EWE, AU in that Snape lives, etc., etc.

The Case of the Irremovable Mark

Prompt: drawn

Severus stared gloomily down at the black ink embedded in his forearm. Contrary to popular belief, the Dark Mark had not faded away with Voldemort's death. At least, not his. He hadn't bothered to check in with any of the "old crowd" to find out whether theirs had or not. He supposed most of them were dead or in Azkaban, anyway.

"I can refer you to a magical tattoo specialist," the young Healer offered, breaking Severus from his melancholy thoughts. "She's the best in the business, blew through Healer training in less than two years—"

"Yes, yes, bloody fantastic. I'll see her, even if I don't know what good it will do."

"Excellent! I'll make the arrangements. Hermione's a good friend of mine so I don't doubt she'll be able to squeeze you in ahead of some of her other clients—"

"What did you say?" Severus could barely get the words out past his clenched teeth. The Healer stopped mid-sentence, cocking his head and looking utterly confused. Severus decided to clarify. "Her name. What is her name?"

"Oh! Hermione Granger. Reckon you had her while she was at Hogwarts, actually. I'll owl you with an appointment date, Mr. Snape. Have a great day!" The young man bustled out, leaving Severus to drop his head into his hands.

"Bloody fucking hell."

Severus tried, for the fourth time, to enter the nondescript doorway leading to Hermione Granger's shopfront, bizarrely named Avada Inkdavra. Still, his feet refused to carry him inside. His mental tirade waged on: allowing the chit to help would mean admitting defeat, and yet she was the only solution to a problem he desperately wanted solved. Exhaling slowly through his nose, Severus finally managed to propel himself inside.

The interior was as far from what he'd expected as could be. Instead of a sterile waiting room, the lobby appeared to be located in the middle of a glen, with flowers blooming and sunlight streaming through the...ceiling? Looking more closely, Severus grudgingly admitted that whoever had designed the space was a dab hand at Charms and Transfiguration. He supposed that answered his question about whether "Hermione Granger, Healer" was the same as "Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Know-It-All." He had been holding out hope that perhaps the name was a popular one among females of her age.

"Hello, sir, how may I—oh." Her voice even sounded the same as he remembered, if slightly less girlish. Turning slowly to face her, Severus hoped his best disinterested mask was firmly in place. Since waking up in St. Mungo's over eight months ago, he had had zero contact with those he'd known before. He wasn't sure how someone who'd known him rather well would react to the new version of himself—scars and all.

"Miss Granger. I believe Healer Manno informed you of my visit?"

Hermione's eyes stopped roving over him, returning to his face while her cheeks pinkened ever so slightly. Still, she showed no visible signs of disgust or disdain, for which he reluctantly credited her.

"Yes! Howard told me all about your situation—here, come this way and we can get started. I cleared all my other appointments for today so you don't have to worry about anyone else bustling in."

The girl marched off towards a back room, aiming her wand over her shoulder to lock the main door as she went. She chattered all the while, explaining that she hoped he didn't think her too bold, but she'd assumed he wouldn't want to be mobbed by a crowd, and to be honest she wasn't sure how long their session would take so she didn't want any other interruptions. Impressed despite himself, Severus followed her silently, letting her words wash over him.

"Now. Have a seat and let's take a look—please," she amended when she turned to face him and saw that he was standing stock still in the doorway. "My apologies, Professor; sometimes I forget how bossy I can come off—oh, is it still Professor? I confess I don't quite know how to address you."

She tilted her head at him and the earnestness in the brown depths of her eyes disarmed him rather than agitated him. Surprised by this revelation, Severus entered the treatment room fully and sat, deciding to be civil.

"Severus will suffice," he rasped, cursing the snake that had taken one of his greatest weapons—his voice.

"Of course. Well then. It feels peculiar for you to call me Miss Granger if I'm not to call you Professor, doesn't it? Hermione is fine," she babbled, smiling at him in a way he was certain she meant to be reassuring. She ruined the atmosphere when she snapped a pair of white plastic gloves onto her small hands with surgical precision, however. "Shall we?"

Hermione pointed at his arm, and he slowly began to roll back his sleeve. The girl watched almost greedily as more of the Dark Mark was revealed, and Severus felt an odd sensation—almost as if he was watching, unbeknownst to her, while she did something private. In fact, as he finished with his sleeve and Hermione bent to examine the tattoo, he had the distinct impression that she had forgotten he was there.

The girl looked at the ink from nearly all directions before summoning a pad of paper and a light on a flexible pole. She focused the beam on his arm and began to dictate furiously to her parchment, mutterings that he only caught snippets of. Then she withdrew a tiny camera and began to snap photos.

"Miss—Hermione. What—"

"Oh! Dreadfully sorry, Severus, I should have asked first. Is it alright if I take some pictures? Purely for my records, of course; I would never dream of distributing—"

"Yes, yes, fine." He waved his right hand dismissively, agreeing mostly out of a desire to simply shut her up again. Painful as it was to admit, he was quite enjoying watching her become completely absorbed in her work. In him.

And absorbed she was. For the next ten minutes, she poked, prodded, and made copious amounts of notes, pausing only to ask a question or his permission for some other test. And Severus was enthralled. In school, the girl had been too focused on doing things perfectly. Here, now, she appeared to be exploring and testing for the sake of testing, enjoying the free reign he had given her and the challenge he presented. And there was no denying he presented a challenge.

"—not sure, really, but you're the only one whose hasn't disappeared, at least that we're aware of. I wonder—"

Then she was off again, postulating and striking down theories more or less to herself. Severus was content to sit back and observe her work. It had become clear early on in his appointment with her that his Dark Mark was, in fact, the only one that hadn't faded with Voldemort's death. He'd also learned that apparently Hermione had treated several of the Death Eaters in Azkaban. And now here she was, happily attempting to remove his mark, despite his less-than-cordial history with her. The Sorting Hat had chosen well, it seemed.

"—next Thursday?"

Severus shook himself and looked up into the eager face of his former pupil. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if next Thursday would be convenient for you to come back. I need to do some additional reading before I attempt any real spells, you see, because I don't want to cause you any more pain than you've already been through. It's entirely possible this will take several appointments, actually, so I understand if you're not comfortable—"

"Thursday is acceptable." Feeling churlish for his curt response and unsure why that was, Severus rose awkwardly to his feet and swept out of the office without looking back.

A/N: Unbeta'd little one-shot idea that decided it wanted to be more than one chapter…more to come! I wanted to get my Severus/Hermione juices flowing again so bear with me.

Not JK Rowling.