The Purest Kind of Magic

- forty nine -

"She did what?" I almosted shouted.

"Keep your voice down! It's almost curfew!" Harry barked as he hurriedly covered his left hand with his robes.

I lowered my voice, "That's a whole form of abuse, she can't do that!"

"That's not exactly up for me to decide, is it?"

I rolled my eyes, "And you said you have to do this for the rest of the week? That witch!"

Harry nodded grimly, his expression dark with anger and frustration. "Yeah, that's the deal. Detention every evening this week, thanks to our lovely DADA teacher."

"I can't believe she's getting away with this," I muttered.

"And to think she's supposed to be educating us in Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry scoffed bitterly. "She's nothing more than a puppet for the Ministry, trying to control the narrative about Voldemort's return."

"Don't say his name, Harry," I growled as I glared at him.

"Why not? It's not like I'll explode and get blasted into five hundred pieces," Harry responded, annoyed.

I shifted my left arm and shoved my hand deeper into my pocket. The Mark hurts painfully whenever I think about Voldemort and I couldn't do anything about it.

It's not like I could walk into Madame Pomfrey's and just tell her to chop off my damn arm because I have the fucking Dark Mark.

"Just don't say his name," I replied briefly, my voice stern, not wanting to reveal anything.

"How else am I supposed to refer to him? The Dark Lord? Only Death Eaters call him that!" Harry exclaimed in a frustrated manner.

I punched the pillar behind me, "Shut up, Harry. Don't even mention him near me. I don't want to hear anything about him."

Harry's eyes widened at my outburst, clearly taken aback by the intensity of my response. "Y/n, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry," he said softly, a note of concern in his voice, "Did something happen?"

I took a deep breath, "Nothing. Nothing happened. Just don't talk about him in front of me, yeah?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah."

"Y/n, it's time to go, curfew's approaching," Draco's voice came from behind, "As Prefect, I'd hate to dock points off from my own house."

"Coming," I called back and stood up, "Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

As I walked away with Draco, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. The anger and frustration from dealing with Umbridge and the mention of Voldemort still lingered.

Draco squeezed my hand reassuringly, silently offering his support, and I gave him a small smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, trying to sound convincing. "Just a bit on edge, you know?"

Draco looked at me intently, his concern evident in his eyes. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/n. I can see that something's bothering you. Please tell me."

I hesitated for a moment, "The... The Mark, it's been burning recently. And it gets worse everytime anyone mentions... his name and it just won't go away. It only gets worse."

Draco's expression softened as he listened, he squeezed me hand tightly, "We'll have to pay Snape a visit tomorrow morning. This is serious."

I nodded, "Okay."

--

"You two are quite early," Snape said in an uninterested voice, his eyes not leaving a Potions notebook.

Draco and I stood in front of Snape's desk in his dimly lit office, the atmosphere tense with the weight of the conversation we were about to have. My nerves were on edge, and the burning sensation from the Dark Mark continued to nag at me.

"We need to talk to you about something important, godfather," Draco spoke up, his tone more serious than usual.

Snape finally looked up from his notebook and regarded us with his characteristic cold gaze. "What is it, Draco?" he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"It's about Y/n," Draco continued, glancing at me briefly before returning his focus to Snape. "The Mark on her arm has been causing her a lot of pain, especially when his name is mentioned."

Snape's gaze softened slightly as he looked at me. "The Dark Mark is connected to its master's emotions and actions," he explained. "When the Dark Lord is in a state of anger or extreme emotions, the Mark may react in kind, causing pain to those who bear it."

"So why does it hurt when I think or hear about him?" I questioned bluntly.

"That is most likely due to the Mark being forced onto you, and as for you have extreme hatred towards him," Snape glanced away.

I looked down on the floor, "So I can't do anything about it, huh?"

Snape sighed. "There are certain potions that might temporarily alleviate the pain, but ultimately, as long as the Dark Lord lives, the connection between you and the Dark Mark will persist."

"If... If I--" Draco started, but was immediately cut off by Snape.

"Draco," Snape hissed in a threatening tone, "We talked about this, you must not do so this year."

Draco's jaw tightened, and he nodded hesitantly, acknowledging Snape's warning. "I understand," he replied quietly.

--

On our way back to the common rooms, Draco let out a few sighs and didn't talk as much. It seemed like he was stressed out by something.

I kept stealing glances at him but he didn't even seem to notice. It was like he was lost in his own little world. I sighed and decided to finally say something.

"Are you stressing about being a Prefect? I know that it comes with great responsibility and stuff."

Draco's gaze landed on me, "Nah, that's not it. I... I can't say, I'm sorry."

I nodded understandingly, even though curiosity gnawed at me. It wasn't uncommon for Draco to keep things to himself, especially if he felt they were too burdensome to share. We got in his room and he locked the door and casted a silencing spell.

"You know, I've been thinking about what Snape said," I began cautiously. "About the Mark and how it reacts to His emotions."

Draco glanced at me, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What about it?"

"I'll be in pain forever since I hate him, but what if I just... subside that hatred? Somehow? Yeah?"

Draco stared at me with wide eyes, "Y/n... No, you can't. That's submitting to him, you mustn't."

His eyes darted off to the wall before he spoke again, "Look, I know you're in pain, and I hate seeing you suffering." He locked eye contact with me, "Which is why I've been thinking about sharing the pain with you."

"You don't mean..." I gasped as I grabbed his left arm and was about to roll the sleeve up.

He shook his head, "It's not there yet, Snape won't let me. The time for me hasn't come yet."

I let out a sigh of relief, "Snape is right to not let you, you're not even 16 yet."

"You're barely 15, Y/n. You shouldn't be dealing with this alone."