I wake the next morning flat on my back, feeling Granger's hair tickle. Opening my eyes, she's got her chin resting on my chest, watching me.
"Finally."
I lift an eyebrow, trying to catch up. "Are we late for something?"
She shakes her head, her hair tickling my skin again, and then I feel her hand under the covers. As light as air, she traces from the tip of my cock down to the base and it gives a hard morning throb. Oh.
Well, far be it from me to deny her, but I'm still speechless as she leans in and says, "Please?"
I don't know if it's Granger or I who moves her onto her back, me between her legs. I reach down to feel her and she widens for me, tilting one knee out to the side and nestles herself into the pillows. I move my fingers inside her gently, the way she likes. Her knees come up to give me better reach, but also so she can move her hips against my hand as she whimpers.
I attach my mouth to her nipple, pert and pebbled in front of my face and her hand forms a full fist around my cock. I wasn't anticipating it and gasp against her breast. She's bolder this morning, more comfortable, and starts to work me on her own, rocking her hips into my fingers as she moves her hand in the same rhythm.
She whispers something that sounds like "Fuck, Draco," her head to one side, her hair over her face. I move it for her and tip her chin back to centre.
"Can I see you?" I ask softly, and Granger winces slightly in shyness before giving me a breathless nod.
She knows how to touch me perfectly, and now she reaches her second hand down to feel my balls, achingly placed, and I have to bite down on my cheek. I won't last long, not like this, and I rededicate myself to feeling how wet she is, how close she is.
She's starting to stutter her movements a little, tilting back gently and forward with more force, taking a little more time with each rocking motion. She gives a little cry of, "Oh, please…" as I curl my fingers into her as she rocks down, joining her motion with my own, and my cock throbs in her hands.
She's still looking at me, and I press my forehead to hers as I curl again. Her eyes close briefly, almost a flutter, before they reopen and meet mine.
Her hand on my cock is getting less rhythmic, almost desperate, and I take over.
"Look at me," I whisper to her, since both my hands are now occupied, and she nods. Her eyes are dilated, almost black, her mouth open in a small O.
I feel her begin to clench around my hand and I grip my cock tighter. She comes down on my hand hard, almost harsh, once, twice. I let my fingers scrape against her as she starts to cry out.
As she forces down on my nimble fingers a third time, her eyes meet mine.
They cringe at the edges, tightening, inverse to the opening of her mouth, and finally, she has to close them as they roll back, her hips spasming once, twice. I feel her hot slick on my fingers, and withdraw them from her slowly, watching her pant as I replace the hand on my cock with my wet one. I trace my dripping fingers up and down my own twitching length before gripping it again and finishing myself.
Granger lays there for twelve entire seconds before rolling to the edge of the bed and standing, reaching for clothing. "Ready to work?"
No. No, I am not. I want to wrap back around her and go back to sleep for another hour, at a minimum. I reach for her wrist and she dances away. "You can sleep a little more. I'm going to shower. Then you can shower, or you can get out of bed now and shower with me."
I raise my eyebrows at the offer, surprised, and Granger gives me a mischievous grin. That'll do it. I'm perfectly well satisfied for the time being, but I want to spend every possible second with her. Being naked in the shower at the same time is only a bonus.
She still beats me to it, far perkier than I am and I'm mid-yawn when I finally step into the shower. It cuts off abruptly as I hiss at the water temperature. "Merlin, this water is hot," I complain. "Is this how you always shower?"
"High risk, high reward," she teases me over her shoulder, already shampooing her hair. I can't argue too much with that. Even if her back is to me, this is the first time she's been openly naked around me, standing in full lighting and letting her self-conscious outer layer down. I lean down to kiss the side of her neck and taste a smattering of soapy water for my effort.
"I need to go to the park today," I tell her as I wash my own hair. "I need to make sure Severus knows about the plan to attack Dunrobin on Saturday night, and I'll check in on Blaise. Give him the same update."
Granger nods, rinsing her hair out. I'm fully done with mine and she's still laboriously getting shampoo out of hers, manipulating it this way and that so the water reaches it all. "Maybe I'll see if your mother wants to have tea with me this morning."
She turns to face me fully and immediately holds a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. She fails.
"Yes, I'm going to need you to do something about this," I say, waving a hand at my thatch of green pubic hair.
"Well, we're the only two who know it's there," she giggles.
This is true. Even so. "Thank the gods, but I can't have you laughing every time you look down. Bad for morale."
She looks at me seriously, now. "You could just get rid of it."
What? I blink a couple of times.
"You should get rid of it," she confirms, giving me an appraising look, before grabbing the conditioner and turning back around.
I scarcely let myself even think a teeny hope about what she's implying. She isn't. She wouldn't want to. She's never done it. And besides, we really just got started having shared naked fun time last night. I'm just happy that she's comfortable enough to be in here with me right now.
"Granger, if you want it green, I'll leave it green. If you want it gone, I'll shave it. Whatever you fancy. Just try to stop laughing at it, if you can."
She turns back to me, working the conditioner into her hair at the scalp. The way her breasts move with it, high and tight, sends heat straight back down my body. I don't want to make her awkward by staring, so I clear my throat and grab for the soap but she steps towards me, her eyes dark.
"No more laughing," Granger says, winding her hands behind my neck and pulling me down to her. "I promise."
Running my hands down her sides and out her flared hips, I kiss her. She leans into me, deepening it, pressing herself against my chest and I realise she wants to go again.
I remember her appetite for this from the park and I shove it away violently. What we used to do has no place here. Well, I don't think I can go again this soon, but I'm more than happy to take good care of her. Moving to kiss her neck, I turn her around so her back is to me and I palm one breast, gently tugging at the nipple.
Granger sighs and wriggles against me. I'm cursing our height difference, but it's probably for the best that her arse isn't pressed right up against my cock - sleepy though it is at the moment. She winds her hands up and behind my neck again, her back arching slightly and my other hand slips between her legs.
"Yes, please," she breathes, her eyes closed. "Gods, what you can do with your hands."
Happy to help, I think again, sliding a finger into her heat and her breath catches. Everything in this shower is hot; our skin is angry and red, steam billowing, but I don't need the water or its temperature to know that she's wet.
She leans backward, giving me her weight and I consider sliding us to the floor. I don't. I want to support her as she comes, her toes curling, limp in my arms. This angle is easy, her in front of me and I can tell she's still sensitive. I keep my thumb's pressure on her nerves gentle, using only two fingers inside and Granger makes soft noises with each curl.
Pressing my mouth against her throat, I can feel her pulse point. I suck on it lightly and she tilts her head, rolling it back onto my shoulder. I'm surprised how tantalising it is to feel her pulse beneath my lips, speeding up with her faster breathing. I give it a light clasp between my teeth and a small cry escapes her mouth.
Her hands are still twisted behind my neck, clutching my hair in little fists, and she writhes against my body.
While I'm slicking my fingers gently in and out, Granger finally says, "More. Please."
Her legs are becoming less supportive, making it harder for me to move my fingers inside her. But it increases the pressure I have on her clit as her weight settles on my hand and she gives another cry. I grip my other arm around her front, wrapping it to her opposite waist and hike her up my body slightly. I can hold her like this and keep what I'm doing between her legs steady.
Granger's frustrated, though, unable to move her own friction the way she usually likes. "Ah, ah," I whisper into her ear. "I've got you," and the exhaled moan that comes out of her mouth ripples straight down my stomach.
My fingers circle and curl, press and glide, and she's practically boneless. I rest my lips back on her pulse point, which is fluttering like a bird. At last, her breath hitches and I feel her abdomen tighten as she folds into my touch the only way she can.
She clenches around my fingers in waves as I give one firm push directly on her clit. Gasping for air, her head hangs back and I gently put her feet back on the ground, testing tentatively to see if she's going to slump down into a puddle under the spray of the water.
She doesn't, but it's a near thing and I can't hide a satisfied smile. "How did you get so good at that?" she exhales, still breathing heavily.
My smile becomes a smirk before I can stop it. "It's not that hard."
While Granger grabs a towel for her hair, she grumbles in return, "You'd be surprised," and maybe I would be.
On my way back from the owlery, returning the five rejected wands to Morocco and sending off a couple of letters from Granger, I'm aiming for the Floo when I run into my mother.
She nearly lets me pass without stopping but grabs my elbow at the last second. "Draco, dear."
I look at her inquiringly, but all she says is, "I hope you're being careful. About Hermione."
A half dozen scenarios run through my mind. Does Narcissa know about the wand I got for her? Surely she's put together that Granger's been using my wand whenever she needs it for weeks now, so what's the difference? Is my father due to be home today?
"With Hermione," she emphasises awkwardly, not wanting to meet my eyes. Ah. "If you need - er, something - for it, please -"
I don't want to meet hers either as I say in a rush, "Mother, I've been handling that area of my life for quite some time. I'm not a child. But you don't have to worry. Granger hasn't - we aren't going to - don't worry about -"
We're both relieved when I change the subject and keep walking. "I think she'd like to have tea with you this morning while I'm out. Please don't mention this topic."
I throw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and vanish on the spot, hot under the collar.
Snape was aware of the Resistance's plans but seems pleased I thought to bring news to him regardless.
"So she's in communication with Ginny."
"She's in communication with anyone she wants to be, provided she thinks about what gets put in writing. And she does."
"How are things going at the Manor?" he asks, and since Severus never asks things to make polite small talk, I know he wants more than a 'fine.'
"My father has been gone a long time now. That keeps things far less tense. Granger and I work in the lab every day."
"Has she figured it out yet?" His black eyes are piercing.
"I did, actually," I tell him with a touch of defiance. "But she's working on what she hopes is the final arithmancy. I'm sure she'd like to discuss it with you, if you can come back by."
He nods without comment.
"I don't know if I should be offended that you were trying to give her a way out without me knowing."
Snape looks at me, plainly annoyed. "I didn't know how things were going to go over there, between the two of you. And she deserves a chance, don't you agree?"
"Very much. In fact, she has a brand new wand." At his sharp expression, I clarify. "Yew and dragon heartstring."
He considers this. "An interesting combination. Her time here has affected her."
"Yes, but her previous wand was also made with dragon heartstring. And it's not surprising; she's always been able to make the hard decisions when they're needed. She'll go Dark for the right reasons. Her strategies for the Resistance during the war showed that well enough."
Snape nods again absently and I change the subject. My mother wouldn't answer this question, but Severus doesn't need to know that.
"Do you know where my father is?"
"Scotland," he says simply, and I could have guessed that much. I roll my eyes.
"Helping fortify Dunrobin Castle, perhaps?" If Lucius is and Snape knows about it, he might be passing the knowledge along about what types of fortifications, where, and by whom.
"In a manner of speaking," he replies cryptically and I give up. Seeing my frustration, Severus provides a little more with reluctance. "The Dark Lord is considering moving locations. Pembroke Castle in Wales is being discussed as a possible alternative."
I'm savagely split down the middle with alarm and relief. The ticking clock over my head might run a little longer. Having nothing but a few days left with Granger has been tugging on me more than I can admit.
But a full relocation, after the Resistance has been fully embedded in the little towns and villages around Dunrobin, learning the castle and the routines around it, would be a catastrophic setback. Not just for Granger.
Blaise, stuck in the park even longer as Potter, every day a roll of the dice.
"Lucius, among others, is trying to convince him to stay; that it's safe and well defended. I don't imagine he'll be returning as long as the Dark Lord's mind isn't made up one way or the other."
"Have you told Blaise any of this? I'd like to see him while I'm here."
Snape rises from his chair. "He knows, and I occasionally visit him in there, too. He's doing alright; as well as can be expected. I'll put you into a fic with him. Going to the physical dormitory would raise eyebrows."
No more talking as we walk towards the cubicles. It's a regular business day here at the park, employees and paying participants in the halls. Dolohov nods to me from inside an office as we pass and I feel that old wave of revulsion - along with a surge of satisfaction that we've taken away all of his toys and left him with only simulations.
"How are things going here?" I ask quietly, and this is a perfectly normal question for me to say out loud.
"Nothing notable. Revenues are fine; advertising continues for the simulations. We're running another push to witches."
We should have a financial meeting soon, if things really are 'normal.' I just don't want to be here any more than I have to, even without Granger at home. If the Dark Lord does move to Pembroke in Wales, I'll probably need to set something up just to keep the facade of my investment here in place.
Hopefully it won't be necessary. Every time I'm here I want it to be the last time.
Severus sent us to play some Quidditch. I figure Blaise could use some time outdoors, and maybe even some cathartic bludger-hitting. He wasn't a Beater but I doubt he'd turn it down. It's brutally cold but the weather is clear; a small favour I'm grateful for.
Even though I was expecting it, it's still bizarre to see Potter's figure on the field instead of Blaise's. He's thrilled to see me, though, and it makes me feel like an arsehole. "I told you not to come!"
"Yeah, you look broken up about it," I heckle. "Want to play?"
He does, but not yet. He wants to know what I know, and even though I don't know anything Snape doesn't, it seems he wants to go through it again anyway - just like Granger and I frequently do.
"Hopefully you're out next Saturday," I emphasise and he's taking the news of a potential delay better than I think I would be in his place.
"You get kind of used to it," he confesses. "That sounds odd, but I think a body just can't survive at a peak level of stress indefinitely. I think we just desensitise to things. The boredom is worse. And being indoors, in the same room, all the time."
He asks next about how things are going with Granger at the Manor, and I clam up. I can't tell him. I can't say how I'm no longer shut in my lab for hours on end, staying away from her day after day, trying to respect her wishes that I leave her the bloody hell alone the way I still was when Blaise came in here.
I can't tell him how happy I am, how amazing it is, even if it's only for a few more days of my life. How much I love her, when Blaise is in here, alone, Ginny out there somewhere despising him. When the only contact Blaise can foresee is Ginny reading his letter to her after his death and possibly inheriting everything he has. I'm still not sure what's in those documents, but Snape's guess seems reasonable.
I won't ask, though; it's not my business.
But regarding Granger, my best friend knows me too well. Through my deflections, he gives me a sad smile. "I'm happy for you. Really, I am."
"Well, it'll all be over soon, one way or another," I sigh heavily. "Potter will win and she'll be free to leave while I face charges of war crimes. Or Potter will lose and she'll leave, before the Dark Lord comes to find her and kills me."
"What if you ran, too?"
"She's asked the same thing," I admit. "But I couldn't leave my mother behind. And we don't know much time or notice we'll even have, if it happens. They'll track her through the Floo eventually, but if we all left together we'd be that much easier to locate. She'd still be in danger just by being near me. And none of that takes my father into account. He'd never leave my mother, but he'd turn Granger over to the Dark Lord."
Blaise looks at me steadily as I have one last comment about this to contribute. "If Potter loses and they all know what we've done here, my father might kill me himself for letting her go. At the very least, the Dark Lord will use me to punish him, or the other way around. Probably both."
"Your mother, too," he quietly says, and I know he's right.
That puts a different spin on things and how my father will react. I need Granger to finish the arithmancy on the mist so if nothing else, I can get my mother out. Granger and my mother. My father and I will stick around to face the consequences and give the two of them a fighting chance, whichever way the cards fall.
There's something oddly poetic about it, imagining a potential outcome in which my father and I fight alongside one another. But it wouldn't be; we'd have the same goals in a way: him to get Narcissa out. Me to get Granger out. The stalling of the Dark Lord to allow them time would be a shared goal.
But he'd never help Granger escape.
I'm glad he's been gone so long. As much as I want the Dark Lord to remain at Dunrobin Castle, I hope he keeps Lucius there until the last possible moment.
On all those happy thoughts, we play some quality one-on-one Quidditch, which he roundly beats me in.
Turns out we both enjoy a solid hour of bashing bludgers with bats, assigning a point system to the hoops and making our own sort of game out of it.
The bludgers never cooperate, of course, coming at us from all sorts of angles. This makes aiming one towards the hoops that much harder, and we actually have quite a good time. We field a fair number of injuries, as well, and Blaise brushes this off. "Might as well give Potter's Healer something to do for a change. I do hope Snape's explained the situation."
"To a degree," I tell him. "As much as us blocking out the reservation books for Lovegood, Ginny, or Granger were ever explained, anyway. Snape hasn't gone into detail."
"Speaking of which, are you the one paying for my full book?" Blaise bats Potter's eyelashes at me and I bark out a laugh.
"I sure am. Got nothing else to spend it on now that the park is otherwise empty, aside from the odd potions ingredients. You're quite expensive, Zabini."
He's genuinely curious. "More or less than Granger was?"
"Fairly close, really. In fact, the only suspicious thing is that Potter's book hadn't been completely full for months. Interest in him had finally started to wane a touch. But we've blocked you off just to make sure nothing else slips through."
Blaise looks concerned. "Should we open up -"
"No," I say firmly. "Severus says they're continuing the advertising for the simulations and to witches specifically. He can explain the fuller reservation book through that if we need to. You're just exceptionally popular with the ladies of late."
"Would that that were true," he mutters. "Speaking of witches I am not popular with, did you get the stuff for Ginny I left with Snape?"
"Yes, and we need to talk about that." I shift a little, uncomfortable. "If we lose and you die in here, I'm not likely to be alive much longer than you. I'm going to give them to Granger before I get her out through the Floo. If Ginny survives the battle -"
Blaise winces.
"- Granger will get them to her."
When I return, reluctantly leaving Blaise back to his solitary confinement - he could tell I felt bad leaving but was antsy to get home, and finally chased me off - Granger is adorably concerned about my bludger impact injuries.
I tell her everything was in good fun but she insists I take my shirt off so she can look, and the feeling of her hands on me while she heals the bruises is incredible - both her hand and the touch of her wand.
"I've spent a lot of time practising today," she confesses. "It's been a long time since I've had full use of my own wand. I'm really quite rusty."
Hmm. "Anything I can help with?"
"I wouldn't mind some duelling practise," she replies mischievously and I might be in trouble. "If you're offering."
"I'm at your service. Can we squeeze it into our busy lab schedule over there?" I squint at the wall and she hits me on the shoulder. "Now, now, I'm just making sure we don't trample over our own ambition."
"If you're worried, you should say so," Granger sniffs.
"Worried about our potions or worried about duelling you?"
"The latter."
"Well, I have to say, Granger, it does go against the grain - throwing hexes at you. But I could be on defence, if you like."
She does like this plan and after lunch we head out to one of the far fields where I used to practise Quidditch.
Granger might be an academic at heart, but she practises casting magic the way she does everything: thoroughly. She repeats the same hexes and manoeuvres again and again until she's satisfied, and I have to admit I'd been underestimating her.
I'm able to block what she throws at me over the next hour, but I break a sweat doing it. She doesn't seem rusty in the slightest to me, but I don't know what her comparison point is. She finally takes a break - thank Merlin, I needed one - and walks over to me, turning the yew wand over in her hands thoughtfully.
"Do you still like it?" I inquire.
She nods fervently. "Oh, yes. It's very strong."
"Your magic is very strong," I note but she pulls a face.
"This one feels different from my old wand. I know I said it before, but this one feels stronger to me. It seems to like the hexes, the offensive magic. I know you don't want to jinx me, but would you mind throwing me a few small ones so I can test a little defence?"
That's a very fair request and I sigh. I decide to use some light knockback jiinxes, something that'll make her take a step or two backward, but that's it.
She ends up throwing them back at me strongly enough that we do have a mini-duel of sorts, each of us having to move around to avoid the other. At the end of it, Granger decides that's enough for now and I conjure three large targets and dummies for her in the field for the next time she wants to come out here.
Back in the potions lab, I finally have a breakthrough. It's about time; I've been feeling rather outpaced by my exceptional lab partner.
I'd been skirting around the idea that the Campanula rapunculus and the Mandrake leaves could work together, but nothing I've tried has panned out. Until now.
Reluctantly, I'd gone back to grinding the Campanula rapunculus leaves into a paste. Now, I take a full Mandrake leaf and gently press it down into the mortar, one side at a time, coating it. Using my wand to levitate it so I don't touch it and remove any of the paste from the leaf, I place it in the centre of the cauldron of alba pellis, resting lightly on top of the lotion.
Granger has been using her wand for everything, even mundane tasks she could use - and has been using - her hands to do, just to keep getting used to the new wand. She looks up with a little jump at the sharp crack that the cauldron produces.
"Was that - good?" she asks anxiously, her eyes worried.
I'm not certain at first. In addition to the noise, the palette of the lotion in the cauldron has gone to more of a caramel-coloured tan. The leaf has disappeared. Nothing we've done yet has produced such an obvious and instantaneous change in the concoction. I watch it for another several minutes to see if it has any other reaction to throw, but when it remains calm and still, I syphon some out.
Granger's come over to inspect what's happening, peering around from behind my right shoulder.
Bugger; I wasn't prepared. It's been so long since we've had anything promising to really test, my shirt is on. And I'm not testing it on her. "Granger, lift my shirt up, will you? Just high enough for me to get this on my scar."
Granger holds out her arm instead and I give her a look. With an exaggerated sigh, she pushes my shirt up my chest a little rougher than strictly necessary. Leaning around her arm, which is clutching my shirt somewhere in the vicinity of my chin - I think she's making this difficult on purpose - I can see the lower edge of the scar at the bottom half of my ribcage.
I smear it on the lowest several centimetres of the scar's bottom edge and once my hands are free, I reach back and yank my shirt over my head. We wait.
Something is in the air, because neither of us paid this much attention to our hundreds of prior tests. But it's as if we're both waiting for this one, waiting for it to produce a result.
Nothing happens. Frustrated, I turn back to the cauldron, cross with it. Why bother making a loud bang and changing colour? All the dramatics for nothing. Then I realise Granger's head is following me around and she puts a hand on my ribs. "Wait."
I look down. She's bending down, her other hand on her knee, closely peering at my skin. "Didn't it - didn't it stretch to here, before?"
I'm actually not sure. I should be; it's my scar, after all, but it tapers off so thin at the end and I don't exactly spend a lot of time staring at it. "I don't know. Did it?"
Granger dips her pinky finger into the tan paste and spreads a little more of it, a little further up. She marks the borders of it with a quill this time, and I'm back to having blue ink on me. Almost nostalgic, I think wryly.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she dabs on some more. More border-marking in blue. "It's working," she breathes, cool on my skin.
"Now, wait," I caution. "The original formula also masks it, remember. It doesn't mean this is different yet."
"No, I know. I know that it does. But you can also still see the scar through it, just a bit, if you know where to look. I can't here."
I don't want her getting too excited and then let down. "It's very thin there. Let's try it on the main part, the thick scar tissue in the centre."
But Granger is on a roll. In the absence of any negative response from the first tests, she's moving steadily up my chest with the lotion in one hand, her quill in the other. Her eyes are wide and sparkling with that fascinated preoccupation, the one she has when she's devouring a new book. "It's working!"
I'm scarcely daring to hope but when she yanks her own sleeve up to her elbow, I grab her wrist. "Wait; just wait, ten minutes. Okay?"
"We've been testing these on ourselves for weeks, every iteration! It'll be fine. Draco, you've done it!"
Now I know she's past excited; Granger, Hermione Granger, doesn't rush. "I know we have been, but - this one just feels bigger, somehow. Please? Wait ten minutes with me?"
I can't explain exactly why I want her to wait. I don't think it's going to hurt me, not really. We haven't produced a hazardous version yet; only ineffective ones. I just can't bear to see the crushed look on her face if she's tested it on herself, and it ends up fading back into view. Again, like it already does every ten hours or so. Better if it's my scar failing the test, if it's going to fail.
She nods with clear reluctance and makes it five minutes. In Granger's defence, staring at something for five minutes on end seems like an hour and I am also impatient. This feels like my initial alchemy for the alba pellis we've been using: the endless testing, endless failures, then the hesitant hope dangled in front of me. In front of us, now.
But it's undeniable now that the centre of my scar, the deepest part of the wound, looks better. It's not gone by any stretch, and we'll have to do some tests with reapplying it. See if it comes back in the morning like the current version does. There's still so much we don't know, but this feels different.
Granger's giving me a pleading look. It's only been five minutes but I take her wrist, scoop up some of the tan lotion on my finger, and gently rub it into her skin.
M…
U…
She sniffs and I glance up to see tears streaking down her face, her lips pressed tightly together.
D…
They're fading, alright, but I can't get my hopes up until I see it tomorrow morning. The current version wears off.
B…
L…
I'm terrified. What if it's back in the morning? I shouldn't have said anything, I should have tested it alone, I shouldn't have gotten her hopes up, but -
Well, she'd heard the cauldron react to the new ingredient. And it's not like I started shouting that I'd done it; I just tested it like we've done a hundred times over the past weeks. It could just as easily have been one of the combinations that Granger had worked on and tested on herself.
O…
O…
We both look at my chest again and it's clearly better. And she was right, when I look at the edges that she's marked with blue ink, I can't see anything at all. No shadow of a silver sliver; nothing. The centre part is still visible and slightly raised, but the scar tissue seems tighter, narrower. Pulling in towards the middle of the original wound.
There's no denying that this new version is behaving differently from the masking the original alba pellis was doing.
Now the question is: will it last?
D.