Of Doves and Dragons

Chapter Thirty-nine: The Camp at Shell Cottage

"Last year, I needed change of pace; couldn't take the pace of change, moving hastily. But this year, though I'm far from home, in trench I'm not alone."

-Twenty One Pilots, Leave the City

The exhaustion was tangible at Shell Cottage the following morning. White light filtered in through the open windows, letting the salty sea breeze mingle through the air. Everyone, besides the still recovering Ollivander and Griphook, were sat around the white table that separated the kitchen from the sitting room. Coffee and tea with whipped up pastries were passed around.

Harry was in conversation with Bill concerning the happenings of the Order on one end; Fleur was bustling around the kitchen, stepping into the conversation when her input was needed. Ember and Luna were whispering with little smiles on the other. Hermione and Ron had their heads bowed together and it wasn't the first time Draco wondered when the two had gotten so close. It was the first time he felt completely outcasted, sitting in the middle of the table glancing at the tea that sat before him distractedly.

Hermione brought her arm up to rest on the table, palm up, and rolled her sleeve up to her elbow. Ron's fingers gently brushed along her forearm underneath the scarring word, mudblood.

Draco found it hard to swallow. Something that had been such a fixture in his upbringing, that he had never questioned as being harmful, had been carved into her skin for her, and everyone else, to always see. His mouth soured, for he knew who had put it there. His stomach turned under the weight of the word he had so carelessly thrown around in his youth. "Em," He croaked out, causing all conversation to cease.

Ember's smile slowly diminished as she looked to him before following his eyes to Hermione's arm. The light conversation with Luna completely forgotten as she immediately understood him. She shifted into the open seat next to Hermione, all eyes following her. Timidly, not wanting to step into something she had no business stepping into, she reached her hands out before meeting the warm brown eyes of the witch. "I can heal that, if you'd like." She offered softly.

Ron's eyes lit up at her words, but Hermione's were conflicted. She was not afraid of the word, but to have something so vile etched into her skin, put there by such horrid events was a memory she would rather not have to remember every time she looked at her own skin. Without a word, she laid her arm in Ember's open palms.

Ember gave a sweet, encouraging smile, and dropped her eyes to the horrendous word. Subtly, she took in a deep breath through her nose, incredibly aware that all eyes were cast on her, and extended her patronus onto Hermione's arm.

Eyes widened across the table as the girl no one ever gave a second glance to hands glowed a luminescent blue. The word mudblood slowly erased, like backwards penmanship. When the skin was clear of any defamation, Ember retracted her patronus. Hermione brought her arm back to her for closer examination.

Her brown eyes met Ember's with great appreciation and she whispered in awe, "Thank you."

"That is incredible." Fleur remarked with her heavy French accent, looking over the table from the shoulder of her husband.

And as Ember briefly explained herself to the newly wedded Weasley's, Hermione looked across the table to Draco; knowing that it had been by his suggestion that Ember fix her scar. He met her eyes with no malice, no ill-will, and no typical smirk. It struck her, that this was a Draco she didn't know. He was barely there, quietly keeping to himself as if that would retract the fact that even though things had been smoothed over, his presence wasn't exactly wanted. She mouthed thank you sincerely. His reply was a small smile before glancing back down at the table and continuing to run his index finger along the lip of his tea cup.