Hermione pressed her lips together. "I'm well aware of that, thanks."

Pansy stood upright, a bright smile breaking across her lips. "Good." She pushed a tube of something into Hermione's hands. "Now moisturize."

Brushing the cream over her skin, Hermione watched Pansy sort out her makeup kit, her black bob swaying with every turn of her head. Her eyes turned down to Pansy's left forearm. The flesh was mangled and silver-white. From the acid that Zabini had used.

This was an opportune moment to ask her about the tattoo.

"Did it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"Don't be an idiot, Granger. You heard me screaming. Now go ahead and ask the real question you want to ask. Don't pussyfoot around me."

Pansy came at her with a large makeup brush at that point, promptly covering Hermione's embarrassed flush with a beige goo.

"What do you know about the tattoos?" Hermione asked, once the brush was away from her mouth.

"Absolutely nothing." Pansy dipped the brush again. "All I know is that I can come and go as I please."

"Because you're 'dead.'"

Pansy's lips twitched. "Well, yes. That does tend to be helpful."

Pansy continued in silent concentration, dabbing at her face and smudging powders onto her cheeks. Hermione felt the same as she did in fourth year, when Parvati and Lavender fussed over her before the Yule Ball.

She heard an echo of a scream bouncing off black tile floors as Parvati was strangled around a corner — Luna shouting—

She blinked, refocusing and tuning back into Pansy, who was now grumbling about how her pale complexion was eating up all her bronzer.

"You said you envied me. In the Ministry."

Pansy didn't look up from her palette.

"You said you were envious of 'what my life would be,'" Hermione said. "What did you mean?"

Pansy laughed, a bark of glee that made Hermione jump in her seat. Pansy looked around the bathroom suite, gesturing with her brush.

"Do you think any other girl has any of this, Granger? Do you think the rest of them sleep soundly at night tucked between their twelve pillows, unafraid of a visitor in the middle of the night?"

A hot wave of guilt and sorrow bubbled in Hermione's belly, but she shoved it aside.

"You knew, even then, that Draco was going to buy me."

Pansy stabbed a new brush into a powder and hummed in confirmation.

Hermione took a breath, heart pounding. "Do you know why?"

Pansy turned to her, fringe swaying delicately. Her eyes took in Hermione's, studying her, before narrowing like a predator.

"I do," said Pansy, with a twist to her lips. And then, "Eyes closed, Granger," ending the conversation.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Pansy was already coming at her with the brush. Hermione closed her eyes, puffing out her breath in defeat.

Once Pansy began attacking her eyelids, Hermione decided to try her next line of questioning.

"Will you be at Edinburgh again? As Giuliana?"