Narcissa looked at her, blue eyes piercing. "Because I've had those animals in my house, snarling and pissing and prowling. I know what they do, I know how they think." She sniffed, and Hermione was reminded of the Narcissa Malfoy she'd met before, nose in the air, above everyone else. "You're in no such danger here, I assure you. The Malfoy men may not be saints, but they worship their women fervently."

Hermione fought the urge to scoff. His woman? Was that what she was now?

Perhaps Narcissa misunderstood this situation. Perhaps Narcissa thought there was more to this than… whatever there was to this. But she seemed to genuinely believe that Hermione was not in danger here, that she was not purchased with the intention of defiling and debasing her.

Lucius on the other hand… Her earlier conversation with him gave her no answers either, and left her feeling more like a bought whore than she had the entire week prior.

Hermione stopped in front of a rose bush blooming the most perfect white roses. She bit her lip, debating whether to tell Narcissa the truth: that she had no idea why Draco had bought her. But Narcissa spoke before she could pluck up the courage. "You are welcome to come out here any time you like. You needn't have a chaperone in this house."

Hermione swiveled her head to her. "That's... That's very kind, Mrs. Malfoy. Is there anywhere I should steer clear of?"

"Besides the common decency of staying out of other's private quarters – of which I am positive you possess – nowhere is barred to you. We have no mad ex-wives in our attics."

Hermione tripped on a pebble, or something else imaginary. "You know Brontë?"

"I do." Narcissa smiled. "The Manor's library is too large to only house wizarding books."

Narcissa walked on. Hermione's heart lifted for the first time since someone else's name had been tattooed on her arm.

"That's right," she said, like it was detail she'd forgotten. "The Manor has a library."

~*~

Hermione wasn't sure she had smiled once in the past year. Not a smile from her heart. Not a grin that began inside of her, like a star bursting apart.

The library at Malfoy Manor was the size of a small bookshop. Perhaps a large bookshop, as Hermione couldn't see to the back wall. Tall as a grand ballroom with stacks reaching high to the ceiling, Hermione couldn't breathe for the love she felt for one room. How long had it been since she'd set foot in a library?

"Oh dear. It seems I've lost you."

She turned from running her fingers across a shelf to see Narcissa smiling at her. "I'm sorry. I do like books very much."

"Yes, I've heard." Narcissa tilted her head. Hermione was surprised that this detail stuck out to her after what she assumed were years of moaning and complaining from her son. Before she could consider further, Narcissa continued, "Can I bring you anything while you browse? Tea?"