The bell above the door rang, then stopped abruptly as if it had been strangled.

"We're closed!" yelled a voice from the back room.

When there was no subsequent noise of the person leaving, Hermione Granger walked back into her customer area, and looked for the culprit. She didn't have to look far. Severus Snape, ex-teacher at Hogwarts, was standing beside her cabinet of pigments and scowling as if he had always disapproved of that particular shade of pink.

Hermione decided that, for once, closing times could be ignored. Just this once. She managed to assume an air of helpfulness, and walked briskly towards her customer. But as she opened her mouth to ask "How may I be of assistance?" his left hand came up in the time-honoured sign for stop, while he himself continued grimacing at the jars of hues.

So she stopped, and waited.

He must have been in a generous mood, if that were even possible. His voice was calm and measured, not gruff or snarky as she had expected.

"Miss Granger. You may not ask my problem. I shall tell you, then you will inform me if a solution is possible, if you can provide that solution, and the cost. There is no need for overblown friendliness, excessive civility, or any comfortable falsehoods for the sake of custom. Are we clear?"

There was silence for a moment, then his hand was struck down by a rather forceful blow. He turned to see a furious woman glaring at him with enough pent-up anger to intimidate an entire Quidditch team. Luckily, Severus Snape had had plenty of experience with that level of infuriation, and knew to wait for a response rather than trying to talk over it.

He did not have to wait long.

"Severus Snape. You do not come waltzing into my shop, dictating your requirements as if I were one of your house-elves. You do not order me around, and you certainly do not tell me how to behave. I have been told to be quiet, sit down, cheer up, help people and not upset the situation by nastier people than you, and you do not intimidate me in the slightest. Not any more. So you have two choices. You can either apologise and start again, or you can leave. Now."

Had the temperature of the atmosphere dropped any lower, the entire global climate warming problem could have been solved by just opening the door. But Severus Snape had faced an entire room of pissed-off Death Eaters, and managed to calm them down. He knew what to do.

"My apologies, Miss Granger. It was wrong of me to dictate to you. Perhaps we could start again?"

There was a pause, then a long indrawn breath. It was released incredibly slowly, as Hermione attempted to regain her calm. "Right. Let us start. You first."

Severus passed his hand across his eyes, as if to wipe the previous scene and start anew. "Miss Granger. Thank you for letting me remain after closing hours. I find myself in need of your services, as I have a rather unique problem."

Looking him over, Hermione was puzzled. "This is an artists' shop. I sell canvasses, pigments and paints, drawing materials and frames for wizarding artists to make magical pictures. What could a potions expert like yourself possibly want that you couldn't make yourself?"

Severus did not reply. He merely started rolling up his sleeve, exposing a tattoo that Hermione had not seen for years. The Dark Mark had not faded nor spread, but sat as clearly on his skin as it had the day it was put in there.

"You wish it removed?"

"It is a tattoo, Miss Granger. It cannot be removed. And while a normal tattoo could possibly be removed by taking off the skin, this magical tattoo will not allow even that choice."

"What choices do we have, then?"

"That is what I came to you for."

"Oh." Hermione took his arm and looked more closely. She had seen a few tattoos in her time, from the home-etched love heart that Teddy Lupin had put on his forearm with a pin and a bottle of ink to the ornate dragons that gambolled around Charlie Weasley. All around Charlie. Ahem. This, though, was unlike any of them. The mark looked more etched or burned than needle-drawn, and was a deep, impenetrable black. "Does it still hurt?"

"No, not any more."

"How did he put it there? The method may help with the removal."

Severus shuddered. "It is burned in. The tip of the Dark Lord's wand traces the Mark's outline, then the rest of the pattern fills in magically. And at the time, the pain was incredible. But that, at least, has gone."

Hermione led Severus over to the counter, bade him sit down, and laid his arm on a patch of felt she had there for sorting shiny objects. Small patches of shimmering pigment clung to the edge of the felt, and Severus knew he was going to have glitter embedded in his robes when he got home, whether he wanted to or not. He sighed in resignation, and watched as Hermione went to a small bench and mixed up two different solutions. Then she brought them back, and took two brushes and a fine pen from a drawer.

"What are you doing?"

"I have some ideas, but I don't know which ones will work." Hermione swirled the first solution, then dipped a long sable-haired brush in it and dabbed it on her own skin.

"The tattoo is here, not there, Miss Granger."

She smiled. "Hermione."

"Her.. oh. Yes. Hermione. But the tattoo is on my arm, not yours."

She grinned. "I know. I'm just checking I haven't accidentally made this solvent too strong, or dangerously caustic. If it doesn't sting in a minute, I know I have it right. And while we're waiting, you can tell me what you've tried so far."

"Oh, the usual," he replied. "Summoning the ink out of it, cleansing potions, bleaches, re-inking it, blowtorches, sandpaper…"

"Blow…" Then she noticed the slight smile. "Tease."

"Perhaps. Forgive me, Miss Gr … Hermione. It has been a source of some irritation for too long, and I was transferring my own frustrations to you. How is the solvent?"

"Non-caustic." Hermione turned her forearm to him, and he saw that the glistening of the solvent and no irritation. "But tell me if this hurts at all." She drew a thin line with the pen about two-fifths of the way up the tattoo, then carefully traced all the Mark below that line with the paintbrush. The solution ran along the Mark's indentations, filling it with glistening liquid that spread itself slowly over the surface of the tattoo.

Then she took the pen and drew another line two-fifths of the way from the top of the tattoo. Using the second brush, she proceeded to cover the top section of the Mark with a fine skin-coloured pigment that completely covered it.

"I take it the middle section is a control?"

"You know, it's quite possible you have a brain in your head too."

"Know-it-all." But he smiled as he said it. "The top section?"

"Is merely a cover-up. It will not last more than a week, but I thought we'd use that until we know what removes the pigment permanently. And I expect the bottom to make a difference over the next week. You may wash it, but don't use any alcohol or bleach on any of the tattoo. "

"Clever." He waited until the entire area had dried, then rolled down his sleeve. "I should have asked earlier. What is this going to cost me?"

"Ten Galleons per time, plus materials, and I get to call you Severus."

For a moment, the grump was back, but then he nodded and fished a purse out of his pocket. "Do you take the new notes?"

Hermione held out her hand. "Indeed. Today's will just be the straight ten Galleons, as it's our first try. And if it starts hurting, or burning, or anything strange happens, come back immediately and I'll check on it. Otherwise, would you like to come back next Tuesday, and we'll see how it went?"

"I'll see you then." Severus watched as Hermione put the Ten Galleon note in the till, where a number of other new banknotes rested. Then, when she looked up and caught his eye, he nodded and left.

The next Tuesday, Hermione had her ingredients ready by five, although the shop didn't shut for another half hour. She laid a clean felt on the table, and was just clearing away some damaged mixing pots from the "seconds" table when the bell jangled.

"I don't know what you did to it last week," she said without turning, "but it took us three days to get it to ring again.

"It's a talent. Unfortunately, not one I seem to be able to apply to students or babbling idiots." Severus strode over to the desk, and sat himself at the felted end. He waited until she sat opposite him, though, before rolling his sleeve up and showing her the results.

The lower section of the tattoo was a shiny version of what it had been before. Hermione gasped. "I've never seen it do…"

As she reached to touch it, Severus pressed into the end of the tattoo. In one piece, the shiny layer came loose and dropped onto the desk, where it broke into several pieces. Under it, the tattoo was as dark as ever.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"I would say," mused Hermione, "that the tattoo rejected the solution entirely, and drew it all to the surface where it coalesced."

"That was my guess too." Severus drew the rest of his sleeve up, showing the top half. "And you can see what has happened to the pigment."

"Exactly as I had expected." Hermione ran her fingers over the Mark which showed in the upper section through the covering pigment. Severus suddenly hissed with an indrawn breath, and she stopped. "I'm terribly sorry – did that hurt a great deal?"

"No, it … it's fine, Hermione. Just a strange sensation." Severus picked at a little piece of skin that had flaked on the side. "What was your plan for today?"

"I have a tiny flask of phoenix tears that I thought I'd try on the lower half – diluted, of course. And a new cover of pigment on the top."

"Then do it." Severus braced himself, and Hermione mixed the vial of tears with a dropper of something bright and silvery, drew on latex gloves and added a pinch of a ground grey powder. The mix made a strange bubbling noise and Hermione immediately smeared the resulting ointment on the lower section of the tattoo.

"Why the gloves? Is it poisonous?" Severus took one of Hermione's hands and examined it closely.

"Not at all," she replied. "I just didn't want to waste any of it on my own skin. The blend is rather volatile, and is absorbed very quickly. In fact, by the time I've prepared the pigment for the top, we should know what the result is."

She went quickly to the side cabinet and began making up the pigment as Severus ran his finger down the area she had touched earlier. Oddly, it didn't react the same way to his own touch – there was none of the tingle and strange thrill that had accompanied her own gentle caress. He removed his hand quickly when she returned, but started examining the area where the salve sat shining.

"How is it?"

"I can't feel anything different. Should I?" Severus resisted the urge to wipe off the salve and look under.

"Hang on." Hermione took a roll of plastic cling wrap, and wrapped it around his arm a few times, followed by a crepe bandage.

"What's that?"

"If you get a proper tattoo, the artist will often put that on to hold the pigments in while the first healing happens." She grinned. "It will also stop people picking at the scabs."

"I don't pick!" he said, removing his nails very quickly from the top edge of the plastic where he had started to scratch a little.

"No, of course you don't." Hermione pulled his arm out straight, then held his hand with her left as she painted the pigment on with the other. "I probably should have warned you – the phoenix tears mean that this week will cost you 30 Galleons. Is that all right?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. That will be fine." Severus somehow found himself distracted by the feel of her hand in his, and was quite disappointed when the rest of the pigment had been applied. Hermione released his hand, and started packing up the bowls. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a 50 Galleon note. "You can change this, can't you?"

"Luckily I can." She took his note and put it in the drawer, removing a pair of smaller ones for his change. "Same rules as last week – if it hurts or goes strange at all, come in immediately. Try and leave the plastic on for two days, and keep it dry – baths, not showers. Otherwise, see you on Tuesday?"

"On Tuesday." Severus rolled his sleeve down carefully over the pigment and plastic, and left.

He was early the next week, arriving at the shop as Ron Weasley was coming out with an armful of orange paint pots. Severus held the door open for Ron, who almost dropped the lot when he saw who his benefactor was.

"Prof… Snape!"

"Weasley." Severus resisted the urge to scowl at the redhead, who scurried away at a remarkable rate. As Severus entered the shop, Hermione's laughter rang out clearer than the bell ever had.

"Do you still consort with that dunderhead?" The scowl was back, but Hermione did not seem to care.

"For your information, Severus, Ron is not a dunderhead. He is a dedicated coach for the Cannons, not to mention a trained Auror. You don't do that if you're deficient in either brains or talent. But as to consorting …" She merely shrugged, and gestured Severus to the regular chair. His grump radiated sufficient bad feeling that the control patch of the tattoo was almost throbbing with ire, but Hermione ignored it and concentrated on the lower area. There, the unmarked skin around the Mark had lightened to a bleached white, glistening with silver.

Within the Mark though the black had remained black and the plain skin had not changed.

"Bother," said Hermione. "And the rest?"

The pigment-covered tattoo had again bled through the cover, showing almost as brightly as the control patch in the middle. A couple of small scabs lay on the skin at the side, and Hermione rubbed them gently. This time, Severus tensed only for a moment before relaxing, and Hermione was able to examine them properly.

"Were you scratching at them?"

"I don't scratch."

"And these scabs got here magically, I'm sure. Would it help, Severus, if I were to put some Muggle-made salve on the rough skin?"

He nodded slightly. "It might. It can't hurt."

"Then I will, before you leave tonight." Hermione smiled, then the grin became definitely nasty. "And would it help if I told you that Ron is just a friend, and we are not … consorting?"

Severus's scowl slid away, to be replaced with a thoughtful almost-smile. "It might. Perhaps."

"Perhaps. Right. We'd better get working on this arm then." She took a bottle that seemed almost the same colour as the pigment she regularly used, and shook it hard. "This week, I'm going to try a collagen-based organic solution that ought to promote healing. And," she said as she fitted an applicator sponge to the top of the bottle, "we should grab a bite to eat afterwards. It will take a while to get this spread evenly, and I really do not fancy going home and making dinner that late."

"I would enjoy that," he said, as he rolled his sleeve right up and away from the treatment area.

She squeezed the bottle a little, and a tiny bubble of skin-coloured mixture oozed from the top. Then she took his right hand in her left, and began painting over the tattoo. Severus sat quietly, treasuring the touch of her hand, the texture of her skin, and the sight of her face as she concentrated on directing the potion on the damaged portions of his skin. By the end of the session, he felt he could recognise every curve of her face, the shapes of her lashes and the exact angle of her lips made with curves of her cheeks. So absorbed was he that he almost jumped as she finished the end of the pattern, and reached for the pigment they usually used on the top section of the Mark.

I'm being a fool he thought. She's just doing it out of kindness. But when the colouring was finished, he helped her into her cloak and held the door open for her as they headed out for dinner.

On the next Tuesday, she was in the shop area as he came in, and she walked straight over to him and kissed his cheek as soon as he entered and before the bell had ceased jangling. He stopped in his tracks, but Hermione turned and walked back to the blending cabinet without noticing.

"How did it go this week, Severus?" She did not even turn to look until she realised he hadn't answered her yet. Then, she turned back to see him shake himself and walk over to the table.

"Not at all well, I'm afraid." Severus sat and rolled his sleeve back, showing a mass of flaking skin and irritation. "And before you ask, no, I definitely did not scratch it this time."

"I can tell you didn't. Oh Severus, you should have come back as soon as this started. You must be allergic to something in that solution. I am so sorry. Let me see what I can do." She fetched a towel and a bowl of warm water and added a small spoonful of yellow paste to it.

"Murtlap essence, in a paste. Luna makes it – works wonders." Hermione stirred the water, then took some soft rags and began gently applying it to the irritated areas. Severus leaned back, enjoying the sensation and relaxing more than he thought he would.

"I truly didn't notice it until today, Hermione, and as I was coming here anyway, I thought I'd just head over at the usual time."

"The skin is infected. Severus, you really must take better care of yourself." Her touch was soothing, gentle, and imparted a sensation that was somewhere between a tingle and a tremor.

"I usually do, but somehow, I seem to have slipped." And it's so nice to have someone else to look after me, if only for a while. Severus took Hermione's hand as it rested on the towel, and as she treated the tattoo, he memorised the touch of her skin and the softness of her grip. As she moved up to using the same solution to wash off the pigment from the upper section of the tattoo, he took the opportunity to watch her work, admiring the deft actions as she worked over the parts where the pigment had caked on.

"And no scabs at this end either."

"No, I found that to stop myself attacking the area that was irritated, I had to not scratch anywhere else either."

"Aha!" The look of triumph in Hermione's eyes was almost terrifying. "So you admit it! You do scratch."

"Only when I have an intolerable itch." At this, Severus suddenly found Hermione's hand fascinating. Either that, or he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "In fact, I seem to have developed another one. Quite a severe itch."

"Oh dear." Hermione opened a drawer with her spare hand, and removed a large soft bandage. "Is there somewhere else that's become inflamed?" She released his hand, and started applying the bandage along his arm, while Severus tried very hard not to laugh.

It failed, of course. Within moments, he was snickering like a teenager, and once Hermione realised what she'd said, she started laughing too.

"That really was too bad of me. Severus, I apologise – your statement was rather suggestive but I honestly didn't intend that question to be so smutty." She finished the bandage and fastened the end. It covered the entire tattoo, protecting it, and felt snug against Severus's skin. He flexed his arm a couple of times, noting her skill at winding the bandage so it wouldn't slip.

Then he stood, walked around the table, and lifted her from her chair so she stood in the circle of his arms.

"I know you didn't, Hermione. Dear." Severus smiled down upon her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Then perhaps I should do something about that itch." She kissed him again.

Several hours later, Severus watched her from his bed as she pulled on a dressing gown and slippers. He had already committed the curves of her back, the softness of her breasts and the exact timbre of her orgasmic sighs to his permanent memory.

"I'll be back in a moment, dear." Hermione almost skipped from the room, and Severus lay back on the pillow in a state of sublime satisfaction. For a few moments he dozed. Then, a slight irritation had him grumbling. He ran his left hand along his forearm until he reached the edge of the bandage, then gently slid a finger under the first little bit, and scratched.

"Ahhh…"

"Caught you."

"What?"

Hermione bounced back into the room and onto the bed, capturing his arm in her hands as she did.

"You were scratching. I saw you."

"You saw nothing. A momentary lapse. That's it." Severus pulled his forearm out of her grasp, but she pulled it back and nestled it across her thighs as she sat cross-legged beside him.

"Then I'll check it and have the bandage back in a moment. Look. You've pulled it all down on this side." Hermione unwrapped the bandage slowly, looking carefully for scabs and areas of irritation.

Instead, a great flaking mass of black fell out, onto the counterpane.

"What the…?"
"What in Merlin's name is…?"

Both Hermione and Severus ran their hands through the black stuff. It felt like charcoal, only heavier, and lay in piles like perishing rubber off a bicycle tyre. It was all through the bandage, and it wasn't until Hermione had unwrapped the last part of the bandage and went to dust the substance off Severus's arm that they realised what it was.

"The Mark."

"The ink. It's just … fallen out of your skin."

Was it one of your treatments?" Severus ran his hand up the entire forearm, feeling skin as soft and as supple as that of an English rose.

"I don't think so." Hermione checked the forearm carefully. "We treated the top and bottom of the Mark differently, and the middle not at all."

They carefully brushed all the pigment into the rubbish tin, then shook out the bedding. Small flakes adhered to Severus's skin until he brushed them off, but it was tedious. Obviously a little more work was required, and Hermione took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

And as they stood in the shower, soaping each other and wondering at what had happened, Severus suddenly started laughing.

"What's so funny, Severus?"

"Oh Hermione – you were wrong."

"Wrong? How?"

"You crazy, wonderful witch." He reached down and kissed her hard. "It was one of your treatments. The best one."

"I'm confused, Severus. Which treatment are you talking about?"

"Hermione, dearest. You really don't know?" Severus could not keep the grin off his face. "You've given me the most wonderful gift of all. You've given me your love, and it's forced the ink out."

"Ohhhhh." Hermione kissed him back. "Or it's the love inside you that's done it. But you're right. I do love you, Severus. And if that's what's done it, I'm glad."

"Then will you keep giving it to me? Your love? Because you have all of mine."

"For the rest of my life, Severus. If you think I can scratch your itch."

"Always."

And the last flakes of the Mark washed off his body, slid down hers, then swirled down the drain and disappeared forever.