Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros Entertainment Inc. This story is not written for profit and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: A special thank you to itsraa for betaing this chapter. I continue to be grateful to her for her help with this story.

Part I: A Lonely Heart Cannot Atone

Chapter 10

I don't care what colours he wears, Hermione, Malfoy is a Slytherin. You can't trust him.

I'll write back properly later, but for now I've got to go.

Ron

There it was. After waiting a whole three days for an answer to her letter, that's all Ron had bothered to write in his reply.

Did Ron think she was stupid? Did he think she wouldn't be able to see if Malfoy's strange behaviour was anything less than genuine? As much as she hated to admit it, he'd been nothing but nice to everyone she talked to, especially his fellow Hufflepuffs. He seemed to have made real friendships there at near-lightning speed. He ignored Slytherin jibes in the halls and during class. He joked around at mealtimes and did his homework and caused no trouble. He had changed, and he'd changed even before he'd joined Hufflepuff. He was different. Just because Ron didn't see it didn't make it untrue.

Or maybe her anger with Ron was strengthening her hunches into convictions. Maybe she just had to be right, even if that meant blinding herself to the truth. Regardless, it boiled her blood to have Ron cast aspersions on her judgement from all the way in London. What did he know about it, anyway?

Hermione fumed over the letter all during Potions and Ancient Runes and through lunch to D.A.D.A., where she now sat with the other Gryffindors taking notes as Professor Jones talked about curses. They were learning about the Cruentintus Curse, which produced a streak of purple flames and caused the victim serious internal injury without any external symptoms. She'd had this very curse cast on her during the battle in the Department of Mysteries by Antonin Dolohov, the Death Eater who had killed Lupin, among others, only months ago.

The memory of Dolohov's curse effectively took her mind off of anything Ron had to say. She recalled perfectly the purple flash and the blinding pain, then nothing until Madam Pomfrey's face loomed over her in the Hospital Wing days later. The nurse had said that the curse had done "quite enough damage to be going on with." The way Professor Jones was describing it didn't really seem to communicate the severity of the spell, the pain of it, the nearness of death…

Hermione dropped her quill and hid her face in her hands. Why did everything have to remind her of death? Her whole life seemed consumed by it. She felt like she would never outlive all of these terrible memories, like she had a Dementor following her around, sucking all the happiness from her mind.

Ginny nudged her. "Are you okay?" she whispered. Hermione looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she tried to hold it together. She wasn't going to let herself break down here in the D.A.D.A. classroom in front of everyone. She just wanted to be alone.

"I'm fine." Hermione swept her hair back away from her face and gave Ginny a small smile, hoping that would suffice.

Ginny returned her smile, then cocked her eyebrow significantly and pointed with her quill. Hermione looked across the room to where Malfoy sat with a group of Hufflepuffs. He snapped his head forward to face Professor Jones again, who was writing something on the board.

While she watched, Cadwallader glanced from her to Malfoy then to a tall, wiry boy who reclined in his seat beside Cadwallader with his quill behind his ear. The boy put a finger to his lips then jabbed it at Professor Jones, clearly telling Cadwallader to pay attention. Hermione nearly laughed.

Cadwallader narrowed his eyes at the wiry boy then elbowed Malfoy, whose gaze was fixed in Hermione's direction again. Malfoy's hand slipped and his quill dragged a bold line of ink across his notes. He shot Cadwallader a dirty look and siphoned off the still-wet ink with his wand. After that, he turned his attention to Professor Jones and did not look her way again.

Ginny wrote on the corner of her notes: "He's been staring at you all day."

Hermione wrote back underneath: "What does he want?"

Ginny shrugged almost imperceptibly and added a question mark under Hermione's question.

"If you would turn, please, to page twenty-seven," said Professor Jones from the blackboard, "we will continue on to the Hacktor Curse, named for Charles Hacktor of..." Hermione sighed and started taking notes.

Prescott and James caught up to Draco after D.A.D.A. despite his best efforts to retreat to Arithmancy before they could interrogate him.

"Prescott here told me a pretty funny joke just now," said James, coming up beside Draco and keeping pace with him as they climbed a flight of stairs. "I know it's a joke, because there's no way you were staring at Hermione Granger with those widdle puppy dog eyes of yours."

Draco didn't look at him; he just kept walking, feeling the wheeze in his lungs worsening with every step. If it got much worse, he'd have to stop and take a swig of his healing potion.

Two more corridors and three flights of stairs. They couldn't follow him all the way there, could they?

"Hey!" barked James, getting ahead of Draco and putting a hand on his chest to slow him down. Draco tried to get around him, but James stood his ground.

Finally, almost gratefully, Draco stopped. He stood there facing James, fighting the urge to cough or gulp down breath or reach into his pocket and grip the little potion bottle for reassurance.

It's not that bad, he thought. One moment and I'll be fine.

Draco was too busy willing his body to behave to mount any real protest when Prescott dragged both him and James out of the way of a group of leering fourth-year Slytherins and into the doorway of a deserted classroom.

"I'm going to be late," growled Draco. When that didn't seem to have any effect, he added, "Come on, guys! I have to go."

"Whoa! It's a joke, right? This is a joke!" James' gaze flitted between Draco and Prescott. His smile vanished. "Wait, you were staring at Hermione Effing Granger?"

Draco shut his eyes, glad, at least, that his broken lungs were finally cooperating. If they wanted to talk about it, fine. He'd talk about it. But he didn't have to like it. "Yes," he began, "but—"

"What, yes? Yes?! You can't be serious!" James glanced over at Prescott again, who said nothing.

"It's just because—" Draco broke off and waited for two little Gryffindor girls to pass them. He licked his lips and started again. "It's because she talked to me," he finished rather lamely.

James staggered back, clutching his heart. "Oh, she talked to you, did she? Well, then, that sorts that out. Prescott, did you hear that? Granger talked to Draco here! What a revelation!"

"It is, kind of," Draco said quietly.

"Let him explain," Prescott said, speaking for the first time.

"What's there to explain? Didn't you hear him say she talked to him?" James threw up his hands and stared at the ceiling as if praying for patience. "Bloody hell, Draco, I knew you were dense, but this is just a whole new—"

"Shut it, okay? She talked to me. As in, we spoke to each other without me calling her a 'Mudblood' or her slapping me in the face. It's not exactly something that happens every day. I didn't mean to… I didn't mean anything like that," Draco said. "It was just… nice, for a minute." As soon as he'd spoken, Draco knew he'd said too much, allowed his emotions to get away with him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Prescott.

Draco hesitated. Now that they knew he'd taken an interest in Granger, he might as well try to explain a bit better. "If she could speak to me, just… as a person, you know? If I could explain things to her, tell her things are different now… Maybe if I can convince her—"

"So she's the one to impress, then?" James cut in, folding his arms. "What about us? Doesn't what we think count for anything?"

"Yeah, it does, but…" This was really hard for Draco. He couldn't exactly put into words how he felt, and when he said it out loud it sounded stupid.

"Hermione Granger isn't going to listen to you, Draco," James said with a sigh. "She's not going to change her mind no matter what you do."

"What makes you say that?"

"What makes you think she would?"

Draco took a small step toward James, his nerves buzzing with rising anger as paranoia threatened to choke out all reason. Did James suspect him? Didn't he trust him? "Are you saying you think I'm faking this? Is that why you think I wouldn't be able to convince her?"

"Are you faking it?"

"James—" Prescott put a hand on James' shoulder, but Draco wasn't going to let James off that easy. He couldn't afford to have James or Prescott doubting his sincerity.

"No, of course I'm not!" Draco said a little louder than he intended. "I'm not faking any of this!"

"Right," said James seriously, and he nodded his acceptance of Draco's words. "Then it must be because I think Hermione Granger thinks too highly of her own mind to ever change it."

Draco stared at James uncomprehendingly for a moment. "Wait, what?"

"She's damn stubborn, Draco, and she's got all that righteous anger stuffing up her ears," James said, twiddling his fingers around his own ears. Draco was inexplicably reminded of Luna Lovegood waving away invisible insects before the Start-of-Term Feast. "Wrackspurts," she'd said. It looked like James was doing an impression of Wrackspurts now. If the situation had been less strained, Draco might almost have laughed.

"She's never going to listen," James continued, "so what's the bloody point of beating a dead Hippogriff?"

"If I could just convince—"

No," James said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, you're missing the point."

"I don't—"

"Yes, you are. You don't have to convince anyone of who you are, Draco." James said, and his gaze intense, as if this were the crux of things. Draco thought maybe it was. "You don't need to prove anything."

"He's right, Draco," said Prescott, and Draco jumped at the sound of his voice. Prescott been so quiet that Draco had almost forgotten he was there. "I couldn't have said it better."

James leaned an elbow on Prescott's shoulder. "Listen to Prescott, Draco. I'm right. I'm always right. You will come to know this in time." They all tried to keep a straight face but couldn't. The tension broke.

Draco was baffled by how he could possibly deserve their friendship. Their loyalty to him after only a few short days was stunning. He thought about telling them how much it meant that they'd befriended him and accepted him, that they even cared at all.

Instead, he said, "I'm definitely late now."

James patted his shoulder sagely. "Alright, you are free to go. Just remember," he said, "don't measure yourself by anyone's standards but your own."

Draco nodded and shuffled his feet. Prescott punched him in the arm and said by way of goodbye, "See you at dinner, alright?"

They headed back down the hall and out of sight. Wishing he knew the time, Draco broke into a run. Professor Vector was going to murder him.

Hermione was starting to lament ever agreeing to be Luna's partner in Transfiguration, but she couldn't keep listening to Ginny criticize Percy's teaching strategies. It was distracting, not to mention annoying. So, Ginny paired up with Jimmy Peakes instead and, with Vicky and Ritchie being disgusting between herself and the snide comments issuing from Ginny every three seconds, Hermione could finally concentrate on getting down the finer points of human facial transfiguration. She'd had a go of it earlier that year with Ron when they broke into Gringott's Wizarding Bank, but it was so much better with a book in front of her.

Now she just had to get over her frustration with Luna. Almost everyone in the class was a complete novice at this kind of transfiguration. It took finesse and a certain artistic eye that Hermione felt she lacked. Luna, however, was a skilled artist. If only she could stop being so outlandish.

They were supposed to be altering each other's faces to look like themselves. Luna had already had her turn on Hermione, who, by the time it was over, looked like the frizzy-haired reflection of Luna, protuberant eyes and all.

After she'd wiped her face clean of transfiguration spells, it was Hermione's turn to try on Luna. A duel-sided mirror was hovering in midair between them, and Hermione was glancing down every second or so to get a detail down before trying to replicate it on Luna's face. It wasn't going well.

Luna made it worse by making comments like "This feels strange," and "I think your mouth is a little wider," and "Your eyes are really small," every so often. Her penchant for blatant truths was doing nothing for Hermione's morale.

It had occurred to Hermione that now would be an ideal time to talk to Luna about Malfoy. So, in an effort to steer the conversation toward Malfoy and away from Luna's running commentary on the task before them, Hermione said, "That was pretty nice of you to stick up for Malfoy."

"It was nothing he wouldn't have done for me," said Luna airily. "You're teeth are bigger."

Hermione repressed a sigh and flicked her wand. Luna's teeth grew slightly larger. "Better?" Luna nodded. Hermione tried again. "What made you do it?"

"They were going to hex him."

She waited for Luna to continue, but when she didn't, Hermione really did sigh. "I think I'm done."

"I still have my chin."

"Right. Sorry." Hermione scrutinized her own chin in the mirror before setting to work on Luna's.

"Have you talked since…?" Hermione decided she didn't want to elaborate, but Luna seemed to know what she meant.

"We met on the train. Did you know we hadn't met officially before then?"

"No," said Hermione. That was a bit of a surprise, though on second thought Malfoy didn't exactly make a habit of going around introducing himself to the people he bullied. "What did you two talk about?"

"Him," replied Luna simply.

She was being every bit as infuriating as Myrtle had been. Why wouldn't Luna just tell her what she and Malfoy had talked about on the train? Why would anyone bother to protect Malfoy's privacy?

Hermione finished Luna's chin and sat back in her chair while Luna examined her face in the mirror.

"I almost look like you," she said.

Hermione wanted to gouge out her own eyeballs with her wand. "Thanks."

Ginny, wearing an inexpert interpretation of Jimmy Peakes' grin, came over to see Luna and Hermione. "Hey Hermiones!" she said. Hermione smiled and tried not to stare at Vicky kissing a weird double of herself behind Ginny.

"Oh, I'm not Hermione," said Luna matter-of-factly. "I'm Luna." Ginny rolled Jimmy's eyes in amused exasperation.

At breakfast on Thursday, the thing Draco had been both eagerly anticipating and absolutely dreading arrived. He wavered somewhere between regret and elation whenever he thought about the idea he'd put into action a few days before. Meeting Granger had pushed it from his mind for a while, but as the days progressed, he spent more and more time dwelling on what would happen. He honestly didn't know what she'd do. She was so unpredictable.

So, as the owl carrying a brightly-colored package soared in through the high mullioned windows and came to rest before Luna Lovegood, Draco had to suppress the urge both to run out of the Great Hall in fear and whoop with excitement. Casting his usual Quietening and Vanishing Charms over the dozen or so Howlers he'd received that morning, he watched Luna relieve the owl of its parcel and feed it a bit of bacon before it flew off again.

Draco could barely stand it. She was turning it over in her hands. Other Ravenclaws had stopped examining their own mail to watch. With careful fingers, she untied the packing string and opened the package. Inside, he knew, was a box of Gertrude's Best Organic Gurdyroot Tealeaves and a note.

She put the box to her nose and breathed deeply, a little smile on her lips, before turning to the folded slip of parchment. She flipped it open and read. Draco held his breath.

If Luna was confused, she didn't show it. She set down the note and started opening her box of tea. Her friends leaned in to her, apparently asking her who the package was from. She shook her head.

One of the Ravenclaw girls grabbed the note and read it aloud. "'I'm sorry'?" she trilled loudly enough for Draco to hear. He felt himself flush scarlet and started shoveling food into his mouth to avoid staring. When he chanced a glance back over at the Ravenclaw table, teacups and a jug of hot water had appeared before Luna. She was making tea for everyone. Great. This was not going at all the way he planned.

A few minutes later, Draco heard a series of disgusted noises emanating from where Luna sat surrounded by people holding their teacups away in obvious revulsion. Draco had never actually had gurdyroot tea. Was it bad? Did she hate it?

No, Luna was sipping her tea mildly amid her friends' upturned noses and pinched, sour faces. Maybe gurdyroot tea was an acquired taste. Luna certainly seemed to be enjoying herself.

Still, she didn't so much as toss her hair in his direction during the rest of breakfast, but as Ravenclaw table emptied, she remained seated, eating slowly and pouring herself more tea.

"Draco. Let's go," said James, slapping Draco on the back and momentarily distracting him. "Class, remember? That thing we do here?"

He looked around. The rest of Hufflepuff was already gone. Prescott and Ryan were waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. "You go on," Draco said. "I'll catch up."

James eyed him beadily, but seemed to decide to let it go. "Alright, mate. See you in Greenhouse Six."

"Greenhouse Six," Draco repeated to James' retreating back.

In just a few short minutes, he and Luna were the only ones left in the Great Hall. She still hadn't looked at him. She wasn't ignoring him, exactly. In fact, her manner seemed more inviting than anything. Plucking up all the courage he could manage, he stood and made his way over to where she sat alone, still drinking her tea.

"Hello," she said when he sat down across from her.

"Hello."

She bit into a piece of toast and took her time chewing. There was a long and extremely awkward silence, then Luna said, "Thank you for the tea."

"Do you like it?" Draco asked keenly.

"Of course I do."

Then she looked at him, and her huge grey eyes captured him within her gaze. It seemed to reach inside him and wrench his heart from his chest. All the things he'd been planning to say to her—how sorry he was, how he could never feel sorry enough, how he would never, ever forgive himself that he had done nothing, watched her imprisoned and tortured in his own house—all of it felt utterly insignificant.

He saw his scheme to woo Luna over to his side with gifts and apologies for what it was: a false pretence, a stupid little story he'd told himself to hide his true guilt. He was sorry, truly sorry.

Maybe he thought he'd been clever to order that tea, but the truth was that if he'd really wanted to use his apology to Luna to bolster his supposed repentant facade, he would have gladly told Granger what he was ordering from The Quibbler that day in the Owlery, and he would have at least mentioned it to his Hufflepuff friends, and he would have joined her at the Ravenclaw table as soon as the tea had arrived so that everyone would have known that it was he who had sent it.

But he hadn't. He'd kept it a secret. Because it mattered. Because it wasn't something he wanted to flaunt in front of an audience. Because Luna Lovegood didn't deserved to be used. It had only taken him this long to figure that out.

Even though he wanted to run away and find somewhere to hide where those eyes could never look at him like that again, Draco held her gaze and tried to say without trembling the thing that he absolutely could not live for another second having left gone unsaid. "It will never be enough, Luna, but I am so sorry for what I did to you. I am so, so sorry."

"I forgive you."

Draco lost it. He looked away from her, tears spilling over his cheeks. He felt drained, helpless, exhausted. And relieved. Some pressing weight he hadn't even known was there a moment before had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Do you want to try some tea?" Luna asked after a little while.

Draco nodded, and she poured him a cup. He sat there, across from her, with the cup of tea warming his hands. "Thank you," he said. He tried to put a lot of things into those words.

Luna seemed to understand. She smiled. "Try the tea."

It was disgusting.

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter of Jury of Hearts, why not review it or even share it with a friend? Thank you so much for your continued support!

—Abbs