Draco let his hand fall, heavily. A blot of black ink fell from his dropped quill-tip and sank into the creamy parchment, spreading and staining as he watched it with eyes that blurred a little.
A name – for his child. His own child. He dropped his face tiredly into one pale hand, grinding at his eyes.
He didn't know if he ought to be a father to a child.
He looked out blearily from between his fingers, and saw that the tips of the fingers of his other hand were smeared darkly with the ink. It was stained into the ridges of his skin and the crevices around his nails, as black and sleek on his skin as the Dark Mark had once been.
He shoved his sleeve up in a quick aggressive movement, rough enough to negate the slight trembling in his hand, baring the Mark to sight.
It was faded now, faded to a dull greyish-pink in the years since the Dark Lord had been gone. But was still there, still unmistakeable: the leering skull, the snake protruding from its jaws like a tongue, hideous, marking him for what he was, as the black ink marked the parchment. Draco Malfoy, Death Eater of the Dark Lord.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring dully at the Mark on his forearm. But then there were gentle arms around him, and Luna's lips on his forehead, butterfly-soft.
'Draco,' she murmured. 'Draco.' Her lips moved to the corner of his eye, and her hand touched his cheek. And then, as his arms moved to encircle her, gently, around her swollen stomach, she brought her hand down and stroked his forearm, right across the Mark. She nestled into his lap, her head beneath his chin, and stroked the marred skin, over and over again, her fingers smoothing away the pain inside him.
'It will have faded completely by the time he goes to Hogwarts,' she said softly. And that – was enough.