Atonement

Hermione!" Jillian screeched, running into my room at three o'clock the next morning.

"Jillian," I moaned, not opening my eyes, "can't this wait till morning?"

"I'm bleeding!"

"What? Where?" I sat bolt upright, wide awake now.

"Between my legs."

"Jesus, Mary, mother of God." I groaned. "Come here, you."

***

Snape found me sitting at the kitchen table three hours later, staring into a mug of cold tea. "Nightmares?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Jillian hit puberty last night. Came into my room at three o'clock this morning. Scared me to death."

Snape winced. As good a surrogate father as he was, he was uncomfortable with the idea of girls' changing bodies, like most men. "Did you calm her down?"

"The hell kind of question is that?" I yawned. "How much chocolate do you have in here?"

"A few bars. Why?"

"We tend to crave chocolate right about now." I smothered another yawn, then stood up. "I'll help with breakfast."

An hour later, we had breakfast on the table, and everyone save Jillian was there. Snape looked pleadingly at me, and I rolled my eyes. "You owe me," I muttered, then climbed the stairs to Jillian's room.

"Jillian?" I called softly, knocking on her door. "Are you up?" When I didn't get an answer, I opened the door and crossed to the bed. "Jillian, it's time to get up," I told her, shaking her shoulders.

"Go 'way!" she cried. Fast as my reflexes were, I didn't have time to dodge her strike. I felt my cheek; it was swollen and bleeding.

"Jillian, get up now," I told her, then pulled her covers down.

"'m tired," she muttered.

"So am I, but you know what Snape will do if you're not down for breakfast," I told her. She winced.

"Go to the bathroom and then come down," I told her. She stumbled blearily off, and I returned to the kitchen.

"Where are the plasters?" I asked Snape, rummaging through one of the cabinets.

"Other drawer," he told me, gesturing. "Why?"

"Jillian is violent when she's asleep," I said, turning to look through the other drawer. This put the bloody side of my face in stark lighting. I found the plaster and started to go into the bathroom off the kitchen to wash out the cuts, but Snape crossed the kitchen and examined the slashes carefully. He towed me into the bathroom and took care of the cuts himself.

"I'll have a talk with her," he told me.

"Don't bother," I said, waving off the whole thing. "She got very little sleep last night, remember, and she's had a bit of a shock."

"Still." He frowned. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," I replied, a knee-jerk reaction. At his hard stare, I said, "I've been better, but I've been worse. Mostly I just feel very, very stupid."

"Why?" he asked sharply.

"I got complacent," I said bitterly. "I trusted him. I trusted the portrait to keep me safe-I trusted other people to keep me safe. I should know better by now." A tear slid down my cheek.

"No, you shouldn't," he said harshly. "Hermione, do you know why this place exists?"

"So that kids who have been turned out of every foster home can have a place to go."

"Wrong," he said bluntly. "Hermione, this place exists for kids who have been badly hurt. It's here so they can learn to trust people, so they can heal. Do you really think there are no orphanages other than this one?"

"Well . . . I guess I never thought about it before."

"That's a shock." But his eyes were gentle, taking the sting out of his jibe. "That should stay on for twenty minutes," he continued, referring to the plaster.

"Thanks." I hopped off the counter I had been sitting on and followed him back out to the kitchen.

The remainder of my stay was pleasant. I joked with Tommy, filled in Jillian on the finer points, and played with the younger kids. I was a little sad when that time came to an end and I had to go back to Hogwarts.

"Goodbye, kids," I said softly, hugging them all and kissing the tops of their heads. "I'll see you next summer. Behave for Mr. Snape, all right?"

"We'll miss you, Hermione," Tommy said. He hugged me again, and I noted he was getting tall-the top of his head was level with my shoulder, and I was four years his senior.

I hugged him back. "I'll use your gifts every day," I promised them. We had exchanged gifts the day after I got back. I was wearing Jane's macaroni necklace and Jillian's earrings, and Tommy's journal was in my knapsack. "I love you all." With one last, wistful glance back, I stepped into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Once more, I got sick when I went through the Floo. This time, though, I couldn't control my stomach-I spewed all over the Headmaster's office. I couldn't even move to get out of the way of Snape, who tripped over me and stepped squarely in the sick.

"She's just nauseous from the Floo," I heard him tell somebody when I stopped retching. "Scourgify."

"I have got to learn that one," I muttered, clambering unsteadily to my feet. Once there, I swayed slightly until Snape caught my elbow.

"Drink this," he said, exasperated, as he handed me a vial with a luridly pink potion. "Anti-Nausea," he explained. I shrugged and chugged it down, feeling better instantly.

"Have a seat, Miss Granger," Dumbledore offered. I sat in one of the comfortable wing-backed chairs in front of the desk. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," I murmured.

He nodded. "We have to talk about what will happen to Mister Krum now."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, would you like to press charges, would you like him deported, or would you like to just let this whole thing blow over?" he asked. I noticed his eyes were again without their twinkle.

"Er," I said, blinking. "What would you suggest?"

"I personally, would suggest deportation," he told me.

"Why?" I asked.

"A trial will humiliate you. You will come across as the girlfriend who had sex and then decided she didn't like it afterward."

"That's complete-"

"I know," he said, holding up a hand against my furious tirade. "I'm merely telling you what the rumor mills will say. If I may continue?" I scowled but stayed quiet. "He will come across as the Quidditch star who is being falsely accused of a heinous crime. Even if there was enough evidence to convict him-which, sadly, there is not-he would be deported to his own country, where he would get off with a slap on the wrist. Should the trial take place, his lawyer would undoubtedly bring up your powerful magic and your training in martial arts. He would bring up both your past and your cancer to create doubt of your mental stability. He would drag your name through the mud and twist your story to make you sound like a tramp with no morals.

"There is also the consideration of what what such a thing would do to you. You would have to answer deeply personal questions; you would be viewed as a victim in the school. I know this about you-you hate pity, no matter the reason, and people will pity you.

"Deportation, on the other hand, needs much less evidence. There needs be only powerful circumstantial evidence and the word of a British citizen for a foreigner to be deported. Those are my reasons."

I had to admit they were good reasons. Once he had explained it to me, I had to admit him suffering the humiliation of being deported sounded good.

"That sounds completely reasonable," I said.

"What are you hiding?" Snape asked, to which Dumbledore sent him a questioning look. He answered the unspoken question, "I know her. She's hiding something."

"I'm just hiding what I'd like to do to him," I responded, a bloodthirsty smile creeping over my lips.

"Which is?" Dumbledore prompted when I didn't elaborate.

"I'd like to see him stripped naked and flagellated in the Great Hall for all to see. Then I'd enjoy seeing him dragged through the halls of Hogwarts and Durmstrang alike, picking up bruises and filth. Following that, he's be dropped in the Black Lake and left to duke it out with the Giant Squid.After all that, each of his limbs would be tied to a horse, which would all start running in a different direction. Publicly." I caught the look Snape and Dumbledore exchanged. "I'm not crazy," I protested. "I just have an overactive imagination."

"And you're slightly unbalanced from the cancer potion," Dumbledore said. "That's yet another reason a trial would do nothing."

I nodded, then stopped as a thought occurred to me. "Wait. He's under magical contract to compete in the tournament."

"If he is dismissed-that is to say, the heads of all three schools agree to have him banned-the contract will transfer to the next-best champion," Dumbledore replied.

***

"Absolutely not! This is an outrage, a clear attempt to secure a win! Double-dealing and treachery through this whole affair, Dumbledore, and I have had enough!"

"This is not an attempt at treachery," he said mildly. "This is an attempt to make my student feel safe again."

"And where is the proof?" he demanded.

"The proof," I snarled, "is in Madam Pomfrey's records-"

"Pomfrey is in the employ of his school," he sneered. "I would not put it past her to forge records if her employer asked it."

"Listen, you miserable old bat," I spat, now on my feet with no memory of how I got there; Cedric was looking askance at my sudden temper. "If you think a witch who has taken vows to tell the truth in cases where crimes have been committed would lie, risking her license to practice and twenty years of her life, you're even more of an ignorant pig than I thought-"

"SILENCE!" he screeched. "You are more lenient than I thought, Dumbledore, to let students talk so to their elders with no punishment!"

"And you are stupid to think the entire staff of Hogwarts would make something up to deface your school! It's this or deportation without being dismissed from the magical contract, so think for a moment! Use your pathetically undersized brain to consider this: either he is dead in a month-and I will have no qualms with letting that happen-or he is deported quietly. You have a chance to make this minimally embarrassing-say he's got a sick mum or something and had to withdraw, or fight this before the Wizengamot and have him publicly humiliated. I don't care which. Choose now."

"Fine," he snarled. "Should you agree, Olympe, I have no choice but to concede."

I sat down, breathing heavily, hands fisted in my lap. I glowered at the ignorant old swine.

Madame Maxime said reluctantly in her heavy French accent, "Igor, I must admit to believing this girl over such complicated conspiracy theories."

"You would side with Dumbledore, who has snuck in underage contestants, over me, who has only done my best to uphold the fairness of the tournament?"

"You mean like giving your champion a ten, even though 'is face was badly burned, yet giving this girl, 'oo managed a good enough shield it 'eld against dragonfire for nearly ten minutes, on'y a four?"

"She spent weeks in the hospital wing!"

"Your champion was 'urt almost as badly. The difference in points was astounding."

"But-but-"

"I remember 'er transfer papers," she continued thoughtfully. "Sixteen classes, straight Os in all of them. Model student-never got into trouble, never made up stories. Yes, Igor, I believe her over you."

"I suppose I have no choice, then," Karkaroff said, breathing heavily. "Viktor, pack your things."

"You're going to let them do this?" Krum demanded.

"Damn right he is," I snarled.

"You stay out of this, you little whore!" he snarled.

"As opposed to you, who has to resort to rape to get a girl to sleep with him?" I snarled right back.

He lunged for me, too enraged to pull out his wand. I smiled coldly and spun, thrusting my foot into his chest and sending him back to slam into the opposite wall.

"You will never touch me again," I said softly.

"If he raped you-which I doubt," Karkaroff sneered, "you've just proved you can take him out. Why not defend yourself then?"

"Wait a minute-he raped her?!" Cedric said.

"Keep up, Diggory," I snapped at him, but he could obviously tell I wasn't really irritated at him-there was little bite in my words. "This was the night of the Yule Ball."

"You sick, sick son of a bitch," Cedric said quietly, pulling out his wand. I gripped his wrist.

"Not worth it," I said, biting off each word. It actually hurt me to say that, but I couldn't let him get into trouble on my account.

"I knew you still liked me, Granger," Krum taunted. "Give me another go. You weren't half-bad.

Before that last sentence, I had been prepared to walk away. I would have smiled as he was deported. But with that last sentence, my resolve wavered. That was all it took.

I lost it. Then and there, I lost track of what I was doing. All I could remember later were faces streaming past me as I leaped, people screaming for me to stop, and the satisfaction of my fist hitting his face and breaking his nose.

That must have been only the first hit, because when I came back to myself (screeching and crying in Snape's arms as he held me back), Krum was unconscious, bruised and bleeding. I heard someone screaming obscenities, realized it was me, and shut up. There was a pregnant pause.

"Not worth it, huh?" Cedric asked casually.

"He wasn't worth you getting in trouble," I clarified, breathing heavily.

"But you getting in trouble is fine," he asked lightly.

"I can deal with it," I said, then took a deep breath and lost consciousness.