Penance

Two weeks later…

Hermione leaned back and rubbed her stomach. It ached, her head ached, her back ached, her eyes ached. She didn’t mind, it reminded her she was getting something done, she was contributing. After she’d finished pouring her heart out to McGonagall she had sent her back to the Den so she could get some work done and so the older witch could look into her situation more deeply. Hermione had gone straight to Luna and asked for the list. One by one, she marked things off. She found counter-curses to spells someone needed, she filled out some backed up paperwork, she delivered messages, she cooked dinner for a large matter of people who flooed or aparated in to eat and leave, she’d done laundry, scrubbed floors and researched. And researched. And done a little more research. She’d been in this library for…she glanced at her watch…going on seven hours tonight. It was nearing four in the morning. She scrubbed her face and shoved away Gideon’s Encyclopedia of Everything Magically Horticultural by Frederick Gideon. Someone had needed a list of plants associated with pain relief. Sighing, she looked out the window to the dark sky. She’d had to dig around the house for matches while Luna and Ginny were upstairs enjoying each other so they wouldn’t notice. She hated not being able to do magic now that she was back in the wizarding world for there were several items on the list she could not do, such as stakeouts and guard duty. So she did what she could and in the meantime, she worked on her magic. Nothing worked. She read up on spells and they slowly seemed to come back to her, but would slip away when she tried to use or remember them. It was irritating, frustrating but she forced herself not to get upset. She would get it, it wouldn’t be gone forever. She couldn’t rescue Harry until she had her magic back. That was what kept her going.

She cracked her neck and decided there was no more she could do tonight. She blew out the candles and made her way upstairs in the dark to the room Luna had prepared for her. There were many rooms in the small house. Ginny and Luna had taken to sharing one. One was Malfoy’s, one was now hers and one was Neville’s, although she had yet to see him. The rest were for anyone needing a bed, which many did. She’d run into Seamus, who she swore had grown three inches, Dean, Cho, Parvati, Anthony Goldstien, several Aurors and a variety of people she’d never met. Hannah and Ernie MacMillan, who had wed a year ago, had stopped in for dinner last week and had been delighted to see her again. The only person she hadn’t seen much of was Malfoy.

She knew he had come home a few times, had heard him in the room next to hers as she’d done some late night reading in bed. She’d only seen him in the flesh once when she’d gone to the kitchen to start dinner and he had flooed in. He’d nodded curtly to her and gone straight upstairs, never to return. She supposed he was avoiding her after what had happened. He probably despised her and what she reminded him of. It hurt, but she schooled herself not to think of it. She was too busy for that nonsense.

She fell onto her tiny bed in her cramped room without removing her clothes. Closing her eyes she was asleep in minutes.

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Draco woke when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He looked at the clock next to his bed. 3:51. She was just now headed to bloody bed. What was the matter with her? He’d watched her, silently. She never stopped, she was always moving, making up for lost time, he supposed. He, himself had been busy. After the night helping Madame Pomfrey he’d gone on a hunt for a Death Eater named Quintin Legario. The fucker had taken a while to track down but after a few key sources, Draco was able to catch him. He hadn’t gone down without a fight and Draco had spent the next couple of days being waited on hand and foot by Madame Pomfrey who was “forever indebted” to him for his help.

Evidently she didn’t get much. Except from Hermione who he’d seen in there as he was leaving, tending to a few sick students and one injured Auror. He always kept just out of eyesight, not wanting to approach her but needing to. He couldn’t bear being so close to her and not being able to touch, or taste or talk to her. He was going slowly mad, watching her ease her way back into their world, watching her work herself to death.

Flipping onto his back he closed his eyes and listened. That blubbering idiot Neville had told him one day that if he just listened, he could hear the world living. A year ago during one of his more melancholy nights, he’d done just that. He had heard the girls in their room making love, he’d heard an owl hoot, heard a wolf howl, heard the floorboards sigh and creak as the house adjusted to the cold night air. He’d realized that there was more to life than killing, hating, fighting. There was love, there was life. It was then he had stopped his search for Hermione and gone back to helping make the world safe again. Until that night in the alley, at least.

Now he could hear…nothing. It was silent. Hermione must have fallen right to sleep. No surprise there, she’d been up since six. If she didn’t slow down she was going to make herself ill. Rolling onto his stomach he beat his pillow into submission and fell back into a blissful sleep.

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Hermione reached up and flushed the toilet with a shaky hand. Leaning back against the stall door she closed her eyes and willed her stomach to be calm. She’d been vomiting for the last two weeks and she was anxious. On top of that she was tired and her breasts were unbelievably sore. She’d at first thought it was just all an aftermath of her attack but she knew now that it wasn’t so. Her period was late and she worried. She pulled the little stick out of her coat pocket and fingered it. She’d stolen it from the drugstore the day before last but was too nervous to use it. Plucking up her courage and since she had to go anyway, she used it. She listened as another woman came in and used the facilities, waited until she left. She placed the used stick on the back of the toilet and finished. She closed her eyes and counted two minutes in her head. Standing and facing her doom she looked. Throwing it in the little trash dispenser and flushing, she walked out to the row of sinks and washed her hands. Then she turned around and threw up again.

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Hermione woke with a start, beads of perspiration on her head. She wiped them off and looked at the clock. 5:59. She turned off the alarm so it would not bother the others. She sat up shakily and gripped the sides of the bed, trying to rip herself from the dream into the present.

It’s over now, it’s done. Leave be, in the past, where it belongs.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione grabbed her clothes she had laid out the night before and headed to the bathroom.

Under the warm spray Hermione steadied her nerves by thinking of all the things she could accomplish today. She needed to see Professor McGonagall…

Turning off the water, she shivered as she reached for her towel and dried off. Wiping the steam from the mirror she looked at herself. She was barely recognizable. She could see the differences, the dark circles, the wan complexion, but she looked healthier almost. More…content. Yes, content. Now the only thing she needed was her cat. She smiled, She did indeed need to fetch the poor guy. He’d been alone for a long amount of time before, but she figured he was not very happy with how long she’d neglected him this time. She dressed quickly and brushed her teeth. Finished, she opened the door and jumped.

“M-Malfoy! You surprised me!” she said, clutching her chest where her heart was beating madly.

“Why are you up?” he growled.

“I-I have things to do…it’s after six,” she said, wondering why she thought she had to explain herself to him.

“You rolled into bed at four. That’s less than two hours of sleep. You can’t do anything on that. Go back to bed,” he demanded.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, ordering me around like that? I am a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions-,”

“But apparently, you can’t make very good ones,” he countered. “You’re going to make yourself sick, going non-stop like this!”

“I’m very well, thank you.”

“Hermione, you’re not going to make up for the last two years in a couple of days.”

Hermione fumed. Who did he think he was, talking to her like that? She struggled to remain in control. She was no longer rash Janie; she was Hermione, the girl who always thought things through, who never spoke without thinking. So although smacking him really hard across the face right now seemed like a good idea, she would probably regret it.

“You’ve had your say. Now let me pass, please,” she gritted through her teeth. He looked about ready to deny her request but he moved aside and she brushed past him.

Anger coursing through her veins she slammed into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. It was Ginny’s turn, but she didn’t care, she needed to do something, occupy herself. That ignorant, arrogant arse! Who did he think he was? Did he really still think himself so much better than she? She’d show him, she’d-

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” she snapped around. There he stood, in all his prideful glory.

“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

Hating that she could no longer be justifiably mad at him, she nodded curtly. “Apology accepted.” She turned back to the batter she was preparing and nearly jumped out of her skin when his hand stilled her own.

“Hermione, you can’t do this, you can’t work yourself to death.”

“Why not? Like you said, I can’t make up for two years in a couple of days, but I can eventually.”

“No, you can’t. Hermione, you can’t take back those years and you shouldn’t feel guilty about it. You needed time to cope, to recover-,”

“Plenty of other people coped just fine while they were here, working. There’s no excuse-,”

“They didn’t go through the things you did.”

She nearly dropped the bowl. “It doesn’t matter-,”

“Yes, Hermione. It does. Why won’t you tell them? Why won’t you make them understand that you weren’t just being selfish, that there was a real, viable reason? Why are you lying to them?”

“Because they don’t need to know!” she yelled, slamming the bowl down on the counter so hard it cracked. She rounded on him. “I don’t have to make excuses for myself, Malfoy! My decisions were my own and they were the wrong ones, I can admit to that! The reasoning behind it is irrelevant. They’ve had enough grief and trial as it is, I don’t need to go dumping my own in their hands!”

“So you’re grief is less important than theirs?” he shouted.

“Of course it is!” she yelled back, knowing even as she said it how it sounded.

“Listen to yourself! Just for one minute forget that you hate yourself and just allow yourself to grieve!”

“You don’t understand! Don’t talk to me about things you’ll never understand!”

“I would if you would just tell me!”

He had backed her into a corner, literally and figuratively.

“Just let it be,” she whispered. “I don’t need rescuing, Draco.”

“I think you’re wrong,” he breathed back, his hands coming to rest on either side of her, his blue eyes far too close. “I think you’re drowning so deep you can’t even see the surface. But you refuse to reach your hand out for help. Mine is there, waiting for yours, but you’re too damn stubborn to accept it. I can’t save you until you want to save yourself. And tell me,” his lips hovered so close above her own. “What good are you to anyone at the bottom of a lake?”

And then he was gone and she was left alone, shuddering. She turned back to her work, finding a new bowl and scooping the good batter into the new one. She tried to ignore his words, but they had shaken her, right down to the core. What good was she? She shook her head.

Forget about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. After you get your magic back you can save Harry. When all this is over you won’t have to think about it anymore, you can rebuild your life, the way it was supposed to be.

But his words stayed with her. What good was she?

She jumped when someone entered the room.

“Oh, I thought it was my turn for breakfast?” Ginny’s voice sounded from behind her. Hermione cleared her throat and kept her face turned away so Ginny couldn’t see the tears forming.

“I know but I was up and I thought you could sleep in a bit…”

“Hermione, you don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to keep taking our shifts.”

“I want to do it. It’s no problem, really.”

“Hermione…”

She gripped the spoon so tight her knuckles turned white and she continued to stir the thinning batter. She jumped again when Ginny’s hand touched her shoulder.

“You don’t have to make up for anything. I know you were hurting, maybe even more than I realized. I’m sorry for the way I acted. I just missed you so much, it was such a shock…I forgive you.”

A sob fell from her lips and Hermione dropped the bowl once again, throwing her arms around her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Gin, I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll never leave again; we’re in this together now. You won’t be alone, I’ll never leave you alone to deal with life on your own.”

Ginny nodded against her shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I love you, Gin.”

“I love you too, Hermione. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“So am I.”

Hermione realized that she meant it, she really was glad to be home. She was where she was meant to be.

Ginny pulled away and looked at her, wiping her tears away. “Hermione…you know Draco…he had a lot of trouble coping…almost as much as me.”

Her heart twisted. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Gin.”

“You don’t have to say anything, not to me at least. I just thought I’d let you know, since he’d never tell you himself. When he wasn’t searching for you, he was locked up in his room. He wouldn’t talk to anyone about it for a long time. He told me about the day of the battle, you know. Granted, he was completely inebriated at the time and I would be surprised if he remembered talking to me at all. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Ginny was quiet for a moment. “You care for him, don’t you?”

She laughed nervously. “What? Ginny, come on! This is Malfoy we’re talking about!”

“Something happened, didn’t it? Something happened between you two.”

“No, nothing happened,” she said to quickly. Ginny eyed her. “At least nothing important. Nothing he’d ever care about…”

“Don’t be so quick to assess him, Hermione. He’s changed a lot. He cares, Hermione. A great deal. Just give him a chance, will you?”

“I’m scared,” she confessed quietly.

“Of what?”

“Of wanting him too much, of needing him. Ginny, after the battle…and then when he found me…I haven’t spent more than a proper week in his presence. I shouldn’t be feeling these things for him…”

“But you do.”

“Yes. And that’s what scares me.”

“Hermione, I know it can be scary, but sometimes you just have to go for it. I was terrified to tell Luna how I felt about her but one day she just up and told me she wanted to kiss me and bam! We were together. If she hadn’t said something first, I never would have. We would never be together. That scares me even more, don’t you think?”

Hermione thought on that for no more than a second. Yes, it would scare her to not be with Draco, to not know he was always there.

“Go to him.”

Hermione looked away. “No, no I have to finish this-,”

“I’ll finish it, it’s my turn anyway. Go,” Ginny pushed her towards the door and smiled when she looked back. Hermione gave her one in return and walked slowly up the stairs. When she got to Draco’s door she took a deep breath and listened. It was quiet. She knocked softly and she could hear movement, footsteps. The door opened and she looked up into the face of the man who had haunted her every movement.

“I-,” was all she got out before she was grabbed and pulled inside the room, shoved against the door which close with a snap and ravaged. His hands gripped her hair and his mouth took hers, delving into her hot cavern. She moaned and returned with the same. She grabbed at anything she could hold onto, anything she could touch. He was shirtless and she was very appreciative. Her hands roamed his toned muscle making him suck in breaths as his lips travelled her neck.

“Merlin, I’ve missed you,” he growled and all she could do was nod as he took her lips again in a brutal assault. She grabbed his hips and dragged him flush against her, pleased when he groaned. She needed the friction, the heat. She needed to forget the differences between them; she needed to forget the malice, the angry words. What she needed right now was him minus all the technicalities. She wanted him, he wanted her. That was all that mattered at that very moment in time.

He dragged her away from the wall and walked her back towards the bed, shoving her down onto it where he took her lips again and settled himself between her thighs. She moaned when he pressed his hips down and a delicious heat spread throughout her body, warming her blood, stirring her senses. She raked her nails over his smooth back, delighting in the gasp it produced. He bit down hard on her lip and she arched up into him. His hands busied themselves with her body, settling on her breasts, grabbing, pulling, pinching. She pushed up into his hands, begging silently for more. He leaned back and tugged her shirt off her. He looked down and she self consciously tried to cover herself but he pulled her hands away. His fingers grazed over where she knew the ugly scars were. She worried he would deny her but her breath caught as his lips followed where his hands had been.

“You don’t mind?” she asked.

“Mind what?” he murmured against her skin. She shivered as he dipped his tongue into her belly button.

“The scars. I know they’re hideous, if you want me to put my shirt back on I won’t be offended…”

He looked up at her. “I would be. Do you really think I care about them? Do you really think I don’t have a few of my own?” He leaned back and pointed to a large one ranging from his left pectoral, across his chest and down to his stomach. “Hermione, you’re beautiful, stunning. I want to look at you, all of you. Are you alright with that?”

She nodded wordlessly and he went back to his perusal. She worked on shutting down her mind and just enjoying it, which wasn’t hard when her bra was suddenly magicked into Draco’s hand. She grinned saucily up at him and sucked in a shaky breath as his lips conquered one peak while his hand amused the other.

“Gods, Hermione. Fucking perfect…drive me fucking mad…”

She giggled then moaned as a hand made its way to the outside of her jeans and rubbed. Pressing her hips into his palm she reached down to unbutton his jeans.

Knock, knock, knock!

Draco curseed none too quietly. “What?” he growled.

“Draco, you might want to see this,” a male’s voice called from the hallway.

“Carl, there’s not much you could show me right now that I would rather see than what I’m looking at right now.”

Hermione blushed and he took her lips again, lifting her hips to rock against his own and making her have to bite back a moan.

“It’s about Fargo.”

“Shit,” he moaned, pulling away from her. His head dropped to her shoulder.

“Draco, it’s important.”

“Go,” Hermione urged. “Really. We can finish this some other time.” She smiled wantonly at him.

“Wench,” he grinned. He turned his face towards the door. “I’ll meet you in the War Room. Give me a few.”

“A few, Draco.”

Draco sighed and laid his forehead against hers. “We will continue this.” He took her lips possessively making her curse Carl herself. Then he dislodged himself with a groan and threw on a shirt laying at the end of his bed.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be right there, just like that when I get back,” he winked at her and departed, wand in hand. A grin stretching her face, Hermione relaxed against the mattress. Well, that had gone better than planned.

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A/N: Cookies to: kazfeist, Draco_Lover, angeles, DragonHeartstring, caseyjarryn, distinctlyME, margaritama, Dreamweaver, and LittleMissPrincess.

Thanks for the lovely reviews, you are all amazing! Things are about to get interesting, so be prepared!

Are you all keeping up my Malfoy/Draco changes? Lol, Hermione changes her mind a lot!

XOXO

RynStar15