What I'm Missing (Drarry)

Chapter Five

Pansy recovered her voice the quickest. "Draco! You have a tattoo!"

Draco turned slowly to look at her. It was the first time she had spoken to him all year – with her history, she could hardly afford to associate with anyone who had faced trial if she wanted to have any career prospects after Hogwarts. At least she had the grace to look sheepish.

"Of course he does." Finnegan snorted. "Voldemort gave it to him."

The room fell quiet, and Draco felt a flush rising along his chest and neck. He had been stupid to think they would ever see him as anything else.

"Actually, I did."

Potter's calm voice cut through the silence. Draco turned without meaning to, his eyes pleading with Potter to just drop it – it was a lost cause.

"You drew that, Harry?" Dean Thomas suddenly spoke up.

Draco watched in surprise as Thomas craned his neck to get a better look at the dragon. It was still huffing and blowing smoke, though its roars had quietened to grumbles now.

"Yeah," Harry said, leaning back against his desk now that there seemed to be no immediate threat. "Take a better look at it, if you like."

To Draco, it felt as though the entire room – it was probably just him – was waiting with bated breath in the moments before Thomas stood up. He crossed the floor and made brief eye contact with Draco to confirm it was alright before he knelt over and inspected the tattoo closely. In a daze, Draco held his forearm out so it could be seen more easily.

"Wicked," Thomas breathed. "Harry, this is unreal. How did you get it to move?"

Harry shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "Practice."

"Practice? How'd you get-" Thomas looked up, eyes alight with excitement. "Show us yours!"

Harry held his hands up, stammering slightly, but was saved from responding by Professor Mimble's entrance.

"Take your seats," Mimble said, oblivious to the tension in the room, and began writing on the board.

The class was oddly silent through the lesson, and Draco wasn't oblivious to the looks that were being sent his way. But it was a relief to have no one say anything outright.

When the lesson ended, Pansy came over to him, a speculative look in her eye.

"Can I see?" she asked.

Draco held out his arm wordlessly, and she ran her fingers over the ridge of the dragon's back. The dragon shied away, but didn't run. She blinked in surprise.

"And Potter did this?" Her eyes met his, asking a very different sort of question.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. How did she know? He had never professed any interest in the speccy git, surely.

Finnegan's gruff tone interrupted their conversation. "You think covering it up is going to make it go away?" he spat. "We all know what you did."

Draco froze, willing himself not to respond, but something in him had snapped, and he couldn't hold back any longer. "Of course it doesn't make it go away," he said with a sneer. "You think looking at a ruddy, great dragon on my arm is going to make me forget what it hides? My arm is more noticeable than ever, you imbecile."

Finnegan's eyes narrowed, making his face twist into an ugly scowl. Draco continued before he could get a word in.

"It about choices," he spat. "I'll never forget that I chose the Mark – though the fact that it was hardly a choice is something you and your little saint friends will never understand – but now I'll always remember that I chose something else too."