Atonement

I stared at the quill in my hand as I twirled it slowly between my fingers. Should I tell him? He should know, if only so he couldn't have me thrown in jail for not allowing him to see his children.

At the same time, I couldn't make myself write the words. I could see the letter in me head now-Dear Viktor, sorry to bother you, but you got me pregnant. Thought you should know, you bastard, Hermione.

Not happening. So what could I do?

***

The day of the last task, Snape called me back after Potions. His face was set in its usual sneer, but his eyes were sympathetic. I sat down in my seat and waited for the room to clear.

"He wrote back," he said.

"What did he say?" I asked anxiously.

"What I want you to remember," he said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling a folded piece of parchment from it, "is that he has no say over how you live your life."

"That bad, eh?" I asked in an attempt to be lighthearted.

"Worse." He handed me the letter.

Snape,
Tell that little whore I want nothing to do with her or her bratlings. They can all die as far as i'm concerned, or they can starve on the streets. I refuse to take responsibility for her mistakes.
Good riddance,
Viktor Krum

"But he-"

"I know," Snape said.

"That bastard-"

"I know."

"How could he-?"

"I don't know."

"He's such a-"

"I know." He took a step closer. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," I said curtly, then burst into tears.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he wrapped me in his eyes all the same. I turned into his embrace, his soft black robes muffling the sound of my sobs.

"Sorry," I sniffled, pulling away at last.

He handed me a handkerchief. I dried my eyes and blew my nose obediently, then cleaned it with a quick Cleaning Charm. "Do you feel well enough to go to the Great Hall?"

"I suppose so," I said, not looking forward to it but ravenously hungry all the same. I murmured a Glamor Charm so nobody could see that I had been crying-the Triwizard Tournament had created some sympathy and destroyed some of the ill will, but there were still people who would play mean tricks to get me to leave.

He smiled at me, then kissed my forehead. We walked in companionable silence to the Great hall, where I took a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the staff. That seemed to work better than shield charms, and was less draining, as well.

A woman with violently red hair sat across the table from me, Harry beside her. They didn't seem to notice I was there, especially since several other redheaded boys sat next to and across from them. I scooted over so a man with a fire-engine-red ponytail could have some elbow room. He noticed this and murmured, "Thank you." I nodded and moved over slightly farther so the family could sit together.

Since Harry as with them, I assumed they had come to watch them in the last task. I stayed quiet and out of the way until dessert came and Harry noticed me for the first time.

"Hey Hermione," he said breezily. "When did you get here?"

"Before you did, Potter." My reply was flat and automatic, and the Weasleys-they had to be Weasleys, nobody else had that many people with that color hair-looked at me in surprise.

"What's got a bee in your bonnet, Hermione?" George asked with a charming smile (he and Fred had sat with me quite often, and they had even taught me to play Exploding Snap).

"Nothing."

I saw Harry look at me oddly before understanding spread across his face. "He wrote back, didn't he?"

"Yes," I said curtly.

"And?"

"What I had expected."

"Sorry," he said sympathetically. "That must have been hard."

"What are you talking about, dears?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

I glanced around us. Nobody seemed to be paying attention, but it was better safe than sorry, and I prided myself on answering when somebody asked me a direct question when I could.

I surreptitiously created a sound barrier around us. The man next to me with the ponytail stiffened and pulled his wand.

"Relax," I told him, irked. "I just wanted privacy."

He nodded and slid his wand back into his pocket.

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley asked, confused.

"Just a Silencing Barrier," I explained. "I take it you're used to dealing with such?" This last was directed to the man next to me. When he turned to look at me, I noticed he wore an earring in the shape of a fang.

"How'd you-?"

"Your reaction," I said, anticipating his question. "Actually, what are your names?"

"I take it you know my youngest," Mrs. Weasley said with a wry smile.

"Rather well," I said, eying Ronald. He gulped, then quickly chugged his glass of pumpkin juice. I turned my gaze away from him with an inward chuckle.

"I'm Charlie," the short, stocky redhead sitting next to Mrs. Weasley said with an easygoing smile.

"My full name's William," the one next to me said, "but I prefer Bill, if you don't mind."

"You should remember me," Percy sneered.

"Rather, well, Percival, thank you," I said courteously.

"Behave, Percy," Mrs. Weasley scolded. She turned to me. "I'm sorry for his behavior," she began, but I stopped her.

"You shouldn't apologize for your son's abominable manners. There is bound to be at least one person that goes against their upbringing in each family."

"You were yours, eh?" Charlie joked, trying to lighten the tension.

"No one will ever know," I said simply. "Anyway-the barrier reason, right, you wanted to know why that letter was so important?-I was raped the night of the Yule Ball and now am pregnant. The letter was from the father, who was deported shortly thereafter. I would appreciate you not spreading that around, by the way. The letter was him insulting me and telling me his children could starve on the streets for all he cared."

"Wait, wait, wait-pregnancy would show by now-" Mrs. Weasley began to object.

"Glamor charms," I said flatly. "Can we drop it? I don't like to talk about it . . . I only told you because you asked . . . I abhor lies unless they're for a very good reason."

McGonagall started to come near. I shook my head at them and lowered the sound barrier.

"Potter," McGonagall said, "you're wanted at the Quidditch pitch. Good-good luck." Her voice was shaking, I noticed.

"I'll walk you down, Potter," I said crisply as I awkwardly maneuvered myself off the bench. "I need to give something to you . . ."

"Just go," McGonagall said. As she turned to walk back to the High Table, I noticed her hands were shaking.

"Professor," I said suddenly. She turned to look at me. "Nothing will happen to him tonight, Professor," I reassured her. "I won't allow it."

She graced me with a faint smile. "I believe you, miss Granger. Now, you had better get to the pitch."

"You ready?" I asked him as we left the Hall.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah."

"Scared?"

"Yeah."

"Blanking on everything?"

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath-pep talks were not my thing. "This is right up your alley, Harry," I began. "The Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets-hell, even last year to an extent-well . . . you've got an excellent track record with obstacle courses and mazes. Have you been practicing in your spare time?" He grunted in reply. "Good. Harry, don't take risks unless they're absolutely necessary. That said, sometimes you have to take risks. You have to hit first and ask questions later. Do you understand me?"

"You have a feeling again?"

"Yeah."

"Hit first, ask questions later. Got it."

"But only when you've no other option, or something happens and you need to get out of there fast."

"Got it."

"Take this." I pulled a chain out from around my neck. "Rub the onyx three times counterclockwise if you're in trouble, and help will come soon as may be."

"Okay." He looked at the thin gold chain pooled in his hand, then fastened it around his neck.

"Good luck, Harry." We had reached the pitch. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm.

"You called me Harry."

"I did."

"Several times."

"Yes."

"You care about me, don't you?"

My eyes stung. "I never stopped, dear boy," I whispered, cupping his cheek. "Come safely back to me." My thumb stroked his face once, and then I turned to the stands.

Almost half an hour later, the Weasleys reached the stands and sat on the row below me. To my surprise, Luna, Draco, and Susan sat around me. Draco and Luna each put an arm around me; Susan sat on the seat above me and fiddled with my hair. I leaned gratefully into their embraces.

"He'll be fine," Draco muttered in my ear. "He always is."

"All the same," I murmured back. "Why didn't I just stay in it. . . ?"

"Because you're pregnant and you can't," Luna hissed out of the side of her mouth.

Below us, the Weasleys were having a similar discussion. "Mum," Fred was saying, "Harry's been through worse. He's prepared this time. He'll be fine."

"He should be," Mrs. Weasley said nervously. "A fine thing, letting a boy his age compete!"

I leaned forward. "Mrs. Weasley, up until the second task, I was the champion."

"The second task? Didn't a boy die-?"

"Yes," I said. "My pseudo-brother Tommy died then."

"My sorrow for yours," Mrs. Weasley said.

I smiled at the arcane phrase. "My joy for yours," I replied.

Any further conversation was brought up short by Dumbledore explaining the rules and blowing the whistle for Harry and Cedric to enter the maze.At the first fork, I saw them exchange a few words before they turned down different forks.

I followed them as long as I was able with my own eyes before turning my attention to the large screen in front of the stands. It was split into four quadrants-one with Harry and one with Cedric, now well into the maze; one with Poliakoff, just slightly behind; and one with Delacour, who was only now reaching the first fork.

Nothing happened for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, though, Cedric reached his first obstacle:A Blast-Ended Skrewt. No longer hairy and shelless, as they had been when the Care of Magical Creatures Class had had them, they had developed thick gray armor and enormous stingers. It now approached Cedric, its large sting quivering.

A flash of something not quite right caught my eye in the third section. Was that a wand pointing through the hedges at Poliakoff's back?

Apparently it was just a stick, because nothing came from the end of it. Satisfied, I turned back to Cedric's portion in time to see him dive down another path, out of the way of the skrewt, and pelt at a full run until he had taken three different turns and run into Harry. His robes were ripped, I now saw. The two boys once more exchanged words before parting ways.

Delacour dealt with a boggart; Cedric dealt with another skrewt; Poliakoff needed help to deal with a hippogriff and was summarily disqualified.

Delacour was next to go, unwilling to move within the Reversal Mist that had so easily been conquered by Harry earlier in the task.

That left just Harry and Cedric in the maze. "Come on, Harry," I murmured. You can do it." Draco's hand tightened on my shoulder; Luna's patted my hand.

Harry reached a sphinx, and a riddle appeared on screen:

First tell me a creature who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.
Next tell me, what is the last thing to mend,
The middle of middle and end of the end?
Last, tell me the sound of a word often heard
During the search for a hard to find word.
Then put them together and answer me this:
What creature would you be unwilling to kiss?

My mind flew through the riddle fast, crunching the answers. Emissary . . . the letter 'd' . . . er . . .

Harry was thinking hard, talking out loud while he paced. The words flashed on the screen as he talked. "Spy. . . er . . . a creature I wouldn't want to kiss-spider!"

The sphinx moved aside. The word 'thanks' popped onto the screen.

He took a few more turns, then hit a dementor. Harry didn't hesitate; an enormous stag burst from its wand. The dementor vanished a moment after it stumbled, and I understood.

"A boggart," I murmured with a small chuckle. It was just a boggart.

Harry caught side of the glittering Triwizard Cup. He broke into a sprint, but Cedric came in front of him. Cedric had longer legs, Cedric was older. . . .

'Cedric! One your left!' appeared on the screen. Cedric hurled himself to the side in time to avoid an acromantula. Harry shot spells at it, but it just irritated the giant spider. It picked him up with its pincers, and I screamed with most of the others.

Pain made itself known inside my abdomen. I screeched in pain, and eyes turned to me. I doubled over.

"Hermione? Hermione!" I could hear the voices, but they meant nothing.

A cool hand made itself known on my forehead. "Shes burning up," as female voice murmured. "Hermione, can you see me?"

I couldn't answer. I groaned, then screamed in pain before it all went black.

***

What an odd dream, I mused. Lights were flowing around me, through me. Spell trails, I supposed.

I looked down. The floor was morphing from pattern to pattern, so if you looked long enough, a sunset turned into a snake. It was so beautiful there, like nothing could ever touch me there. It was too beautiful to be true. The sky, I noticed, was also too pretty.

***

A light was being shone in my eye, moving first one way, then the other, taxing my poor eye. Then the other eyelid was peeled back, and the process repeated. When the lid was released, I heard someone saying, "Awake, but too tired . . . she'll sleep for quite a while, I imagine, that was not an easy birth . . . she should've died, by all rights."

"Thank you," I heard a familiar baritone voice say before I was sucked into peaceful sleep. This time, I dreamt of bubbles popping peacefully around me.

When I awoke the next time, it was again from a penlight forcing my eyes to focus. "Gerroff," I muttered weakly. I couldn't even raise my head.

"You gave us quite a scare, youngling," the man said.

"Time?" I asked.

"Just after eleven on Monday night." He read my eyes right. "Yes, you've been out for quite a long time."

"Sore."

"Yes, you had five children and a thirty hour labor. I would be amazed if you weren't a bit sore."

"Head."

"Your head hurts?" he asked to clarify. I grunted, trying to get enough energy to look properly at him.

"Sleep. You'll feel better in the morning," he told me. Lacking the energy to argue, I fell into another sleep-dreamless this time.

This time I didn't wake up from a penlight-my bladder was reminding me I hadn't relieved myself in a long time. I staggered into the bathroom, then staggered back out. I had just gotten back into bed when a man-the same man, if I wasn't mistaken-came into the room.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sending a dazzling smile my way. His short blond hair reached the nape of his neck and was combed back and held in place, probably so he didn't get any dirty. His face had a bit of a point to it, but not enough for him to look like a rodent. He had the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen, and his lips formed the perfect half-curve of a natural smile.

All this I catalogued in a second. He was undoubtedly the prettiest man I'd ever seen. "Fine," I said hoarsely.

He raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"My head is pounding, my back hurts, I'm extremely sore, and I'm really tired and hungry. So, yes. Fine."

"That is fine for you?"

I shrugged. "Cancer puts some things in perspective-pain is fleeting. 'Fine' means I'll live."

He smiled. "Not here. When your body deals with all this, we need to know exactly how you're feeling so we know what to give you."

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised.

"See that you do."

My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in more than three days. The man smiled. "I'll have some food sent in."

"Wait," I said. "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's."