Chapter 2
Taking a deep breath, Lucius Malfoy straightens his shoulders and pushes open the innocuous glass door. The tinkling of the bell resounds through the small shop, briefly covering the whir of a small machine. He glances around. It is small, but clean. Eclectic.
“Just a moment!”
He looks beyond the counter to where Granger is bent over, her face unnaturally close to the side of the man on the elevated bed. She hasn’t seen him, he assumes. He also hadn’t planned on needing to wait. Malfoy’s don’t wait. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he lowers himself primly onto one of the folding chairs provided.
A door in the back opens. The young man appraises him with blatant curiosity. Lucius raises an imperious brow. He is wearing the epitome of Muggle fashion, a suit ensured to make all aware of his high ranking social class. The boy before him is clad in ripped up shorts and a shirt that clearly once had sleeves but no longer. Muggles do this by choice?
“Hey Mi? Think the landlords here.”
The man gestures to Lucius carelessly. Hermione looks up. Her eyes widen in surprise. He clenches his fingers into fists, willing his face to remain passive. She smiles softly, gives him a nod.
“Glad you came,” she says. “Sorry, my appointments ran late today. Is Severus still coming? I thought you’d arrive together.”
“I need no keeper,” he sneers. Then softens, remembering why he’s here. “Though that was indeed the plan. However Severus has a few meetings to attend. He asked me to inform you that he might be late.”
Her brow furrows a tiny bit, but she says nothing, only nods again.
“I’ll be with you in about 15.”
The minutes pass with an agonizing slowness. He tunes out the idle chatter of Granger and her client. Instead he studies the pictures on the wall. Several catch his eye. Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice when the patron leaves nor his ogler until the bell chimes again. Then suddenly Granger is at his side, several of the papers he’d been examining in her hand.
“I had a few thoughts for you,” she says gently. She hands him a paper. “What do you think?”
“Severus mentioned your mental exercises,” he says drily. “A snake seems uninspired.”
“They’re not just negatively associated, you know. They symbolize rebirth and healing in some circles as well. Besides, there are positives to Slytherin House.”
“Indeed?”
“The traits aren’t bad. It’s what you do with them. And in the end, several Slytherins used them for good.”
“Granger I didn’t—“
“You did it for your family, I know,” she says softly. “But still you did it. And now you’re here, seeking my help. That means something.”
“It means that I’m intrinsically self-serving,” he bites out.
She raises a brow. “If you want to apologize, I’m willing to hear it. However I’ve forgiven you long ago.”
“I didn’t ask for—“
“Forgiveness isn’t about you, Lucius. I didn’t forgive you for your sake, I did it for mine.”
“But you’ll help me.”
“Of course I’ll help you.”
He sighs. “I do like the snake.
“Was that so hard to admit?”
He glares at her. “I can see why Severus likes you so much.”
Pink spots appear on her cheeks. Interesting. He wonders just how much she likes his old friend. Enough to cure him, too, it would seem. If ever the man would hurry up. Lucius shifts impatiently. Since deciding to come, he swears the mark has begun to itch.
“We can get started, if you like,” she offers, clearly reading his discomfort. Unnerving. Still he inclines his head. “As you wish.”
oOo
Lucius sits on the elevated bed after casting his own Scourgify, not trusting her Muggle cleaners. It’s been repositioned so that he can sit up, his left arm resting on the raised arm rest. He tries not to think about how the position is surely creasing his suit. Granger turns from the tray she’s setting up.
“Do you have questions?”
He considers this. No questions seems careless and yet questions invite vulnerability. He raises a brow.
“Perhaps you could provide me an overview, first.”
She nods. Something flashes in her eyes. Relief? Possibly. He files it away and focuses on her words.
“As you likely know, there are several spells imbedded in the Dark Mark. The Protean charm connects them. A modified Portus enables Apparition to the initiating user. Avenseguim to be able to locate you—not his best work there, no wonder Karkaroff made it the full year, and then finally the stinging, or burn, is likely a stinging hex, but I can’t say for certain but fortunately that bit doesn’t matter for the cure.”
She pauses briefly. Their eyes meet. When he says nothing she continues.
“Those spells are for its function. Its protection is another matter. To sustain the spells, the mark not only has Voldemorts magical essence but it also feeds off of your own. If you disrupt the flow of magical energy, a fail safe is activated.”
“Is that why Yaxley blew up when he cut off his arm?”
“In essence, yes.”
“How can you possibly remove it then?”
“All of it is held in the ink. I’ll simply siphon the ink from your arm and into this reinforced vial. Then it can be safely disposed of.”
Her eyes meet his again. There’s something she’s holding back. He can tell from the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes can’t pick where to focus. She’s nervous. He frowns.
“Is there a problem, Granger?”
“No.”
Perhaps a direct guess. “Will it hurt?”
“It will tingle,” she says with a shrug. “That’s all you’ll feel.”
Part of him wants to press the matter but it’s not as if he’s the first to get this procedure. Surely his own son would have informed him of any hidden agendas. Unless she was saving something for him. But no… the Golden Girl was a good girl through and through; besides if she took issue with him, she would not have spoken at his trial. He sighs, deciding to let it go.
“I’m ready when you are.”
Granger taps the tattooing device twice with her wand. Then she grabs his arm and guides it into a better position. A buzzing noise emanates from the device. He feels the aforementioned tingle as she begins to glide it over his skin.
Slowly the ink slides out of his flesh, up into the device, and then up into the vial. It’s like seeing a drip in reverse. Lucius watches in amazement as the Dark Mark begins to fade. There is a slight release of pressure as if the ink had tangible weight only felt once removed. Then Hermione makes a strained noise. His eyes flick to her face.
She’s gritting her teeth. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration. He looks back at his arm. Her knuckles are white around the device.
“Are you—“
“I need to focus.”
He closes his mouth. His shrewd gaze bounces from his arm, to the vial, to her face. Hermione begins to pant. She hadn’t indicated that the process would be strenuous to her. Perhaps she thought he wouldn’t care? The hum of the device stutters and he hears a small tinkling sound.
“The vial is cracking.”
Her eyes flick up and then back down quickly. “I didn’t anticipate this.”
“Didn’t anticipate… what is happening?”
“You’ll be fine, Lucius. Give my apologies to Severus, would you?”
Before he can process her words, before he can even think to act, Hermione taps the device with her wand once more. This time there’s a sharper pain, the feeling one might get pulling away from a weak sticking charm, and the rest of the ink glides out of his skin. The vial swells with the increase in fluid and more spiderweb cracks appear on its surface. Before it can shatter, Hermione rolls up her sleeve and presses her wand to her forearm.
Thick black ink seems to flood under her skin. She releases a pained groan, clenching her wrist tightly. Sweat beads along her brow. The bell on the door chimes once as Hermione lets out a piercing shriek. Lucius doesn’t even have the time to turn before he’s flung against the wall. Vaguely, he wonders if Severus used a nonverbal spell, or if he was thrown by the force of his latent magic. Either way his friend’s eyes scream murder.
“I didn’t do anything!” Lucius said. “I swear to you, Severus. Something went wrong, something she hadn’t anticipated. It seemed the vial was the wrong size.”
“Vial,” Severus repeats.
He casts a diagnostic over Hermione. His nostrils flare at what he sees. She’s trembling violently, her fingers scraping the floor to reclaim her wand. Severus puts it in her hand.
“What have you done,” he asks her. He sounds broken. “Why would you do it?“
Instead of answering, Hermione presses the wand against her skin and whispers an incantation. The pooling ink glows a brilliant red, visible through her clothing like light. It weaves up her wrist and around her arm like a snake. Then it pulses.
She presses her skin again with the wand. The ink moves once more. The lines thicken. Both men watch in a mixture of all confusion as the ink seems to cycle all over her body rapidly. Severus vanishes her clothing save for the undergarments.
It slows and moves with clear intention. Thick lines swirl up from her left ankle, wrapping around her thigh, passing over her groin, and cradling her ribs. It continues over her chest and stops at her throat, two lines break off and wrap around her ear. Both men are forced to close their eyes when the red flares brightly.
When they open their eyes, a thick serpent is embedded in her skin from ankle to neck with the serpents jaws cradle her right ear; it is jet black, like the Dark Mark freshly pressed. Her other tattoos, the comparatively tiny ones sprinkled over her collarbone and arm seem darker.
Lucius gasps. “She wasn’t able to destroy the dark magic. She’s been taking it.”
“Foolish girl,” Severus says softly.
Barely hanging onto consciousness, Hermione smiles weakly at him. “Forgive me. I would’ve come to you first, but I knew you would figure me out.”
“Why?”
She coughs and blood flecks the floor in front of her. “This was going to happen anyways. I wasn’t going to live long enough to make a difference anywhere else. So I wanted to give you this. It’s not too late for you.”
“What are you talking about?“
Another cough. “You could give me yours too.”
The windows rattle with the force of Severus emotion.
“Or not.” The weak smile falls away. Hermione slumps back down. “Don’t be mad at me.”
Her eyes close.
“Is Narcissa home,” Severus barks as he scoops the girl into his arms.
“Yes, but why—“
“Get your son and Potter to meet us there.”
“Severus, she’s—“
“Not dead yet,” he growls. “Never, if I have anything to do with it.”
oOo
Hermione wakes up to the clean, sterile smell of St. Mungo’s. She opens her eyes cautiously. The room is dark. There’s wood paneling on the walls. This isn’t Mungo’s at all. Her heart rate increases.
“Miss is awake!”
Her eyes dart down to an eager little elf. Its nearly pressed tea towel bears the Malfoy crest. She frowns as she tries to remember how she’s come to be here. It is then that she realizes the feeling. Or rather lack thereof.
She throws off her sheets in a hurry. The tattoos are still there, but weightless. Her scars, however, are gone. She runs a finger over her chest. There’s a small divot. Not completely removed then. But nearly. The Dark Magic however is no more.
Lost in her own thoughts, she did not hear the house elf leave nor note the door opening. When it closes with a snap, however, her company earns her fully attention.
“Sev—“
“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?”
She frowns. Then the piece click into place. Her eyes go wide.
“No, what did you do!”
She’s out of the bed before she realizes it. Her hands are on him, ripping his cloak out of the way. His Dark Mark is gone. This gives her pause. Feeling only slightly embarrassed, she lifts her gaze to his. Her breath catches.
They’ve never been so close. Not since she held his bleeding neck together in the Shack all those years ago. She’s wanted to for some months now, of course, but she never dared to take that step. Now, despite his thunderous eyes still upon her, every cell screams for her to obey the impulse. Instead she takes one controlled step back.
“You destroyed the Dark Magic.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Then how…” she gestures between them.
“Lucius explained what you’d done. I reverse engineered how you’d done it and made the necessary adjustments.”
“To do what?”
“To encapsulate the Dark Magic into Dark potions.”
Her eyes widen in alarm. “And where are those?”
“With Miss Lovegood for her travels in the jungle. There are some invasive plant species that are quite nefarious.”
“You… you turned the Voldemort’s Dark Magic into a potent plant killer?”
He raises a brow. “Do you suppose I should have instead bottled it inside of myself until it killed me? Forgive me but I’m not a martyr.”
“I was dying anyways,” she snaps, heat flooding her face. “I… the escaped Death Eater attack last spring. They couldn’t remove the curse. It was killing me. No one could stop it. I went to everyone.”
“Everyone?”
She lowers her eyes. “I couldn’t ask you.”
“And why is that?”
She presses a hand against the center of her chest. For years there’d been a tugging sensation above her navel. It’s still now. Severus watches the movement.
“The life debt.”
She nods. “I had a tentative solution once I’d gone through most experts. I … I didn’t realize it could be brewed into potions. I worried if I told you, you would feel obligated to do what I have been doing. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“Is that the whole truth?”
His voice is firm, but not unkind. Her eyes close. She doesn’t want to see his face for this admission.
“Technically. I also figured that, if it didn’t kill you, it would absolve you of the life debt and I know it’s wrong of me but… I worried you wouldn’t… I worried that we—I—I feared you’d stop tolerating me.”
“Tolerating you,” he repeats. She’s not sure what to make of his tone. Her eyes open to stare at their feet.
“I… I value our friendship quite highly, Severus. I did not wish to lose you in any capacity.”
“I see.”
His long fingers come into view. He presses them into her chin, lifting her eyes to his. They’ve softened.
“Forgive me, Hermione.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because of my cowardice, you were unaware of what it would mean for me to lose you.”
“Oh.”
He moves his hand to properly cradle her face. His thumb grazes over her cheekbone. The reverence in his eyes is overwhelming.
“That you would consider us friends is far more than I deserve and yet not nearly enough.”
“What more would you ask of me, Severus,” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I want you to run through the Ministry to me when you’ve had a success and to seek my shoulder when you struggle. I want you to tell me the thoughts that make your brow furrow and grace me with your smiles that light up the dimmest corridors. I want that laugh which reverberates in my very soul. I want to know how you take your tea in the evenings and be part of the weekend stories you tell Monday morning.”
He takes a deep breath then and his cheeks turn pink, seeming to realize how much he’s just poured out of himself. Hermione blinks back the tears in her eyes. She steps close enough to feel the heat of him. Then she smiles.
“If you’re determined to love me so ardently, then you must allow me to do the same,” she declares softly.
His eyes widen briefly in disbelief before his face floods with something that must be joy. It is both supremely out of place and oh so right upon his face. Hermione’s smile widens. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls his lips to hers.
“Told you he wasn’t actually furious, Potter.”
“Sod off, Malfoy.”
They pull apart to see Harry and Draco just outside of the room. Harry enters first, looking cross. Before she can say anything, he wraps her in a hug.
“You’re an idiot,” he mutters against her temple. Then he holds her at arms length. “But you’re okay now?”
“I think so,” she says, glancing at Severus. “Are there any lasting effects?”
“Only the ink of the tattoos, but that can be removed. I left them as I wasn’t sure of their significance.”
“It’s one for each person I helped.” She points to the constellation on her collarbone. “Here’s Draco. The jobberknoll is for Theo. Goyle is the willow and —“
“Who’s the massive bloody snake?”
“What?”
Hermione turns searching for a mirror. Her eyes widen as she takes in the snake.
“Merlin’s beard Lucius.”
“That’s for my father? Sweet Salazar do you fancy him, too?”
“Don’t be daft!” Hermione’s cheeks turn pink. “Apparently I failed to account for the possibility the Mark’s could imbue further Darkness necessitating more ink. When some of these turned out larger than planned, I just assumed it was the tattooing charm correcting itself for best effect.”
“I’m starting to wonder if house arrest was too light for your father,” Harry says, studying the snake with wide eyes.
“Is it weird if I keep them,” Hermione questions, not addressing anyone in particular.
“I don’t mind my mark on you, Granger,” Draco says with a smirk. “But you want to keep my father’s snake, as well?”
Severus stiffens. Harry makes a noise of disgust. Hermione’s flush deepens.
“One more comment like that and I’ll hex you into oblivion, Malfoy,” she warns. “I just feel like they’re a part of me now, y’know? Perhaps…”
With a wave of her wand, the snake shrinks until barely a quarter of the ink remains. It then winds its way over to her arm and weaves around the other tattoos. It’s the largest by far, but less… consuming.
“Much better,” Severus says so quietly she might have imagined it.
“I never got one for you,” she says, her lower lip jutting out.
“If it helps, I didn’t get one for you, either.”
She rolls her eyes. Then she freezes and looks at him with wide eyes.
“I know our first weekend activity!”