AN: Okay, I got a little excited and wanted to go ahead and post the second chapter. But after that I'm sticking to the Thursday schedule! Routine is important! But here's chapter two early because I love you guys!

-..-

Theodore was struggling to keep his thoughts to himself.

Normally such a thing was easy, especially when he was having dinner with Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. Blaise loved to hear himself talk and could easily hold an entire conversation by himself, with Draco adding in his sarcastic comments. He was usually content to listen as Blaise elaborately described his latest conquest or wild tale, wondering quite often how his friend was still alive.

But today, Theodore wanted nothing more than to talk.

The weight of his appointment with Hermione sat heavy in his mouth, begging him to tell his friends what he had found. Someone could cover their dark marks; such a thing was unheard of and utterly life-changing. Unfortunately, that person was one Hermione Granger - known Gryffindor Golden Girl and sworn nemesis to everyone wearing green and silver. Blaise had never seemed to care either way about her; he had been too caught up in his plans to shag every girl of passable attraction at Hogwarts. But Draco?

Draco had hated Hermione with a passion.

A passion that Theodore had always wondered about. He would never say such a thing out loud, but he had always thought Draco's hatred had stemmed from a jealousy and respect for an enemy of equal intellect and skill. Such praise would never have been voiced, but he had seen it in the looks Draco gave her when she would say something especially clever or cast a spell particularly well.

Whether or not such begrudging respect existed, neither man would probably believe him if he told them about his recent visit. And if they did believe him, he could scarcely imagine the tantrums they would throw.

"Oi, Theo, are you even listening?"

He glanced up at Blaise who was looking rather indignant.

"Sorry, mate, I was lost in thought."

"When are you not?" Draco asked rhetorically.

Theo gave him a wholly unimpressed look. "It's not as if you two ever talk about anything truly important."

Blaise gave an indignant shout. "How can you say that? Everything I talk about is important! And I was just getting to the good part."

"I'm fairly certain I could miss at least half of your stories and still be certain of the fact that you are most likely the easiest man in Wizarding Britain."

"I prefer 'Most Amorous Wizard', thank you very much," Blaise retorted loftily.

Draco raised his drink to toast Blaise's new title. "Only you could find an elegant way to call yourself a man-whore."

"Thank you?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for ignoring you, Blaise. I hadn't realized you held such a lofty position in the eyes of women. Please, do continue."

Blaise gave him a cocky grin. "I will, thank you."

Draco flagged down the waitress, already knowing he would need another drink if he had to listen to Blaise's stories a second time.

"Well you remember that witch I took home last week? The one with the loveliest pair of —"

"Blue eyes?"

Blaise glared at Theo. "Sure, the blue eyes. Well last night," he drawled with a conspiratorial grin. "I picked up a witch at the bar who was all too eager to come home with me. Thankfully, I convinced her we should go back to her place."

"Because if they knew where you lived, one of them would have absolutely murdered you by now." Draco gave him a look daring him to disagree.

"It's just a bit of bachelor wisdom," Blaise said trying to defend himself. "You never bring a bird back to your place before at least the third date."

Theo shook his head. "The way your mind works, Blaise. It baffles me."

"As I was saying," Blaise said loudly, "we went back to her place. We were… getting better acquainted," he said with a wink which made Draco groan. "But we were interrupted when her mother unexpectedly came home."

"That's always a mood killer," Theo said with a wince. A small part of him was nervous for where this story was headed. Knowing Blaise, nothing was off the table.

"Normally it would be - that's usually when I try to make a graceful exit. But as I was searching for my discarded belt, I got a good look at her mother and realized she looked extremely familiar."

"No." Theo shook his head, his facial expression stuck somewhere between horrified and entertained. "You didn't."

"I did," Blaise laughed. "Her mother was the witch with the blue eyes from last week!"

The three of them began shouting over top of each other from both disappointment and excitement, loud enough to draw the attention of most of the other patrons in the restaurant. The waitress came back to make sure everything was alright, gave them their check, and left after being properly wooed by Blaise.

"You're incorrigible," Theo laughed, shaking his head in amazement.

"Don't worry, Theo," Blaise said with a sly grin. "I'll continue to let you live vicariously through me and my incredible tales of conquests."

"How kind of you."

Draco tossed a few galleons on the table and rose to leave. "Are we still on for tomorrow afternoon?"

Blaise gave the waitress a lascivious look. "If I'm not otherwise occupied."

"By tomorrow afternoon?" Draco gave him a disappointed look. "That would just be bad manners. Theo?"

"I will be otherwise engaged," he said apologetically.

"With a witch, by chance?" Blaise wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, but Draco cut him off with a chuckle.

"Please, Blaise, he's the most well-behaved one of the three of us. If he has a date, it would be with a bookstore."

Theo didn't correct him, and allowed them to continue making jokes at his expense. Better they believe he was at a bookstore rather than Hermione's tattoo shop.

—..—

Hermione was quite proud of the design she had created for Theodore's tattoo. Her trash can was littered with discarded ideas and there was a distinct cramp in her right hand, but it was well worth it. She couldn't help but smile at the drawing on her desk.

Quotes from Shakespeare, written in elegant script on what looked to be rolls of parchment, wove through leaves of rosemary and eucalyptus. She had chosen those plants specifically for their healing properties and uses in restorative potions. They were also a lovely shade of perfectly non-Slytherin green. Hermione planned to spell the ink of the quotes so they would fade and be replaced with new ones every so often, the words carefully writing themselves down his arm as though by an invisible quill. She had hastily written a few of her favorite quotes from Shakespeare at the bottom of the page to show him:

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts."

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."

Hopefully he was as much a fan of Shakespeare as she was. The quotes, if her spells worked properly, could be changed and updated later as he chose.

She scoffed quietly. Her spells always worked properly

But if she was being entirely honest with herself, she had a few doubts going into this appointment. As confident as she was in her magical abilities, the thought of working to cover the dark mark made her feel very uneasy. The dark magic Voldemort had used was still largely unexplored and unknown which could make trying to cover it very difficult. She had investigated Theodore's forearm extensively before he had left the day before, but there was no real way of knowing if this would work until they tried it. Such unpredictable, experimental magic was something Hermione would have approved of in school, but she had experienced the relief of having her war scars covered up, and she couldn't deny someone that feeling simply because she was nervous.

So she had tackled the magic head on.

Breaking down every component of what she knew of protean charms and dark marks had been as easy as breathing. Research was something she would never tire of, and although there wasn't a lot of information at her finger tips, Hermione was able to come to her own conclusions and solutions fairly quickly, if she said so herself.

Thankfully, from what she could tell, most of the dark magic in Theodore's forearm had faded after the death of Voldemort. The cruel black had faded to scar tissue over time until it resembled Hermione's 'mudblood' scar: rough, pink skin and white veins of cursed skin running over his arm.

It would hurt, Hermione knew this from experience. Her own scar had felt like she was setting her arm on fire from the inside out when she had tried to get it covered the first time. Powering through, she had managed the three sessions it took to finally hide the scar tissue completely. She hoped, for Theodore's sake, it would be less painful for him.

The sensible side of her brain highly doubted it.

Hermione tried to hide her apprehension behind a smile when Theodore came into her shop the next morning, but she knew it was painted clearly across her face. She had never been good at hiding her emotions. Certainly not on the same level as a Slytherin; Theodore looked so calm she almost wondered if he had forgotten what they were about to do.

"Should I be worried that you are so nervous?"

She blushed slightly and tried to sound reassuring. "No, I'm fairly confident in my abilities and the research I've done." She chewed on her thumbnail and sighed; it was probably best to be honest with him. "I'm worried it will be quite painful."

He nodded calmly, though she noticed a hint of apprehension in his gaze. "I assumed as much."

"And you still want to do it?"

"Of course." He shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "I know we were never friendly in school, but I saw enough to know I can trust you."

Hermione's eyes widened comically. A Slytherin trusting her was not something she ever thought could happen. "You do?"

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Yeah, so you had better not take off my hand or anything with your fancy new magic."

She returned his smile, this time with more confidence. "I won't, you're left hand is safe with me."

"Only the left one?"

"I make no promises," she said with a wink. "I've already got the room set up, so we can get started if you're ready."

Theodore followed her into one of the rooms set off the main room. It was fairly small, but the decorations she had put up made it feel cozy.

"Are these your designs?" he asked while gesturing to the artwork hung on the walls.

"Most of them." She pointed to one full of flowers and pastel colors that looked almost like a photo of a garden. "That one is from one of my muggle friends. She gave it to me before I came back."

He took his time examining all the drawings before he finally took a seat in the large chair in the center of the room.

"Just as a warning, the chair will recline so you'll be slightly leaned back. You can position it in whatever way makes you the most comfortable." She pointed to the levers on the side and showed him how to use them. "Keep in mind, this will take a while, possibly several sessions, so you'll want to find a position that you can sit in for a while."

Theodore made himself comfortable and watched as Hermione went about the room setting up the equipment she would need.

She had designed her tattoo gun herself using a combination of muggle and magical techniques. The gun had a clip on the side next to the tip and grip in which she would set her wand. This allowed her to maneuver the gun properly while also powering it with her magic, mixing the magic and ink together so they were woven together seamlessly. Although she was able to work around the lack of electricity, the tattoo gun still made a humming noise reminiscent of the muggle version purely for her own nostalgia rather than necessity.

He watched in fascination as she cleaned his forearm carefully with a cool cloth and set out the ink pots she wished to use. He almost smiled when she took a deep, steadying breath.

"Are you ready?"

"Are you asking me or yourself?"

She gave him a dry look and swatted his arm. "I was asking you, but I'll take that as a yes."

The process was more painful that Hermione and Theodore had anticipated.

She tried to alternate between the scarred skin of his forearm and the less sensitive skin on the back side of his arm, but they found themselves having to take frequent breaks so he could rest.

It frustrated Theodore to appear so weak, regardless of how sympathetic Hermione tried to be. He knew she wasn't pitying him, but it was close enough to make him grind his teeth together. Every grunt and pained moan was a personal insult.

"I'm going to work mainly on your outer arm, and we can move back to the scar tissue when you're ready." She kept her gaze on his arm hoping it would help with his discomfort. She knew his need to come across as aloof was giving him a great deal of grief, and she wanted to do what she could to keep him as relaxed as possible. "We can come back to it another day if we need to," she said tentatively.

Theodore shook his head and said roughly, "No, I want to finish it today if we can." He grabbed the glass of water Hermione had gotten him during one of their breaks and swiftly downed the rest of its contents. Oh how he wished it were firewhiskey.

"Then I'm going to try and push through it, and you let me know if you need another break, okay?"

He nodded again and clenched his fist tightly around the glass as she moved back towards his dark mark. He had never hated the cursed thing more than in this moment. Years had past and it still caused him so much pain. So much anger and shame. He needed to be rid of it regardless of how much it hurt.

His breath caught when she went over a particularly sensitive spot and he swore stars burst across his vision. Only a few more moments, he thought as he tried to push past the pain. Was he breathing?

Hermione tried her best to keep her hand steady and use as gentle a touch as possible, but her insides were shaking with the knowledge that she was causing him so much pain. She could see it in the tightness of his jaw and the twitching of the strained muscles of his arms. He was doing an impressive job of hiding it, but she knew her magic was excruciating and that made her queasy.

Neither of them spoke as the minutes, or perhaps hours, slowly ticked by.

Finally, Hermione sighed out a long breath and let a slightly shaky smile spread across her lips.

"I'm finished."

Theodore stared, gaze unblinking, at his transformed arm. He had watched the entire process, every step as Hermione had worked so diligently cover his mark, and yet he still couldn't comprehend what he was looking at.

It was gone.

There was no trace, no outline, nothing to indicate he'd ever had a dark mark staining the skin of his arm. In it's place was the most beautiful mosaic of leaves and words he had ever seen. He turned his arm this way and that, amazed at how easily it wrapped around and covered the skin from his wrist to his elbow. He ran a finger over the ink, surprised he couldn't feel it at all. He let his finger drift over the skin the dark mark had once occupied and marveled at the lack of pain, heat, or swelling that he had grown so used to.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he looked up at Hermione. He was unsure if they were from the pain that still echoed under his skin or from the relief that was sweeping through his body, but he supposed they were what some would call 'good tears'.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice breaking partway through the words. "Thank you so much."

Hermione smiled, her own tears trickling down her cheeks. "I'm so glad it worked, Theodore. I'm so glad it…" She sniffled a little and swiped at her eyes. "Thank you for letting me help you."

He stood quickly and pulled her into a tight hug. He hoped he could somehow convey the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him: awe, surprise, relief, and most of all freedom. He squeezed her a little tighter before stepping back and smiling at the surprise in her eyes. "You have created something incredible, Hermione, and I'm honored to be a part of it."

She nodded in thanks, touched by his words but unable to speak through her renewed crying.

Theodore quickly hugged her once more then made his way quickly out of the shop. Hugs were one thing, but he was still a Slytherin and refused to be seen crying in earnest, especially in public. He made his way to the nearest apparition point, his mind whirling and unfocused on where his feet were taking him, too overcome by the myriad of emotions he felt. He paused for only a moment before turning sharply and apparating away with a sharp 'crack'.

He landed in the middle of Draco's flat in front of a very startled Blaise and Draco.

"Theo, mate, you couldn't use the floo?" The grin on Draco's face slowly faded into a look of concern as he took in the man standing before him.

Theodore's shoulders were stiff, a tremor running through his body and causing his hands to shake. His chest was heaving with each ragged breath his lungs struggled to take in. Tear tracks stained his cheeks. He had been crying when he left the store, he realized in surprise.

"Theo?" Blaise asked quietly.

Draco slowly rose to pour Theo a glass of firewhiskey while Blaise kept a sharp eye on their friend. It had been a long time since they had seen him so shaken, and it had the both of them feeling nervous.

Theo swiftly downed the glass of firewhiskey Draco handed him and placed it carefully on the coffee table. He stared at the crystal glass for a few moments, collecting his thoughts, steadying his breathing, and grounding himself before finally looking up at his two friends.

"She can do it."

Neither of them spoke, waiting for him to elaborate.

"She can do it," he said again, this time with more conviction. His throat felt tight, and his eyes burned from the tears he fought to hold back. "She can cover them."

Blaise and Draco exchanged a nervous glance, and Blaise asked quietly, "Who can cover what, mate?"

Theo began rolling up his left sleeve which caused Blaise to lurch to his feet to try and stop him. He jerked his arm away, shoved the cuff of his sleeve over his elbow, and then held out his arm for them to see.

Draco let out a strangled sound, and Blaise dropped his glass which shattered on the floor. No one moved to clean it up as all eyes remained fixed on Theo's forearm.

His dark-mark-free, tattooed forearm.

"How?" Blaise whispered. He grabbed onto Theo's arm and rubbed his thumb over the skin, as though the leaves and words painted there could be scrubbed away by the slightest touch.

"Magic ink." Theo looked over at Draco who had a white-knuckled grip on his whiskey glass and whose face had taken on a ghostly pallor. "It's something muggles do, but she's mixed it with magic."

"Who has?" Draco snapped. He hadn't intended to sound so angry, but the fear he felt was too sharp to push away. Fear that this wasn't real, that if he blinked the mark would be back. Fear that it just wasn't possible.

Theo pushed past Blaise and grabbed Draco by the shoulders. He met his gaze firmly and let a few tears slip through and roll down his cheeks. "She can do it, Draco. It's real," he said in a raspy whisper, knowing the truth of the act was more important than the person who had done it.

Draco's eyes widened a fraction more and drifted down to Theo's arm again. He took in the colors, the designs, the words; amazed that something so beautiful could take the place of something they had hated for so long. "Who can do it, Theo?"

Theo inhaled a deep breath, knowing the reaction he would get and dreading it. But the dread was washed away by the wonder and relief he had been drowning in since he had arrived. Drowning in the best way and never wanting to surface. He smiled through his tears as he said,

"Hermione Granger."