Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  I burst through the door, the tiny bell rattling harshly against the frame. I didn't know much about Luna's parlor, The Niffler's Treasured Tattoos, but I knew enough. Namely, A, they did magical tattoos, and B, Luna hadn't batted an eye at hiring her best friend, the one and only Harry Potter, when he had quit auror training three months after starting. That was enough to fill my needs.

  Harry was often scheduled for late hours, meaning I saw less of my super cute flatmate than I wanted, but that ensured that, despite closing down my shop at its regular time of 10 PM, I could still find him there and deal with the little problem I'd encountered.

  Little. Right… My mind snarked at me.

  It was a little problem. If you could consider a seven foot tall Russian dude who was roughly 300 lbs of pure muscle, and who was aggressively flirting with you little in any way. Unfortunately, I was on the shorter side myself, at only 5' 7", and had lost a lot of weight following the war (aka after Fred died and I lost half myself). Mister Huge and Mighty didn't really seem little in comparison. In fact he'd seemed more intimidating and just slightly too invested in the love potions and adult fun section of the shop, the part that had been opened in Fred's memory, to allow me to keep my cool.

  My pulse hadn't slowed down since he'd checked out at six with his threatening last words. I could feel my heart still pounding as my eyes tore around the room. Finally I saw the person sitting at the counter who, unknowingly, was going to save my arse. Assuming he could act.

  I swallowed a little at the thought. The whole plan hinges on Harry being able to pretend. If he isn't okay with it… No. He would be okay with it. He had to be. Or I'm dead.

  Hands slightly trembling, I walked over to where he was sitting. Ebony hair flopped over every which way as he bent down, staring intently at the page he was drawing on, nose mere inches away from his scratching pencil. Wonder if anyone would be able to tell if Harry stuck his finger in a light socket, my thoughts wandered as I watched his slim hands turn the sketch book slightly, unaware he had an audience. What appeared to be a multi-tailed fox was appearing under his fingers. Not wanting to disturb him, but too anxious to not, I gently cleared my throat.

  He jumped, head swiveling around briefly. His brilliant emerald eyes latched on me, a flash of fear covering them. As if by instinct, one of his arms had come up to block his head while the other hastily covered his drawing. My heart fluttered under his wide-eyed stare. I knew in that moment that he could ask me to do anything, and I'd go past the ends of the earth to accomplish it. 

  I gave a tiny head shake, trying to clear my thoughts. What was I doing here again?

  Harry dropped his arm and slowly pulled his book, which I recognized now as his tattoo portfolio, into his lap. "Can I help you Georgie?"

  I melted a little at the nickname. It shouldn't have been a shock, my whole family used it, but somehow, it was different coming from Harry's lips. It felt more… personal. Which made what I was there to ask hurt just a little bit more.

  "Yes, but–" But what? 'Yes, but I love you so please don't; it'll hurt too much.' 'Yes, but please just go along with it even though you hate me.' 'Yes, but you could make it actually real.' 'Yes, but death might actually be a nicer way to deal with this and I don't want you to commit murder.' I really didn't know where I was planning on that sentence going. Not for the first time, I missed having Fred there to finish my sentences. It made it so much easier, giving me time to actually think through what I was saying, or cutting me off when needed, or making it seem less random.

  "But what?" Harry asked.

  I decided to plow on without finishing the sentence. Because screw my bloody emotions. Or whatever. "I need you to give me a tattoo. And it bloody well needs to be a big one."

  Thankfully, Harry didn't seem upset at the sudden change of pace. "Well we have no appointments so I could probably do that. Do you have an idea of design?" He spun on what apparently was his swivel stool and stood up. Stretching up on tiptoes, he started to pull a binder off the high shelf.

  Internally, I smirked. I was short, yes, but I still had at least three inches on Harry. He was just soooo smol! "I don't really have a set design in mind…"

  With a huff, Harry managed to get the binder down, dropping it back on the table. "There's probably something here in Luna's design book that'll strike your fancy. I'll be able to replicate most of them, though I might have to get Luna to help with some of her more precise intricate details."

  My heart sunk a little. "Luna"s designs?"

  "Oh yes. Luna's an amazing artist." Harry nodded, like the loyal friend he was. "Why would we copy some other artist?"

  "So good artists shouldn't copy from others?" I asked, mouth moving before my brain could catch up.

  "Why would they? If they have talent they might as well make their own original stuff if possible."

  Well I already chose my path so I have to stick to it. I placed my hand on the front of the binder as Harry went to open it. A puzzled look was thrown my way. "If good artists should produce their own work, then I want you to design whatever you're tattooing on me."

  Harry's mouth gaped open. He tried to say something, but was unable to get any sound out. He swallowed and tried again. "I don't know who you're thinking of, but it's not me. I'm not a good artist."

  I fought the urge to squish my the cinnamon roll's cheeks. He was so insecure. It was so cute. "I think you're a good artist. I've seen your drawings of the, like, magic foxes? They're great."

  "Kitsune. And that's not true. They aren't great."

  As much as I wanted to argue that he was good again, I knew that wouldn't make any progress. But the impulsivity in me refused to back down. So I switched to a different tactic. "Is Luna a good artist?"

  Harry rolled his eyes. "Obviously. You don't open a bloody tattoo parlor without being a good artist."

  "Right right. And you do tattoos here, right?"

  "Yeah, using Luna's designs!"

  "And you're able to follow those designs?"

  Harry shrugged as if to say 'So what?'. I grinned. "So you're saying you're able to produce good art?"

  The slightest hint of pink dusted Harry's cheeks. He tried to counter my claims. "I'm able to replicate good art."

  I brushed his reply off. "It's not like it's a stencil. You have to be able to draw to replicate it."

  Harry sputtered. "Yeah but that's– Like, you know– That's different."

  "How so?"

  "It's using a reference." He said. Like that changed anything.

  "So use one of your pieces as a reference. I don't see how it's any different."

  "That still wouldn't be something I designed. It'd be off a reference," he gestured to his phone that still had the screen open to the kitsune he'd been drawing, "for the shapes and only the details would be mine."

  "Sounds perfect. I'll take that please!"

  "I should use Luna's designs. It's her parlor." Harry looked torn.

  "It's her parlor that she hired you for, partially in hopes of improving your confidence in your art." A semi-exasperated voice called from the back of the shop.

  Harry started again, but relaxed seemingly quicker than before. "I'm not about to disrespect your parlor like that, Luna."

  "I opened this parlor to encourage creativity and self expression. Refusing to do that, and only tattooing my designs is much more of a disrespect to me." Luna replied in her slightly too honest way. She waltzed up from the back of the shop, feet seeming to barely touch the ground. "It's something I've considered hexing you for."

  Harry smiled. "Well if you feel that strongly about it–"

  "Harry James Potter. Either you give your flatmate one of your Tats on his skin or I swear I will curse you. And you know as well as I do that I know some bloody effective ones nowadays." Luna glanced over at me. "Good to see you out and about George. I hope that plan works for you; as you can see, Harry is a bit of an idiot. Not that you seem to mind that." Luna gave one of her spacey grins that made her look possessed, like she always seemed to do after saying something she shouldn't know.

  I fought back the small shudder that passed through me at her statement. There's no way she knows the mess I'm in. That'd be impossible. 

  Harry ignored Luna's comments toward me. He squinted at me then tentatively held out his sketchbook. "There's not a lot of variety in subject matter," Was Harry blushing harder? Why? "But there are lots of different positioning options."

  I grabbed the offered book and flicked through it. As Harry had said, about 90% of the drawings were of the magical foxes he'd called kitsune, though a good portion of them only had one ear, as if Harry had forgotten the second one. They were gorgeous even with the small defect and I could tell I was going to struggle to pick one. In an effort to stall, I asked "So is this like your mascot or something? Like why the multi tail fox?"

  Harry stared at his hands as he wrung them in front of him. "Kitsune. I tried drawing people but those never turned out. So I found a magical animal that reminded me of someone–" His eyes flitted over to me, and his ears darkened to the point where there was no questioning that he was blushing. He quickly looked back at his hands and pulled his shoulders up as if to hide. Harry's voice got very quiet. "Someone I've thought a lot about and admired."

  My curiosity spiked. "Which person?" I saw Luna shake her head in what looked like exasperation out of the corner of my eye.

  Harry chose to ignore the question, but I saw his tiny lip nibble. Interesting. Could it be that I knew this kitsune muse?

  Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh, did you find one you liked?"

  I stared back down at the book, flipping between two drawings. "I really like the colors and details on this one. But I like the shape and style of this one more. I don't know which one I want on my body. Permanently." I gulped a little. Fred had always been the one to want a tattoo. I'd never been that excited about the prospect. Yet here I was. All because my bloody mouth moved faster than my brain. Maybe I should just get a tattoo that said 'please shut me up' on my forehead. It'll probably do me more good in the long run.

  Harry studied the two I had pointed out. He tipped his head this way and that. Finally he pulled out his wand and tapped the picture I said I'd liked the shape on. "Geminio." The duplicate popped into existence next to the original. He gave me a sheepish smile. "The next part doesn't have an actual spell for it so this might not work as well."

  I had no idea what his goal here was, but I nodded anyway. Harry didn't seem to notice either way. He'd scrunched his eyes shut tight. His brow furrowed and his nose twitched. He was clenching his fists in a specific pattern, one I found myself subconsciously replicating. 

  After what was probably two or three minutes (maybe? Time was always screwy for me) there was a strange slurping sound. Startled, I looked at the picture. The colors were all swirling and pulling to the center of the picture, like they were being flushed down the loo. The oranges darkened and the yellows lightened. It was a hypnotic swirl and I couldn't pull my eyes away.

  After a few more times around, the color seeped back toward the edges of the picture. It wasn't the same colors that the detail reference had shown. The blues had blended smoothly into purples, the oranges changing to brilliant pinks. The swirls in the original concept shifted into nebulous trails, still outlined in a black line that made it look like a galactic fire. It looked beyond what I had dared hope for, reminding me of nights spent testing fireworks with Fred and celebrations of well executed pranks.

  I didn't realize I had gone silent till Harry cleared his throat. "Obviously that's not right. Sorry 'bout that. I'm gonna try ag–"

  "It's perfect. Can you do that?" I cut him off. Suddenly a tattoo didn't seem like the worst excuse I could have come up with. It seemed like an absolute necessity.

  Harry studied it. He tipped his head, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth in adorable concentration. "I can probably make this work. Where are you wanting it?"

  I sheepishly grinned. "I hadn't thought that far yet?"

  Harry brought his hand up to his face, then slowly dragged it down. "You haven't decided where you want it?"

  "Haz, hun, go set up your chair, I'll talk with George." Luna stepped back in.

  I couldn't help scowl a little at both the nickname and Luna's term of endearment. There is nothing between them. There can't be. Right?

  "Are you wanting to show it off a lot or have it be more personal?" Luna tipped her head to the side before rolling her eyes. "Oh please. Relax. Harry and I are closer to siblings than anything else. Get your mind out of the gutter. I'd rather tattoo my eye than date Harry." Another unhinged smile sent my way.

 Hiding my shudder (hopefully), I quickly looked over at Harry, unsure of how much he'd heard, and how aware he was of my own crimson neck and ear. He was scrubbing dutifully at the chair, seemingly in his zone. If he had heard, he gave no indication. "I want to show it off."

  "And I'm assuming you don't want it super painful?"

  My hand twitched to the side of my head, brushing against what had once been my ear. Certain spells applied every 12 hours helped with the hearing loss I'd suffered, but it was impossible to fix a body part severed by dark magic. But, worse than not having the symmetry two ears would provide, was the pain that would often come from it. Like a red hot rusty knife was sawing it off again, centimeter by centimeter. Nothing touched it, nothing soothed it, nothing brought relief when it would flare up. The only thing mentioning it did was grant me looks of disgusting pity. As if that was why I was joking about the pain. Because, clearly, it's not like humor could be a coping mechanism. 

  Luna smirked. "Pity was never my preferred reaction either. It doesn't change anything except make us all feel weird, right?"

  I could feel the famous Weasley blush heating further down the back of my neck, dripping down my back. Luna's bloody creepy sometimes.

  A small musical laugh. "I prefer the term 'creatively intelligent', myself. How bout you tattoo your outer forearm? Won't hurt a ton and be plenty noticeable. Plus when it gets charmed it'll give it a little more room to stretch."

  "Uh sure. What the bloody hell is 'more room to stretch' supposed to mean though?"

  "You said you wanted a magical Tat, didn't you? Trust me on this. Or at the very least trust Harry. The specific magics for animal Tats were his idea after all."

  I didn't actually recall saying it was to be a magical tattoo. The thought of giving someone permission to cast or imbue an unknown spell into my skin made me more nervous than the tattoo itself had initially. But… I trust Harry. And a magic tattoo that he designed sounds more personal and like something a boyfriend would do. Which is better cover anyway. But maybe he wouldn't actually show up. In which case, why would I need cover? I shook the thoughts out of my head. "I guess that's ok." 

  I followed Luna over to the chair Harry had just finished scrubbing down. He started pulling paper over it. A glance was thrown at me before Harry bashfully ducked his head and turned to look at Luna. "Placement?"

  "Outer forearm. Do it on his left side to at least put something interesting over there so nobody complains about how boring his little scar is."

  I sat into Harry's paper covered chair and grinned. For as creepy as Luna sometimes came off, she had a way of putting things that instantly lightened the mood. A trait I once might have turned into a competition. Now though, I was simply glad somebody could do it.

  Harry rolled over a tiny cart, set to the height to be exactly at my arm level while I was sitting. A few moments later it was covered in saran wrap. A packaged needle, a stack of strange paper, and a weird marker all were placed atop it. Harry walked behind the main desk and brought back two crystal vials. 

  I gulped. It wasn't hard to recognize what they were full of. A Calming Draught, which was supposed to help with any nerves I supposed. And Angel's Trumpet Draught, the highest pain reliever known to wizard kind. Both ones I had used far too much of after Snape's curse. Despite how much I wanted them, I tentatively pushed the vials back toward Harry. In response to his puzzled look, I cleared my throat. "I can't use any of these. They don't work much for me any more and if I use much more of the Angel's trumpet, it'll likely kill me. And the Calming Draught ends up acting like the Draught of Living Death if you take too much. I already had a close scare with that."

  Harry considered them for a second. Then he shrugged, as if I hadn't just admitted to nearly dying due to potion overdose. He grabbed both vials again and went back to the counter. When he returned again he pulled out his wand and summoned a plain little neon green tub from the back, which he handed to me.

  "What's this?"

  "Star Grass Salve. It's a topical pain reliever and healing paste. We mainly use it after the process or if you have a bad reaction to it but it should help numb it a bit."

  I opened the lid and took a tentative sniff. It smelt like parts of it were probably the same as what was in the Angel's Trumpet Draught, just in a smaller, more diluted amount. With a decisive shake of my head, I closed the tub and handed it back to Harry. "I don't wanna risk it. Rather stay clean and sober, ya know?"

  Harry nodded compassionately. "Understandable. And if you change your mind it's not that hard to get it back out."

  With another flick of his wand, Harry sent the container back wherever it had been hiding. He pulled out a small wheeled stool from somewhere under the chair and sat down on it. "Left side?" He confirmed.

  I tried to reply, but my mouth felt all dry. I settled on a nod. He grabbed my arm, and I looked away, not wanting to see the needle. Which was probably why I jumped at the tip of Harry's wand prodding my arm. 

  "Tergo."

  The familiar cold feeling of the cleaning charm washed over my arm. I clenched at my pants with my right hand. This was going to suck.

  "You ready?" Harry's voice sounded concerned, but I had no way of confirming if his face matched since I was trying to focus on not accidently shooting out any magic and my focal point was the back of my eyelids.

  I sucked in some air through my clenched teeth. "Don't tell me when you're going to do it. Just stab me and start."

  Harry snorted. "That sounds soooo consensual. Are you sure you actually want this?"

  I resisted the urge to growl. With an exaggerated, sadistic, shit eating grin, I swiveled my head back to look at him and fluttered my eyelashes. "I consent." The fake grin dropped. I tried to brush off my discomfort. "I'll be fine once you get going but I don't want to watch in nervous anticipation for the first poke. That consensual enough for you, you insufferable prick?"

  Harry gave a second snort. "Somebody's cranky." He playfully pouted. "Besides, you bloody idiot, I don't go straight in with the needle."

  "You don't?" I asked, confused. Harry scoffed and grabbed one of the sheets of paper. He rotated my arm, draping the paper over my outer forearm, which made it feel weird.

  "Tattoos, especially magical Tats, are permanent. I want to make sure I have the proportions right before I make it last forever."

  I attempted to shrug but Harry was holding my arm down and the motion lost the right momentum. It caused an awkward shudder to appear instead. Harry stifled a chuckle and grabbed the marker. He started dragging it across the papers.

  I couldn't see what he was drawing. The angle made it impossible. All I knew was it felt weird, and definitely not like the shape of the picture we had agreed upon. I grimaced. "Isn't there a way to just magically transfer it?"

  Harry, very visibly, refrained from rolling his eyes. "Theoretically, yes. But for some reason it always ends up distorting to weird proportions, doesn't stay on long enough, and is impossible to get it lined back up precisely how it was." He glanced at my face. "Plus it feels more like an accomplishment to me if I draw it personally, rather than magically."

   I nodded in response. The first part of what he'd said made no sense to me, but I understood accomplishment very well. It was why I personally tested (and then thoroughly cleaned) every extendable ear, why I was the target during every field test all the protego products endured, why I had mastered each muggle 'magic' trick we sold. The satisfaction that came with each tiny product working the way it should had helped me through such dark times.

  Harry and I fell into a comfortable quiet. I could hear Luna moving about the parlor, doing whatever it was she was doing. It was….relaxing. So relaxing, in fact, that I felt my eyelids start to droop. It had been a long, stressful day at the shop. Need to stay awake. Have to sell the lie. Have to protect Harry. Have to kiss Harry. Have to tell him I love him. The thoughts circled in my head. But the light pressure rubbing along my arm, the smell of ink and jasmine that always seemed to float alongside Harry, and the quiet humming from wherever Luna was settled the matter for me.

  I didn't know how long I sat there, sleeping soundly. I didn't know if I did anything embarrassing, like snore (though Fred had always been the one more likely to snore). I didn't even know if I had enough breath to snore. At that moment, all I knew was someone's fucking hands were far bloody colder than they had any right to be. One lightly tapped my cheek while the other was tracing my collar bone. A familiar scent allowed me to place the icebergs as Harry's hands. After finally regaining my breath back from when it had been forcibly expelled from my lungs, I scowled. "What did you do, wash your hands in bloody EverIce?"

  Harry had the audacity to actually laugh. "Nah." He looked at my angry face and laughed harder. His head tipped to the side like he was contemplating something. "I just dipped them in my soul."

  An unapproved chuckle pushed its way out of my mouth. I could feel the corners of my mouth turning upward so I forced them back into a pout. "But why did I have to wake up?"

  Harry rolled his eyes, smile still lingering in the creases of his face. "I'm done with the draft and need you to confirm that it's what you want."

  "I trust you. If you think it looks good, that's bloody well good enough for me."

  "You don't want to even look at it before I start tatting it?"

  I firmly shook my head no and scrunched my eyes closed. "Sleep."

  "That's almost too consensual." Harry complained. 

  "Not consensual enough and too consensual? I'm not the one who sounds confused."

  "Whatever. Prick. It looks like it's missing something but since you refuse to even look at it I'm just going to mess around with it."

  I gave a small 'get on with it' wave with my right hand. The pressure returned, still moving in unrecognizable shapes. If only I could go back to sleep.

  The pressure stopped again and Harry started moving something else around. It rustled under the sound of his soft whispered Accio. 

  One of my eyes cracked open. "Harry?"

  "Just considering something, no worries." He brushed me off, hand even going as far as to throw a shooing motion at my face. He brushed a single finger against my eyelid which reflexively closed.

  Deciding to trust him, I kept it closed. The rustling continued. It didn't sound ominous but even still my curiosity was piqued. Surely contemplating shouldn't make this much noise.

  My resolve was fading as I fought to keep my eyes shut. It almost sounded like he was starting up the tattoo gun, but obviously that had to be wrong. He'll ask me at least once more before starting. Once he starts there's no turning back. So he'll ask again, I'll say yes, and then I'll scrunch my eyes shut as tight as possible. It was a good plan, as far as I was concerned.

  At least it was till something cold pressed into my arm, startling my eyes wide. They popped open just in time to see Harry push the button and fire the first bit of ink into my arm.

  I yelped. A few seconds passed in which my brain processed that it hadn't actually really hurt. More a strange tickle instead. Still I glared at Harry. "Oi! Prat! What happened to consent?"

  Looking thoroughly unconcerned, Harry dipped the gun back into the tiny plastic cup full of black liquid he held. "You already consented. And you said you didn't want to see it happen initially." The tattoo gun lined back up and did the same repeated quick stab-scratch motion. "Seemed like the best option really."

  He made a stupid kind of sense, unfortunately. I hadn't wanted to see it start, but now that it had, I didn't really care if I watched anymore. It didn't hurt enough to dread every stab, nor did it go slow enough to actually process what was happening. It was almost even... calming. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.

  I gave a fake sigh. "I suppose I can forgive you then. But next time, warn me, you foul little cockroach!"

  Harry arched an eyebrow. "Next time? It almost sounds like you're planning on coming back."

  I hunched my shoulders. Why is it so hot in here? I tipped my head side to side contemplatively. "Maybe. It doesn't feel as bad as I feared? It's more of a slight irritant than a pain."

  Harry laughed. "You lost an ear, dude. Any pain now isn't gonna feel anywhere near as bloody bad."

  I returned a chuckle and let him continue. Every twenty or so seconds he dipped the needle back into his little cup. A small glance confirmed that he had more cups set up along his little table. The immature part of me wanted to shake my arm and see how many I could get to spill. The only reason I didn't is I didn't want to mess Harry's art up.

  We fell into a relaxing almost silence. The only sounds came from the machine. At least they only did at first.

  After about 20 minutes had passed, a new noise started up. It was the little shop bell making a muffled tinkling noise as the door pushed open.

  Harry's eyes narrowed and he looked at the clock. He cast me an apologetic look then let go of my arm while calling "I regret to inform you that there are no more availabilities for tonight, seeing how we close in five minutes. If you wanted to come back tomorrow at say, about noon, I should be able to at least get you started depending on what you want." He started turning toward the door.

"What I vant isn't sold in zis storrre. But I met vonderrrful rrred-head earrrlier who might be able to help. He said he'd be herrre." A deep voice answered.

  I risked a look at the intruding visitor. Sure enough, it was the Russian guy from earlier. I gulped.

  "He said he'd be here? Why in Merlin's bloody balls would you follow him to a tattoo parlor?"

  "Da. He vas kute." In a motion that didn't fit his frame, the large man lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug. His eyes traveled over to me and he smiled, lips almost sinister in their curl. "And zerrre he. Hello again Милый."

  Harry's stare darkened at his words. They continued to narrow and look more and more furious as the man strolled forward like he owned the shop. With a carelessness that seemed to say he had done this hundreds of times, he swept forward, scooped up my free hand, and placed a wet kiss against the back of it.

  "Bloody Hell man!" I snatched my hand back. "I don't know you!"

  There was a movement too quick for me to follow. When my brain caught up, I sucked in a gasp of air. Harry had shoved himself between the stranger and me, wand point an inch from his neck.

  "You have exactly three seconds to tell me who you are and why you are in my parlor!" Harry said, voice eerily quiet. I caught a glimpse of his face in a nearby mirror. I'd seen people that were legally insane and people that had tortured and killed others, all of which lacked the crazy Avada Kedavra gleam that brightened in Harry's eyes.

  The man gave a hearty laugh. "Easy. I Dimitiri and I'm in herrre to chase prrrize of me."

  "Prize of me?"

  "RRRight how do you Brrritish say it? 'My prrrize?'"

  Harry's grip on his wand tightened. "Prize? Are you implying George is your prize?"

  "Absolutely." Dimitiri's thick accent dripped off the word. I wanted to disappear. 

  "Surely, you must be mistaken." Harry's voice was nearly a growl.

  "Ah, I forrrgot. He told me he vas koming herrre to get tattoo frrrom boyfrrriend of him. You arrre dating zis charrrming young man then, da?"

  Harry looked back at me, confusion and a bit of anger etched in his features. I tried to give a subtle nod while also trying to plead with my eyes. I don't know what I was pleading for more, him to play along, or him to forgive me for putting him in this situation.

  Harry seemed to make a decision. He turned back to the intimidating Russian. "Indeed I am. Isn't he Georgous?"

  My jaw dropped as the pun fell all too easily from his mouth. It was too natural to be something he had come up with on the spot. Which means– I turned toward Harry, about to say something but I was interrupted. By Harry. Harry and his sharp flick to my arm, hidden behind the tattoo gun. He cast me a sharp look that clearly said "Not in front of the big scary Russian!" Which simply confirmed in my brain that if nothing happened with Dimitri; Harry would be serving me my much deserved revenge.

  The big man gave a broad laugh. The pressure of what was probably supposed to be a friendly clap on the shoulder ground me into the chair with the weight of two suns. With a merry shake of his head, and a quick wipe to his eyes he said, "You should have told me you vike tvinks, Милый! I vould have said 'me too, comrade' and vished you luck on finding one. But you have found one! And quite da tvink he too. He irrresistible. How do feel about sharrring?"

  "Uh… N-n-not interested?" I stuttered out. The odds of me leaving here alive seemed to be getting smaller.

  Dimitiri pouted. "Niet? Not even little bit? Vat about just forrr veekends?"

  Harry smacked me and I could see a tinge of fear in his eye.

  "No." I said more confidently. "He's mine, and mine alone."

  "Damn it. Still, vas vorrrth shot. Let me know if either of you ever change yourrr minds." Dimitiri gave a light-hearted wave and turned around.

  I glared at his back the entire way till he was out the door. A low growl left my throat. I hate him.

  "Easy there. It's ok, my Kitsune." I don't know when he had done it, but now that I wasn't focused on Dimitiri, I could feel Harry's fingers gently shifting through my hair. He tugged gently off the side of my head.

  I looked at him in awe. He hadn't give any reaction to my lack of an ear as he rubbed right where it should have been. I'd been on a few dates since the war. Some of them had been with super touchy girls that Mum had so "kindly" set me up with. None of them could so much as look at the missing point without shuddering.

  He pulled away as I looked at him, a small flush dusting his nose. "Though you should have told me you wanted your boyfriend to do your Tat." He smirked.

  "I wanted you to do it! I was trying to get Dick-mitiri to– d-d-did you just call me your kitsune? As in the magic fox you like to draw? And yours? The one ear! Those– were those supposed to represent me? Why?"

  He gave an embarrassed laugh. "Yes? To all accounts? As for why… Because you really are Georgous? Because I've loved you since third year? Because your safe space was instinctually me? Though we will be coming back later to discuss how you tried to sacrifice me to an angry sex-crazed Russian."

  "So you wouldn't mind if I actually was getting a tattoo from my boyfriend?"

  "George Gideon Weasley! Did you just use the worst possible roundabout pick-up line to ask me to date you?"

  With a smile I leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss on his lips. I looked up at Harry through my eyelashes. "Was that better?"

  Harry pretended to contemplate. "Well… that wasn't a very confident kiss, in my opinion."

  "Oh do show me what a confident kiss looks like. Please."

  Harry's face came close to mine. I closed my eyes in anticipation. Our lips touched and I could've sworn fireworks were coming out of my ears. It was glorious. 

  He pulled away too soon, leaving my lips tingling. But I suppose that was okay since he started working on my tattoo again. And… he really was my boyfriend now! It wasn't just a wish anymore. And the question of moving in together had already been answered. We had already proven it worked.

  I was pulled from my thoughts by something blasting "Walking On Sunshine."

  "Sorry!" Luna called. She picked up her singing phone, danced along for a second, then answered the call. "Hello, Ethan."

  Harry ( My boyfriend! ) and I shared a smile. Luna would be one to talk to her friends at eleven o'clock at night. She wouldn't see anything wrong with that.

  "Why in the Crumpled Horn Snorkack's Sahara would you choose Russian?" Luna exclaimed.

  My nose scrunched as I looked over at her. That was a little too precise of a coincidence, even for Luna. She just happened to be talking to someone who chose Russian? I strained my ear and tried to listen a little closer.

  "Well mission accomplished! He looked ready to piss his pants when you walked in. His thoughts were a mess and–"

   Haha! I wasn't going crazy thinking she knew what I thought! The feeling stung a little as I realized she'd kept it from me. Or maybe she had told me and I just forgot. I couldn't be sure. A slight fury built as it connected that Luna had set us up. Frowning, I forced my focus back toward what Luna was saying.

  "No, he hadn't told Harry his plan. I was actually surprised how well Harry managed to act like he knew what was going on." Luna paused and gave a laugh. "I mean murder wasn't his first thought but it was close. Then he was trying to decide who he wanted to murder more."

  I pouted. Nobody wants to hear that their boyfriend(!) is contemplating murdering them. Even if it was before you were official. And was deserved. 

  "Yes yes yes. I'll get you some sort of award for acting." Luna rolled her eyes. "Though it does leave one to wonder how someone so sex-repulsed actually came off as so sex-crazed." A brief pause. "Those must have been some summer camps."

  I turned to Harry. "Did you hear that?" I said in a harsh whisper.

  "Hear what?"

  "She duped us! She got her friend to somehow pretend to be Russian and scare me in such a way that I invented a stupid lie that involved me getting a permanent alteration to my body!"

  Harry scoffed. "First of all, it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations. Secondly, I asked multiple times if you were sure you wanted this tattoo. And finally, it sounds like she duped you. " I tried to say something but he cut me back off. "I wasn't involved in this situation. I merely benefited from your panic."

  I stuck my tongue out at him. "I wasn't panicking. I'm just an energetic person."

  "Uh huh. Sure."

  Luna's voice broke back in. "NO! I do not think that because you managed to convince two absolutely idiotic Brits," Luna looked at me and mouthed 'sorry' then went back to talking on the phone, not seeming to care that she had basically okayed me listening in, "that you'd be able to infiltrate an actual mafia you bloody imbecile! Sometimes you're impossible Ethan Bexley!"

  I couldn't help but laugh. Not only had Luna pulled off a bloody wicked prank, but her Partner in Pranks™️ had their next one planned and it sounded epic. If Luna didn't want to support whoever Ethan was, I might have to find some way to team up and prank with him myself. So long as our prank wasn't directed at me, or my boyfriend. It doesn't get any less exciting to call Harry that.

  The thought sent a smile to my lips, big enough that I could feel the muscles in my cheeks straining. Harry was my boyfriend and, if I had anything to say about it, that would be the case for a long time. Unless he were to become something more.

  I almost laughed out loud as I realized what that thought had implied. We had been officially dating for less than ten minutes and I was already considering us being more. Yet, I could totally see it happening not very far down the road. Which made me undeniably overjoyed. 

  The pain of the tattoo had increased some as Harry added color to work toward completion. Despite that, my joyous feeling persisted, strong enough that I had to actively restrain from doing a happy sort of bouncing motion. I was getting something my boyfriend had designed, with me specifically in mind as I'd found out. I am his muse.

  I sat in a haze of such happy thoughts while Harry worked. I hadn't felt this light since Fred and I had left Umbridge in the midst of our chaos. It felt bloody amazing and I never wanted to leave.

  Unfortunately, like all good things, it had to come to an end. I zoned back in to Harry's still frigid hands tapping just below my sleeve and onto my shoulder. I looked sheepishly at his face.

  Harry smiled. "There you are. Missed you while you were gone."

  I could feel the blush coming back to my ears and neck full force. "I'm sorry. I did-"

  "Don't worry about it, Geor–Kitsune. I know it happens with you sometimes. I just need you to be alert to imbue the charm in your Tat or it can do weird things to your mind. I'm not losing my boyfriend to his own mind mere hours after he finally manages to man up enough to make it official."

  The slight teasing tone made me feel a bit better. If he could joke about it, it must be ok. I was still embarrassed, of course, but at least it wasn't a breakup-worthy point in his mind. Still I couldn't help the warm feeling that filled my soul at his off handed comment. He's been wanting this for a while too.

  Harry muttered a stream of words, tapping my arm with his wand as he did so. Every fifth tap contained a small twirl of his wand tip, while every seventh got dragged in a lazy zig-zag across my arm. The skin he touched seemed to buzz and writhe beneath his wand. It burned yet felt freezing at the same time, the arm equivalent of chugging salsa then eating strong mint to counteract it, which anyone who has tried can confirm just equates to both types of pain. The freezing fires of hell. I wonder if Harry's hands are so cold from doing this spell day after day.

  My thoughts were interrupted once again as I felt Harry's wand move past the tattoo. It traced down to my wrist, encircled there, back up the inside of my arm, and around my elbow.

  I must have had a puzzled expression because Harry paused his near constant muttering to look at me and say "bounding perimeters" before resuming his incantation. I watched in fascination as he touched different parts of my arm. I couldn't yet see the tattoo because my arm hadn't yet been cleaned off, but apparently Harry could see enough to do what he needed.

  With a final precise five rotation tap pattern, the hellfire in my arm disappeared. It still slightly buzzed, but it felt more like playful excitement than pain. It felt like times right before Fred and I pulled a massive prank, which made me yearn for those times. With the buzz in my arm though, I couldn't feel sad.

  Harry seemed to be talking to my new tattoo. "Stay. I said stay! I know you're excited but I have to clean you up. You won't be able to help cheer George up if you look like a war zone! So just freeze. For one minute. Please."

  "Uh Harry? Are you talking to my tattoo?"

  " Tergo ." A sharp prod followed his word and the blood started to siphon off of me. "What most people don't realize is Tats, or magical animal tattoos if you want to get technical, are kind of like getting a pet that doesn't need to eat. They'll play and interact with you and most respond to your emotions."

  "Most?"

  "I might have added a little something to yours so that it doesn't feed off your emotion so much as stay fairly happy and maybe subconsciously cheer you up a little?"

  I stared at him dumb founded.

  "Only because you had said you had had some struggles with the pain potions," Harry quickly added, defensively. "If your mood is too far down, typical Tats will become aggressive and it can cause pain. Asher shouldn't do that."

  I tried to process what he was telling me. I decided to focus on the easier part, questioning the parts I didn't understand at all. "Asher?"

  Harry blushed again, talking faster than normal as he answered me. "Depending on how much personality the Tats get and how much of a connection people have to them, people who have Tats can sometimes get a few impressions, thoughts almost, from them. The most common is their name. This is all covered in the aftercare pamphlet we give you, by the way.

  "I've gotten a few myself from my own Tat. That being said, I haven't ever had it happen while doing one before. There's not enough real connection with the Tats even though I'm bringing them to life. I kinda had hoped he'd be different. I felt a little more connected, him being the first of my designs to actually be tatted. And, well... I got an impression with him. This little one is named Asher."

  "And Asher's charmed to make me happy?"

  "It's more he's charmed to not get sad in hopes that being around something happy will help you? I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

  I stared in awe at my Tat. Asher was there in all his galactic glory. The colors mixed even better on my skin then they had on the magically manipulated paper. Asher danced under my gaze, preening as he looked at me. 

  Harry had added five tiny yellow butterflies around the initial picture. As I watched, Asher pounced at them a couple of times, tails swishing in time with his wiggling butt. He chased the butterflies around my arm, feet moving as fluidly as a real fox.

  As if he was exhausted, Asher plopped down to a sit, panting as he stared off to the side. One of the tiny butterflies fluttered round his head and Asher's nose followed it. The butterfly gently fluttered down, and landed on his snoot. He sat completely still as if enamored with it, and I could just imagine his little eyes, which had turned just enough I couldn't see their green orbs anymore, crossing and fixating on his little yellow friend. With his head turned how it was, he was in the original position I'd picked.

  It didn't last long before Asher was dancing again. I couldn't tear my eyes from his small form. What a darling little friend.

  I'd apparently been silent for too long, if Harry's anxious throat clearing was to judge by. I tried to say something, express even a bit of how much I loved it, but his voice started working first.

  "It'll take some work, and an extra session but I can probably make him back into a regular Tat. You'd only have to deal with his excessive hyperness for a bit."

  Reflexively, I pulled my arm to my chest, other arm cradling it, protecting my Kitsune companion as I jumped up from the chair. "Don't you dare change my little sunshine!"

  Harry's face softened, as if a weight had been taken off his head. His eyes lit up, the same color as earlier but somehow this time it didn't make me uneasy. It sang of joy and perfect days.

  "You're okay with it?" He questioned.

  "Oh Harry! I'm more than okay with it! It's--He's perfect! So amazing and beautiful. Exactly the kind of energy I've been looking to have around again. And knowing it came from you is just–" I trailed off, unable to find the words I needed.

  Fighting the hesitation, I took a step forward, standing toe to toe with Harry. I tentatively tipped my own head down and pressed my lips to his again. He eagerly returned the kiss, biting my lip to deepen it and sliding his tongue in as I gasped. Our tongues rubbed against each other in a heated dance. I pulled off to voice what I had to let Harry know. Whispering against Harry's lips I said "It's exactly what I needed. I don't care that we've only been official for a few hours. You know me almost better than I know myself. You know me as well as Fred doe--did. I love you. And if you'd let me I'd propose now."

  Harry pressed a smiling kiss to my cheek. "I love you too. I'd probably let you propose if I didn't know your mum would murder the both of us if she didn't even know about the relationship and we got engaged. Not to mention she's told me at least five times that she better be there when I propose and I assume the same goes for getting proposed to."

  "That's fair, I suppose."

  Harry got a panicked look in his eyes. "Oh Merlin. What am I going to tell Ron? What am I going to tell Ginny?! 'I know we dated for quite a long while but I was in love with your brother the whole time and I was using you as my settling place because I assumed he was straight, but I'd still at least get to see him sometimes?"

  I laughed and clapped him on the back. "Well we have time to figure that out. They're in Romania till next month, remember? Plus I'm pretty sure Ginny is trying to come out as a lesbian and maybe as an enby."

  Harry tilted his head. "I guess I could see that."

  "Boys! Find a room– actually you guys have a room! You're flatmates! Go to your room and get out of my parlor. It's after midnight and as sweet as your little love journey has been I have shit I need to do before I can get home."

  "What things?" I asked at the same time as Harry said "We could help."

  "I want to repaint the main room and, no offense, but you're not going to be much help while you guys keep making goo goo eyes at each other. That and I'm like, soooo disgusted by your guys' thoughts at the moment and need to scrub those images from my brain. Especially the ones from you Harry. Absolutely nasty!"

  I had been about to take offense to the statement (thinking of Harry as being as cute as a puppy wasn't disgusting!) But then I realized she'd thrown Harry, who was furiously red -a feat I'd never seen before-, under the bus. I laughed at his poor misfortune. "This is why dad said never be friends with a legilimens."

  Harry waved his wand and all the supplies were cleaned and banished back to their places. He grabbed my right hand. "Yeah it can be really annoying. She's worth it though."

  I felt something rubbing against my arm and looked at it. Asher was nuzzling into my arm, face somehow actually letting me feel it. He circled then lay down, curling into a tiny puddle of floof.

  With a smile I turned back to Harry. "I can't wait for the day when you're explaining how we got together and say something similar."

  "Oh don't worry. It won't take long. You're a bloody idiot and you're lucky I'm willing to put up with you after the shit you pulled today."

  I didn't bother denying it. "I am lucky." I leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead. "How could I be anything but extremely lucky with both you and Asher by my side?"

  Harry twisted to apparate home as soon as the sentence left my mouth, but I still caught his satisfied grin. I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

The end.

George's Kitsune Tat before it was charmed:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Jslfq1irR_tgu27_Wb6QsJXOVtK5wLLc4ZRhBJYav2E/edit?usp=drivesdk

Chapter Text

  "You didn't!" I gasped.

  My boyfriend gave me a sheepish grin. "Actually I'm quite sure I did."

  "Harry you adorable, oblivious, absolute idiot! It was a joke!"

  "Yeah Luna said that was most likely the case."

  "Most likely?" I slapped my palm to my face. "Harry. She's a legilimens. She'd know!"

  Harry gave me a look like I was the dumb one. "George. It's not like she was there when you said it. She only had my mind she could see. Apparently you can't mind read in memories, something she insisted on testing by the way. She was far more interested in that experiment than trying to convince me you were joking."

  Gently I reached my fingers out and slid Harry's messy fringe out of the way. Asher raced down to my wrist, nose pointing inquisitively forward, like he was trying to smell what I was looking at. 

  Across Harry's forehead was the proof that he wasn't pulling my leg. Proof that he'd taken me too seriously. Proof he was going to hate me later.

  I thought back to the conversation that had apparently inspired this.

  "I like it." I shrugged as I stood behind Harry, my reflection moving in time with me before smirking.

  "To bad he's using that horrid hair to hide it instead of the other way around." Reflection-me snarked.

  Harry pushed down his hair for the 20th time and growled. "Why won't it stay down!?"

  Harry's reflection looked at him blandly, seeming completely done with existence. "Does it ever stay down? Even when you were too depressed to get up to take a shit your hair still looked like it was alive."

  "I got up when I had to shit!" Harry retorted angrily. "Maybe instead of insulting me you could give me some help?"

  His reflection just rolled his eyes.

  "His hair, though uncontrollable, isn't horrid." I corrected fiercely. I turned back to Harry. "Why don't you like it anyway?"

  "It's always set me apart as a freak. And it's not like it even looks cool. It could have looked like real lightning, but no… I have a stupid Zed on my forehead!"

  "Hey I know this tattoo artist that could put a cartoony cloud over it. It'd look more in place. Ooh and they could even enchant it to reflect your mood. It'd be fun."

  "A cloud?" Harry said doubtfully.

  "Yeah! It could get like darker if you're angry, rumbling with thunder and your scar could look like the lightning bolt, but it'd be cartoony so even when you're happy and it's white and fluffy the bolt still looks like it belongs!"

  I should have noticed Harry had seemed more intrigued by the concept than he ought to have been. Should have clarified it was a joke. Should have tossed his own advice back in his face that he'd given me when I drunkenly demanded he tattoo the phrase 'fuck me' on my forehead in Gaelic. Never tattoo your face. Do it somewhere that if you do end up regretting it, something will be able to cover it. Like your arse. (Which I had had him do in a beautiful calligraphy script, but that was beside the point.)

  "And I assume you went the whole-arse way and enchanted it, didn't you?"

  "You should know better than anyone I don't do anything half-arsed." Harry smirked, and, as if to prove a point, the gray cloud under my fingers lightened to more of a white and puffed itself up to a happier shape.

  I blushed at his hidden innuendo and tried to hide my reaction by gently stretching the skin Harry's new tattoo was on. "What does Jinx think of it?" I asked, referring to Harry's own boundary less Tat of a kneazle that had been made off of his old family pet apparently.

  "Eh they batted at it a few times but it rumbled and terrified them. They don't come up past my neck anymore which means no more naps beneath my nose so I consider it a win-win."

  "And it's tuned to-" I trailed off, hoping Harry would fill in the blanks.

  "My emotions of course. Just like you suggested. It's like your very own Harry 'Fore'cast. Get it? Cause it's on my forehead?"

  I didn't fight the chuckle that came out of me.  It had been a stupid idea. A dumb joke. But the fact that Harry cared enough to listen, let alone replicate, my stupid idea meant more than the entire world to me. I pressed my forehead to his and could swear I could feel the cloud becoming fluffier beneath me.

  With a smile, I kissed my perfect boyfriend. I pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips. "I love you."

  His lips widened as he started grinning. I felt a literal zap course through my forehead with his anticipation and happiness. "I love you too."