The war left there numerous wounds – waiting to be cured. Maybe, the worst were the wounds that never disappeared entirely. Even healed, they left traces on her skin, white slashes in general, but the ugliest was the bright red of the word carved in her skin, mudblood.

She would have done everything to have it disappeared of her body, but Bellatrix Lestrange did a good job – the dagger, which she craved the letters not just in her meat, but she swore she had even written them in her bones, was enchanted. The letters never scabbed, even after months it still sometimes leaked blood and hurt when something brushed against it.

She needed to roll up the sleeves of her shirts and polos to bear the pain on the worse days.

Maybe, that's why she ended up here, in the middle of Muggle London, in an old, battered tattoo salon where her former – muggle – classmates had their own tattoos made. She had seen some of them in one of the pubs, close to her parents' house; and their lot proudly bragged around with the arts sewn in their skin. So Hermione decided, she'd much rather have pretty arts on her skin for an eternity than ugly scars.

The tattoo artist seemed amused when she walked inside, head held up haughtily and eyes burning with determination. But still, the long months in the woods had taken its toll on her; she was skinny and boney. She wasn't that gracious not to have the artist's eyes humour her when looking at her.

She flat out said what she wanted and waited for the reaction. The tattoo artist just cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue. Hermione nearly rolled her eyes at her silliness – of course he waited, everybody who walked in here wanted a tattoo or two.

So she showed the ugly letters on her forearm and the artist winced, "Now, that'd be painful, chit."

She nodded in acknowledgement and showed some more scars, scars on her belly, on her shoulders, on her thighs and even one on her cheek. Each had different form, caused by different spells.

He fished out a notebook and asked her about designs, did she want animals, something abstract or maybe quotes because she seemed like a chit like that. Maybe, that's why she flat out refused even the idea of fancy quotes, asking for an animal that clearly wasn't mythical over Bellatrix's handiwork and maybe something abstract, perhaps the constellations over some of her scars. Satisfied with her answer, the faceless tattoo artist started to work.

After twenty minutes, he looked up from her work, showing her a sketch that was beautiful enough to make her breath hitch. It was better than she ever dared to hope. Though she didn't show it, she just nodded approvingly, as if being wary of it. Still, that looked so much better than that slur over her skin.

She asked it to be colourful, and he gave her one more warning, "It'd take longer, chit."

When he asked about constellations, Hermione helped him – Astronomy was still one of her best subjects, then again, which wasn't? She wanted Aquarius, the Canis Minor, the Ursa Major that was perfect on the scars on her side. She ended up with all off the Zodiacs and Ophiucus, and even Draco's constellation. And still, she had a few more to think about – she had too many scars to cover.

In the end, the faceless artist couldn't resist not to ask, "Abusive parents?"

Hermione merely shook her head, slightly shocked from his bluntness, "Classmates."

Satisfied with all the constellations, the artist turned back to the animal, working on the lines of the feathers, fixing delicate neck of the animal, and the way it held itself, gracious and demanding attention – like royalty.

She watched him work and didn't even realise it had been more than two hours since she walked in the salon. After choosing from the colours of the rainbow, the artist showed her the whole image with a grin, eyes twinkling in a friendly way, "Now now, better than 'mudblood' whatever it means, doesn't it?"

Before she could have answered, the bell chimed.

"Malfoy?"

She hurriedly excused herself, the amused smile melting down from her lips immediately. The blonde just merely nodded to her direction, before greeting the artist in front of her. No sneer, no snarky comment fell from his mouth, no visible sight of disgust did she spot in his body language as chatted with the muggle man about tattoos.

She put on her jacket in rush, careful about the fabric not to brush against her left forearm. It was definitely one of the worse days.

Before grabbing the handle of the entrance door, she heard the artist ask Malfoy, "Bad decision?"

She had no doubt what they were talking about – she even felt his eyes linger on her back as he answered to him, "Very."

She fled the place.


Hi there! First dramione in years, and definitely the very first in English. Though I'm curious, what do you think? It'd mean me a great deal if you wrote even a 'mediocre' in the review box. But 'good' is always prefered, if we're on critiques! ;D This snippets come commonly, if according to plan!