Perhaps he was apologizing.

She placed them next to Jane Eyre, the only hundred-year-old text that had survived the fire.

All three leatherbound copies had lived through terrible things.

She could do the same.

~*~

After a full afternoon of research, she slept for the first time without a potion. When she woke in the morning, gold-tinted sunlight shimmering across her walls, there were two new books on her shelves. She pulled herself from the bed, and examined them.

Hogwarts: A History
Bathilda Bagshot
Printed London, 1984

Hogwarts: A History - Revised
Bathilda Bagshot
Printed London, 1996

Her eyes widened and her fingers itched. Comparing two editions side-by-side? Her skin tingled with the desire. She reshelved them, and promised she'd wait until the end of the day to crack them open. Her traitorous heart fluttered on her way to the library that day, as she let her mind briefly wonder where Draco was finding these books.

She spent a week looking into magical slavery. The catalog returned an assortment of books on the history of enslavement in Europe, Asia, the Americas, and of course the Roman Empire. To her chagrin, no charms or potions books turned up. But at least it was a start.

She started with the more recent European history books. The problem was that there was no modern precedent for magical enslavement in Europe—apart from house-elves, of course, but their magic worked quite differently. Any magical enslavement in recent centuries was taboo, so there were no records. There were rumors of magical slavery in more shadowy parts of the continent, but it was hard to find research on spellwork that no one admitted to doing. But she was certain that magic as powerful and quickly developed as the tattoos had been inspired by something. She only had to find the seeds.

Looking into the significance of tattoos and skin branding in ancient cultures like the Celts had taken her down a rabbit hole that she never saw the bottom of, so she stopped there, letting her mind wander as she ran her fingers over her own tattoo.

D.M.

She wondered what Blaise knew about the tattoos. Though Pansy's tattoo hadn't been activated by the estate, he must have known something about them in order to remove hers. She could have asked him weeks ago if her head had been in the right place.

A new book arrived on her bedroom shelf every morning. In the evenings, after a long day's work in the library, she'd reward herself by perusing its hundred-year-old pages, willing herself not to think about how the book had gotten there.

After a frustrating day of making little progress, she decided on a change of scenery. Hermione took several history books and headed toward the Conservatory. The air there was clear and easy on her mind. Passing the kitchens and the dining room, she wound her way toward the western wing of the Manor.

She heard his footsteps before she saw him.

Her steps faltered, and she squeezed the books into her chest.