She released his hand and shrugged the bag from her other shoulder, retrieving the vials. One was a thick black with flecks of gold in it, just like the ink on her arm — the tattoo potion. The other was a clear liquid — the antidote.

Glancing up at Draco, she found him staring down at the two vials with an empty expression. She put the second one back in the bag, dropping it on the ground.

Her pulse raced as she uncapped the clear potion, brought it to her lips, and took a tiny sip. It was light and tasteless.

She lifted her left arm and stared down at her tattoo. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she waited, praying and hoping—

And then the letters of Draco's initials shivered, as if they'd been shaken free, disappearing as if carried by the summer wind.

The vial dropped from her grip as she gasped, running her fingers over the skin. Only Bellatrix's marks left.

Her eyes snapped up to Draco. He looked dazed, his mouth open and eyes fixed on her arm.

Hermione whipped around to the barrier and took two large steps through it.

Nothing. She looked down at her arm. Nothing.

Victory broke over her in slow waves, and the ground reeled beneath her feet. She'd done it. She'd broken the tattoos. The True Order would have the solution to freeing the Lots, once and for all. They could give it to Angelina. They could purge it from all their systems, as if it was never there.

A shriek escaped her lips before she could stop herself. A laugh burst from her chest as she spun in a circle, throwing her arms out. Catching her breath and closing her eyes in the sunlight, she turned to find Draco smiling softly at her at the edge of the perimeter. She raced to him, throwing herself into his arms and kissing everywhere she could reach.

"We did it— Draco, we—"

Pulling back, she felt a pressure behind her eyes. Her vision blurred with him still smiling at her.

She disentangled herself from his arms and raced back to the boundary again. Again, nothing. The space on her arm where the initials D.M. used to reside was just clear skin. There was only the word Mudblood, and Bellatrix's apostrophe "s."

Turning to look out over the acres and acres of the Manor, Hermione breathed deeply as the sun poured down on her, the wind tickling her calves.

She spun back to Draco. "Race you."

She took off to the right without any sense of direction, laughing and waiting for him to call after her.

But it was silent.

Her feet stumbled to a stop. Turning back, she saw Draco still standing at the end of the lane, his hands in his pockets. Something punctured inside her, sinking deep.

She walked back to him quickly, almost at a jog. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly. "Draco?"

His eyes were on the fields, intent and flickering. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and extended the handle to her. His fingers trembled.