Beauty From Pain

Chapter One

It had started out simply enough, although the most complicated things in life usually do.

After the Final Battle at Hogwarts, Hermione had worked tirelessly on reconstruction alongside Harry, Ron, and all the other survivors. She had pushed aside the chaos in her mind and her heart so she could focus on the spell-work needed for so much rebuilding, but when they had finished the chaos crept back in. So entirely overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil, the nightmares, and the pain, Hermione had left the magical world and hidden herself away in a quiet corner of Muggle London. Perhaps, she had thought, taking a break from all things magical would be good for her, at least for a little while.

It had been purely by chance that she had stumbled upon that particular tattoo parlor on that particularly rainy day.

She had heard of and even seen tattoos while living with her muggle parents, but had never given them a second thought until that day. At first, she had wanted to keep her battle scars - reminders of what she had survived and what she had conquered. The crude, jagged carving of 'mudblood' on her forearm was a reminder that she was more than her blood, more than where she came from or what she had been through. But if that were the case, she was more than her scars wasn't she?

And so she had gotten them covered; she allowed something beautiful to blossom from something that had been so painful for so long. The tattoo, which was only supposed to be a few flowers, ended up becoming a mosaic of flora on her forearm that spread over her arm and brushed the top of her shoulder. It was the artist's fault, really. Watching the flowers come to life on her skin had been entirely hypnotizing, and when he had tried to stop she had insisted he was to keep going. The ever curious part of her watched in fascination and itched to learn such an incredible craft.

She befriended the tattoo artist and even apprenticed there for a while, building a portfolio that impressed all of her clients, but her never-resting brain kept thinking of the endless possibilities. And so she became fully immersed into the muggle tattoo world. She wasn't hiding from the magical world. Hermione Granger didn't hide, but she was certainly enjoying her sabbatical. The small part of her, the young girl whose childhood was stolen and who feared ever returning to a place full of so many bad memories, she wished to stay safe among the muggles. But it wasn't enough, and she missed the ones she'd left behind.

It began with drawings, sketches of designs that might move or might glow; fanciful things that Hermione assured her new friends were merely creative imaginings. Then came the runes, the arithmancy formulas, and the patent rough drafts that swiftly overtook every available surface of her tiny apartment. Before she knew it, she had everything she could need to venture back into the Wizarding World and open her own shop. Perhaps a part of her had known that she couldn't stay away forever; that working at someone else's shop wouldn't be enough for her.

She was gone for nearly three years before she finally found the strength to go back.

Hermione told her muggle friends that she had family who needed her which wasn't entirely a lie. The survivors of the Battle at Hogwarts had become a family to her, and she missed them desperately. She hadn't packed up her belongings though and decided to keep her muggle flat in London. Having someplace she could escape to would make returning to the wizarding world a little easier -- at least she hoped it would.

Finding a place to rent in Diagon Alley had been surprisingly easy. Although she had fairly low standards and took the first place she found, at least she found a place quickly.

She felt a grimace pull at her face as she gazed up at the building.

It was, in a word, dilapidated. The front door barely hung upon it's hinges, leaning too far to the right within its frame and allowing slivers of the shadows beyond to peek through. Dust and grime clouded the front windows beyond the point of being able to see through them, a colony of spiders nesting in the shaded corners. Compared to the rest of Diagon Alley, the storefront was rather small and tucked away between the other shops. She had walked past it at least twice before she realized the glorified hole-in-the-wall was hers. The ad which claimed it was "quaint" and "charming" was so far past misleading it was almost unscrupulous. They had overcharged her for a broken down shack.