Atonement

A/N:

Summary:

'We are all broken. That's how the light gets in.'

When Hermione and Draco return to Hogwarts for their eighth year, they're both broken and both changed in irrevocable, albeit different, ways. But when the school's new mind healer implements an innovative new treatment, it ignites the possibility that, maybe, Hermione and Draco can help each other piece together the scattered fragments of themselves that the war has left behind. Dramione.

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I'm so excited to finally share this with you - I've been working on it for a while now. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've loved writing it!

This is an angsty fic that explores themes of psychological trauma. Due to their previous experiences, the characters we love may not always do things that we like, but I hope I've put this in context and have, therefore, remained faithful to their canon characterisations.

About 60-70% of this is from Hermione's POV and the rest is from Draco's. Except the prologue, which is from the Sorting Hat's POV (just roll with it, lols).

Huge thanks to Frumpologist and scullymurphy for being amazingly encouraging alphabetas..

Each chapter includes a quote from a song that was released in the 90s, in honour of the decade these kids grew into adults.

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Warnings: themes of psychological trauma, PTSD, self-harm, references to sexual assault/rape, reference to torture, explicit language, recreational drug use (sexual assault/rape is NOT in relation to Hermione/Draco's relationship.)

Prologue: The Sorting

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road / Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go / So make the best of this test and don't ask why / It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time'

- Good Riddance, Green Day.

The Sorting Ceremony, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1st September 1991.

"GRANGER, Hermione!"

A petite, nervous looking girl with a mass of frizzy, chestnut hair walked tentatively to the Sorting Stool and took a seat. After the Hat was placed on Hermione's head, there was a lengthy silence.

"Humph," was the only noise the Hat had made after a minute or so.

"Well? What is it?" the girl snapped.

"There's a lot to sort through here..." the Hat explained amiably, unfazed by the girl's impatience.

"Well, you are the Sorting Hat aren't you?"

The Hat let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Your nervousness is making you somewhat rude, Miss Granger."

Hermione's shoulders sagged. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly.

"You see, there are almost too many strong attributes in here. A fierce sense of fairness and justice. A powerful loyalty to those you choose to ally yourself with. Sophisticated empathic abilities, along with the capacity for great compassion. An incredibly bright mind – brighter than some of the purest Ravenclaws I've sorted...there's courage too...and quite a bit of cunning...but you'd only use that cunning for actions consistent with your beliefs. Hmm...the intelligence does stand out, but I don't know if you'd become the best you could be in Ravenclaw...I suppose that depends on what you think is the best you could be?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it is not our abilities that define us, Miss Granger, but our choices. What we choose to value. How we choose to act."

"Well...I do love books and learning...so maybe Ravenclaw…"

"Okay –"

"But! But – books and cleverness – there are more important things. Friendship. And bravery," the girl stated decisively.

"Humph. As I thought...that decides it, then," the Hat concluded triumphantly, before continuing in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, "But a word of warning before you go, Miss Granger. Just bear in mind that 'pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.'"

"You're quoting Dostoyevsky to me? What – why?"

"Just – well – remember to take care of yourself, and not just everyone else...I wish you well. Yours really was an interesting mind to peer into.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"MALFOY, Draco!"

Before the Hat's rim had even made contact with his pale blond hair, the boy started speaking. "We both know where this is going to go, so let's not waste my time or yours, yeah?" he demanded, his voice firm and self-assured.

"Patience child, I need to have a look first...hmm...yes, there is an ideology here very consistent with what Salazar wanted in his members...but I wonder: are these beliefs really yours, young man? They seem to be more what your father –"

"Did you hear what I said about not wasting my time?"

"Hush – as much as you'd like to be, you're not in control here." The Sorting Hat was unperturbed by the young boy's rudeness; he'd sorted thousands of students over the years and there was very little that surprised him anymore. "You know, Ravenclaw would be a nice fit for you...your mind is sharp and there's a desire for knowledge. Slytherin or Ravenclaw – they will take you down two very different paths, my child –"

"Listen, you tatty little piece of repulsive, useless cloth, if you don't sort me into Slytherin now –"

"Hmm… the use of insults and intimidation to get what you want – although that only partly decides it, of course – SLYTHERIN!"

From his dive into the eleven-year-old boy's mind, the Hat knew that it wasn't the first time Draco had learned that cruel words and a stubborn intent could get him what he wanted. And the Hat was sadly aware of the pattern he'd just repeated – of what he'd just reinforced.

He sighed regretfully. He'd seen glimmers of the goodness that could be nurtured in the boy – if he were to be given the chance. A chance which Slytherin House was very unlikely to offer him.

"Sometimes, I do think they make me Sort too soon," he mumbled wearily to himself, as he watched the Malfoy boy saunter to the Slytherin table and bask in the clapping of his fellow housemates.