DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

A/N: Every battle leaves scars. Some deeper than others.

BETA: Reeah Noseworthy.

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Chapter 21 – Scars

Ryuu

"Oh, my, my, my! You should be ashamed of yourself! The bone looks like it's been butchered!" Madam Pomphrey tutted.

"Oh yes. I'm deeply sorry that I'm injured." I said tartly, wincing as she pressed a finger into my ankle.

Her brown eyes narrowed. "Don't you play smart with me, Missy. This is going to take some time to fix. C'mon, up."

I hoisted my weight onto my hands and levered myself into a sitting position. The Hospital's tight sheets crumpled under the pressure, in the same manner as my ankle did whenever I moved. I leant my back against the cold metal of the bed frame. Madam Pomphrey had recently given me a salve to ease the ache at the top of my spine, but the gel she'd roughly dabbed on my face was leaving an unpleasant sticky feeling across my nose.

Harry was unconscious in the bed opposite me. He hadn't woken up since the Ministry, but Madam Pomphrey had assured everyone that he was fine, and just needed some rest. She had cleared away most of the cuts and bruises on his face, but the triangular gash on his shoulder had needed some kind of purple mould substance to heal it.

Ron sat in a chair next to his bed, a bandage wrapped around his head, but otherwise fine. Ginny was propped up on the bed next to him, her arm in a sling. Several of her ligaments had been torn just below her shoulder, and it had been bleeding rapidly.

"The bone's been splintered! I'm surprised the cartilage hasn't been damaged. Never, ever try and fix injuries yourself again." She scolded as she poured a bright green liquid into a cup. She handed it to me. "Drink that. Slowly."

I raised the liquid to my lips and took a sip. My tastebuds flared in disgust. "This tastes like anchovies… and, oranges?"

"Just drink it." She said as she inspected the scars lacing my inner left arm.

I obeyed unhappily. Neville, who was in the bed on my right, called out. "Hey, everyone! I can talk again!" He smiled. His new tooth looked exactly the same as his old one. His nose was back to normal too, but slightly pinker.

"That's great Neville." Luna chimed from my left. Her bruises had faded considerably, and she was now having her fingers tended to by Snape. Three of them had been broken by the Death Eater who punched her in the face.

Hermione entered, now completely recovered from the mysterious spell that reduced her to a coma. She placed a cauldron cake on everyone's bedside table and I nodded my thanks. "You feeling better?" she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I felt the meaning behind her lingering stare, but chose to ignore it and motioned towards my ankle. "Not really," I replied smoothly. Hermione merely frowned.

Madam Pomphrey's gaze did not move from my arm. "If you're talking, that means you're not drinking." I rolled my eyes and drank a whole gulp of the green liquid, which I regretted as soon as I had to endure the taste. I ignored Hermione's glance as she walked over to sit next to Ron.

Sunlight blanketed the room through the four high arched windows behind me. Several members of the Order strolled around the rows of beds, some of them bearing injuries, others completely fine. Curious, I reached for the mirror on my bedside table and inspected my face again. The long welt mark from the stinging jinx had almost entirely faded now, there was just a few centimetres at the bottom of my jaw that were still bright red. I looked up as Lupin and Tonks strolled over to where I sat, and returned the mirror to the bedside table. Madam Pomphrey cleaned the dried blood away with her wand as I sipped idly at my disgusting healing potion. Lupin sat in the chair next to my bed and Tonks looked wide eyed at my arm. I quickly spoke before she could question the scars, attempting a smile at Lupin. "Hello there, Professor."

A sideways nod. "How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?"

I laughed and then stopped abruptly as I remembered someone who used to call me Princess. I tore the thought from my mind, desperately rearranging my expression to normal. Thankfully, Lupin missed my hesitation and continued. "Ryuu, what happened?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific – ouch!" Madam Pomphrey mumbled a fleeting apology and painfully pressed her fingers into the scars on my arm again.

Tonks interjected, her hair was now a bright yellow. "He wants to know everything."

I shrugged and prattled on, beginning with our escape from Hogwarts on the thestrals. When I had finished, Lupin sideways-nodded. "I suppose you're wondering what happened to you when the rest of us were under Voldemort's eye contact trance?"

I wasn't used to having adults come up to me, speaking so normally and giving me advice."Well, yeah I was actually," I began, and winced as Madam Pomphrey applied a burning cold grainy mixture to my cuts.

"Well, it seems to me that Bellatrix Lestrange put you under the Imperius Curse." Lupin said carefully, watching for my reaction.

I paused and considered this. "I suppose… she did." I frowned. I hated the thought of someone else controlling me, but obviously Lupin was right. Bellatrix would have seen that I wasn't hypnotised and made sure that I wouldn't interfere. Of course, when she was told to leave she knew that the spell would break as soon as she did. So her next move was to kill me for good measure.

"…Ryuu?"

I looked up at Lupin and realised that I must've been silent for a long time. Hastily, I cleared my throat and returned my attention to my arm, which now felt like it was burning in cold flames.

I caught Lupin's slight smile in my peripheral vision. "You acted well, Ryuu. You managed to resist the Imperius curse and eliminate Bellatrix as an issue. If it wasn't for you, well, who knows what would have happened?"

Feeling awkward, I raised my head and managed a small grin to reassure him. He'd lied though, when he'd said that no one could have foreseen what would have happened if I hadn't chanced upon a plan. We would have died. All of us. Voldemort would have killed us. I repressed a shudder. I didn't much like the responsibility of saving lives. There was too much pressure. Too much depending on my luck and instincts. And I wasn't sure if anyone else realised how freaked out I was in that battle. "Lupin," I blurted out before he could walk away. He turned to me with raised eyebrows. "I'm sorry about Sirius," I finished softly. Sadly, Lupin nodded, and straightened his brown jacket before leaving to check on Harry. Tonks gave me a reassuring wink before she followed.

Madam Pomphrey gasped. "Oh! I'm so sorry, dear!"

I leaned over to look at my arm. "What is it?"

She bit her lip. "I've applied the solution, but, the scars should have cleared away by now! How many times did you use the quill?"

I performed a mental recap in my head. "Exactly thirty nine times." I replied meekly. For Traitor, at least. Outlier had added an extra usage.

She washed her hands in a basin, throwing me a look of pity. "I was afraid of that. If you use those things in excessive amounts, the scars never disappear." As she caught the look on my face, she spoke again quickly. "Oh, but they will fade," She added quickly. "Just, they'll still be… readable."

I looked down at the cuts. Traitor. Somehow, the word fitted. "Oh…"

Madam Pomphrey gave me another pitiful glance before her eyes flickered to the cup in my hands. "Drink up! You need that ankle to heal." she snapped, before bustling away.

Ruefully, I took another sip just as Harry squinted into the bright room around him. He sat up and felt around his bedside table for his glasses, which had been fixed by magic. "What happened?" he asked groggily.

"Well," Ron began, "We got You-Know-Who's spirit out of you, and then we blinded him, and now we're at war with all of his Death Eaters, and Dumbledore wants to have a word with you... also your left knee is sprained."

Harry flexed his fingers and blinked several times. "Brilliant…" he managed to say.

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Draco

"Draco." My mother's voice cooed from the doorway. I looked up to meet her grey stare. She nodded once. "It is time."

I stood and walked out the door but she grabbed my wrist before I could walk ahead of her. "Draco," she whispered, "you don't have to do this."

"Yes. I do." I said as I released myself from her grip and left her behind me. Before I was out of earshot, she said: "The timber. Grip it tight."

There were only three people in the room when I entered. Aunty Bellatrix stood by the fire; I knew she would be the one to wield the poker. She hadn't spoke of what happened at the Ministry, simply that she was sent away, but something about the way she had said it gave me an inkling that she was lying.

My father stood behind the one chair in the room, his lip curled downwards and his eyes strangely wide. He'd cut his hair short a few days ago and already it was beginning to grow unevenly. My mother and I weren't sure why he had done it, but we guessed it was out of stress. He had come back from the Ministry and was severely angry. So angry that he took a knife to his hair and sliced it off. After throwing around several items of furniture, and beating me across the face with his cane, he settled down and sat for two days straight. Without moving, or eating. Eventually, he told my mother all that had happened while I listened carefully behind the door. Mother said he was sick. I knew he was scared.

Sitting in the armchair was the Dark Lord. My parents had prepared me for this moment many times when I younger, the moment when I would finally meet him. But, despite all my training, I felt weak in his presence. I froze as I spied his snake Nagini slithering around the top of the chair. I knew he had a snake as a pet, but not one this big. I couldn't move as I looked at it. Then don't look at it, Draco.

I averted my gaze and instead looked at the Lord's eyes. Mistake. Mother had warned me not to do this at the best of times. And because of recent events, he was very conscious of people looking him in the eye. They used to be red and have hypnotic powers that he'd use on his enemies. But, because of a recent incident at the Ministry, their powers were removed and their colour reduced to a pale white. He could still see, except now he didn't have as much of an effect as he used to.

However, The Dark Lord did not notice my flaw, for he was talking to his snake. I quickly knelt to the ground and bowed my head. "My Lord."

"Rise." he said distractedly, voice high and scathing.

I obeyed and waited for my next command. He finished talking to Nagini and stood. I stared straight ahead as He circled me, prodding me in the back, picking up my left arm, and observing how I held my wand, even staring at me full in the face and watching my reaction. When I kept my features blank, He spoke. "You have shown potential Draco."

I didn't reply. He nodded, accepting that I wasn't foolish enough to answer His statement. He circled me again, flicking His wand between His fingers. "How does it feel… to be chosen when you are only…?"

"Sixteen, My Lord."

"Sixteen!" He cast a glance towards my father and His mouth twisted into what could have been a smile. "So young…"

I nodded, solemnly. "It is an honour, My Lord."

He stopped and stared into my eyes. "Of course it is, Draco. You are about to become the youngest Death Eater in history."

There was a silence around the room as everyone absorbed the information. Then, the Dark Lord clapped His hands at Aunty Bellatrix and she carefully retrieved the poker from the folds of her skirts, and placed the tip into the black flames. The Dark Lord guided me over to the fireplace, and my father swooped over to me and pointed his wand at my mouth.

He whispered a short incantation so I wouldn't bite my tongue, and then finished with "Silenceo." He then pulled out a thick slab of timber from his robes and pressed it firmly in my right palm. He walked away, without saying any words of consolation.

Aunty Bellatrix lifted the poker from the fire. "Alright, sweetie."

I slid the sleeve on my right arm up, so that my pale bare flesh was exposed. The Dark Lord gave her a nod, and she slowly grabbed my wrist, and pressed the poker into my skin.

It burned. The pain seared up my arm, like white hot needles drawing patterns in my flesh. I squeezed my face almost as hard as I pressed my fingers around the piece of wood in my right hand. My nails gouged imprints into the timber, as the pain increased, and I opened my mouth in a silent scream. In my mind I could hear the yells, but no sound came out from my lips. I staggered, but Aunty Bellatrix kept a firm clasp on my wrist and I couldn't move away from the pain.

Finally, she peeled the brander from my skin carefully, checking to see if the imprint was clear. I stood still and endured in silence. If I jolted now, and the tattoo became smudged, it would be cleared away and I would have to do this all again. After a few minutes of this slow process, the poker was finally removed.

She released me and I stumbled back so that I nearly slammed against the door. Regaining my balance, I held my arm straight and watched as the mark went from a burning red to a deep, permanent black. The flesh around the tattoo was a shiny rosy pink colour.

"Congratulations, Draco." The Dark Lord said, as the snake in my Dark Mark slithered.

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Ryuu

"Chicken has never tasted so good." said Ron as he took another bite from the drumstick. I had to agree. After days of hospital food, the Great Hall dinner was irresistible. I broke off another piece of bread and dipped it into my soup.

Harry slurped at his own bowl and I couldn't help staring at him. For the first day since he had came to in the Hospital Wing, he'd barely spoken a word. It was difficult to console someone who was grieving silently. You couldn't tell if the comfort was going to help him or break him apart. But the next morning, after he'd returned from Sirius's burial he'd seemed oddly calm. Throughout the day I'd watched him go through the stages as people offered their condolences. Maybe I'd only seen him in the better times, but to me he seemed to be handling it pretty well. Perhaps he's used to loss. The thought propped up randomly and I felt a pang of sympathy.

We all avoided bringing up his godfather in any form. It had happened awkwardly, once and Harry had left the room after mumbling that he was going to see Hagrid. I didn't know what I was expecting – raging? Fury? But I was thankful that Harry wasn't doing these things. He was behaving – remarkably enough – quite normal. And I could've sworn when I'd first seen him today, that his eyes had looked greener than I'd seen them all year.

I looked around the Great Hall. There were considerably less students seeing as all of the Slytherins had disappeared. Just as I'd told the Order, most of them were Death Eaters now. Lupin walked over from the table where the Order huddled around and joined us. He gave a nod towards Dumbledore at the staff table and then turned his attention back to our little group. "I have some news."

"Good or bad?" Hermione asked him cautiously.

"Good, very good." He said and smiled at us. "First of all, the entire Order Of The Phoenix has asked me to thank you for the work you have done this year at Hogwarts. Both revolutionary, and… secretive." As he said the last word, he glanced at me.

Ron beamed. "Anytime."

Lupin jumped on that comment. "Yes, well that was our thought process exactly. Your efforts were so helpful that we've decided to appoint all four of you as official members of the Order."

"What?" I stammered. Ron and Harry shared a grin as Hermione thanked Lupin for his appreciation, brandishing a modest smile. But I remained frowning. Lupin noticed my lack of thankfulness and questioned. My mind was reeling and I suddenly felt odd. I didn't feel like everything I'd done this year for the Order was something to be rewarded for.There was an awkward quiet and Harry, Ron and Hermione – perhaps noticing my expression - quickly turned back to their meals, still obviously eavesdropping. Lupin focused on me. "Is something wrong, Ryuu?"

My mouth felt very dry as several dozen thoughts whirled through my head at a hundred miles a minute. Lupin's chocolate brown eyes narrowed, and I could see that Hermione had fixed me in one of her considering gases over the top of her goblet. Like I had been for months, I pushed my concerns to the back of my mind and smiled. "No, just surprised I guess."

Lupin raised his glass, and motioned that we all do the same. "A toast. To the newest and youngest members of the Order."

I faked a grin to match everyone else's and skulled my Pumpkin Juice so quickly I choked.

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A/N: Bit of a contrast isn't it? As initiation to the Order it's raising a goblet over a hearty meal. But searing pain, silent screams and a brand being burned permanently into your flesh? Welcome to the Death Eaters sonny. Maybe the real question is who regretted their recruitment more once it was done?