Disclaimerus! Not mine, never will be.
Marked
The pain seared through his skin, touching his very soul.
Muscles contracted, pulled taut by the stress like the sail of a boat, straining and flexing under the pressure a gale that came and went; each time the man who stood over him paused it was as if drifting into the doldrums, and then the pain would raise its head once more and agony would overcome any other thoughts in his mind.
The blond supposed he should be grateful that the white hot sting from the pain was restricted to his arm; his left arm, which was once a pristine, alabaster hue but was clean no longer. The mark that had marred him both inside and out was the deepest black, an endless pit that practically writhed against his flesh. The skull and snake of the Dark Mark was permanent; not even the Dark Lord's death would remove the stain of his overlordship and power, though the Darkness that had resided there dulled considerably.
Three nights it had taken. Three nights of suffering and then the pain had subsided, leaving the lithe, pale wizard weak and sore, overflowing with a torrent of emotions and a bombardment of his senses. Exhaustion, residual pain, fear, relief, and, hiding, in the very depths of his being was a final hint of freedom. He could almost taste it; foreign and exotic and overwhelming.
The burly man released his hold on the instrument, wiping it clean and gently placing it down upon the table beside him.
"It's done." He informed the blond, who would have, once, sneered and been prepared to throw an insult at the other fellow. Today, however, he merely glanced neutrally at the man and nodded in response, handing over payment with his right hand. The left was still too sore to move, and he struggled to don his tee-shirt.
Managing his task, he stood gracefully and left the establishment, moving silently and with a stealth that belied his wealthy appearance as he vanished under the soft lights that illuminated the street.
OoO
A muggle pub was the place the blond assumed to be the least likely location for him to run into any acquaintances, but as his luck would have it, he was no sooner in the door and ordering heavy liquor than he heard a voice from nearby call out to him.
It was Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, with whom Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin, had had little contact during their school years.
Terry was different, though his hair remained brown, besides that one streak of blue at the back which had always annoyed the Slytherin girls, like Daphne, who spent the majority of their time rating the male students by order of attractiveness and wealth.
He had a brow piercing, and one on his lip, too (both new additions since Draco had last glimpsed him at the Graduation Ceremony) and the ex-Ravenclaw was playing with his empty glass, but watching the blond intently. He gestured to the empty seat beside him.
Draco, for myriad reasons, none of which he could accurately place, complied quietly, trying not to bump his arm against any of the other patrons, and hissing sharply when he didn't quite manage it. The action and the retraction of his left arm drew Terry's attention, and the other man furrowed his eyebrows questioningly.
Draco turned his body to reveal the abused flesh.
The once unblemished skin of the aristocratic blond Malfoy heir was covered in black ink, a stark contrast with his white limb. The tattoo covered the entirety of his left arm, disguising the evil presence of the Dark Mark amongst the curves and lines of the Maori design chosen for that very purpose.
"The muggles don't judge me when they see it." Draco said quietly to Terry, making sure the muggle patrons and bartender couldn't hear him. "To them it is just a mark; perhaps a choice, perhaps a mistake."
Terry didn't say anything back, he didn't need to, but he ordered for them both and they sat in a silence that was almost companionable in the greasy muggle pub on the High Street. Occasionally, Terry would say something that was on his mind, and if it struck Draco to do so, he would answer. Terry was looking for a roommate; he worked in a Wizarding comic book shop; he was awful at cleaning charms; Terry talked about himself, because he knew Draco could listen, even if he didn't want to say anything else.
When the hour ticked past one, Terry stood, remarkably sober for all the alcohol he'd consumed, and looked over at the blond. "Take care of yourself, Malfoy." He said by way of farewell and extended his hand. "I'll see you around."
Draco shook it firmly and kept an eye on the brown head with its blue streak as the ex-Ravenclaw made his way out of the pub and back to wherever it was he called home.
Home. Draco currently was still living in the Manor, though it gave him no joy and almost all of his good memories had been tainted by the presence of the deranged Dark Lord who had decided to set up Head Quarters there, destroying any hominess the manor had ever cultivated.
He didn't fancy going back there tonight, not after finally grasping some of that freedom and success with the completion of his inking.
Throwing some money down, he cut through the dwindling throng of people and ran out into the street.
"Boot." He called out, seeing his drinking partner just ahead of him, walking slowly under the light of the street lamps. "If you're looking for a roommate, I'd be interested in filling out an application."
Terry turned around and waited for the blond to catch him up.
"It's in a muggle neighbourhood, but the apartment is magical. Rent is a hundred and twelve Galleons a fortnight. Each." He explained.
"I can handle that." Draco affirmed. "I need to leave the Manor, and this an opportunity."
"Excellent. You may as well come now, there's plenty of stuff set up, and a bed in what used to be the guest room." Terry offered, and started to walk again. "It's not far, just round the corner a little way."
Draco followed seconds later and loped to catch up to the brown haired man. Things were looking up: he had a place to live that wasn't the Manor; the Dark Mark wasn't staring up at him as it used to do, reminding him of his traumatic teenage years and bad decisions, and he had found someone, a magical person, who wasn't judging him for things that had been taken out of a sixteen year old boy's control.
Woo. I love Terry. Even more than Draco. But I like Draco too ^_^ and I think it'd be cool if Draco got a tattoo to hide the Dark Mark. Haha.
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