Sweet Justice

*** Woo, 2nd chapter written today. Make sure you read chapter 3! I posted two at once.

Chapter 4

He neglected to mention the drunken assault to his mother when he arrived at her penthouse later that day. When she hugged him, however, he couldn't hide the hitch in his breath as she pressed on his mended ribs. “It's alright Mum.” He reassured her when she looked at him concerned. “I just fell off the bar stool, that's all.”

Believing his lie, she invited him in. Most of the day they played 'pass the infant' as his aunt and mother caught up on old times and missed opportunities. As he watched the sisters laugh Draco was beginning to see what his father meant by missing out on things due to his pride. If his aunt wasn't exiled from the family for marrying a muggle-born, he would have grown up with a loving aunt, and an older cousin who he could get into all sorts of mischief with. His mother would have had a sister, other than only the deranged Bellatrix. As he held Teddy he thought that maybe he could have even been the little ones Godfather, instead of Wonder Boy.

Draco chastised himself. He was thinking in 'what-if's again.

That night after dinner Draco wondered to himself for the first time how much work must go into each meal his family ate. Watching Granger make pancakes looked relatively simple, but the roast, potatoes, gravy, green beans, sauteed mushrooms, and fresh sour cream could not have been easy even with magic. Especially for one house elf to do all by herself.

Rosie, the elf, came out of the kitchen floating an blueberry pie in front of her. After she placed it on the table she turned to leave without a word.

Draco leaned down to her. “Rosie.” He whispered, as not to interrupt the discussion.

“Yes, Master Malfoy?” She asked in a squeaky voice.

“Dinner was great, thank you.”

The instant the words exited his mouth it looked as if someone had smacked Rosie. Her eyes welled up with tears in surprise as her jaw dropped open slightly. “Y...Your're welcome! Master Malfoy!” She said bowing repeatedly. “Is there anything else I could get for you?”

“No, that's fine.”

Bowing deeply she backed away, wiping tears out of her eyes as she left.

Draco raised his eyebrows. He wasn't expecting such a volatile reaction to a simple complement.

“Did you hear me, Sweetheart?” His mothers voice emanated from the other side of the table.

“Hrm? Sorry, Mum. What did you say?”

Narcissa looked at her sister and back to her son. “We've been talking and think it would be a good idea for me to move in with Andromeda. After your fathers death I...Well two women can raise a baby better than one.” She said, hiding the choke in her voice.

Draco sat up straighter in his chair. “Oh, that's... a logical idea.” He said awkwardly. At that moment it struck him that, other than at Hogwarts, he had never spent any prolonged period of time away from his mother or father. With his father gone and his mother living in the country he would be on his own. Really on his own.

“I know that look.” Narcissa said with a sad smile. “Don't think I'm cutting the cord entirely. I'll be expecting a minimum of a weekly visit. Side along apperation is allowed so there's no excuse for you not to show if I send Rosie to fetch you.” She sipped her tea with a matter-of-fact smirk.

“Draco.” Andromeda said softly. “It has been a trying year and I need your mother's company as much as she needs mine. The house has been...” She swallowed hard. “...a bit empty as of late.”

“No, I understand.” Draco said, trying to process it all. Putting on his best, fake, Malfoy smile he joked. “So long as you don't leave me to change diapers while you two have all the fun, I'm fine with it.”

Both sisters smiled. Somewhere in the background, Teddy gurgled in agreement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This time the move went absurdly fast. Now that Andromeda was able to help, she used a shrinking spell on nearly everything in the suite, packing it all into an oversized purse before Rosie did a last minute clean up.

Giving Draco another rib-bruising hug, Narcissa dabbed tears out of her eyes before apperating away with her sister and nephew. Rosie was the last to go, bowing deeply to him before vanishing with a crack.

Sighing heavily, Draco was now in London alone. Yes, he would visit his mother once a week, but other than the odd visit from Blaise (whom he was still mad at for abandoning him for a cheap shag), he was on his own.

On his way home he swung by a muggle bookstore to purchase a cookbook. If making his own food looked like the same process as potion brewing, maybe he could treat it as such.

Lining up all the ingredients on his counter he reviewed the instructions for one of the simplest recipes he could find. An omelet. Four ingredients, estimated time of cooking five minutes. How hard could it be?

A half hour later he was tossing the smoldering frying pan in the sink as his apartment filled with smoke. The cookbook had been little to no help at all. He hadn't counted on the fact that he couldn't see the flame on an electric stove top. He also didn't know what a 'pat' of butter was, nor what 'whisk', 'saute', or 'sear' meant.

Fanning out his apartment as the smoke alarm blared he made a note to himself to buy a food term dictionary as well. When the screeching stopped he returned to his kitchen to scrub out the pan. When he began to scrape off the non-stick surface with the steel wool he huffed in frustration before tossing the whole abomination in the trash can. He was eating out today.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stomach satisfied for now he made his way down the winding streets of London, browsing the windows of muggle shops, seeing items that were mostly alien to him. An electronics store kept Draco transfixed for over an hour. Inside were phones, televisions, video games, movie players, and a whole multitude of things that would cease to function within ten miles of Hogwarts. At some point a sales woman came up and tried to talk him into purchasing a flat screen television, talking to him about pixels and resolution. She may as well been speaking another language.

Escaping the sales pitch he exited the store and made his way further down the street, passing a motorcycle repair shop that perked his interest, along with a tattoo shop adjacent to it. Looking down at his dark mark, he decided to enter and see what he could do about getting it removed.

The shop seemed slow despite the mid-day hustle outside. Approaching the front counter Draco was greeted with an exotic looking and thoroughly tattooed woman. “Afternoon, Sugar. What can I do for you?” She said, smiling with her pierced lip.

Pulling up his sleeve Draco showed her the dark mark. “What would it take to get this removed?”

Taking a closer look at the tattoo she looked back up at Draco wide eyed. Turning around she made sure her co-workers were out of earshot before she leaned forward and whispered. “It's not possible to remove dark magic like that here, and how are you not in Azkaban?”

Shocked that she knew what it was he glanced at her arms too, finding no sign of the mark. “How do you know about it?” He whispered.

The woman looked as if she considered her words carefully before answering. “Maybe I know someone in the Wizarding community. She warned me about people with that mark.”

Draco pulled his sleeve down. “She was right to, but I want to be rid of it. I want no more affiliation with Death Eaters than you do.”

She must have seen the sincerity in his eyes because she relaxed almost immediately. “Well I'm sorry, Sugar, but even if that was a regular tattoo it would take over a year to slowly burn it off bit by bit. It's not cheap and its more painful then getting it in the first place. I don't think you'll ever be rid of something like that though.”

“I was afraid of that.”

Sighing to himself, he thanked her and turned to leave, but her hand on his forearm stopped him. “Hold on a moment. If you can't get rid of it, maybe we can hide it for you.”

That perked his interest. “What do I have to do?”

Smiling wickedly she said. “You need to sit perfectly still for six or more hours.”

Moments later he was prepped and leaning forward over the back of a chair, his left arm held up in front of an artist prepping his angrily buzzing 'gun.'

To be honest, he was nervous. Granted getting the dark mark in the first place hurt like hell, but it was quite instant. Only taking the Dark Lord a touch of his want to make it appear. From what he was told about the muggle process, it would take several painful hours. He considered going to a wizarding body art shop, but he feared he would be thrown out for even walking in the door with a dark mark.

The artist who was going to tattoo him was a beefy fellow with a shaven head and a rather large metal ring through the center of his nose. That combined with the tattoos covering nearly all his body from the jaw down gave him an intimidating appearance to say the least. It surprised Draco to find that the man seemed rather laid back as he chatted small talk while he drew swirling intricate designs from his shoulder to his wrist. “So you just moved to London?”

“Yeah.” Draco said, participating in the discussion. “I use to live up in Wiltshire.”

The artist whistled. “That's rich ville. What are you doing here?”

Draco thought of something quick. “Just... making some changes in my life lately. This is a fresh start.”

Doing some last minute detail work the artist finally pulled the marker away and leaned back to get a better look at his work. “Will this design do for ya?” He said, pointing to the mirror mounted on the wall. Holding his arm to the reflection he had to admire the mans work. Mostly in orange was the outline of several skinny, snake like dragons each holding a skull in its claws. “That'll all be black outline and we'll fill them in whatever color you want later.” He reassured him.

“This skull right here.” Draco pointed to one on his shoulder muscle. “Can we make this one a sni-... a gold orb with wings of its own?”

The artist shrugged. “Sure, you're the customer.” He said making adjustments with his marker. “What does it symbolize?”

Draco smiled. “It's an inside joke among friends.” Which was true in its own way. If he could get back on the broom to play Quidditch again, he would love it.

Finishing touches done, Draco was instructed to lean forward and hold his arm perfectly still. “You're gonna feel a prick, but it'll fade in about ten minutes. Just try not to twitch. You know the drill.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as the artist tested the petal of his gun before dipping the tip into black ink. “Here we go.” He said as he held the skin on his arm tight. Rubbing it with petroleum jelly at the last instant he lay the needle to skin. At first it felt like a bug bite, but soon turned into a dull burn. Releasing the inside of his cheek Draco relaxed a bit, compared to nearly getting torn in half by Sectumsempra, this wasn't so bad.

Ten minutes later, as promised the pain subsided to be replaced with a feeling that felt similar to someone scratching sunburn. Also, for some reason Draco felt mildly drunk as his mind swam with endorphins. In some bizarre way, he wanted more.

And more he most certainly got.

Seven hours later the tattoo was almost done, which was good because Draco had run out of endorphins about an hour ago. What was once a dull, addictive burn was white hot fire as the green shading was being touched up on the scales. Several other customers had come and gone but he paid him no mind as he buried his face into the padded back of the chair. As the door bells jingled the artist reassured him, “Hang in there, we're almost done.” Draco nodded into the chair. He had been given the option of stopping and finishing it another day, but after his drunken ass being handed to him less than 48 hours ago, he just wanted it done and over with.

“Here's the book you ordered Tammi. I hope you enjoy it, Suicide Girls is a hard book to get from the states.” Said a familiar voice from the counter. Slowly as not to move his arm, Draco lifted his head to see who it was. Sure enough, Hermione Granger was standing at the front counter handing a package to the tattooed girl. 'I know someone in the Wizarding community.' Indeed, Draco thought.

Sure enough, the tattooed girl gestured toward him with a tilt of her head. “One of yours?”

Looking over the counter the brunette rolled her eyes. “You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Malfoy?”

“What, are you stalking me?” He asked, muffled by the chair.

“You wish.” She said, leaning forward to get a better look at his new ink. He was surprised when she simply watched for a few moments, not saying anything.

“I can take a picture if you like.”

She shrugged. “I'm just relishing watching you squirm.” She said as the artist sprayed cold, green, rubbing alcohol all over the new design. Despite being alcohol, the cold liquid was surprisingly soothing as the whole arm was wiped off.

“Alright, tell me what you think.” The artist (who Draco discovered was named Brophy during their hours of banter) stood up and stretched while he got up and looked in the mirror.

Thank the Gods his father wasn't still alive to see it. He'd have killed him.

Running from his shoulder to wrist was three long, snakelike dragons, their scales shaded with deep forest to bright emerald green. Each clawed hand holding a realistic looking skull, one holding a snitch. If you weren't looking for the dark mark, you would never know it was there. The only question now was how he was going to show his mother. “I love it.”

“That green will brighten up when it heals more. C'mere, let me bandage you up so you and yer girl can be on your way.”

He and Hermione spoke in unison to correct him.

“Oh she's not my girl. She's just a know-it-all pain from school.”
“His girl? Oh no no no no no. He's an insufferable git!”

Looking up they glared at each other before bursting out in laughter.

After bidding their goodbyes to Brophy, Tammi and the other shop staff Draco and Hermione found themselves standing outside the shop's overhang in awkward silence.

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione looked at him. “Why do you smell like burnt eggs?”

Poking the bandage taped to his shoulder he muttered, “Probably because I burnt some eggs.”

“Oh, so there IS something the renowned Draco Malfoy is bad at?” She mocked.

“So I can't cook!” He spat. “Not a big deal.”

His growling stomach argued otherwise. He then noticed that Granger was carrying two large bags of groceries.

Noticing what he was eyeballing, she sighed before asking. “If you admit I'm better at it than you and do the dishes, would you like to learn how to make potato leek soup?”

He considered it for a long moment. (One) Granger was asking him back to her house to cook a meal for him. Awkward enough without (Two) him having to admit she was more skilled at something than him and (Three) have to clean up after the fact. He did owe her a lot after the other night and with his stomach growling in agreement, he shrugged in defeat. “Fine, but no gloating.”

“Not a chance, Ink Cherry.” She said, lightly smacking his bandaged arm before turning and walking towards her apartment.

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I had fun writing this one! Two chapters today! Yay, productiveness!

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