Draco knelt on the floor of he and Harry's shared flat, the door locked. He took a shaky breath and stared at the Dark Mark tattooed to his forearm blankly, gripping the knife in his hand even tighter. It was like a blemish, marring his pale skin. He had to get rid of it; he needed to get rid of it.

He lifted the knife and placed it on his arm, hesitating. This was dangerous. He didn't know what would happen if he tried to get rid of. There was a reason why Harry didn't know what he was doing.

He hardened his resolve and made the first cut, accidently going deeper than he intended and biting back a moan of pain. Yes, he knew that there were less painful ways of removing tattoos, but the pain somehow felt right. He deserved the agony.He brought the knife down again and slid it across his forearm, and he couldn't help the low groan of pain that left his mouth.

Already a chunk of his arm was missing, but there also was no Dark Mark left on his skin. It was only this fact that kept him going. He raised the knife; his blood covered hand shaking slightly, and cut out another large chunk of his flesh and the tattoo. The agony he felt was nearly unbearable, and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when he squeezed them shut.

There was still a quarter of the tattoo left, and Draco was beginning to feel dizzy from the pain and blood loss. He dug the knife into his skin and cut away the rest of the tattoo. The pain was simply too much for him to bear. He gasped and groaned loudly, flinging the paring knife as far away from him as possible and cradling his arm against him, his blood everywhere.

There was a loud knock at the door, and Harry's voice shouted, "Draco, what are you doing?"

When Draco didn't respond, he heard his boyfriend mutter, "Alohomora." The door swung open, and Harry came running into the bathroom, his expression unreadable.

"What did you do?" Harry asked in fear, an undertone of anger coloring his voice. He dropped to his knees, staring at Draco's bloody arm in horror. "What did you do?"

"I-I had to g-get rid of it," Draco said with determination, a lump of tears resting in his throat. Harry looked at him for a moment, and Draco looked away, afraid to face his boyfriend. Suddenly, warm arms were wrapped around him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," Harry whispered into his ear. "Tell me next time. Don't hurt yourself."

Draco couldn't hold his tears back any longer. He was immediately sobbing into Harry's shoulder, and Harry was rubbing his back, whispering soothing words. Draco knew he wasn't very pretty when he cried; it was all snot and tears and gross sobbing noises. But Harry didn't seem to mind Draco getting his sweater wet.

"Let's get you bandaged up, then," Harry said quietly. He helped Draco up and half carried him to the kitchen, where their Essence of Dittany, along with bandages, was stored.

Harry poured a few droplets of Dittany onto Draco's arm, and they watched as green smoke billowed up from the wound. When it cleared, the bleeding had stopped and new flesh had stretched itself over the wound. Harry then began to wrap white bandages tightly around Draco's forearm, the blonde hissing in pain occasionally.

"You're an idiot," Harry stated as he secured the bandage to Draco's arm. "You shouldn't have done that."

Draco stayed silent, guilt dropping in his stomach like a block of iron. Harry went to make some tea, and Draco could see that his hands were shaking as he reached up to open the cupboard. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I had to do it."

Harry turned around, looking irritated. "There are other ways you could have removed it, Draco! You could have avoided hurting yourself!"

Draco looked down at the floor, slightly ashamed. "What if I told you that I wanted to hurt myself?"

Harry seemed to freeze as he was putting the water on to boil. "What?"

Draco looked up at him almost pleadingly from his place on the chair. "I needed to feel pain, I deserved it, Harry! All that mark was, was a reminder of what kind of person I am!" he squeezed his eyes shut, and tears began to trail down his face. He bent his head down low. "I still don't see how you could even begin to love me!"

Harry quickly set down the pot and came to kneel in front of Draco, placing a finger under his chin and raising his head up until he was looking into his gray eyes. "But I do love you, Draco. I love you for you, and that's all that matters." He said it with such honesty and passion that Draco couldn't think up a better argument than, "You deserve better."

Harry half-smiled at Draco and made a disbelieving noise. "No, Draco. I love you, and no one else. I don't even care about how sappy that sounds, because it's true. I. Love. You."

Harry grabbed Draco's forearm and ran his fingers over the bandages. "I don't care about this. This is in the past. You've changed, Draco. It's the present, and I love you."

Draco stared at Harry, his eyes wide and shocked. "I love you too."

Harry grinned and kissed his boyfriend, happy that they had crossed that boundary. Draco had made a step forward, away from Voldemort and the Great War, and that made Harry extremely pleased. Draco never seemed to believe that Harry loved him, and Harry was set on changing that thought.

Draco smiled into the kiss, and he could feel the stretch of Harry's grin against his lips. He ignored the throbbing in his arm and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck.

Maybe he could put Voldemort in the past, as long as he had Harry there to guide him through it.