A series of scars swirled almost artistically over the right side of Draco’s abdomen, and Hermione shivered; she recognised his Aunt Bellatrix’s handiwork. She liked her cursed blades, did Bellatrix. Hermione rubbed the scars on her chest as unwelcome thoughts of them made them itch at her. Smaller, nearly invisible scars striped his chest, and there was a small brand by his bellybutton that looked like it came from a signet ring. Hermione gulped, unable to stop herself from imagining how all his many injuries must have been inflicted. How scared he must have been.