I own nothing but the plot.


August 3rd, 1998

Hermione Granger liked control. She needed control, craved it. It was what drove her so hard, in her studies, with her friends, with every aspect of her life. Hermione liked to throw herself head first into each challenge, researching and beating everything down until she could control it. It was how she'd been built, something she'd done ever since she was a small child.

So being so out of control, was really starting to get to her. In the weeks after the Final Battle, Hermione had slipped off without Harry or Ron. Unbeknownst to them, she had made her way through apparition, portkeys and muggle flights where needed, until she was in Perth, Western Australia. It had taken some time, but she was finally able to track down a dental practice being run by Wendall and Monica Wilkins – the identities she had given to her parents, to protect them. Hermione spent days working on the memory charms she had laid, trying to figure out a way to break through them and restore everything without damaging her parent's minds. Ultimately though, she was unsuccessful and was forced to return to England, alone. That was the first time Hermione had ever lost control over something in her life, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Receiving the Head Girl badge and finding out that she was able to return to school was the first taste of normalcy that Hermione had experienced in a while, and for that she was grateful, but it still wasn't quite enough to pull her from her thoughts. She barely noticed as Ginny led them through the winding cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, and her heart wasn't really into it when she stopped and waved to all those who recognized her, the smile never really reaching her eyes as they meandered. Diagon Alley was slowly rebuilding, shops were opening again and life was coming back to the community. There was still some sadness lingering, shops that had yet to reopen, or to find new owners, but the signs of recovery were strong.

"… or we could go to the Joke Shop!" Hermione blinked a few times and turned to look at Ginny as the redhead rattled off suggestions for the day. She had missed most of the options whilst lost in her own thoughts. It was almost lucky she had tuned in now, judging by the expectant look on Ginny's face.

"I don't know… I want to do something fun. Something wild. Let's be reckless," Hermione tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked around, still wandering aimlessly down the streets. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she knew she wanted it to be something big. Something that would help her get her control back, even if it was only temporary.

"Jewelry? Ooh, what about a piercing!?" Ginny beamed, dragging Hermione over to a shopfront, the window casings full of displays of Goblin made jewelry and priceless gems.

"Maybe…" Hermione was surprised by how intriguing that suggestion was, although nothing in the window display was catching her attention, nor did either of them have enough galleons to afford it right now.

"Oh my God, what about something even better?! Do you trust me?" Ginny whipped around to stare at Hermione, a wicked, sparkling glint in her eyes.

"I trust you…" Hermione was still a bit weary, leaning back as she watched the younger witch before she was dragged off. Ginny kept her arm linked with Hermione's as she dragged them through the winding streets, ducking between buildings now and then to get away from people who recognized them. "Ginny, where are we go-" Hermione cut herself off as she realized where they were, not needing to ask anymore. The crooked sign on the wall proclaiming Knockturn Alley was enough of a give away. "Ginny, what are we doing?"

"You'll see!" Ginny didn't drop her beam, flouncing off between the buildings as she dragged Hermione into the less reputable alley. Skillfully dodging peddlers with wares that neither girl was sure were legal, or ethical in some regards, Ginny led them through to a darkened shop, making her way there from memory alone. "Bill brought me here last year when he wanted some work done."

Hermione didn't even get a chance to respond, all she could do was raise an eyebrow as Ginny opened the door and dragged her into the store. Inside was dark, a few candles floating throughout the room giving off an eerie glow, shadows casting across the walls. Blinking, Hermione looked around as her eyes started to adjust, and she realized that the shadows on the walls weren't exactly that – the walls were covered in designs and drawings, artwork covering almost every inch of space. A dark leather couch sat alone in the middle of the room, facing three doors leading to additional rooms. There was silence from the first, although the occasional grunt of what could only be described as a male in pain was heard from the middle.

"Ginny where the fuck are we?" Hermione hissed, stepping closer to the younger witch. She knew that she said she wanted to be wild, but this didn't seem like the kind of place two young women should frequent. Especially not alone.

"You're in the Spider's Lair," A male voice answered, the last door now open, revealing a surprisingly clinical looking room behind. The man was tall, his dark hair falling to his shoulders, an even darker robe covering his body. "Home of traditional and modern inkwork, artwork and tattoos."

"… tattoos?" Hermione blinked, her mouth falling open as she realized, and ideas started to spiral into her mind. Ginny flounced forwards again, abandoning Hermione to start talking animatedly to the man, describing an idea that it seemed like she'd wanted for a while.

"I've wanted to get one done ever since Bill brought me here… mum'll kill me but it'll be worth it," Hermione caught the end of Ginny's explanation, coming to her senses again as the redhead disappeared into the open room, already shrugging off clothing. The man followed behind her, but not before another employee appeared, a witch not much older than Hermione herself appearing to take over.

"So, got anything in mind hon?" The witch sat down on the couch, lounging back as she watched Hermione, the pair alone in the waiting room now.

"What did he mean, traditional and modern?" Hermione's need for knowledge took over, thoughts and ideas still whirling through her mind, but she needed to know more before making any decision. She wanted control, but needed to know it was all hers.

"That's fair, hon'. We use modern techniques to lay ink under the skin for radiant designs with minimal movement. They'll last 3-5 years before needing to be touched up as the magic in your blood wears away the ink. We also offer traditional work, but you must know, that's a more extensive process. Each line is put in individually and the ink is imbued with dragon's blood. They'll never fade or disappear, but be warned. The cost to these is more extensive, for your own magic will give life to the image and it will be part of your body forever. They can cover any mark or scar on your body and render it invisible to the naked eye, but only if the original marking was done against your will. The magic in these traditional pieces is… strong."

Hermione stared intently at the closed middle door as the woman explained to her, her mind never stopping as she pieced together that whoever was behind that door was going through a painful, permanent piece of work. Waiting until the last words were spoken, she turned to face the artist. Hermione Granger was going to regain control of her life, one day at a time if she had to. Yanking the sleeve of her shirt up, Hermione thrust her arm out, fist clenched and forearm twisted so the scarred word was visible on her skin, each line spelling out "mudblood" standing out against her otherwise smooth skin.

"Cover this."