how difficult it can be to relive terrible memories of the past, let alone in front of strangers and face to face with the causes of so much pain. I am sorry to say that I have tried to absolve you of this burden, but Minister Shacklebolt tells me it cannot be avoided and Counsel MacDgoual — he’s Narcissa Malfoy’s counsel – assures me that your testimony is very necessary. Otherwise—”

“I want to do it,” said Luna. Both Hermione and McGonagall looked at her. “I want to. Someone should tell the truth about all of it. I think I could be that person.”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “The truth, Ms. Lovegood?”

“I was trapped in that cellar for a long time, Headmistress, but I think the Malfoys were even less free than I was.”

McGonagall looked like she’d just been stumped by a sphinx. “Well…” she blustered, but Hermione cut in before she could go on.

“I want to testify, too. I didn’t at first, but I want to now.” Up in his portrait, Snape gave her a very small smile.

“I think we both have very relevant information to offer, Headmistress,” said Luna, a note of defiance in her voice.

“Well…” McGonagall started again, “Well, yes. I believe you do. I just didn’t want either of you to be forced into this against your will.”

“They need us,” Luna said. She was picking absently as a hangnail on her finger. It had begun to bleed. Hermione thought about how much strength it must take for Luna to champion her torturers like this. Her resolve was uncanny. She believes the impossible, Hermione thought. But just because it’s impossible doesn’t mean it’s not true.

McGonagall bid them both goodnight soon after. She seemed a bit put off by Luna, actually. Hermione privately agreed. Luna’s penchant for making everyone around her uncomfortable was as potent as ever.

Hermione and Luna descended the spiral staircase together in silence. When they passed the gargoyle at the bottom, Luna said “Goodnight!” and skipped off down the corridor toward Ravenclaw tower. Why had she left in such a hurry? Hermione had so much to tell her, so much she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize for her behavior on Sunday. She wanted Luna to help her understand everything she was feeling, how conflicted she was, how wrong she had been. Luna was wiser by far than Hermione had been. She could definitely use her guidance now.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her own preoccupied thoughts that she didn’t notice the figure moving in the shadows until he spoke.

+++

“Granger,” said Draco, pushing off from the stone wall where he’d been waiting for Granger to leave the Headmistress’s office.

She gave a little squeak of terror that would have made his old self cackle derisively. But now his eyes widened and he stepped out into the moonlight streaming in from the windows opposite him. Granger plucked at her sweater as if trying to pull it closer around her, as if to shield herself from his very presence. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Hey, it’s ok. I just want to talk,” he said coaxingly. He really did just want to talk to her, and he was hoping she felt the same. After staring at her in class for weeks and one very brief encounter which, admittedly, had not gone so well, he had decided that he needed to put a little more effort into interacting with Granger. As James and Prescott kept reminding him, he didn’t have to convince her of anything, but he still wanted… wanted to say something.

“Hi Malfoy.”

It occurred to Draco that he was doing exactly the opposite of what Bliswick had instructed. He knew that Granger was going to speak at his mother’s trial in just a few weeks. He knew that she’d probably be called to testify at his own. Still. This was a long time coming.

“Hi.” Pitiful.

“What—uh—what did you—” She was looking shifty.

“I was waiting for you,” Draco said. That really didn’t tell her anything. He took a step toward her and she didn’t recoil in fear. That was a good sign. “I wanted to talk to you—” he started, but she suddenly blurted out, “Why are you always staring at me?!”

Draco tried to look unfazed. What was he supposed to say to that? “I’m plotting your untimely demise.”

Right. Now was not the time for jokes. Granger obviously didn’t get it.

“I mean,” he started again, thinking this was way harder than he could have ever imagined, “I keep thinking that I should say something to you about everything.”

“You don’t need to explain it to me, Malfoy.” She tucked a loose strand of curly brown hair behind her ear nervously. The moonlight had cast her face into shadow. He couldn’t see her expression. Was she annoyed? Scared?

“I think I do.”

“Well, Luna made it pretty clear what your intentions are.”

She was maddening. What did that even mean? Luna made it pretty clear what your intentions are. Draco contained his irritation and tried to think. Granger must be talking about the time when he’d seen her and Luna coming out of that classroom together. It was killing him to know what had passed between them. He didn’t want Granger to ruin things for him with Luna. She was the first to forgive him. She didn’t outright hate him. She even seemed to understand him. She was important.

He thought, suddenly, that he wasn’t giving Luna enough credit. Maybe Granger hadn’t changed Luna’s mind. Maybe it was the other way around.

“She get to you, too?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound light.

“In a way.”

Merlin’s soggy underwear what the hell was Granger on about? Just say what you mean!

Draco decided to take his own advice. “I know there’s this trial coming up and you probably think I’m full of dragon dung, but I wanted to apologize to you before all of this goes to hell. No matter what, Granger, I am sorry for everything that happened. I just want you to know that. I’m sorry.”

Granger was staring at him open-mouthed. It was not an attractive look. It was a look of stunned amazement.

“Don’t tell me I stumped you, Granger. That’s got to be a first!” Draco said, cracking a smile despite the awkwardness surrounding everything to do with the scene.

Granger’s face hardened. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at him. This was not going to be pleasant.

“This act you’re putting on, being nice to everyone, being everybody’s best friend, it’s not going to work on me,” she shot at him, her voice echoing off of the stone walls. “You want to stay out of Azkaban, I get it.”

“I don’t want to go to Azkaban, you’re right,” Draco returned, his voice rising to equal hers. “But you still don’t get it.” How could he have ever thought she’d understand? Now that she was standing in front of him practically spitting venom at him, Draco wondered how he had convinced himself otherwise. “I don’t just want to stay out of prison. I want to live. Finally, really and truly live.”

“No one’s stopping you!” she shouted. “You made your own mistakes. No one forced you to do what you did! No one forced you to get the Dark Mark and going around trying to murder everyone! You did that all by yourself!”

“Yeah, me! Right again, Granger. I chose to take the Mark so that the Dark Lord wouldn’t target my parents. I chose to accept the mission to kill Dumbledore because it came down to my family or him. I chose to come back to school and torture a bunch of little kids so that no one would ever know how evil I felt, how much I hated myself. Because if they ever did, if they ever suspected for one second that I was anything other than a loyal servant, everyone I ever cared about would be dead. And yeah, I chose to bully and demean you and your little Gryffindor friends and everyone else for years because that’s what my father expected of me, because that was the only way I’d ever known how to be. Me me me.”

His voice broke, but he kept going, yelling at Granger in the harsh contrast of the moonlight and shadows. “You’re completely right. I was a despicable person and I deserve a lifetime in Azkaban and more. How dare I try to make up for that! How dare I change! How dare I even attempt to make up for all the awful things I’ve done! How dare I apologize to you when here you are clearly trying your damnest to hate me. I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be, but I won’t do it anymore. You may want to live in the past, but I can’t.”

Draco turned on his heel and strode down the corridor before Granger could reply, the summons to his mother’s trial a balled-up crush of paper in his fist.
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Atonement