AN: Happy Thanksgiving, darlings! I hope you've had a wonderful week and enjoy a day full of good food and better friends. I've got a casserole to finish, so I'll see you all next week!

-..-

"I'm sorry," Hermine said again. She had apologized at least ten times since the start of the appointment. "I know it hurts. I'll try to be quick, just let me know if you need a break."

"I've been through worse," Draco growled through clenched teeth. He hadn't meant to sound so hostile, but the pain in his arm was excruciating.

She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling at his bravado and focused intently on tracing the delicate wings of the snitch.

Draco glanced between the lip caught between her teeth and the ink spreading over his skin. He tried to distract himself from the discomfort in his forearm by thinking up sly remarks about the things Granger did when she focused, but they of course remained unsaid. The threats she had given him when he first entered the shop were fresh in his mind, so he decided not to comment on the way the tip of her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth or the bits of songs she quietly hummed under her breath while she changed colors were a welcome distraction. She was completely absorbed in her work, and it was fascinating.

"How did you get into this?" The question was out of his mouth before he really thought about asking it, but Draco was dying to know what happened to her after the War. Although the newspapers liked to speculate, no one really knew where Granger had disappeared off to for the past three years. Draco didn't like not knowing things.

"You disappeared after the War, and no one knew where you went. Well, Potter and Weasley obviously knew." He rolled his eyes at the thought of her two friends and said, "They were very tight lipped about it, and then you suddenly reappeared, no explanation and a new form of magical expression in tow. If you don't mind my asking, what happened in the interim?"

Hermione smiled softly at his questions. Setting her tattoo machine down, she grabbed a spare rag to wipe her ink stained fingers off. She leaned back slightly on her stool and assessed him carefully. "Tattoos are something I stumbled upon in the muggle world." She paused to give him the opportunity to make a snide remark, but he remained quiet. "I found a tattoo shop while I was taking a break from the Wizarding World."

Draco caught a flash of pain that darted across her face, and filed it away from future analysis.

"I was very fragile after the War," she admitted honestly. "I needed to take time to rebuild my life and put myself back together. Part of that healing was getting old scars covered and allowing myself to feel beautiful and whole again. I knew there were so many people who needed the same thing, so I returned and opened Virago, a place for new beginnings."

Draco mulled over her words quietly before a specific phrase caught his attention. He swallowed thickly, memories of stone floors and falling chandeliers clouding his mind, and his gaze floated down towards her left forearm where he knew the word 'mudblood' still lingered under the sleeve of her sweater.

"You have a tattoo," he said. It was meant as a question, but came out as more of a realized statement.

She nodded, a slight flush of pride warming her cheeks. "As a matter of fact, I have many."

Draco shifted in his seat, a sudden wave of heat washing over him and it made his mouth run dry. "Can I…" He cleared his throat and tried to ask casually, "Can I see them?"

Hermione's lips curled up into a sly grin, and she restarted her work on his tattoo. "How about I let you see one of my tattoos every time you let me give you a new tattoo?"

"Deal," he said a little too eagerly.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Hermione worked on his arm, only interrupted by Hermione's quiet humming and Draco's intermittent sounds of discomfort as he adjusted to the pain of his Mark being altered. When she finally finished, she took out her wand to begin casting the more complicated spells for movement and shine.

"Hey, mate," Theo said as he popped his head into the work room. "I've got a quick question for you."

"What?" Draco and Hermione asked in unison.

Draco looked sharply at her and frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Hermione looked up from his tattoo and rolled her eyes. "Theo, who were you talking to?"

"Obviously me, Granger," Draco said with a skeptically arched brow.

A smirk touched the corner of Hermione's mouth as Theo answered, "Actually I was talking to Hermione. I had a question about a tattoo design."

Draco squinted his eyes at him in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Since when do you call her 'mate'? I didn't know you two were friends."

"Am I not allowed to have friends, Malfoy? Or are you upset that your friend likes me better than you?"

"That's rubbish," he said with a scoff. "He's only calling you 'mate' because he wants something from you, not because you're friends."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Wouldn't be the first time."

Draco sneered, but then Theo flushed at the insinuation which caused Draco's jaw to drop in a most undignified manner.

"Honestly, Theo," she said with a laugh. "You make it too easy."

Theo mumbled something about rude witches under his breath, cheeks still a warm pink.

Draco blinked a few times and said, "Theo, I had no idea you were such a witch's warlock."

"Oh, yes, he's a massive flirt," Hermione said as she grinned mischievously at Theo. "Always distracting me from my work."

"And bagging a witch like Granger?" Draco shook his head and whistled in mock amazement. "You need to tell me your secret, mate. That's impressive."

Hermione patted Draco on the shoulder and gave Theo a sympathetic look. "Don't pick on him too much, he's very private."

"That must be why you missed dinner last week. You could have just told us you had a date."

Theo's jumbled protests were growing louder as his gaze darted back and forth between his two friends. "It's not - I didn't - but"

"Don't worry, Theo," Draco said in a placating manner. "I won't tell Blaise."

His panic mounted, and Theo turned quite pale at the idea of Blaise knowing anything related to his dating life, imaginary or otherwise. "Draco," he said weakly. "Please not Blaise."

Hermione's laugh was loud and contagious, pulling reluctant chuckles from even Theo as he caught on to their joking.

"Let me finish up here, Theo. I'll meet up with you as soon as I'm done." She smiled sweetly at him and winked. "Try not to miss me too much."

Theo grumbled under his breath as he left, but a small smile lingered on his lips.

Draco considered Hermione as she carefully finished the remaining magic for his tattoo. He was still surprised that the bushy haired know-it-all from his school days had turned into such a confident young witch. Inventing new forms of magic, befriending Slytherins, and rebelling against the status quo. He never would have thought it possible.

Hermione leaned back on her stool, brown eyes glittering with satisfaction, and said, "Alright, your tattoo is finished."

The air left his lungs in a loud, undignified gasp.

His tattoo was simple in color, almost entirely black and white, but the collage of images she had created was breathtakingly beautiful. Rather than cover the dark mark like she had with Theo's tattoo, Hermione had transformed his mark into something else entirely. The skull of the dark mark had been made into a small golden snitch with delicate, detailed wings. The body of the snake had been transformed into a lithe black dragon which twined its body around the snitch, scales glittering and body twitching on his forearm. The rest of his skin was covered in white narcissus flowers with golden edges in their petals, just like the ones he had helped Mother grow in her garden.

"I've added a few details that aren't visible yet," she said with a proud smile. "For example, the center of the narcissus flowers will each have a small star, and at night the stars and flower stems will glow to show the constellation Draco. The snake has the ability to move and will slither around the snitch, and the wings of the snitch will move as well."

Draco was nodding along with her and doing his best to imagine the changes she was describing.

"If it's too much, we can reduce the movement," she said. A tone of uncertainty was creeping into her voice. "I can add some color or add movement to the flowers and things, if you'd like."

"No," he said with a firm shake of his head. "It's perfect."

A faint blush warmed her cheeks. "Perfect? Are you sure you don't want to change anything?"

Draco brushed a careful thumb against his new tattoo, awed by the smoothness of the skin and boldness of the ink against his pale complexion. His stomach twisted with an unfamiliar emotion, and his breath hitched in his chest.

"I don't want to change anything."

Hermione flushed with pleasure at such high praise and grinned widely at him. "I'm glad you like it."

Clearing his throat, which had grown tight with emotion, he said, "I can't thank you enough, Granger."

He smiled up at her, and the genuine appreciation in it took Hermione by surprise.

"You're welcome."

Hermione blinked several times when she realized she had been staring at Draco. She cleared her throat and stood quickly from her stool to begin cleaning up the work space.

Draco finally pulled his gaze away from his new tattoo, his finger tips still absentmindedly tracing the lines of the snitch's wings, and asked, "Are all of your tattoos magical?"

"No," Hermione answered while carefully dismantling and cleaning her tattoo machine. "I have two muggle tattoos, but the rest I have modified in magical ways."

He tried not to perk up at the idea of her having more than two tattoos. He wasn't sure why, but he was swiftly developing the need to see each of her tattoos immediately.

"This was my first one, and I've kept it as muggle as possible." Hermione carefully rolled the sleeve of her sweater up above her elbow and held out her forearm for him to examine.

A mosaic of flowers burst across her skin in a beautiful array of colors. Peonies, sunflowers, roses, and more decorated her skin in vibrant shades of pinks, reds, and oranges; it was a floral sunset that hid any trace of the ugly word that had once been carved there.

Draco swallowed thickly. His fingertips itched to touch her skin, to feel and make sure that the scar on her forearm was truly gone. "It's beautiful," he said quietly.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. "It made me fall in love with tattoos."

"I can see why." His fingers tapped against his own forearm, and his eyes moved from her tattoos over the rest of her outfit. He wondered what other tattoos she was hiding. His gray eyes issued a hint of a challenge, and he asked, "If I schedule an appointment for a second tattoo…?"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise and she said, "We've barely finished your first one."

Draco scoffed and allowed that familiar swagger to show through. "I didn't realize there was a waiting period between appointments."

"There isn't," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I was merely surprised you wouldn't need a recovery period before spending more time with me."

"Perhaps, but I think of it less as spending time with you and more of discovering how far your rebel streak runs." He gathered his coat and gave her a mischievous smile. "I'll send you an owl."

Hours later, Hermione was sat at her desk still considering that smile. She had only ever seen Malfoy smirk or sneer, his narcissism and infallible confidence a strong barrier against any type of gratitude towards someone else. And yet she had seen both directed towards her.

And he had thanked her.

A disbelieving smile pulled at her lips as she shook her head in wonder. That was easily the most bizarre appointment she had ever had.

The shop's front door was thrown open with a loud 'bang', and Ginny's voice entered the room before she did.

"Hermione," she called. "I hope you're free this Wednesday because I made plans for the both of us."

Hermione waited until she had entered the office before answering, "Considering that is a weekday, I will most likely be running the shop."

"Not anymore," Ginny proclaimed excitedly. "We are going to a party."

"A party," Hermione said and looked entirely unimpressed. "Why would we be going to a party?"

A solemn note lit Ginny's eyes. "Because it's the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Madam Rosmerta has invited everyone who fought to celebrate at the Three Broomsticks. She wants the veterans to have a private place to celebrate in peace."

"Ginny," Hermione said with a reluctant sigh. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Ginny propped her head on the palm of her hand and pouted. "All our old school friends will be there."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, but in the past I celebrated the anniversary quietly and respectfully."

"Alone in your flat?"

"There is nothing quiet or respectful about a party in a pub."

Ginny pursed her lips and hummed in thought. She said, "No there might not be. But do you really think they would want us mourning on the one day we should be celebrating our victory?"

Hermione didn't need to ask who 'they' was. The ones they had lost, the victims of that horrible war would probably not want Hermione sitting alone in her flat with only a wine glass and a heavy blanket to keep her company. Remus would give her that professor's frown of disappointment, and Tonks would have throw an absolute fit.

With a somewhat melancholy smile, Hermione said, "No they wouldn't. Fred would demand no less than three shots and fireworks."

"Yes he would," Ginny agreed triumphantly. "And the least we can do is get drunk out of our minds in his honor."

"I don't have anything to wear," Hermione said.

Ginny scoffed and said, "Not to worry, darling. I know just the place to go."

The place ended up being Twilfitt and Tatting's. Hermione was surprised to find they carried more than wizard robes and had a large collection of dresses that Ginny found suitable for parties. That was high praise coming from her.

They spent an hour or so combing through the dresses, but Ginny was growing more frustrated the longer they were there. It wasn't because the selection of dresses was particularly disappointing, but Hermione had decided to entertain herself by finding the ugliest or most bizarre dresses she could.

"Oh, this one is horrible," she called out with a laugh.

Ginny sighed in exasperation and turned to look at the dress Hermione was holding.

It was a purple monstrosity full of lace, beads, sequins, and Merlin knows what else. It looked like a crafting spell had exploded on it.

"Hermione," she said, "please be serious. The sooner we find a dress, the sooner we can go eat dinner."

"Okay, okay," Hermione said and picked out another dress. "What about this one?"

She was holding up an emerald green cocktail dress with a high-low hemline and modest square collar.

"That's too safe," Ginny argued with a shake of her head. "You're going to be seeing classmates you haven't seen in years, Hermione. Be bold! Make a statement."

Hermione rolled her eyes and put the dress back on the rack. "Be bold," she grumbled to herself. "Since when were dresses considered bold?"

"Besides," Ginny said, pretending she hadn't heard Hermione's grumbling. "You can't wear that shade of green."

"Because it's Slytherin green?"

"No, because that was the color of Seamus' wedding tux."

Hermione's eyes widened with horror and she gasped, "Surely not."

"Oh, it was." Ginny grinned widely at the memory. "Dean Thomas stood in front of us in his dashing black wizard robes. He looked every party the excited groom, and then in comes Seamus Finnegan. He's in a dazzling green and amazingly muggle suit. Dean married England's happiest leprechaun!"

The pair of witches laughed so hard they received disapproving looks from the woman behind the front desk. Hermione swiped at the tears gathering in her eyes and fought to gain control of herself.

She waved an apology towards the shop worker and said, "Please tell me someone made the joke about Dean being Seamus' pot of gold."

"George did at least five times," Ginny said with a gleeful grin. "Poor Seamus blushed his way through the entire reception."

Hermione chuckled but her response trailed off as a flash of gold caught her attention. She plucked the shimmering fabric from the rack and said, "Speaking of gold."

Ginny turned her attention towards Hermione and gasped when she saw the dress. "Finally! Hermione Granger is being adventurous. Call the Daily Prophet before she changes her mind!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and drawled, "Who knew Gryffindors could be brave?"

"All jokes aside," Ginny said and took the dress from Hermione to examine it properly. "This dress is killer. Everyone is going to lose their minds when they see you in it."

"Remind me who 'everyone' is," Hermione said innocently. She had been trying to pull information about the party form Ginny all afternoon, but her normally talkative friend had been quite secretive.

"Oh you know," Ginny said evasively, "just some old classmates. Go try the dress on so I can fawn over you. I'll keep looking for my dress while you change."

Hermione made her way towards the dressing room and missed the mischievous look that sparkled in Ginny's eyes.

Whipping out her wand, Ginny cast a swift patronus charm. A familiar silver horse danced silently around the room and, when it found no dementors to chase, paused before her to await her instructions.

"Parkinson," she murmured to the shimmering stallion. "I know we aren't friends, but I have something I wish to discuss with you that might prove quite interesting. Owl me if you would like to meet for tea."

Her patronus vanished through the shop wall just as Hermione stepped out of the dressing room.

—..—

Ginny tried not to bounce her knee as she apprehensively watched the front door of Black Dragon Brews. She had expected Parkinson to either turn down her invitation or ignore her patronus completely. To her surprise, a regal black owl waited on her window sill when she returned from her shopping trip and dinner with Hermione. Pansy had accepted her invitation to tea and awaited a date and time to meet with her.

The party was in three days, but if Ginny played her cards right…

The front doorbell dinged quietly, and Pansy Parkinson stepped into the cafe.

Ginny couldn't help but admire the effortless grace in her movements as Pansy ordered her drink and made her way to Ginny's table. Her hair was perfectly styled, makeup perfectly applied, and posture perfectly straight.

She sighed quietly to herself and made a mental note to check her use of the word "perfect" when thinking about a Slytherin.

"You're looking well, Ginevra," Pansy said as she dusted off the seat across from Ginny and sat down.

Ginny's eye twitched slightly at the use of her given name. "You as well, Parkinson. Adulthood looks good on you."

Pansy smirked at the subtle quick and accepted her cup of tea from the waitress. She daintily folded her hands in her lap and asked, "Why have you asked me here?"

Ginny considered her words for a moment and said, "There is a party on Wednesday to celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. All school alumni are invited by Madam Rosmerta to the Three Broomsticks, and I would like to invite you."

"Me," Pansy said skeptically. "Why would you invite me?"

"My motivations are admittedly selfish," Ginny said with an unapologetic smile. "I am sure you know Nott has become friends with Hermione."

"Of course." Pansy sipped her tea but kept her dark eyes trained on the witch across from her. "Perhaps your invitation should be directed towards him."

"Not just him."

Pansy quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small smile of amusement to dance across her lips. "Is that so?"

Ginny wrapped both hands around her tea cup and said, "I believe we have specific persons in our lives who would benefit should the both of us decide to assist them. They are incapable of swallowing their pride and seeing the potential in front of them."

Interest sparked in Pansy eyes. "I can agree with that assessment."

"And would it not benefit them to receive a push in the right direction?"

Pansy wrapped both hands around her own tea cup and hummed in thought. "Perhaps women can look past their childhood squabbles to assist those who need them." She opened the napkin next to her tea saucer and spread it carefully over her lap. "Especially those unable to help themselves."

Ginny grabbed her napkin and set it in her lap as well. "I believe childhood disagreements can be left in the past." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said, "The gathering on Friday would be an opportune environment to test the waters."

The hair Pansy tried to tuck behind her ear was too short to stay there, but she did it nonetheless. "Such gatherings are usually below my standards, but I suppose we could attend."

"I'm sure the event will be improve by your presence," Ginny said dryly.

"We can hope," Pansy retorted with a smirk. "I'm impressed, Ginevra. It would seem your garnet blood has streaks of emerald."

Ginny sipped her tea and tried not to look smug when she said, "Looking past dividing lines can be quite beneficial, Parkinson. Especially in the territory of love and spite."

Pansy held her tea cup up in a silent toast. "To whichever one prevails."

Toasting her tea as well, Ginny tried to contain her excitement. This meeting had gone far better than she had anticipated.

They finished their tea in silence. They had come to an agreement on what they had met to discuss, and neither witch saw the advantage in making small talk.

Pansy rose to leave, dusting off her dress to remove any trace of the small coffee shop from her clothing. She paused with a delicately manicured hand on the back of her chair and said, "The dress color will be a vital detail."

Ginny grinned widely and said, "Honey gold."

Looking pleasantly surprised, Pansy nodded. "Excellent choice."