The Marauders: Year Six #Wattys2017

Healer! We Need a Healer!

Healer! We Need a Healer!

"Where did you get your tattoo?" Sirius asked when Dorcas Meadowes reached for a paintbrush from a cup of water. They were in the game room again and Dorcas had suggested they do art and she'd produced muggle watercolour palettes and brushes and special paper that they could make their creations on. She wore short sleeves today so that her tattoos showed and Sirius had realized for the first time that there were more than just one or two, there were several that encapsulated her arms, disappearing into her sleeves so that her arms looked like artwork with flowers and words and little pictures, a mural of Dorcas-ness. Some of them moved, some of them were still.

She looked down at her arm and up at Sirius, "Some I got a muggle shops about London..." she pointed to one of a blue bird flying, his wings spread wide, carrying a branch of peppermint in his beak, "Like this one." But others I got at this little shop off of Diagon Alley - Pendleton's Permaink Spot."

Sirius asked, "How do they do it?"

"You tell them what you want, where to put it, and they do some spell work and the sparks from the spells do the work."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as the muggle shops," Dorcas laughed. "The muggle shops use needles and work one little dot at a time. It takes hours. Pendleton's I was in and out with this entire cuff here within about twenty minutes - and ten of that was waiting for my turn." She pointed to the blooming morning glories.

Sirius hesitated. "Do you reckon... if I brought them a picture... they could put it on me?"

Dorcas nodded, "I reckon they could. You'll need an adult present, though. You're underage."

Sirius stared at his wrist, at the place where the scars stood out against his pale skin. He looked up at her. "Dorcas," he said, "I reckon it would be very therapeutic... very important for my healing. Don't you?"

She smirked.

"It isn't like my beast of a mother is going to be angry if you helped me, either," Sirius pointed out. "She'll probably never see it at all. If I have any say in the matter, she won't, that is," he laughed.

Dorcas thought for a moment. "Okay, Sirius. But before I agree to take you, I want you to do something for me."

"Really? Okay. What?"

"Tell me what is it you're thinking to get, and explain to me why it will help your healing?"

Sirius reached into his pocket. "That's easy."

That night was the full moon.

Remus pulled open the slanting door of the bomb shelter and hesitated. The last time he'd been down in there had been the last time he'd stayed at home - the full moon over the holiday of third year. He stood staring down into the darkness below and he frowned.

Ned Veigler stood beside him.

Remus shivered. "I hate this place," he said.

Ned Veigler gently rested a palm over Remus's shoulders. "We could floo back to Fallengunder," he suggested.

Remus shook his head, "I don't want to be that far from James right now. I'm worried for him."

"I understand," Ned nodded.

Remus took a deep breath and climbed in. It reminded him of climbing into Newt Scamander's briefcase in a way - and he climbed down the ladder into the little cellar and waved his wand to light the room - lanterns hanging from the ceiling sparked on and the dismal little space was illuminated - no change from the last time he'd been there. Ned followed, dropping to the floor beside him and Remus waved his wand to close the doors, and they locked heavily with great iron bangs, sealing out the sun and soon the moon.