Atoning

The next months passed in a haze of exhaustion. OWL year was exhausting, even this early in the year. The teachers hadn't been joking about the amount of work they would demand; I was working flat-out just to keep up.

My advanced group had finished models and were now focusing heavily on developing battle magic. We had spent enough time in the Disconnect getting to know each other's minds we began to share dreams, which took some getting used to but was ultimately manageable. My basic group had progressed sufficiently to meet with my main group one night a week and have individual lessons - another reason I was so exhausted.

Malfoy met with Dumbledore. I wasn't privy to the conversation, but I gathered that Malfoy would be protected for as long as he continued to be opposed to joining the Death Eaters.

I killed more. I left parents alone if I could; I would not be responsible for the destruction of a classmates' family if I could help it.

I kept my temper with Umbridge, though it became harder as time went on and she became nastier. Her treatment of Hagrid tested my patience thoroughly; she acted as if he was subhuman, too stupid to understand human speech, and my contempt for her grew. She continued to treat me with courtesy and respect, making me more paranoid as to what she was up to.

Gryffindor won a Quidditch match. Malfoy taunted Potter and the Weasleys; had they not begun to get to know one another, it likely would have come to blows. As it was, Potter came very close to losing control.

The DA was progressing nicely. Neville was quickly catching up to everyone else. The Slytherin members were beginning to be more accepted within the room, though the camaraderie was not apparent in the school at large.

And then Potter did it. He introduced Patronuses to the DA.

The meeting started like most others, with people standing around talking in groups. Potter called them to order and gave his little speech about what would be happening, warning them that the spell was incredibly difficult but extremely useful, before demonstrating. His stag galloped around the room before dissolving.

"Remember, it's ex-pec-to pa-tro-num," he called as people began to spread out. Everyone was murmuring excitedly - except for me.

I'd been trying for months. I'd used every happy memory I could think of: when I had gotten the news my father had died, when my sisters had come to Hogwarts with me, that glorious half-hour when I thought I would live a normal length of time, those days with Fred and George, winning the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, taking Harry Potter into my house, finding out I was a witch, which explained everything I had never understood. Nothing worked. I could not summon enough happiness for a Patronus.

What the hell, I'd try again. Maybe tonight would be my lucky night.

I tried to let happiness wash over me as I found an empty space near the edge of the crowd. When I tried the charm, nothing happened. I focused on a memory, and again got nothing. I glanced around and was heartened to see most other people having trouble with it, as well; one girl caught on fire.

Half an hour later, the vast majority of the other members were producing smoke reliably; some had already managed to get their forms to appear, including Ginevra, who had produced a fox.

Potter had been working his way around the room and finally reached me. "Still having trouble?" he asked.

I huffed in frustration. "Yes. Still. After two bloody months." Potter didn't know I meant it literally; the last months had been violent.

"You'll get there, Hermione," he said, confidence in every part of his being. "Take it slow. Find a happy memory. Dwell in it. Relive it. Then cast. You have to be happy to make the spell work."

"I know, Potter," I said wearily. "I'm working with a very short supply of happy memories."

"I know, but one of them has to be great. Truly wonderful. The best, happiest, most wonderful thing that's ever happened to you - what was it?"

I looked at him, considering.What was the best moment of my life?

The days I'd spent with Fred and George. I closed my eyes and thought about them. I remembered every hand of Exploding Snap, every game of Gobstones, every chess match. I remembered the jokes, the talking, the laughing. The camaraderie that had been sorely missing in my life since my sisters died. I did my best to think of nothing but that.

"Expecto patronum," I said with more confidence than I felt.

Nothing. Not even a wisp. I sighed, hugging myself around the waist. I didn't know why I was feeling so fragile. Maybe it was the constant attempt to feel an emotion that came to most people automatically.

Potter put his hand on my shoulder. "What are you thinking of?" he asked me.

"Spending time with Fred and George," I said.

"Why?" he probed. "What about that makes you happy?"

"Well . . ." I hesitated. This wasn't something I'd thought about a great deal, and I didn't appreciate being put on the spot in front of so many people. "It's like . . . everyone else I've gotten close to as a friend has . . . deserted me, almost, in one way or another. I know yours wasn't your fault," I said hastily, seeing him open his mouth to protest. "But the fact remains that it happened. Fred and George haven't done that yet."

"Yet?"

"I'm sure it will happen sooner or later. It's a question of when."

"And the thought that they'll betray you is lurking in our mind? Maybe that's what's keeping the spell from working properly, is your doubt."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, not entirely convinced. I privately thought my inability to keep track of my own mind was one of the reasons the Patronus charm was so difficult for me.

"When was the last time you were truly happy?" he asked me.

I thought. "Other than the time I've spent with Fred and George . . . probably the Yule Ball. But that didn't end well, if you remember."

"Oh. Yeah," Harry said. "What about before then? What happened in third year?"

I thought. Third year - Sirius Black had escaped. He'd broken in. Malfoy, Luna, and Susan had begun showing their powers. Snape softened toward me. I had gotten my Time Turner. I absently felt for it underneath my robes.

My thoughts snagged on Snape. He really wasn't as bad as everyone thought; he was just more complex than most people gave him credit for. But did he make me happy?

I felt secure around him. He was really the only person I completely trusted, perhaps because he had seen me at my weakest and at my craziest and he stayed rock-steady on my side. He never made me feel like a burden or like I was a small child - he treated me as an equal and held me to the same standards he held himself. I felt safe near him; maybe safety was close enough to happiness.

I concentrated on the thought of Snape. I thought of his habitual sneer, his black eyes that glittered with glee and malice, his quiet and twisted sense of humor, his ability to keep calm in the most emotional situations, his willingness to talk with me.

"Expecto patronum!"

Nothing.

"What am I doing wrong?" I asked, frustrated. "The last time I tried it with this memory, I got at least a wisp!"

Harry moved closer and leaned in so he could speak quietly. "Maybe with your mental . . . stuff," he whispered awkwardly, "it's not a question of what you're doing wrong, but if you are capable of doing this at all."

I sighed. "I'd thought of that," I murmured. "I was really hoping it wasn't the case."

Potter apparently didn't know what to say to that, so he clapped me on the shoulder and walked away.