I'm sure this has been done before-but what the heck. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I think we all know by now who wrote Harry Potter. It wasn't me.
Branded
"Dad. Dad."
His father folded the newspaper just enough to see over the top. "Hm?" he grunted. His voice was hoarse.
The young boy leaned in closer, face troubled. He whispered conspiratorially, "Why are the sleeves on your shirt so short?"
The blond man, to his credit, did not smile. If he had, his son would have become upset with him (Why are you laughing at me?) and would whine until his mother got home. So, the only thing that betrayed the man's amusement was a faint crinkling around his eyes. "This is a t-shirt, Scorpius. I feel ill today, and I am taking a day from work until I feel better."
Scorpius crossed his arms. "I have a day off as well. How come I have to wear long sleeves?"
"Ah, but you're not sick."
Caught by his father's own logic, the boy settled back in his chair with a pout while the elder cleared his throat delicately into a handkerchief. That's when Scorpius saw it — a dark stain on his father's skin. He hadn't seen his father's bare arms before, at least, not to his immediate recollection. And he'd certainly never seen this mark.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"That? What is it?" He pointed at the stain. It was on the inside of his father's arm, large and black. "Haven't you tried to wash it off?"
Scorpius immediately regretted asking. After he'd said what was on his mind, his father had stiffened in his chair, his lips drawing together. This meant that he had crossed a line. "Cor, Dad, I'm sor —"
"No. You're right." His father coughed again. "I have. It doesn't come off. Not that easy." Then he glared. "Do not use that word in this household."
Flushing, Scorpius ducked his head. "I'm sorry," he said again.
But he could not take his eyes off of the mark on his father's arm. Now that he watched it, he could see it was a picture of something. A snake, long and twining. It shimmered and moved in the light. Maybe the picture had something to do with being in Slytherin? His father always spoke of his house in school, and how he hoped that Scorpius himself would one day be in it. Above the snake was a skull. Scorpius shivered.
"Are you done looking at it?"
Guiltily, Scorpius glanced up to meet his father's pale eyes. "Sorry, Father."
The man sighed, folded his paper, and then laid his forearm right in front of his son's eyes. Only then did Scorpius see the raised wounds around the mark. Jagged, swollen. "Dad, what —"
"I tried to cut it off." He cleared his throat, but kept his arm still. "The knife was cursed, but it still didn't work. I tried to burn it, to scrub it away, to get rid of it with a spell. I even tried some muggle contraption."
They both turned to watch it pulse. The snake's tongue flicked out. Haltingly, his son reached for the mark with his fingers. It was surprisingly warm.
When he looked up again, the man was smiling forlornly. "You asked what this is. This is the price I pay every day. I had the opportunity to be a better person than my father, but I didn't take it." He coughed, then said, "If I had the power to change the future, Scorpius, I would choose to change the past instead."
Draco watched the understanding on his son's face grow. "Don't make my mistakes," he said as he ruffled his hair. "When you grow up, be a good man."
"I will, Father."
Thank you for reading.