Even at Our Worst

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December 20th, 1996

I'm eventually able to calm myself, pulling away from Draco and tucking the strands of hair clinging to my wet cheeks behind my ears. We sit facing each other, leaning our back on the other side of the bathroom door frame, our knees touching.

"Who else knows?" I whisper.

"Snape," Draco nods, swiping his thumb across his cheek. "And Nott. He watched You-Know-Who do it all." He lifts his arm, "Give me this."

The cuff of his sleeve falls open slightly, revealing the end of the Mark. The black ink has darkened, and the splotches of red on his skin have grown as well.

I furrow my brow, forcing myself to look at it. "Does it hurt?"

His eyes follow mine with a frown. His tongue runs over his teeth as he tugs up his sleeve, revealing cracked skin surrounding the Mark. The inked portion is raised, like a swollen wound. I push down my dinner rising from my stomach, leaning forward as he holds his arm out. "It's been getting worse," he says quietly. "I think he's growing impatient."

"Do you mind if I—?" I approach hesitantly, holding my hand out. He nods, and I lightly touch my fingers over the Mark— eliciting a wince. I check in with him, but he urges me to continue. On my knees, I scoot closer, now resting his arm in my lap.

"I looked into loads of healing spells over the summer." I think out loud, squinting as I examine the affected area. "Just in case."

"Of course you did," he almost laughs, taking in a sharp breath as my hand grazes a particularly bad patch— a welt forming beside the eye of the skull.

I twist my lips in thought, lifting his arm again closer. "If I ran a diagnostic spell, I think I could make it go away." I look back at him, his eyes staring at the Mark widely. His free arm rests beside him, keeping him upright. His brow is lowered, focusing on controlling his reactions to my prodding. I frown in apology, "Not the Mark, of course, but the side effects."

"Burke, I—" He sighs, tilting his head downward to stare at his lap. "I've already gotten you more involved than I ever intended. Far more. I don't want to—"

"It's the least I can do," I say adamantly. My hand cups beneath his arm, still holding it aloft before me. "It seems you have larger things to worry about." His skin prickles as I run my hand back and forth slowly, muttering an incantation under my breath. I let my body relax, closing my eyes and pouring my energy into my fingertips. I feel the magic flow from my veins into his, soothing the aches running deep to the bone.

"How're you—"

"Shh," I hush him, refocusing. I feel a knot release, his muscles relaxing as I loop my magic around them, pulling them apart. "I see the problem," I whisper. I let my magic guide me, showing me where to focus, where the pain is stemming from. I tease out the tenderness and fight against the Dark Magic gnawing at his skin. I feel it writhe under the touch of my magic, retreating and striking back with force. I push it as far back as I can, attempting to contain it to the site of the Mark with as many wards as I can remember.

I take in a gulp of air as I pull my hands away from him abruptly, snapped out of my trance. My eyes snap open and meet his wide eyes.

"Since when could you do that?" He breathes out, moving to stare in surprise at his arm. The once aggravated skin has calmed to a light pink, the swelling reduced and the flaking skin completely vanished.

I blush slightly. "I've been helping out Hagrid a bit— in my spare time. Taking care of his host of magical creatures." I scoop back up his arm, running the diagnostic through the tissue again to feel out any sources of lingering pain. This requires less focus on my part, letting me continue the conversation. "Does it feel better? I've never worked with something like this. Usually just colds and scrapes and such."