© J.K. Rowling and inspired by the work of CaptBexx

Draco and Hermione lay on the couch in Hermione's flat, Draco reading and Hermione in his arms, cuddling Crookshanks. It was a warm autumn day and Hermione had some of the windows open to take advantage of the last days of warmth and fresh air.

Draco had his sleeves rolled up, something he didn't do often. Hermione saw the black mark on his left arm moving slightly as he turned a page, and she grabbed his wrist. He looked down at her, slightly confused, but she turned his arm to look at the mark properly. She sent him a questioning look and he nodded, understanding.

She traced the lines of the snake circling in on itself, the skull from which it came, and then laid her hand over it. It had been many years since the mark had pained him, since Voldemort fell, and it had been two since he was no longer persecuted for having it. He still covered it up with his shirtsleeve when he could, as it drew anger and hatred from many witches and wizards still.

Hermione studied it for a moment longer as Draco set down his book and hugged her gently with his right arm. Crookshanks jumped from Hermione's lap, preferring more room to stretch than the two were allowing him.

"There isn't a day that goes by when I don't regret it," he said quietly, sighing softly as she let go of his wrist.

"You were young and afraid, and he was, well, Voldemort. We all make mistakes Draco," Hermione replied, taking his left hand in hers.

"Me more than some." He flipped their hands over, revealing the faded letters that had been carved into her arm. "I just stood and watched…"

"What could you have done, Draco?" Hermione asked him. "There was nothing you could have done to stop her."

The memory returned to him; Hermione's screams mixed with Bellatrix's crazed anger. He knew Hermione blocked the memory, but it still haunted her sleep sometimes. He would wake up to her screaming, crying, calling for Harry and Ron who had tried to protect her then. She would whisper Draco's name after he wrapped his arms around her, calming her.

Hermione squeezed his arm, bringing him out of his reverie. He kissed the top of her head and gently traced a finger across the word.

"They're just marks, Draco. Nothing more. They don't define us, they don't tell our stories now either. They're just memories."

He hugged her tightly to him, her back pressing against his chest, and they fell silent. Draco tangled their fingers together and they both looked at their arms. Mudblood and the Dark Mark, side by side, just memories.

A/N: Check out CaptBexx, she is an amazing artist and does some wonderful Dramione fanart (among other fantastic things).

I was having a Harry Potter marathon and when I got to Deathly Hallows pt 1 it reminded me of CaptBexx's art and this short little story came of it! Hope you enjoyed!

~ nerdy