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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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Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes! Luckily for you I have no life and spent most of today writing this chapter.

I want you to know that I read all of your reviews (like, over and over), and that they mean so much to me! Thank you! However, I cannot respond to any reviews on AdultFanFiction.net and it makes me sad. Does anyone know a way around this?

Also, lillyput93 on AdultFanFiction.net mentioned that this story could use a better summary, but I have no idea what to say. Any suggestions?

Chapter 22

Carve Your Heart Out Yourself

Madame Rosmerta was soon flouncing back toward them, a tray laden with drinks floating before her outstretched wand. She pointed around the table, listing off the drinks and making each glass zoom down to its owner.

"Firewhiskey at the end over there," – a little tumbler of whiskey flew at George – "And butterbeers all along the row after that," she said, and four butterbeers slid to a halt in front of Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Professor, your mead here," Rosmerta said, gesturing at Percy, then at Mrs. Tonks with Teddy. "You've the coffee with sugar, and your young man there has the pumpkin juice." She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley next. "Molly, sherry, and Arthur, here's your Quintin Black with two cherries." Their drinks whizzed down into their waiting hands, and Rosmerta came to Bill and Fleur at last. "Sir, your Schletters' and tonic, and a water for the pretty miss," she finished. She beamed around at them as they thanked her, then rushed off to see to other customers.

"Just water, Fleur?" asked George. "Bit puritan of you, isn't it?"

"Well—" began Fleur, but Bill stopped her.

"Not everyone has a whiskey at half past eleven in the morning, George," he growled.

Before George could reply, Fleur interceded on her own behalf. "Bill, you do not 'ave to defend me over a water. I do not mind." She put a hand on Bill's forearm and caressed the skin there. He seemed to relax, closing his eyes and letting his drink rest on the scrubbed wood table. "We can tell zem now, I theenk. Zey will figure it out eventually any'ow."

He opened his eyes again and looked at her in earnest. "Are you sure?"

"What is it?" asked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley together. Hermione was curious, too. What would Bill be protective of that would also make Fleur drink water? Then she thought she might know and stared down the table at the couple. Fleur was smiling, her happiness reflected in Bill's scarred face.

"Fleur is pregnant!" He looked at his mother and father as he said it, as if anxious for their initial reactions.

"But… really?" gasped Mrs. Weasley. Fleur nodded energetically, her sheet of white-blonde hair shimmering. Her eyes were misted over with emotion.

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and hurried over to Bill and Fleur. She hugged Fleur first who kissed her on both cheeks, then Bill, and by the time that was done everyone was standing, shaking hands and congratulating the happy pair.

"A toast!" said Mr. Weasley, and everyone raised their glasses. "To my eldest and his lovely wife! May their—" he looked at them suddenly and asked, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Bill laughed. "We don't know yet!"

"Well. Well then… May their child be blessed with her good looks and his good taste!"

"And no red hair!" added Ginny to laughter and general agreement. They all drank to the toast (Bill glowered down into his drink as George shot back his firewhiskey and signaled Rosmerta for another) and sat down again, settling into conversation.

Hermione watched Bill and Fleur smiling at each other, happy and in love despite the odds, now with a baby on the way. Bill had always seen Fleur for who she really was, even as the rest of the Weasley family – Hermione included herself and Harry in that group – turned up their noses at her, wary of her otherworldly beauty and rather blatant honesty. But to Bill, she had always been the one. She was perfect.

Hermione wondered if that's how Ron looked at her. Did he see her as perfect? Did he think she was the one?

"Hermione," Mrs. Tonks said across the table, "Have you see what Teddy can do now?"

"No! What can he do?"

Mrs. Tonks plopped Teddy on the table and held him around the middle. "Ok, Teddy, quack!"

Hermione thought that was a very strange thing to say to a baby, but Teddy giggled mischievously up at Mrs. Tonks before waggling his bent arms like a bird and repeating, "Qua! Qua-qua!" As the whole table watched, he seemed to grow pale, blanched even, white as new snow. Then his nose and mouth lengthened, they grew together and flattened out into a perfect imitation of a duck's bill, complete with bright orange color.

"He's still working on the feathers," Mrs. Tonks explained, running her hand through his white fluffy hair. It almost looked like downy feathers piled on top of his head.

"That is incredible!" said Ginny.

"Where did he learn how to do that?" asked Hermione.

"Uncle Georgy took him to the duck pond," said Mrs. Tonks, speaking at Teddy in a baby voice but really answering Hermione.

Rosmerta had since carried a fresh tumbler of firewhiskey to George and departed. George grinned approvingly along the table at Teddy and downed the shot in one gulp. "Kid's got promise," he said, slamming the glass on the table and holding up two fingers pointedly at Rosmerta.

"I think that's enough for now, don't you?" said Mrs. Weasley.

George glared around at his parents and siblings. "How about I decide when it's enough?" He stood up and walked away from them in the direction of the bar. Rosmerta cast a furtive glance at their table, but she set two glasses of firewhiskey down in front of him anyway.

Everyone was very flustered, but somehow Hermione felt as though they'd been dealing with this kind of behavior from him for a while. Ron leaned over to her and whispered in her ear. "He gets like that sometimes. Sour, you know. Sullen."

Hermione nodded and looked back at Teddy, who gave another cooing "qua!" through his duck bill before it began to retreat back into his normal baby face. His skin lost its striking whiteness and became once again pinkish. His hair bloomed turquoise and grew out over his ears.

"He's six months old now, isn't he?" she asked Mrs. Tonks, who shook her head "yes" with her eyes over-bright and her mouth parted in an 'O' for Teddy's benefit. Surely if he couldn't have his parents, she was the best possible guardian for Teddy. Hermione watched them together fondly until something occurred to her. "Mrs. Tonks, do you keep in touch with your sister?"

Hermione might have just asked Mrs. Tonks if she had remarried a Dementor. Everyone turned to her, aghast. Mrs. Tonks took Teddy into her arms as if to protect him from Hermione's words. "No," she said coldly. Suddenly, she looked a lot more like her sister Bellatrix, dark and imposing.

Trying not to feel too disconcerted, Hermione attempted to explain herself. "Well, I only meant that Narcissa might like to meet Teddy some—"

"No. My sister wouldn't be interested in anything to do with her great-nephew just like she wanted nothing to do with her niece."

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione, willing herself to remain calm and rational. Narcissa was her sister after all. If Mrs. Tonks said that she wouldn't want to see Teddy, then she was probably right.

It was just the nagging feeling Hermione had that a lot of Narcissa's behavior in her past had been dictated by the people of influence around her, people like her Death Eater sister and husband and her purist parents. Hermione felt sure that Narcissa's influences, at least, had changed. Mrs. Tonks hadn't even been at her sister's trial. Maybe they both had something to atone for.

"I'm sure," snapped Mrs. Tonks. End of discussion. But, despite being appalled and imperious, she didn't look sure. She looked unhappy.

Hermione knew what had caused such a rift between the sisters. When they were young, probably just out of Hogwarts, Andromeda Black had followed her heart and married a muggleborn. She had not toed the family line. And so her parents had disowned her. And Narcissa and Bellatrix had wealth and status and blood purity over happiness. It made Hermione sad to think about it, too. They could have been happy. Even if Mrs. Tonks's husband had been killed by Death Eaters, they had been happy together. They had known love. That was surely more important than anything high society had to offer.

Besides, Draco had chosen as Mrs. Tonks had done, hadn't he? Hermione dismissed this at once. He'd started over because he had to adapt to survive. Would he have changed if the Battle of Hogwarts had never happened, if Harry had lost? Hermione wanted to believe he would, that he was already on his way to a change of heart in his sixth year. But was that true? Would she ever know?

She looked around. Everyone was watching her. "What?"

"Are you alright, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Hermione answered automatically. "Yes. I'm fine." She took a sip of butterbeer, wishing she was at the bar with George.

How long could she do this?

Draco started off toward the High Street in search of Prescott and James. They had told him at breakfast that they would wait for him in Zonko's, which was just around the corner from Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop. At Scrivenshaft's, Draco took a right found himself face to face with a gang of Slytherin boys. Perfect.

"Hey fink!" said Harper. Draco was visited by the memory of him covered in tentacles from Luna's curse and tried very hard not to smile.

"Harper," he said, then started off again, walking straight through the Slytherins. They jostled him as he passed, but no one stopped him until he reached Vaisey who seemed much less inclined to just let Draco go unscathed.

"Where are you going, blood traitor? You meeting some Hufflepuff buggers for a date?" Draco ignored him and attempted to side-step Vaisey's bulk, but it wasn't going to be that easy. Vaisey pushed him backward into a mass of solid bodies, which shoved him back toward Vaisey. Draco didn't have time for this.

"Get out of my way, Vaisey," said Draco, drawing his wand. This wasn't school. If they were going to fight out here in the street, so be it, but Draco wasn't going to just lie down and take a beating. But he just past Gladrags now. Zonko's was right up ahead. If he could get inside, maybe he could avoid a duel of ten against one.

Vaisey wasn't going to back down. He drew his wand, and Draco saw the others copy him out of the corner of his eye. He tried to think. Think! There wasn't really anyone else around. Most of the students were holed up in the shops to avoid the chilly, overcast day. No wayward shoppers were bustling past.

If he couldn't think of a way out of this, he was definitely going to end up in the Hospital Wing again. He'd probably be expelled. Better make it worth it.

Then Draco saw Prescott and James come out of Zonko's. They looked over at the scene in the street and started toward him, coming up behind Vaisey with their wands drawn.

"Draco, what's going on?" said Prescott. Vaisey started and glanced sneeringly over his shoulder at the approaching boys. They joined Draco, taking up defensive positions on either side of him.

Luna had wandered out of the joke shop after them and gazed in Draco's direction. Draco stopped her with a cautionary look. He didn't want Luna mixed up in this. Come to think of it, he didn't want Prescott or James to get involved either, but he didn't seem to have much of a choice in the matter.

"These thugs bothering you, mate?" asked James.

"Guys, you shouldn't—" Draco started to say, but James cut him off.

"Shut it, Draco. We're not going anywhere."

Luna was taking deliberate steps toward Draco now, and he willed her to go. Just go. This is no place for you.

"Are we having a party?" she said. The Slytherin boys behind Draco laughed cruelly and jeered at her. "Am I invited?"

Before Draco could tell her no, to get well away from here, he realized that she wasn't addressing him. She was talking to James, and it was James that replied, "Of course you are, Luna. You're my date! Now get over here." She breezed past Vaisey and came to a stop next to James, pulling her wand out from behind her ear.

This was not going at all the way that Draco wanted. James, Prescott, and Luna were all in the thick of it now and it was only a matter of time till the curses started flying. They were all going to get expelled – or worse – and it was all his fault.

He glanced over at Luna. To his surprise, she had her wand pointed directly, unflinchingly, at Vaisey. He remembered that she had fought with Hermione in the Department of Mysteries, in the Battle of Hogwarts, that she had withstood months of torture and imprisonment. No, this was not a girl to be trifled with. She only seemed delicate. Draco suddenly felt worried, not for his friends, but for the Slytherins.

Still, he didn't want this fight. The Slytherins had pretty much let him be for a month. Why were they striking now, in broad daylight, in Hogsmeade? Something was off. Something was not right.

It was very awkward for Hermione after that. Ron was trying to smooth things over by telling her about the weekends he spent helping out at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"George could really use the extra help. Even with Verity there, they're swamped on Saturdays. Besides, he… well, it's good to keep an eye on him. It's been hard for him without…" Ron couldn't say it and Hermione didn't want to think about it. Fred. Without Fred. That was the name left unsaid by all the Weasleys. Sometimes Hermione wished they could talk about him more, but who was she to judge?

"Is he inventing anything new?" she asked, hoping to help along the conversation.

"Nah, not really. But what we've got is selling so fast we can barely keep up anyway," said Ron. Hermione glanced over at George's hunched figure at the bar. Half of a whole. She watched a tall woman with braided hair approach him, slap him on the back, then his shout of recognition, a rare smile. The woman and George hugged. Hermione recognized her then. It was Angelina Johnson, an old Gryffindor Chaser who had graduated from Hogwarts a few years before. Hermione hadn't seen her since Fred's funeral.

She half-listened to Ron listing the inventory of best-selling items at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes as she spied on Angelina and George. They were talking animatedly. Angelina had ordered a drink and sat down next to him. They leaned into each other and spoke in hushed voices, but Hermione could guess the topic of conversation. George knocked back another shot of firewhiskey, but as he brought his glass down, Angelina put a hand on his arm. He shook his head. She nodded emphatically and tightened her hold on him. He tried to jerk his hand out of her grasp, but she wouldn't let go.

Hermione looked away. Whatever they were talking about, she didn't want to pry. When she returned to the discussion at her table, Ron was turned toward Harry and asking him something.

"Yeah, we're well under way," said Harry. "Williamson has scheduled meetings from now to next year with the heads of other wizarding governments' magical law enforcement departments around the world. Looks like it really going to happen."

"What's going to happen?" asked Hermione.

"We're liaising with a bunch of other countries to bring escaped Death Eaters back to Britain for trial," Harry said. "And it could be more than that. Williamson says that this sort of united effort is exactly the sort of thing we could use to find your parents, Her—"

But Hermione was on her feet before Harry could even finish his sentence. Her legs were moving of their own accord, her brain empty of any thought except to get as far away from Harry's words as possible. No. No no no no no

She couldn't, couldn't hear this. She was at the door of the Three Broomsticks before Ron and Harry caught up to her, but she tore herself free of them and continued out into the street, going anywhere else, unable to see anything beyond the panic, the pain flooding every inch of her body. The tears were flowing unbidden. The little gasping sounds echoing through her must have come from her mouth, carried away by the sharp wind, but she was unaware of uttering them. Away. Get away.

Past the Post Office. Then pressed into brick. A wall. Ron was pinning her against the wall of a shop. Then she was on the ground, flinging them from her, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her face was drenched with sweat and tears and snot, but she didn't notice.

"Hermione, wait!"

"Stop, Hermione, please!"

"Get away from me! Get away! Please leave me alone!" But they didn't leave. They knelt beside her and held her between them. She was rocking. She wasn't going to do this again. She never wanted to… This was the one thing that she couldn't bear. Her parents. Her mom and dad. Gone. Missing. Not in the home she'd tracked them to. Without a trace. And for months she had hoped… but not anymore. Never again. Gone.

"We're not leaving," said Harry. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm so sorry."

There was nothing he could say to fix this. She had put it all in a box and stuffed it far away in a corner of her mind and refused to go near it for so long. And now all the anguish, all the pain of her mom and dad gone forever, missing without any hope for recovery, dead… It was too much. She couldn't reconcile it in her head. She couldn't. Her mind felt like it was going to explode, compressed into nothing by the weight of her failure, of her guilt and misery.

Ron was standing now. There was cold air where he had been. Hermione didn't care. Good. Leave. Go away. Leave me alone.

"This is why, Hermione!" he hissed at her. It seemed to take every aching muscle in her body to turn her head up to face him. "This is why I hate him."

"Ron, now is not the—" Harry began, but Ron either ignored him or didn't hear.

"You know what I do in my spare time? I follow every possible lead, trying anything to find your parents, Hermione!" There was so much venom in Ron's voice that Hermione actually cowered against Harry in confusion and agony.

"Ron—"

"And you side with him! You defend him! And your parents are missing because of people like him! What is wrong with you, Hermione? What is wrong with you?"

Hermione lost it completely. She sobbed into Harry's jacket sleeve until he wrapped his arm around her. He was shouting at Ron now, but Hermione couldn't make out the words. And Ron was growling back at him. She'd never heard them fight like this. It was too much. Overwhelming. She shut her eyes but the world kept spinning so fast and all she had was this arm around her shoulder and the pain threatening to sear her heart in her chest. Unquestionably this was death. Nothing could be worse than this.

"Is that Malfoy? And Luna? What the—" It was Ron again, but he wasn't yelling. He was… confused, distracted. Hermione opened her burning eyes. Ron was staring around the corner of the building, completely nonplused.

Draco? Suddenly, that was all that mattered. Draco.

Hermione didn't know she'd gotten up until she was standing beside Ron, gazing down the High Street toward Zonko's. Then Harry was next to her, and they were all just watching the scene unfolding a few shops away.

The Slytherins had them surrounded. This was it.

Vaisey raised his wand, but before he could cast his curse, Luna's shield charm expanded between him and the four of them. Draco had just enough time to register Vaisey's expression change before a voice spoke up behind them.

"Wands away, boys."

Vaisey was no longer glaring at Draco with cold hatred. Quite the contrary. Was that confusion? Agitation? Fear? Draco turned around to see who had spoken.

There, standing with casual poise between Harper and a fifth-year boy he knew was called Terrance Samuels, was a girl. She was slender, almost short in comparison to the hulking minions around her, with a sheet of flowing black hair that spilled over her shoulders and glacial blue eyes. The deference the boys showed her was obvious; all of them had frozen, dominated by her mere presence. She radiated cool control. Astoria Greengrass.

Draco's first thought was that this was the perfect opportunity to get the hell out of here, but he too seemed glued to the spot. On either side of him, James and Prescott were eying him in bewilderment. Luna's attention was still focused on her shield charm.

"I am not in the habit of repeating myself," Astoria said, and there was a scuffle of movement as all the Slytherins pocketed their wands at once. It was all Draco could do not to follow suit. "Good."

Astoria. She turned her penetrating gaze on him. "Draco," she intoned sweetly, "What… interesting company you keep these days."

Draco noticed a few Slytherin girls holding shopping bags standing off to the side titter behind their hands and whisper to each other. She must have just come out of Gladrags. He was simultaneously grateful and terrified at her sudden appearance in their midst. This was a power play he hadn't been witness to among his own generation in years.

She crossed the space between them, her heels clicking on the cobblestones. "Hello," she purred into his ear, her cheek brushing against his. Draco could smell cherry blossoms.

Mastering himself, Draco took a step back and said, "Astoria. How are you?"

She ignored this. Instead, she glanced around at the Slytherins. "I seem to remember saying that Draco Malfoy was off-limits. Harper, Vaisey, explain." There was some sputtering, then she rolled her eyes very pointedly and continued, "Never mind. I'll deal with you later." All the boys looked at each other apprehensively.

Vaisey tried to move forward, but ran headlong into Luna's shield charm and leapt back stupidly. Draco's laugh rang through the tense moment. Ok, he was done with this now. "Hey, guys, let's go."

Luna stuck her wand back behind her ear at once and James and Prescott lowered their wands, their eyes still travelling between Draco and Astoria. "Come on," Draco said. He turned away from Astoria and headed off down the High Street toward Hogwarts, shepherding his friends before him.

"Don't walk away from me, Draco Malfoy!" Astoria's tone was careless, but there was a subtle warning laced through it. He stopped, turned around. She was standing alone in front of the other Slytherins, her hip cocked, her blue eyes intense.

"I have to get going," he said with more conviction than he felt.

"Busy holiday, Draco?" she called, "I can't imagine you have any social obligations to fulfill."

Draco shook his head. "Just homework."

"It's Halloween, Draco. Or are you too wrapped up in your new House to remember Slytherin traditions?"

"I'm not a Slytherin anymore."

"But you're a Malfoy. And that name entitles you to certain" – she licked her full lips suggestively – "privileges."

"My name doesn't entitle me to anything," he replied. She was really unnerving. Her posture, her gaze, everything, screamed power, control. She was clearly the new queen of Slytherin. When had that happened?

"You're right," she returned coolly. "You're entitled because I say you are."

Despite her only being a sixth-year, Draco knew that the Greengrass family was the wealthiest non-Death Eater family in Britain, and that was important. They threw the grandest parties, played the social scene well, and had the added bonus of having no criminals or scandals in the past century or so. Every family had their ups and downs, and they were definitely in the midst of a rise to power, even as the Malfoys were sliding.

The Greengrass girls had been brought up with the cunning to flawlessly navigate the treacherous waters of pureblood Wizarding society and the kind of wardrobe that made wearing simple black uniforms every day look like a stint in Azkaban. Astoria's sister Daphne, who had been in Draco's year, was always in the thick of the drama, but never the cause of it. She was obviously more cautious than Astoria, who had the overall deportment of a cobra waiting to strike, poised and deadly. She was a fire-starter, a life-ruining, pitiless bitch, but damn she was an impressive specimen. Draco couldn't help it, he respected her ambition. At sixteen, she was walking a thin line on a tall wall, but Draco supposed that he'd started down the road she was on when he was much, much younger. Still, he didn't envy her the constant barrage of social obligations. It was the kind of thing that drove a person crazy. He would know. If she was the new royalty in Slytherin, it was his place she'd taken.

So, when Astoria said that Draco was entitled on her say-so, by the conventions held as law in Slytherin House, she was absolutely right. His interest was piqued, but he wasn't going to take the bait yet. Not here, not in front of his friends. He'd have to think about this and now was not the time.

Draco turned away and shooed Prescott, James, and Luna toward the road that led to Hogwarts again. He wanted to put as much space between himself and Astoria Greengrass as possible.
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Atonement