The Dragon and the Pygmy Puff

Title: The Dragon and the Pygmy Puff
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Harry/Charlie; also mentions Harry/Ginny, Ginny/OMC, Ron/Hermione and other canon pairings
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary: Harry has a row with his girlfriend, gets a tattoo, and discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.
Warnings: first attempts at dirty talk and spanking; hints of infidelity *points at pairings*
Word Count: ~ 30,000
Author's Notes: Written for softly_sweetly as part of the hp_yule_balls holiday exchange on InsaneJournal/LiveJournal.

The Dragon and the Pygmy Puff

Harry traced the outline of the dragon that wound its way around Charlie’s spine. It was a Chinese Fireball but golden instead of red, a trace lighter than the multitude of freckles that spread over Charlie’s skin. Harry thought it looked as though the dragon was swimming through a sea of stars.

The edges of the tattoo blurred a little in front of his eyes, and Harry squinted. He’d definitely had too much to drink.

But what occasion was better for drinking too much than his best friends’ wedding?

Harry nodded, satisfied, and concentrated again on the dragon.

He and Charlie were lounging on a rug in front of the empty fireplace in the Weasleys’ living room. Through the wide open windows, they could hear the voices and laughter of the last few remaining guests. They were still celebrating although the bridal couple had long since left for the wedding night.

Harry had no memory of how he had ended up here, in the dark, hot living room instead of being outside with his friends. But he found he didn’t mind at all being here, crouching next to Charlie, who lay face down on the rug, with his head pillowed on his dress robes, which he had doffed earlier. It left him clad only in thin trousers and dragon hide boots and bared his magnificent tattoo to Harry’s eyes. From the moment he had seen it, Harry had forgotten all about the heat.

He had never before seen a real wizard tattoo. The Dark Mark didn’t count. Besides, it had looked a lot different than Charlie’s dragon, more burnt into the skin. Charlie’s dragon didn’t look at all as if it was burnt into the skin. It looked, Harry thought, tilting his head, as though it was under the skin. As if the generous freckles and muscles stretched clear like glass over the sleeping dragon.

It seemed to be moving independently too. Although its body twitched every so slightly each time Charlie drew a breath, Harry could have sworn he saw the slender body of the dragon move gently with its own breath.

It might have been the bottle of champagne speaking. But this was a wizard tattoo, so perhaps not. Harry decided he didn’t care and tickled the dragon’s tail.

Charlie made a low sound in his throat, like a purr, and wriggled slightly against the floor.

For a moment, Harry was reminded of Crookshanks, Hermione’s cat, and he had to grin at the comparison. A compact set of strong, powerful muscles, they both were, crowned with orange fur. Or hair, in this case. And Crookshanks didn’t have such a cool tattoo.

At least, Harry thought so, but he’d have to ask Hermione for that. Not now, though. She and Ron had left earlier. Harry thought he could probably wait until tomorrow morning and tickled the dragon again, scratching his fingernails lightly over the golden skin.

Charlie made that sound again and stretched luxuriously under Harry’s hands, and Harry watched in fascination as the rippling muscles made the cluster of freckles near the dragon’s snout dance. It looked as if the dragon was snorting tiny sparks of dark-golden fire.

Charlie’s chuckle made him aware that he had said the last bit out loud. Harry was momentarily embarrassed, but then giggled.

‘Is’s so cool,’ he slurred. ‘I wanna tattoo too.’

Charlie lifted his head and grinned over his shoulder at the slightly swaying Harry. ‘I thought you already had one. I think I remember Ginny telling everyone you’ve got one.’

‘Hungrian Horntail.’ Harry nodded. ‘’S not true, though. Shinny said that to put off Rommilla … Romilda Vane.’

Charlie propped his head up, half-turning his upper body to look at Harry. The golden dragon curled sensuously and snorted more tiny sparks.

‘Pity, that,’ Charlie said.

‘Huh?’ Harry had been lost in admiring the dragon again.

Charlie’s grin broadened. ‘That you don’t have a Hungarian Horntail tattoo. I’d have liked to see it. Our dragons could have played together.’

He waggled his eyebrows and Harry laughed. Wistfully, he trailed two fingertips down the dragon’s body. Charlie shivered, and sudden goose-bumps made the dragon twitch. Harry rubbed his hand over the small of Charlie’s back and repeated, ‘I’d like to have a tattoo.’

‘Why don’t you get one, then?’

Harry blinked, and then smiled broadly. ‘I can, can’t I?

‘Get one? Of course. You’re of age.’

‘Great!’ Harry jumped to his feet and then wobbled a bit. ‘Let’s go!’

Charlie rolled onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head. ‘Go where?’

Harry blinked. ‘Well, to get a tattoo.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘Where do wishards gets tattoos? Where’d you get yours?’

‘A friend of mine is a tattoo artist. He’s got a studio in Diagon Alley.’

‘Whee, then le’sh go there!’

Charlie chuckled again, making no move to get up. ‘At half past one in the morning?’

Harry paused on his winding way to the door and looked back. ‘No?’ he asked piteously.

Charlie laughed out loud. ‘Definitely no, Harry. Besides, you’re more than a little drunk. Pam would never create a tattoo for you while you’re in that state. Come, sit back down. You can tell me about the tattoo you want.’ He patted the rug on a spot next to his hip.

Harry frowned, still swaying slightly on his feet. ‘But I wan’ one. I wannaaa tattoo,’ he insisted.

Charlie sighed and sat up, wincing ever so slightly.

‘Go to bed, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘If you remember tomorrow morning that you want a tattoo and you still want it, I’ll take you to Pam’s place and you can get one.’

‘But I wanna a tattoo! I really do. Why not go now?’ Harry whined.

‘Because Pam won’t work in the middle of the night.’ Charlie got up, and then bent down to pick up his dress robes.

Harry, momentarily distracted, watched the thin fabric of Charlie’s trousers stretch over his arse and cling lovingly to the outline of Charlie’s erect cock. He got that strange, fluttery feeling in his stomach again that he’d been getting quite a lot since Charlie had returned from Romania for the wedding. He’d always blamed it on the excitement of their furiously fast Quidditch matches and wondered why he got it now. They weren’t playing Quidditch at all. Perhaps it was the champagne.

Charlie turned back to him, sliding into his now crinkled robes, and the feeling vanished. Harry frowned and patted his stomach.

‘Feeling sick already?’ Charlie fastened his robes negligently.

‘No. Jush … just a bit weird. It’s my stomach,’ Harry explained, nodding.

Charlie grinned and clapped his hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘Is it, now?’ He began to steer Harry towards the door.

‘Yeah, ‘s a bit fluttery. Wash. ‘S gone, now.’ Harry peered down and almost ran into the door-frame. ‘Wonder where it’sh gone?’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, if I were you. It’ll come back soon enough.’

Harry stopped dead in the middle of climbing the first staircase. ‘Yeah? You shink so? Soon?’

Charlie tugged on Harry’s arm and got him climbing again. He was walking half backwards to keep an eye on Harry’s stumbling progress.

‘Sooner than you wish,’ he told Harry and cast him a sympathetic smile. ‘It’s all the champagne. You had almost two bottles.’

‘I did?’

Harry missed the last step in his surprise and fell forwards into Charlie, who grabbed him around the middle to keep him from falling. Charlie staggered a little but kept upright. Harry clung to his robes and whooped as suddenly the room around him seemed to spin.

‘Charlie? What’re you doing?’ came a voice from the next landing. Harry peered past Charlie’s shoulder and saw George, in his pyjamas, looking down at them. Harry giggled.

‘I’m taking Harry to bed,’ Charlie said, with a laugh in his voice. It made his chest rumble, and Harry put his ear to it to listen. ‘He’s a bit drunk,’ Charlie continued, patting Harry’s head.

George chuckled. ‘Charlie, you sly old dog! Don’t let Ginny hear you.’

Charlie set Harry on his feet and pulled him up the next staircase.

‘George, you dirty old perv,’ he replied in the same tone. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter. Harry needs to sleep.’ They had reached the second landing and George stepped aside. ‘His stomach’s a bit fluttery.’

Harry nodded, almost fell over, and grinned at the three Georges. ‘Yeah, all fluttery,’ he agreed. ‘Dunno why it doesh. Ushally only does when we play Shwiddish.’ He stopped, blinked. ‘Squidditsh?’

The Georges patted Harry’s shoulder. He wondered how they managed that.

‘Poor Harry,’ they said. ‘I’ll have a potion for you tomorrow morning.’

Harry pulled a face. ‘Hate Potions. Shnape’s a bashtard. Shaved my life. Shtill a bashatard, though. Even if he’sh dead.’

‘I’m sure he would be pleased to hear that,’ Charlie said. His voice was shaking a little. Behind them, the three Georges were laughing so hard they had to lean against the wall for support. Harry wasn’t sure he agreed with Charlie and spent the next three staircases telling him why. Charlie was choking when they reached Ron’s old room at the top of the house where Harry slept and Harry wondered whether Charlie was ill and needed a potion, too.

Charlie disentangled himself gently from Harry and pushed him down onto the bed. ‘Don’t worry about me, Harry. I’ll be fine.’

Harry wanted to protest but the bed was really nice and squishy under him and the room was spinning around him so that he had to close his eyes. The last thing he felt was Charlie pulling off his boots.

~ * ~

Harry woke up and wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so ill. The pain in his head was as bad as any Voldemort-induced scar pain had been, only now, his whole head hurt and not only his scar.

He had the bizarre urge to move, slide out from under the pain in his head, but the moment he did move, his stomach rolled over. Harry clenched his teeth and, when the wave of sickness passed, he whimpered softly. And then had to clench his teeth again, for even the tiny sound hurt his head, and every motion he made caused his queasy stomach to twist and heave.

So he lay in his bed, trying to breathe shallowly so as to avoid any more motion sickness. His head felt as if something hot was trying to force its way out through the back of his skull. Harry was sure not even Cruciatus had been that bad. Or maybe it had been, but at least it had been over quickly. This pain, now, simply went on and on. Harry whimpered tonelessly.

An undefined amount of time later, he heard sounds drifting up to him from downstairs. Voices, and then footsteps on the stairs, doors slamming. Each sound added to the hammering pain in Harry’s head and he wanted to sob. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that sobbing would only make matters worse.

And then the ghoul in the attic above him, roused by the noises in the house, began banging on the pipes. Whimpering, Harry crawled under his pillow.

After a while, the ghoul quieted down, and Harry began drifting in and out of sleep again. He was woken by the sound of the door to his room closing. Soft footsteps followed, and then there was a hand on his shoulder.

‘Harry?’ Even George’s quiet voice made Harry’s poor abused head hurt harder. He whimpered again.

‘Here.’ Something cool and smooth touched Harry’s cheek and he opened his eyes fractionally. The room was too bright and he shut his eyes firmly again.

‘Come on, Harry,’ George insisted. ‘It’s a potion. Drink it. You’ll feel better afterwards, guaranteed.’

Harry lifted a hand and groped for the small vial. Fumbling, he opened it and suckled it like a baby would suckle on his bottle. The thick, slightly warm potion trickled down into his roiling stomach, and for a moment, Harry feared it would come right back up. He gasped as his stomach twisted and flipped over. A sucking sensation followed that seemed to shoot up his spine and into his skull. Bright lights exploded behind Harry’s closed lids and he groaned, expecting to be violently sick the very next second. And then it was over.

Harry lay still. He blinked. Nothing. Headache gone. Stomach soothed. He gaped up at George, who was still standing next to Harry’s bed and grinning down at him.

‘Good?’

Harry sat up. He shook his head. Nothing.

‘George, you are a saviour!’

George laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Been there before myself, mate. I expected the party would be wild and prepared myself.’

‘You brewed it yourself?’ Harry was stunned.

‘Oh, yeah.’ George shrugged as Harry handed him the vial back. ‘Fred was better at it, but I’ve had enough experience since … Well.’ After a second’s silence, in which his face had gone very sombre, George grinned once more. ‘How’s it, Harry? Up for a bite of breakfast?’

As if on cue, Harry’s stomach rumbled. Putting a hand on it, Harry answered, ‘Someone seems to think so.’

George laughed and walked to the door. ‘See you downstairs, then!’

Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and then sat there, rubbing his face before he began to grope around for his glasses. Once he had them located and put on, he realised that he was still wearing his dress robes. For a moment, he glanced down at himself and the wrinkled green fabric he was swaddled in, wondering. But then he remembered.

Charlie had put him to bed because he had been so drunk. Harry flushed with embarrassment as he remembered how utterly silly he had been and how Charlie and George had laughed at him. On the other hand, George always laughed, and Charlie had been really nice to Harry. They had sat some time together in the living room, hadn’t they?

Harry wrinkled his brow, concentrating. And it came back to him, slowly. He remembered lounging next to Charlie and admiring his dragon tattoo. With a sudden grin, he recalled his determination to have a tattoo as well and Charlie’s promise to take him to a tattoo artist if he remembered his wish the next morning. Well, it looked as if Charlie would have to keep his promise!

The longer Harry sat and let the previous evening pass in front of his inner eye, the more he recalled. Among other things he remembered why he ended up in the living room with a half-naked Charlie. Why he hadn’t been outside with his supposed girlfriend.

Because his supposed girlfriend had spent almost the entire evening ignoring him and flirting with one of Fleur’s cousins.

Michel Lebeau, Harry remembered. If there was something like a male Veela, Michel was one.

Madame Lebeau was Madame Delacour’s youngest sister, and Michel was her son. The Lebeaus hadn’t been able to come to Fleur’s wedding three years ago. Or rather, they hadn’t wanted to come, what with Voldemort and his policy against wizards who weren’t pure-bloods. Monsieur Lebeau had been worried his part-Veela wife and children would be in danger. There wasn’t any danger for them now, and Fleur had decided she would like to have this part of her family there. So, the Lebeaus had been invited, they had arrived, and from the moment Ginny had set eyes on Michel, she had ignored Harry.

Harry remembered being amused, at first. Then slightly miffed, and then downright hurt when he had seen Ginny snog Michel under the cherry tree. He had given up on her and joined the merry group around George. A little while later, Charlie had come over as well. The brothers had had a whispered conversation, and afterwards both had done their best to divert Harry. George had been plying Harry with drinks, and Charlie had been telling him stories about his dragons and his time as Seeker for Gryffindor. When Ginny had begun to dance with Michel, Charlie had dragged Harry inside.

Where he had pulled off his dress robes and stretched out in front of the fireplace and Harry had admired his tattoo. And decided he wanted one as well.

As Harry got up and gathered his stuff to go down to the bathroom, he gave the idea some serious thought. He had said he wanted a tattoo last night, but did he really or was that a drunken whim like Charlie had thought? While Harry was scrubbing himself vigorously under the shower, he decided he still really wanted a tattoo and, while brushing his teeth, he decided on a motif. He gave himself a toothpaste-y grin in the mirror, and his reflection winked at him.

So, it was decided. He would get a tattoo.

Harry dressed quickly and stuffed his dress robes into the laundry basket. He knew Mrs Weasley would demand them from him anyway, even if Kreacher could have taken care of them. He gave his reflection a last look, tried to flatten his hair, and then ran down the steps to the kitchen, hoping Charlie was there.

But when Harry burst into the Weasleys’ kitchen, the first person he saw was Hermione, buttering a toast. He stopped short and glanced from her to Ron, who was sitting next to his wife, wearing a slightly stunned, goofy grin.

‘Ohh, look who’s finally crawled out of bed!’

Harry blinked and looked around the kitchen table at a broadly grinning Charlie. Charlie raised his cup of tea in a mock-toast.

‘Harry,’ Hermione cried happily and beamed at him. ‘Good morning. How do you feel? George said you were a bit sick?’

‘Just a minor case of Morning After,’ George said from the stove where he was busy filling a plate with bacon and egg. ‘All cured now thanks to HOBGOP, the Hangover Be Gone Potion.’

‘You drank a potion George gave you?’ Hermione dropped her toast in shock, and Ron seemed to wake up from his stupor, blinking owlishly.

Harry laughed and stepped over to the table, giving Hermione a lopsided hug. He punched Ron lightly on the shoulder before he slid into a chair next to him.

‘Yes, I did, but no worries, this one didn’t have any side-effects.’

‘Yet.’ George winked and put the plate in front of Harry. ‘Here you go, and don’t let Mum tell anyone I’m not taking care of you.’

‘If I throw these up again, I’ll tell your mum no.’ Harry grinned at George, before turning back to Hermione and Ron. ‘What are you guys doing here? I thought you’d left for the honeymoon.’

‘Came to say bye, mate,’ Ron said, in a voice almost as dreamy as Luna’s usually was. From the corner of his eyes, Harry saw George and Charlie shake with suppressed laughter.

‘The Portkey leaves at five minutes after twelve o’clock,’ Hermione explained to Harry while glaring at Ron’s brothers. ‘We … ah, we were up early, and since we didn’t see you last night before we left, we thought we’d come here and say goodbye.’

‘She’s talking in the plural already,’ Charlie said in a carrying whisper.

‘Poor Ronniekins,’ George chuckled.

Harry grinned but only said to Hermione, ‘Sorry to be up so late, then,’ before he dug into his eggs.

‘No worries, Harry, it’s not as if Ronniekins were able to hold his own in a conversation this morning. Must’ve been quite a night.’ George plopped into a chair opposite Harry and ignored Hermione’s withering glare.

Harry felt his cheeks heat and concentrated on his bacon. He preferred not thinking about what Ron and Hermione had done last night.

Hermione huffed. ‘It is quite all right, Harry,’ she said with great dignity, ignoring George. ‘It’s only half past eleven, so we still have some time. Would you like a cup of coffee?’

‘She’s mothering, too,’ Charlie commented, and then everybody laughed when Ron, with a happy sigh, said, ‘Yeah, isn’t she wonderful?’

Hermione flushed but grinned as she poured Harry a cup of coffee.

She was describing the hotel where she and Ron would be staying when the door opened and Ginny traipsed in. For a moment, everybody in the kitchen seemed to freeze and hold their breath; or perhaps it was only Harry who felt that way. Hermione finished her sentence about the hotel and greeted Ginny. There was no coolness in her voice. Harry thought she’d probably not noticed what Ginny had been doing last night.

Harry didn’t know whether he was happy about it or not. On the one hand, he didn’t want to have Hermione worry about him or, worse, fuss. He didn’t want her pity or her encouraging remarks. On the other hand, it hurt to hear her talk so friendly with Ginny when he was so hurt and angry about what she’d done.

What he was sure about, however, was that he didn’t want to be faced with Ginny and the whole mess right now. The longer he was awake – and had a clear mind – the more he remembered, and the more he remembered, the angrier he became. Right now, he felt like dumping the contents of his plate on Ginny’s head, and then dumping her.

But that would be messy, and besides, Ron and Hermione had just married and were so happy. He didn’t want to ruin their honeymoon by having them witness Ginny and he break up. Plus, he had no idea how Ron would react to the news.

And so Harry merely ducked his head and concentrated on his breakfast and ignored Ginny, who was trying to catch his eye as she sat down opposite him.

However, there were at least two people in the kitchen who apparently weren’t inclined to ignore the events of the previous evening. George jumped up and moved to sit on the other side of the table the moment Ginny had sat down, and Charlie greeted her with a somewhat caustic, ‘Slept well?’

Harry could almost feel Hermione’s confusing and curiosity. Then, George replied to Ginny’s request to hand her the teapot in a decidedly nasty voice, and Harry could hear Hermione take a breath to ask what was going on – Ron was thankfully still so focused on his wife that he was blind to his surroundings – and he knew he’d better say something, and fast, if he wanted to avoid a scene.

Thinking furiously, he found something just as Hermione had begun to ask, ‘What is—?’

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed and, sitting up straight, turned to Charlie. ‘I remember!’

Charlie blinked. Harry was aware that everyone was looking at him. For some reason, he couldn’t suppress a broad grin.

‘I remember last night,’ he added. ‘I still want to do it.’

He heard someone gasp and Ron said, ‘What? What’s he talking about?’

George, eyes wide, looked from Harry to Charlie. ‘Something happened I don’t know about?’

Charlie stared at Harry for a moment, clearly stunned. Then, understanding dawned in his eyes, and he began laughing. ‘Dammit, Harry, you’re something. All right, I’ll take you.’

Ginny dropped her mug, and Hermione squeaked, ‘What?’

George scratched his head. ‘We’re missing something here.’

‘Mate, what’re you talking about?’ Ron repeated.

Harry smiled at Ron. ‘A tattoo.’

Ron blinked.

‘Harry?’ Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny’s spilled tea while eying her friend questioningly. She looked … well, Harry wasn’t sure how she looked. Odd. He frowned.

‘What is it?’ He looked around. Charlie and George were both grinning broadly; Ron was clearly surprised; Ginny was pale and wide-eyed. ‘What’s up with you guys? I told Charlie last night that I wanted a tattoo, and he said that if I remember today when I’m sober again and still want to do it, he’ll take me to a tattoo artist.’ He looked back at Charlie. ‘Well, when do we go?’

Charlie leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. ‘I’ll Floo Pam and ask about an appointment for you.’

‘Appointment?’

‘Oh, yes, Pam’s busy. I’ll let you know.’

Harry was a little disheartened. He’d wanted to go today.

‘You want a tattoo?’ Hermione repeated, baffled, and then started as Ron suddenly began to laugh uproariously. ‘Ron, what—?’

Ron slapped Harry’s shoulder. ‘A Hungarian Horntail or a Hippogriff?’ he wheezed.

Harry laughed but shook his head. ‘’M not telling you.’

‘Aw, come one!’

‘Nope.’

‘What are you—?’ Hermione began, but Ron interrupted her.

‘Come on, Hermione, don’t you remember that Vane girl that was after Harry? How she asked Ginny if Harry had a Hippogriff tattooed across his chest?’

Harry felt some of his delight fade at the mention of Ginny, and he pointedly did not look in her direction.

Hermione didn’t seem to find anything funny about the situation.

‘Yes, I remember, and so?’ she said coolly. ‘Harry isn’t getting a tattoo because a silly teenager asked a silly, invasive question about it four years ago.’ She stopped and glared at Harry. ‘Are you, Harry?’

‘Of course not,’ Harry snorted. ‘I just want a tattoo. I think it’s cool.’

‘Yes, but Harry, it’s not a decision you should make so quickly, after all, a tattoo will last for the rest of your life, and one day you might not like it anymore, you really should think about it for a little longer before you make a final decision and—’

‘Hermione, take a breath,’ George said lightly. ‘And stop mothering Harry. Just because you got Ronniekins henpecked doesn’t mean Harry can’t make decisions for himself.’

Hermione swelled to alarming proportions but before she could say anything, Mrs Weasley bustled into the kitchen.

‘Here, Hermione dear,’ she said and handed Hermione a basket. ‘I packed the remainder of the wedding cake for you. Oh, and you should hurry, the Portkey goes in five minutes.’

At her words, noise and hectic movement suddenly erupted in the Weasleys’ small kitchen. Everybody got up to their feet, talking and hugging. Crookshanks, who was to stay at the Weasleys’ until Hermione came back, slunk into the room and wound around their ankles, making Mrs Weasley stumbled over him and knock the coffeepot off the table, scalding Crookshanks.

Afterwards, things got a lot more chaotic.

Six minutes later, Harry walked back into the now deserted kitchen to finish his breakfast. Through the half-closed door, he could hear Mrs Weasley yelling at George. George had taken it upon himself to shout some last minute advice to Ron, and Mrs Weasley apparently thought it neither funny nor helpful at all. Charlie had grabbed Crookshanks when the yelling started and declared he’d look after the coffee-soaked cat. Harry was just wondering where Ginny had gone when she came into the kitchen.

Ducking his head, Harry wolfed his eggs down, hoping that when he didn’t look at her she wouldn’t talk to him. He really had no desire to hear what she had to say about her behaviour last night. The angry hurt in his chest, he knew, would explode into something more violent, and Harry really didn’t want to have a screaming row in Mrs Weasley’s kitchen

To his relief, Ginny didn’t say anything, just sat down and started fiddling with her plate and knife. Harry could feel her eyes on him. His skin prickled uncomfortably. Hastily, he swallowed the last bit of bacon and jumped up to dump his plate in the sink.

It seemed to have been the signal for Ginny. ‘Harry,’ she began, and Harry began to calculate how much she could say before he was able to escape through the door.

But Ginny didn’t continue, and a moment later, Mrs Weasley burst into the kitchen, red-faced and mumbling under her breath.

‘… this boy … not understand how, but of course … no shame … shouldn’t talk to his brother like that …’ She huffed and looked up. Her whole demeanour changed, almost scarily, the moment she saw Harry.

‘Oh, Harry dear, are you done with breakfast?’

‘Erm, yeah.’

‘Good, good. Would you mind, then, dear, to give Arthur and Bill a hand with the garden? The marquee has been taken down, but apparently the men aren’t responsible for the tables and chairs, not to forget all the things that people just dropped, you would think they’d be a bit more careful but the flower bed is littered with all kinds of things!’

Harry nodded. ‘Sure, I’ll go, Mrs Weasley.’

She beamed at him. ‘Wonderful, Harry, thank you so much! If everyone works hard, we can have the garden and house cleaned by afternoon.’

Harry didn’t know why having everything cleaned by afternoon was important, but he didn’t ask any questions, just nodded again and escaped through the kitchen door into the garden. Somewhere behind a bush, he could hear clattering, and then Mr Weasley swearing.

‘Damn gnomes. Out of my way! The next one I stumble over will be fed to the cat!’

There was the faint sound of giggling and rustling. The bush next to Harry shivered a little. He was about to walk around it to offer his help to whatever Mr Weasley was doing when a hand grabbed his elbow. Turning around, he suppressed a groan. It was Ginny.

‘I need to talk to you, Harry.’

Harry felt a fleeting dread, followed by anger boiling in his stomach. So she wanted to talk to him? Well, he didn’t want to talk to her. Right now, he’d rather not even see her. But of course he couldn’t say that; Ginny’d get loud, and then her father would hear and probably her mother, and Harry really didn’t want to talk about last night in front of them.

‘Later,’ he said harshly and tried to jerk his arm from her grip. For some reason, her touching him made his skin prickle and the bacon and eggs he’d eaten squirm. ‘We’ve got to clear up the garden, you heard your mum.’

But Ginny didn’t let go. Her nails dug into his skin. ‘Now,’ she said fiercely. And before Harry could protest again, she dragged him off, back into the house and through the kitchen into the living room, closing the door firmly behind her before she turned to Harry. Harry jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the rug in front of the fireplace, avoiding her eyes. He could almost see Charlie stretched out on it, could almost see the golden dragon move under Charlie’s freckled skin.

‘Harry.’ Ginny sounded determined, and Harry cast a quick glance at the windows. They were closed. At least, the people in the garden wouldn’t hear them screaming. ‘We need to talk.’

Harry shrugged and grunted, not saying anything, wishing he was outside clearing up flowerbeds.

‘About the tattoo,’ Ginny began again after a moment’s silence.

That was so unexpected that Harry’s head jerked up. He stared at her. ‘About the tattoo?’ It seemed incredible. She had spent the better part of last night snogging another guy and she wanted to talk about his – so far non-existent – tattoo? ‘Whatever for?’

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘Because what Hermione said is right. You’ll have it for the rest of your life.’

‘So what?’ Harry snapped. She couldn’t be trying to dictate him what to do, could she?

‘So you need to think about whether you really want it or not!’

‘Do I look stupid?’

Ginny blinked, clearly thrown off balance. ‘What?’

‘Do I look stupid?’ Harry repeated through clenched teeth. ‘Because, you know, I know that a tattoo is for life. Does it surprise you that I’ve already thought about it?’

‘Well, I just said you need to be sure,’ Ginny retorted defensively.

‘I am. Not that it’s your business,’ he couldn’t help add.

‘Not my business?’ Ginny’s voice rose. ‘Not my business when my boyfriend decides to get something printed into his skin? Without asking me whether I like it or not! And I don’t like it. So it’s my business. Don’t do it, Harry!’

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She didn’t like it and so she thought she could forbid him to do it? Even without last night, he couldn’t believe it.

The thought of her glued to that French bloke by the lips heated his anger to white-hot fury.

‘Oh, now she remembers,’ he sneered.

‘What are you—?’

‘I’m your boyfriend, eh? So, now you remember. How convenient.’ The words seemed to make it across Harry’s lips without his assistance.

‘Don’t talk in that tone to me,’ Ginny snapped. ‘And what do you mean, now I remember?’

‘Well, you did seem to have forgotten it last night, didn’t you?’

Ginny stared at him. She appeared so thoroughly surprised by what he had said that Harry couldn’t suppress an angry growl. His hands clenched into tight fists in his pocket. And then, to his surprise, Ginny smiled. A pleased, little smile.

‘Oh, Harry,’ she said gently. ‘Last night didn’t matter. It was just a bit of fun. I was just amusing myself, you know, nothing to worry about. Just what one does at a wedding. But your idea about the tattoo—’

Harry spluttered out of his shock. ‘It didn’t matter?’ he repeated, incredulous. The memory flashed again in front of his eyes. It hadn’t looked like “just a bit of fun” to him! ‘So you were only amusing yourself? Well, bully for you, but you know, if my tattoo is your business then it’s my business if my girlfriend is groping another guy, fun or not!’

‘I wasn’t groping him!’ Ginny cried. She sounded hurt, but Harry noticed her flushed cheeks and how she didn’t quite look into his eyes.

‘Oh, right, he was groping you,’ he said scathingly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his body shaking with fury. ‘I’d have thought guys groping you earned them a Bat-Bogey-Hex. Funny, I didn’t see you do anything about it.’

‘Well, I couldn’t help it,’ Ginny said defensively. She was very red now. ‘He’s part Veela, you know—’

‘What, it’s okay for you to snog a guy because you can’t help it because he’s part-Veela but I can’t even say that Fleur’s smart because that’s cheating on you?’ Harry shouted.

‘—and you know the effect they have!’ Ginny continued, shouting as well.

‘And if that isn’t a handy excuse,’ Harry spat. ‘Not your fault at all, you just fell for the Veela-thing, eh? Could happen to anybody, eh?’

‘Well, you—’

‘No, I didn’t. ‘Course, you were a bit busy and mightn’t’ve noticed, but I didn’t fawn all over Gabrielle. Or Fleur. Not even that bloke’s sister. Who are all part Veela.’

‘You made an idiot of yourself at the World Cup when Bulgaria played!’

Harry laughed harshly. ‘And that was, what, seven years ago? Oh, right.’

‘But you reacted to the Veela thing!’

‘Excuse me, I was fourteen! How old are you now? That’s your excuse for last night? You have no more control than a bloody teenager?’

‘Well, so I was snogging Michel.’ Ginny’s voice had risen to a shriek. She was breathing very fast, and her eyes glittered angrily. ‘It’s not like you did anything about it!’

‘What?! It’s my fault you were making out with him?’

‘Well, you could have done something! I’m your girlfriend, you should have done something!’

‘Like what? Hex him? Punch him and start a brawl at my best friends’ wedding because you can’t control yourself?’

‘At least he was willing to do anything with me!’ Ginny screamed. ‘You never pay attention to me!’

Harry almost chocked. ‘What? I never pay attention to you? Fuck, that’s rich! You spent the whole evening glued to that guy!’ Ginny made to retort, but Harry kept shouting. ‘Perhaps I’d’ve liked to spend some time with my girlfriend, only it was a bit difficult because my girlfriend was snogging another guy! Bit difficult to talk with you being glued by the lips to him!’

‘But I was only doing that because you ignored me!’ Ginny yelled, tears in her eyes. ‘You’ve been ignoring me for weeks! You’re never here, you never want to do anything, only play Quidditch and joke around with George and Charlie, and sometimes I just want you all for myself!’

‘And that’s why you go and make out with somebody else?’

‘I wanted you to notice me! And that I won’t wait forever for you to remember that I’m your girlfriend!’

That seemed so unfair to Harry that he could only gape at Ginny in stunned disbelief. Ginny gave an angry sob and wiped her eyes.

‘I … I have ignored you?’ Harry asked when he’d found his voice again. ‘You think that I have forgotten you’re my girlfriend?’

‘What was I to think?’ she asked angrily. ‘You’re always busy and when you’re not, you don’t want to do anything or go out! Just stay here and hang around and do nothing.’

Harry shook his head. ‘I’m ignoring you because I don’t like being hunted by the press? Because I don’t want all of the wizarding world know what I said to you on our “romantic candle-light dinner”? That’s why you were snogging the French bloke?’

Ginny’s flush deepened a shade or two. ‘That’s … that’s not … You ignore me, Harry! You don’t want to go out with me. You don’t treat me like your girlfriend. You … you don’t even want to have sex with me!’

A ringing silence followed her cry. Harry blinked, trying to understand what Ginny was saying.

‘I don’t want to have sex with you and so you make out with somebody else to make me want to have sex with you?’

Well, that was rubbish. Harry could feel the fury well up again, even more blinding and violent than before.

‘Fuck,’ he spat. ‘That’s the shittiest excuse I’ve ever heard. You want to make out with another guy at least be honest and say so!’

‘That’s not an excuse!’ Ginny gasped. ‘I—’

‘You what? Make it all my fault so I end up feeling guilty and then you can be the noble, forgiving girlfriend?’

Ginny flinched, and Harry felt viciously vindicated. He was so angry with her now, not only because of what she’d done last night but also of how she was trying to manipulate him, he could only stammer.

‘F-fuck, I’m n-not playing this … this game! If you so want to h-have s-sex with someone, you g-go and shag Veela boy!’

‘Well, at least he wants to have sex with me!’ Ginny screeched. ‘You never do! I wonder if you like girls at all!’

‘I like girls plenty!’ Harry bellowed. His voice was so loud he could easily ignore the little whisper in his mind that suggested that perhaps Ginny might not have been so far off the mark. ‘Perhaps I just don’t like being bitched at and pestered all the time!’

‘Bitched?!’ Ginny shrieked, but Harry was on a roll.

‘Perhaps I’m tired after Auror training!’ he yelled. ‘Or perhaps I don’t want to shag you in your parents’ house with your mum prone to bursting into your room without knocking! Or with George eavesdropping! Or in Grimmauld Place, with Kreacher popping into the room the moment I open my mouth! Ever thought about that, eh?’

Ginny’s mouth had dropped open. Her colour faded and then came back with a vengeance. ‘Harry …’

But he wasn’t at all inclined to listen to anything she wanted to say. ‘No, you never did, did you? Instead you went ahead and tried to make it my fault and then guilt me into doing what you want! Well, fuck! I really don’t need that!’

And with that, he shoved past her, still ignoring her as she tried to speak and roughly yanking his arm free when she grabbed it again. Trembling with fury, he stalked through the kitchen and out into the garden, not looking at Mrs Weasley and George, who were sitting at the kitchen table, frozen in their seats. They had obviously heard everything that had been said, and Harry felt his anger intensify even further. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid, anyone hearing him row with Ginny.

He slammed the kitchen door behind him, hoping feverishly that they would leave him alone, and went to look for work that needed to be done.

Fortunately, neither Mr Weasley nor Bill had heard the screaming, or at least nothing they said or did indicated that they had. They greeted Harry happily, told him what needed to be done, and then he was left to his own devices to murmur spells to clean up the flowerbeds, only occasionally interrupted by a shout for help or a curse when one of the other men stumbled over a gnome.

Harry forced himself on concentrating on the cleaning-up. It wasn’t easy to remember the correct spells, though, with the anger still boiling inside of him and all kinds of thoughts whirling through his head. And Ginny’s accusations of him not liking girls and of not wanting to have sex with her kept nagging at him.

True, he’d never let her seduce him and had never tried to do more than kissing and mild groping with her but, dammit, he’d had his reasons! Good reasons, too! They weren’t excuses. Auror training was draining, and he’d really rather not be intimate with his girlfriend anywhere near Mrs Weasley or Kreacher.

Besides, Ron would have killed him had he done anything with Ginny.

There. Perfectly good reasons. Why couldn’t she see? And perhaps he just was someone who wasn’t that interested in sex. He knew other guys at his age were very much interested, but then, they hadn’t grown up with the Dursleys – or had bits of Voldemort’s soul inside of their heads for most of their lives. So what if he was different? It wasn’t his fault.

With an angry huff, Harry Accio’d the remains of a balloon from a rose bush and then fought with the bush for the shreds of a flower garland, all the while fuming silently about the unfairness of Ginny’s words and actions. He was still seething about her attempt to run his life – forbid him to get a tattoo because she didn’t like it – when he took down the fairy lights that had been spread through the tall hedge around the garden.

By the time he was stuffing the rubbish he’d collected into large bags, he was trying to fend off mild unease. He kept coming back to Ginny’s accusation about him not liking girls.

Feeling rather uncomfortable, Harry rubbed his neck. Images from last night flashed through his mind, images of Charlie’s naked back, of the way his thin trousers outlined his arse, and how his skin had felt under Harry’s fingertips. He remembered the fluttery feeling in his stomach. That hadn’t been the champagne, Harry was sure. It had been Charlie.

And once Harry had connected these two particular dots, he remembered all the other times he had got that particular fluttery feeling around Charlie. There was even the odd time or two Harry could remember from Hogwarts …

Before he could come to a result, a voice jerked him from his musings.

‘Hey, Harry!’

Charlie had appeared next to him, grinning a little. There were fading scratches along his underarms.

‘You all right?’ Charlie asked.

‘Yeah, fine.’ Harry didn’t dare look at him too closely.

‘What did the lampion do, then?’

‘Huh?’

Charlie pointed at the Snitch-shaped, yellow lampion Harry had been crumpling in his hands. ‘You’ve been glaring at it as if it had offended you.’

‘Oh.’ Harry felt his cheeks heat. ‘Just thinking.’

‘Hmhm.’ Charlie said nothing more, just looked at him, and Harry prayed that he hadn’t been talking to his mother or George, that no one had told Charlie that he’d been arguing with Ginny. Finally, however, Charlie just shrugged.

‘Okay. Listen, I Floo’d Pam. If you still want to get a tattoo, we can go any time this afternoon. Pam’s free.’

Harry immediately brightened. ‘Oh, wow, cool! Yeah, I still want to and we can go anytime. Like, now.’

Charlie grinned broadly. ‘You’d better wash first. You’re a bit … leafy.’ And he plucked a leaf from Harry’s hair.

Harry shook his head, and two more leafs fluttered down. ‘Okay, can we go now?’

In the end, Harry had a quick shower before they left. He’d been sweating while tidying the garden, and Charlie had explained that it was better if Harry showed up with clean skin for the tattoo. Harry had hesitated at first, not wanting to go inside of the house and running the danger of meeting anyone he didn’t want to meet. But the door to Ginny’s room had been firmly shut and Harry had only seen George, who thankfully hadn’t commented in any way on the row he’d overheard earlier.

It was a little after three o’clock when Charlie and Harry Floo’d to Diagon Alley. Harry wondered why they couldn’t have Floo’d into this Pam’s shop directly, but when he asked, Charlie laughed and said, ‘The last time anyone tried to walk through, they ended up purple. And I mean purple; hair, eyes, skin and everything. No one knows why. But ever since people prefer to walk into his shop.’

Harry blinked as they left the public Floo station and stepped into Diagon Alley. It was Sunday and most shops were closed, with the exception of the cafés and pastry shops. There were still a lot of people milling around, and Harry attracted a fair amount of stares and waves. But for once, he was too busy to notice.

‘His?’ he repeated in surprise. ‘But you said your friend’s name was Pam!’

Charlie grinned. ‘Oh, it is. He started life as Paul-Andrew Mockridge – hyphenated; his mother insisted – but no one calls him anything but Pam, really. He has been Pam for ages – he was in my year at Hogwarts, you know, and one of the first things he did was punching a Hufflepuff’s nose for calling him Paul-Andrew.’

‘But Pam’s a girl’s name! Doesn’t he mind?’ Harry was horrified at the idea of being called anything girlish.

‘He says everything is better than Paul-Andrew.’ Charlie shrugged and strolled down Diagon Alley, past a little café where everyone craned their necks to get a look at Harry. ‘And after the punch we all saw him land, no one was inclined to even hint that he was the slightest bit girlish.’ He turned his head to look at Harry and winked. ‘We still teased him quite dreadfully, of course.’

Harry grinned, a little hesitantly. He still thought being called a girl’s name was awful.

‘Wait till you see him,’ Charlie went on, having apparently seen Harry’s doubt.

‘Why?’

‘Hmm, you’ll see. He doesn’t look much like a girl.’

Harry shrugged. ‘Why is his shop open, anyway? It’s Sunday, after all.’

‘Oh, it’s not open. But Pam can usually be found in his studio, and when I Floo’d, he said it was okay to come over, no problem.’

Harry groaned. ‘Don’t tell me. The famous Harry Potter and everything.’

‘No.’ Charlie grinned at Harry’s suspicious expression. ‘I didn’t tell him it was you who wanted the tattoo. Just said a friend of mine.’

‘Oh.’

‘He’ll be delighted, though, when he finds out it’s you.’

‘Yeah, I’d think so,’ Harry sighed.

‘Oh, no, not what you think. Though I daresay he’ll think it absolutely smashing to be able to tell people he was allowed to, ah, gild your skin. But, you know, he’ll be far more interested in working with your magic to create your tattoo, that’s what he says is best about his job. Oh, and he just loves tattoo virgins, which you are, of course.’

‘Uh…’ Harry slowed imperceptibly down, not sure he wanted to meet the tattooist anymore.

‘Ah, ah, no bolting, now.’ Charlie took hold of Harry’s elbow and dragged him along. ‘Look, there’s his shop.’

Harry peered at the small, high house wedged in between a second-hand bookshop and the large, sprawling shopfront of Twilfitt and Tattings. A brightly painted sign hung over the door, showing a bucket of colour-changing paint and a brush that shot sparks. Harry was still craning his neck to read the name on the sign when Charlie pulled him inside.

Harry blinked in surprise. They were standing in a small, dim saleroom. The walls were covered with canvasses, some with frames and some without, depicting witches, wizards, and the odd landscape. The portraits all turned to look at the visitors, but Harry was surprised that none of them said anything, though they waved and pointed agitatedly enough.

‘Pam!’ Charlie bellowed through the silence.

‘Up here!’ they heard a faint voice call from somewhere above them.

‘Come on, Harry.’

Charlie strolled towards the counter, opened the little door in it and motioned Harry to follow him.

‘But, Charlie,’ Harry said slowly, ‘this is … I mean, this is a painter’s shop! I mean, didn’t you say your friend was a tattooist?’

‘He is,’ Charlie said as he preceded Harry in climbing a narrow staircase. ‘He’s a painter, and a damn good one, too. But his hobby – or his vocation, as he calls it – is creating tattoos.’

‘But how does that go together?’ Harry asked, a little distracted by the way Charlie’s jeans clung to his backside.

‘It’s all magical paint, isn’t it?’ Charlie replied. He had reached the landing and marched through a half-open door. Harry, still not understanding and feeling a little dazed, followed him into a room so full of light he had to squeeze his eyes close.

‘Hullo, Pam,’ he heard Charlie say. ‘Why am I so not surprised to find you here?’

Harry slowly opened his eyes and blinked, trying to adjust to the brightness.

He heard another man chuckle. ‘Cheers, Charlie. Gotta make use of the light, don’t I?’

Harry’s eyes had adjusted sufficiently for him to see the shadows of several easels in the surprisingly large room at the back of the house. The entire wall opposite the door seemed to consist of windows through which the bright afternoon sunlight fell. The floor was spattered with a multitude of colourful stains. The walls were covered with sketches. Harry was stunned to see more than one of them move.

‘So, where’s my victim?’ the man called Pam said, and Harry turned his head into the direction of the voice.

The first thing he noticed were the robes the man wore. They might once have been dark blue, but it was difficult to tell as the robes were spattered – over and over – with paint. Colour-changing paint. What was seen between the swirling spots was faded into a dark grey.

Looking away from the robes, Harry understood why the man didn’t mind the girlish name. No one could have looked less like a girl. Pam was rather tall and completely bald. As if to compensate, he sported a long, somewhat shaggy goatee. His left eye was brown, the right one blue. His knotty hands and forearms were covered in layers of different colours. The colours seemed to be moving as well.

The overall result made Harry feel rather dizzy.

‘That’s a friend of mine,’ Charlie said. He reappeared at Harry’s side and, putting one hand on his shoulder, pushed him forwards. ‘Harry, that’s Pam. Pam, that’s Harry.’

Harry looked at the man and saw his mismatched eyes widen.

‘Gosh,’ he said. His face broke into a wide grin and he held a paint-covered hand out for Harry to shake. ‘Harry Potter. That’s a surprise. Didn’t know you knew Charlie.’

Harry shook the hand, murmuring a greeting. He felt a bit uncomfortable, as he always did when people recognised him at a glance.

‘He went to Hogwarts with my youngest brother,’ Charlie said, amused. ‘Which you would know if you would ever pay attention to things that don’t involve paint.’

‘Yes, yes, I know, I’m an absent-minded recluse and the smell of the paint’s gone to my head, or something like that.’ Pam waved a negligent hand at Charlie while his other still held Harry’s in a surprisingly strong grip. His eyes ran over Harry’s face and body with a strangely detached but piercing expression. Finally, he let go of Harry’s hand with a nod.

‘Well, it’s certainly very interesting to meet you,’ he said to Harry. ‘It’ll be even more interesting to work with you. You do want a tattoo, don’t you?’

‘Er. Yeah.’

Pam nodded, once more scanning Harry with the strange expression. It made his brown eye look almost black. ‘You do. How come?’

‘Er…’ Harry felt slightly taken aback by the abrupt question. He glanced at Charlie, who was watching them, arms crossed and leaning against an easel. ‘Uh, well, I … I saw Charlie’s tattoo last night. And, dunno, I liked it and that kind of made me want one, too.’

He flushed, mildly embarrassed with his stuttering and at not being able to explain better. But, really, that was all the reason he could give. Pam didn’t seem impressed, though.

‘Hm.’ Pam eyed Harry. ‘Charlie’s tattoo, eh?’

‘Um, yeah. I think it’s really … really cool. Brilliant,’ he added as he remembered how the dragon had looked, sleeping under Charlie’s skin. ‘It looks so real, as if it’s alive. Not just, dunno, a tattoo, but kind of a real creature, just there, under the skin. And … and just sleeping.’

He stopped, flushing again, but Pam was nodding at him. ‘Kind of a real creature,’ he repeated with a small smile.

‘Yeah,’ Harry hastened to add, worried he had insulted the artist, ‘it looked as if it was moving, breathing, you know. Might’ve been the light, though.’

But he seemed to have said the right thing, because Pam was grinning broadly. ‘You saw the dragon move, eh?’ He turned to Charlie. ‘You didn’t mention that.’

‘Uh…’

Harry looked between the two men. Charlie was shifting uncomfortably while Pam was chuckling softly. Harry frowned, a little confused.

‘But I didn’t tell him that I thought it moved,’ he told Pam.

The other man grinned at him. ‘Oh, if you think you saw it moving, it did move. Charlie would have felt that. Interesting, that, very interesting.’

‘Tattoos really move?’ Harry asked, surprised.

‘Yup, they do.’ Pam nodded. ‘They’re magical tattoos, after all, and they’re connected to the body’s magic. Agitated wizard makes for an agitated tattoo.’

‘You mean the tattoo moves over the body?’

‘Oh, no, not that! No one is that good. But they do move, sometimes more and sometimes less, depending on what the body is feeling and on the magic it is doing,’ Pam explained.

‘Cool.’

Pam laughed at that and gestured Harry to the door. ‘Well, then, let’s go and get you a tattoo.’ He waved his wand over his shoulder, and the brushes and paint he had used began tidying up. ‘Charlie, what about you? Are you staying?’

‘If Harry won’t mind.’

Charlie sounded a bit nervous, Harry thought, and he was still looking a tad uncomfortable, with his hands jammed into the pocket of his jeans like that and his shoulders hunched up.

‘That okay, Harry?’ Pam asked. ‘If he stays?’

Harry, hoping that Charlie would stop being so ill at ease, nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’

Pam chuckled again. ‘Ah, well. Let’s get going then. Follow me, Harry.’

Harry did as he was told, following Pam out of the room and up another narrow staircase into another room. It was at the back of the house as well, and though the windows didn’t make up the entire wall, they were still large and let in a lot of sunlight.

Near the windows stood what looked like a mattress-covered table, and on waist-high benches around it, tins of all sizes were lined up neatly. In the middle of the room a sofa and armchairs were grouped around another table, which was covered with parchments and books. On the right hand side of the room were shelves, filled with more books and buckets of paint; on the left hand side, a drawn-back curtain revealed what might have been a changing room: a sink, a number of towels stacked on a stool, a chair and a couple of shapeless, grey robes hanging on the wall.

‘Welcome to my tattoo studio,’ Pam said with a wave of his arm. ‘Come in and sit down.’

Plopping down into an armchair himself, he waved his wand, and a tray with glasses and jugs popped up on the table on top of a book. ‘Want to drink anything? You’d better stick to gooseberry juice, Harry. For some reason, it doesn’t stir up magic like other juices do. Better for the tattoo to work with calm magic.’

Harry sat down and accepted a glass of pale green juice. Pam poured himself and Charlie something dark red and then leaned back.

‘Well, then,’ Pam began, becoming businesslike. ‘First, my apologies if I was a bit harsh to you downstairs. Gotta make sure people really want the tattoo. Wouldn’t do at all for them to come back and hex me if they changed their opinion later.’

Harry nodded and smiled. ‘I promise not to hex you later.’

‘You wouldn’t want to do that, anyway,’ Pam said mysteriously. ‘Second, Charlie said this is your first tattoo. So you probably don’t know much about what I’m going to do or what to expect from your tattoo.’

‘Only what you told me,’ Harry replied. ‘About the magic and the tattoo reacting.’

‘Yes, that’s one of the most important things about the tattoo.’ Pam was quite serious now. The spots on his robes changed more slowly and kept to dark and sober colours. ‘But it’s not only your tattoo that reacts to your magic. It works the other way round as well. You’ll be aware of your tattoo in more sense than just as a bit of coloured skin. If it moves, you’ll feel it. Sometimes, it will react without you expecting to do anything.

‘Wizards often aren’t aware of how their emotions influence their magic, and so they’re sometimes surprised at their tattoo reacting to apparently nothing. That’s when they – the wizards, or witches, really, doesn’t matter – aren’t aware of their emotions or are denying them. So, you need to be aware of that when deciding the motif and the place. You’ll be feeling it, sooner or later.’

Harry nodded to show he’d understood.

‘Good. Next thing,’ Pam went on, ‘you need to really be aware of the fact that your tattoo is connected to your magic. This might not sound like an important fact, but it is. Damage to your tattoo can do damage to your magic. People like Charlie here, who work in a dangerous profession and talk me into creating a rather large tattoo for them, are really living dangerously.’

Charlie grinned unrepentantly at Pam’s scowl.

‘Um,’ Harry said. ‘I’m training to be an Auror. And—’

‘Just tell me it’s a small tattoo you want,’ Pam sighed with a resigned expression.

Harry grinned. ‘Small, yeah. But, well, if my tattoo is connected to my magic, can it influence how my magic works? I mean, if it’s not damaged and everything’s fine, can it somehow influence, like, the way I cast?’

Pam looked pleased. ‘Good thinking, Harry. Yes, your tattoo might influence your magic. Not significantly, but you might notice some changes. Things like how much you have to concentrate on working a spell. Also, the larger the tattoo, the more of your magic it can drain. But you said you want a small one, so the changes wouldn’t be very big. Anyway, make sure you run a couple of different test spells every day to find out to which extend your magic has changed.’

Harry nodded again.

‘Good. Now, one last word about the connection your tattoo will have to your magic. I said damage to the tattoo can result in damage to the magic. Conversely, treat your tattoo well, and it can result in very positive effects on your magic. Again, how strong these effects are depends on the wizard and the tattoo. You might find casting easier or that you suddenly manage spells you never managed before.’

Suddenly, Pam grinned almost wickedly. ‘See, the tattoo is like a lover: treat it well, and it will give you pleasure.’

Charlie gave a choked sound and Harry flushed once more. Pam laughed and winked at Charlie, then turned back to Harry.

‘Okay, we’ve covered the tattoo’s connection to your magic and to your emotions. Any questions you can think of about that?’

‘Hm, no,’ Harry said slowly, thinking through what he’d heard.

‘But you’ve got a question about something else.’

‘Yeah, well…’ Harry shrugged. ‘It’s just … I was wondering how a painter came to be the one to do tattoos.’

‘Well, it’s all magical paint,’ Pam echoed Charlie’s earlier words. ‘And in my case, the tattoos came first. Only my mother insisted I can’t live from that alone, and so I started painting as well.’

‘Tattoos use magical paint?’ Harry frowned. ‘I thought … Hm, okay, I really don’t have any idea how one gets a magical tattoo.’

‘You don’t?’ Pam seemed surprised. ‘I thought you talked about getting a tattoo with Charlie.’

‘Last night, Pam,’ Charlie cut in. ‘And he wasn’t exactly sober. I’m surprised he remembers as much.’

Now Pam was frowning, so Harry hurried to say, ‘I’m sober now, I remember, and I still want a tattoo. So, how does it work?’

Pam rubbed his nose, which made the colours on his fingers ripple and the paint spots on his sleeve change colours rapidly, looked from Charlie to Harry, and shrugged.

‘It’s really quite simple,’ he explained. ‘I use magical paint to, well, paint the motif onto your skin. It’s not quite the same paint as the one I use for the paintings, but it’s the same basis. Then, when the motif is done, I charm it to sink into your skin and connect to your magic. The connection makes sure that the tattoo doesn’t fade and that your magic doesn’t try to wipe it out.’

‘But if you connect the tattoo to my magic with a charm, can’t the connection be broken? I mean, a friend of mine lectured me on how a tattoo is for life, but if it’s charmed in…?

Pam looked very serious at Harry’s question. ‘In theory, you are correct. The connection can be broken. However, I’ve never done it and I won’t do it. No one can be sure what happens when the connection is cut. It might damage your magic irreversibly.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Harry nodded. ‘Uh, no, I wouldn’t want to try that, anyway.’

‘So you’re still sure you want a tattoo?’

‘Of course!’

Pam smiled and clapped his hands. ‘Splendid! Okay, let’s get down to the details. The motif. Do you know what motif you want?’

‘Yeah, I—’

Pam held up a hand. ‘And you’re still sure you want this motif? After what I’ve told you about the connection?’

‘Yeah, still sure.’

‘Good.’ He grinned. ‘I like people who know what they want. Apart from making the whole thing a lot easier for me.’

‘Do you get many people who change their opinion?’ Harry asked, curious.

‘Oh, yes! Almost everyone changes their opinion after I’ve explained. They usually start out with something large and complicated and then decide it’s not worth the risk. Or they try ornaments. That’s a fashion with the witches lately, to get all kinds of ornaments as tattoo. Chinese or Japanese stuff or what they call Celtic.’ Pam sniffed. Apparently, he didn’t think much of ornamental tattoos.

‘And then what? When they change their opinion?’

Pam pointed at the many books and parchments on the table. ‘I tell them to have a look at these. They’re pictures of tattoos I’ve done; some are standard motifs and some I’ve created myself. For a while, imaginary fantastic beasts were quite the rage. After all, in painting it doesn’t matter much if the creature exists in reality or not.’

‘And you did that?’ Harry asked in surprise. ‘Wasn’t that dangerous, imaginary fantastic beasts? I mean, you couldn’t be sure how made-up creatures would affect someone’s magic, could you?’

Pam looked delighted. ‘Oh, very good! He’s got a very good head on his shoulders,’ he said to Charlie.

‘I know,’ Charlie replied. He was lounging in a corner of the sofa, watching and clearly amused.

‘Yes, it was dangerous,’ Pam told Harry. ‘Well, experimental, anyway. But the wizards knew the risks they were taking, I made absolutely sure of that, and as far as I know nothing turned out too bad.’

‘Except Brooke,’ Charlie threw in. ‘He never was able to look at a dog again without his rear end twitching.’

Pam snorted with laughter. ‘Yes, well, Brooke.’

‘Why, what motif did he want?’ Harry asked eagerly, but Pam shook his head.

‘No, sorry, Harry, can’t tell. Confidential, and all that. I can’t go around and tell what motifs my customers wanted.’

‘Charlie knows,’ Harry argued.

‘Charlie saw,’ Charlie said. ‘Brooke wasn’t exactly reticent about showing off his marvellous tattoo. Of course, once he found out the thing about dogs, he wasn’t quite as willing as before.’

‘Well, it was a good tattoo,’ Pam admitted. ‘Very lively. But never mind Brooke. It’s Harry’s tattoo that matters. So, Harry, what motif do you want?’

Harry eyed Charlie, but then shrugged. ‘A Pygmy Puff.’

He took up his glass and sipped his juice with studied casualness, but Pam and Charlie’s stunned expressions were too much, and he choked, coughing and laughing.

‘A what?’ Pam managed to ask after a while.

‘A Pygmy Puff,’ Harry repeated, and then he told them the story of how Romilda Vane had asked about Harry’s tattoo, and what Ginny had said about Ron’s tattoo. By the time he was finished, Charlie’s shoulders were shaking and Pam’s mouth twitched into an irrepressible smile.

‘A Pygmy Puff,’ Pam repeated slowly. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for the fluffy type. Are you really sure?’

‘Yeah, I’m sure.’ Harry smiled. ‘See, when you pet a Pygmy Puff, it hums and kind of vibrates. And what with the tattoo’s magic and everything…’ He shrugged.

Pam’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead while a broad grin spread across his face. ‘And do you know where you want your vibrating tattoo?’

Harry pointed. Charlie and Pam roared with laughter.

‘Brilliant, Harry,’ Charlie wheezed once he had sufficiently calmed down.

‘Inspired,’ added Pam, wiping his eyes.

Harry grinned, satisfied with the reaction. ‘Yes, well, everyone would probably expect me to get something really macho, a Hippogriff or something. So I thought, not.’

‘And it’s not as if the vibrating Puff wouldn’t have some added benefits, eh?’ Pam leered. ‘Got one to pet it for you?’

Harry flushed and fidgeted a little. The question brought back the row with Ginny he’d had that morning. He didn’t know if he still had her; or if he still wanted to have her. But what had him really uncomfortable was the sudden image that had flashed through his head at Pam’s words, the image of Charlie’s strong fingers tracing his tattoo like Harry had done the dragon last night.

‘Uhh…’

But Pam thankfully didn’t register Harry’s discomfort. He had turned to Charlie with a knowing grin. ‘You’ll be having fun comparing tattoos, eh?’

Charlie’s face had approximately reached the colour of his hair. ‘Stop being an arse, Pam.’

Pam’s eyebrows rose again, and then he shrugged. ‘You’re as prickly as one of your dragons sometimes,’ was all he said before he got back to business.

‘Well, Harry, I think I can do a Pygmy Puff for you. It’s not difficult to paint. But with what I’ve heard about you it might be a tad difficult to get it connected. And perhaps the changes to your magic might be a bit more noticeable than they’d be had you chosen something more, eh, macho.’

Harry shrugged. ‘I’ll mange.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll do. So then,’ he winked, ‘pink or purple?’

‘Couldn’t you do it in red?’ Harry asked a little worriedly.

‘You want your own special Puff, eh? No worries, I can do that. Pygmy Puffs aren’t really imaginary fantastic beasts. Gryffindor red, then? You were Gryffindor, right?’

‘Yes, I was, but … perhaps a bit darker?’

Pam weighed his head thoughtfully, and then engaged Harry in a long discussion on the right shade of red for his Pygmy Puff, with Charlie occasionally throwing in a comment. Once they had agreed on the colour, Pam did a quick sketch of a Pygmy Puff and discussed its exact size and form with Harry, then tapped the sketch with his wand and it became the red Harry had chosen. When Harry agreed that this was what he wanted, Pam got up.

‘Okay, then. Let’s get going. You’ll have to drop your trousers and pants, though, Harry. Or better, change into one of these.’ He pointed to the grey robes hanging in the changing room. ‘That way, you’ll be sure not to get any paint on your clothes. Magical paint is difficult to remove and, well—’ he grinned down at his sleeves. The spots danced and flickered, ‘—it can be a bit, er, bubbly.’

Harry got up and moved over to the changing room, disappearing behind the curtain. Quickly, he got out of his clothes and into one of the grey robes. It was far too large, and when he closed the buttons to stop it from slipping off him, it left essential parts of him uncovered. Harry flushed and wondered, discomfited, if he would have to sit completely naked while Pam painted the tattoo on.

Behind the curtain, he could hear Pam move, open the paint tins. ‘Ready, Harry?’ he called.

‘Uhh…’

He heard Pam’s chuckle. ‘Grab a towel, then.’

Harry, cheeks burning, grabbed a towel and sidled through the curtain. Pam was standing next to the table in front of the windows, grinning at Harry.

‘The robes are usually too large,’ he said simply. ‘Okay, come over here and hop on. Lay back. Robes up and out of the way, like that. Wait, give me the towel. No, you get to keep it, but if you stretch it out like that, I can’t reach the spot where you want to have your tattoo.’

Beet red, Harry allowed Pam to drape the towel over his cock and right thigh. Behind Pam’s shoulder, he could see Charlie perching on one of the benches, watching intently. It made Harry’s stomach flutter.

Satisfied with the arrangement of the towel, Pam stepped back and flicked his wand. A tray rose to his elbow. Harry could see several small tins on it. One of them seemed to be smoking.

‘What…?’ he began, alarmed, but Pam waved him to be quiet.

‘You just lie there and do nothing,’ he ordered. ‘Don’t try to look at what I’m doing and don’t worry. Oh, and try not to twitch. Now, you want the tattoo here, right?’

He drew a circle with one finger on the naked skin of Harry’s loin in the place where he would paint the tattoo. Harry twitched, flushed darker, and nodded.

Pam peered down. His expression was almost clinically detached, but that didn’t help Harry much. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? When he had decided on where he wanted the tattoo. Why hadn’t he thought about it that he would be lying half-naked in front of this man who was a total stranger?

‘Relax, Harry,’ Charlie said soothingly. ‘It’s not that much different than the Quidditch changing room after a match.’

Pam huffed but Harry could feel himself relax a little. He smiled feebly at Charlie, who smiled back. Pam muttered something under his breath, then asked Harry, ‘It’s okay with you if he stays to watch? You know, I could kick him out.’

‘You could try,’ Charlie corrected.

‘No, no, it’s okay,’ Harry said quickly.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’ Harry nodded emphatically. It really was. He felt better having a friendly face around. And Charlie wouldn’t laugh.

Pam nodded, but then rounded on Charlie, his wand pointing straight at Charlie’s nose. ‘No jokes!’

‘George’s the one with the jokes, not I.’

‘Ha, ha. If you make him laugh and I ruin this, I’ll hex your tattoo!’

Charlie held up his hands. ‘I promise I’ll be good.’

‘Good.’ Pam turned back to Harry and, seeing the alarmed look, smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Harry. You’ll get a perfect tattoo. Which will be here.’ He circled the place again. Harry nodded.

‘Good,’ Pam repeated. ‘It’s really an advantage that you don’t have much hair here. Else I would’ve had to shave you first.’

Harry half sat up. ‘Wha—?’

Pam pushed him back down. ‘No twitching. Now listen. I’ll paint the Pygmy Puff on, we let the paint dry – that’s quick – and then you’ll have a look at it. If it’s okay, I charm it and connect it to your magic. If not, you tell me what you want to have changed and I change it. We keep this up until you’re satisfied. All right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good,’ Pam said the third time, then sat down on a stool which he poked with his wand until it had the correct height for him to lean over Harry. He tapped his wand to Harry’s loin in rapid patterns, explaining as he went.

‘I’m casting a number of cleaning spells. Yes, you showered before you came, I can feel that, but these spells go deeper in. That’ll help the paint to sink in a little.’

Next, he grabbed a broad brush from the tray and dipped it into the smoking tin.

‘Base for the paint,’ he informed Harry. To Harry’s surprise, the smoking stuff felt like nothing. As if it wasn’t really there, and Pam was just tickling Harry with the brush.

Pam put the brush back onto the tray and leaned forwards again. He pushed Harry’s legs a bit further apart, rested his right forearm on Harry’s left thigh and said, ‘I’ll be working this way. That okay for you?’

‘Um, yeah.’

‘If at any point you feel uncomfortable, let me know.’

‘Okay.’

‘Oh, and before I begin.’ Pam tapped Harry’s towel-covered cock with the end of a thin brush. Harry twitched. ‘Given where you get the tattoo, you might get a hard-on. Don’t worry, that’s entirely normal and no indication about your preferences. It’s just your body’s reaction to the magic.’

‘M-magic?’ Harry repeated, his voice a little higher than usual. His face was as red as the tattoo would be.

Pam smiled. ‘It’s magical paint after all. Don’t worry.’ He dipped his brush into one of the tins on the tray still hovering at his elbow and slowly, carefully, made the first stroke. It tickled a little and, for the first second, the wet paint felt icy cold. It warmed quickly, though, and tingled.

‘Oh, Charlie, you can talk to him. It’ll help. Just remember—’

‘No jokes, I know.’

‘And don’t get into my light!’ Pam barked as Charlie moved closer.

‘I’ve been here before, remember? I know what not to do.’

Pam grunted and bent down to his work. Charlie hopped onto a bench at the level of Harry’s head, so that when Harry looked to his right, he could see and talk to Charlie. He was thankful for this diversion from his embarrassment that still burned inside of him at the thought of Pam’s words. Charlie made it easy, too, keeping up a stream of light chatter. After a few minutes, Pam began to contribute more than occasional grunts to the conversation.

‘I’ve got it, now,’ he said, and Harry could feel him working faster. The thin brush danced over his skin, and soon the sensations became too much for Harry to concentrate on talking.

He closed his eyes and felt himself relax into the sensations. The soft tickling of the brush. The icy cold of the paint that quickly warmed. The longer Pam worked and the more paint was spread on Harry’s skin, the warmer it became. Soon he felt as if warm water was being poured not only over his loin but over his entire body. From somewhere far away, he could hear a soft humming.

However, the most overwhelming sensation was the tingling. Like the warmth, it had spread through his body and he felt it from his toes to his fingertips. He would have sworn he could even feel the tips of his hair prickle. It was almost as if he, himself, was vibrating softly. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Quite the opposite. Harry could feel his lips stretch into a smile.

‘Brilliant,’ someone whispered.

Harry agreed. This was indeed brilliant. Why had he never thought about getting a tattoo before?

The tickle of the brush changed. It was broader but softer. Its sweeping strokes changed the warmth to heat, and the contrast of the iciness and the heat made Harry shiver. A soft sigh slipped past his lips as another wave of heat ran through him. Every nerve in his body was pulsating. The humming seemed to become louder. Harry felt the urge to hum along.

But then the sensations faded. Harry frowned and opened his eyes.

The light that fell through the windows was darker and the angle was changed. A lot of time seemed to have passed. Harry blinked at the window, and then turned his head, looking around. Charlie was still sitting on the bench to Harry’s right. The late afternoon sun made his hair blaze. He seemed to be oddly tense. His eyes were fixed onto Harry’s face and he kept swallowing.

Movement to the left made Harry turn, and there was Pam, leaning back on his stool. He was quickly draining a bottle of the same red stuff he’d drunk earlier. His face and bald head glistened with a sheen of sweat. He looked exhausted but jubilant.

He put the empty bottle down and beamed. ‘Harry.’ His voice was slightly hoarse. ‘How do you feel?’

Harry pondered the question. ‘Good,’ he concluded finally. ‘Brilliant,’ he added with a bright smile as the sensations in his body separated. His toes and fingertips still tingled, and something warm was resting on his loin. Next to his very hard erected cock.

Harry blinked and raised his head to peer down. The towel covering him was tented impressively. For a moment, he felt mortified, but then he realised that the warm spot on his loin was his tattoo and he forgot all about his embarrassment.

‘Oh!’ He sat up, and then stretched and twisted to get a good look at it. ‘Is that it? The tattoo?’ He squinted. ‘Looks great from here.’

Pam chuckled and a mirror appeared, hovering in front of Harry. ‘Here, look at it right side up.’

Harry stared into the mirror. There on his skin, in stark contrast to the white towel, was the tattoo. It was larger than he thought it would be, almost circular. Every little tuff of fluff was depicted in brilliant detail. A tiny nose seemed to peer out of the fluff. The tail, painted in a darker red, was curled daintily around the Pygmy Puff.

‘Cool.’ Harry raised a hand but didn’t touch it.

Pam waved. ‘Go ahead. The paint’s dry.’ As Harry traced the soon-to-be-tattoo with his fingertips, Pam asked, ‘So, you’re satisfied? No changes?’

‘No, it’s perfect,’ Harry said. ‘You’re really good!’

‘Phew,’ was Pam’s reply. He seemed to sag on his stool. Harry looked up, questioning, and Pam shrugged. ‘It was really hard work to paint it on. The reaction of your magic was amazingly strong. Can’t remember having had one like this before.’

‘That wasn’t good?’ Harry asked anxiously.

‘Oh, yes, of course. Your magic reacted positively, that’s always good. It means it will be easier to connect the tattoo. But…’ Pam shook his head. ‘Your magic was really strong. Really keen. And, quite honestly, it was exhausting to get the paint to behave the way I wanted. Besides, that,’ he pointed at Harry’s still prominent reaction, ‘didn’t help. Made your magic go crazy.’

Harry flushed. ‘Uh, sorry.’

It was Charlie who answered. ‘Don’t worry, Harry. He’s had the time of his life.’

Harry glanced over his shoulder. The tension in Charlie’s body was gone, and he was his usual relaxed self. Only his cheeks remained oddly flushed.

‘It’s like you’d feel after a long, good Quidditch match,’ he explained. ‘Drained but really happy.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Pam. ‘No need to apologise, Harry. It’s what I do, what I like, and it was huge fun painting this for you.’

Harry smiled, and then looked back into the mirror that was still hovering in front of him. He noticed with some relief that his erection had wilted a little.

‘So,’ he said, ‘now you charm it into the skin?’

‘Yup.’ Pam pulled his wand out of his robes. ‘Lay back again, relax.’

Harry did as he was told and watched as Pam stepped closer and raised his wand. He tapped it onto the tattoo and the tattoo’s warmth increased again. Pam lifted his wand, its tip glowing soft blue, and twirled it in a complicated pattern. The glow intensified.

Harry suddenly felt as if the blood in his body rushed twice as quickly through his veins. A shiver ran down his spine. The hairs on his arms rose. Something prickled just under his skin. His fingers twitched. On the benches, the tins began to rattle. The spots on Pam’s robes flashed so quickly Harry had to look away.

Pam traced the Pygmy Puff tattoo with his wand. The heat became almost searing. Pam whispered an incantation. And then it sunk in.

Harry gasped. He could feel it, feel the tattoo move through the layers of his skin, feel it sink into his body. And then it was inside of him, a warm presence just there. Eyes wide, Harry gazed up at Pam’s focussed expression. The tattooist raised his wand once more, the tip now glowing green, and pointed it at Harry’s heart.

For a split second, Harry remembered another wand, glowing with green light, pointed at him, but the next moment, Pam had spoken an unfamiliar incantation, and the resulting rush was nothing like the Avada Kedavra.

Harry blinked as something seemed to click in his mind. The light faded. Harry blinked again. And then there it was, at the back of his mind, a soft humming.

‘Wha—?’

‘You’re connected,’ Pam said and flopped back onto his stool, wiping his head.

Harry scrambled to look down at the tattoo. It looked different than before and more like Charlie’s dragon, somewhere under the skin. The tiny nose seemed to twitch. Slowly, Harry raised his hand and touched the tattoo, caressing the fluffball. The nose definitely twitched now, and the humming in his mind sounded happy.

‘Wow.’

Pam raised another bottle in a toast before he began gulping the contents down. Charlie slipped off the bench and stepped over to the table. Harry turned so that Charlie could see the tattoo. Only after he had spread his legs it occurred to him how strange the situation was, with him spread on the table and another man peering at his groin.

‘That looks really good,’ Charlie commented with a nod. ‘It’s quite active, isn’t it? And look at the red, it’s almost as if it’s glowing!’

He and Harry stared down at the tattoo. Then, Charlie reached out. ‘Can I, Harry?’

‘Um.’ Harry glanced at Pam, who waved.

‘It’s safe to touch,’ he answered Harry’s unspoken question. ‘It’s just you who decides who can touch it and who can’t.’

‘Oh, okay. Um. Yeah, it’s okay, Charlie.’

The first touch of Charlie’s finger had the tattoo warming up again. The humming in Harry’s mind sounded excited. Then, Charlie ran his finger over the rotund shape. The Pygmy Puff’s tail gave a twitch. The motion seemed to shoot up through Harry’s body, exploded in his mind, and then raced down and directly into his cock which was hard again in a heartbeat. Harry gasped and started so hard he almost lost balance and fell off the table.

‘That … that …’ he panted looking wildly between Charlie and Pam.

‘Harry? What is it?’ Charlie looked concerned.

Pam grinned. ‘Strong reaction, eh?’

Harry’s only response was a strangled noise in his throat.

Charlie blinked, and then looked down. At the once more noticeable tent in Harry’s towel. ‘Oh.’ And then, again, with a slowly growing smile, ‘Ohh.’

Pam laughed, slapping his thigh. Harry closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear.

The Pygmy Puff in his head hummed happily.

Harry groaned and flopped back onto the table.

‘Harry?’

He peered up at Charlie and gave a weak grin. ‘It likes being petted.’

Pam choked on his drink and dissolved into a fit of spluttering and coughing. Charlie, to Harry’s surprise, didn’t even grin. He blinked once, looking surprised, and then considered him with a thoughtful glance.

‘Hm.’

Harry sat up abruptly. ‘What? Shouldn’t it?’ He looked from Charlie to Pam, but Pam was grinning broadly at Charlie. ‘Figured it out, did you?’

Harry looked back to Charlie, who looked a bit discomfited.

‘Pam?’

Pam winked at him. ‘You’d be surprised what insights your tattooist gets.’

Harry frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Oh, just listen to your Puff. He’s a clever little beast.’ Pam reached out and patted Harry’s shoulder.

Harry scowled at him. He hated other people keeping things that concerned him secret. He’d had enough of that from Dumbledore and the Order. He opened his mouth to insist, but Pam was faster.

‘You can change back now, if you want,’ he said, nodding at the grey robes Harry wore. ‘The tattoo’s done.’

Harry realised that he was still practically only covered by a towel. Hastily, he jumped off the table and scurried across the room to hide behind the curtain. While he quickly dropped towel and robes and slid into his own clothes, he could hear the murmur of Pam’s and Charlie’s voices. They were talking so low that he couldn’t hear what they were saying, though. It angered him as he had the feeling they were talking about him and his tattoo. Why the fuck couldn’t people talk to him instead of about him?

Annoyed, he yanked the curtains back and stalked into the room. With each move he made, the fabric of his pants rubbed over the tattooed skin, tickling the Puff. The tattoo still felt warm. Amazingly, it somehow calmed Harry’s anger. He wondered whether this was one of the changes Pam had mentioned earlier that having a tattoo would mean.

‘How does it feel?’ Pam asked as Harry joined them. ‘Any irritations from your clothes? Tightness of the skin or anything?’

‘No. It’s okay.’

‘Very good. It means that your magic has fully accepted the tattoo into your body,’ explained Pam. He looked quite happy, if tired, and the spots on his robes flashed in a happy rhythm. ‘You won’t be having any trouble with it. Well, apart from accepting what it can do, of course. That always takes a while.’

Pam then led them downstairs into the narrow, cramped shop where Harry paid for his tattoo. The portraits on the walls waved and pointed, but still didn’t give a sound.

‘I painted them silent,’ Pam said as he noticed Harry’s surprised look. ‘Can’t have them hanging here and chatting all day. They would drive me crazy. Besides, it’s the easiest way to keep confidential stuff confidential if the portraits can’t go off and tell who’s been here.’

‘But … silent portraits? Isn’t that something people look for in portraits, that they can talk to the people in them?’ Harry asked curiously.

‘Usually, yes, but you’d be surprised how many people ask for silent portraits. Especially the pure-bloods. They want grandmother’s portrait hanging in the Little Drawing Room, but Merlin forbid she still makes her caustic remarks or tells you you’ve married a wastrel!’ He handed Harry a small, curled bit of parchment. ‘That’s my Floo connection. If you’ve got any trouble with the tattoo or if it gets damaged or anything, call me.’

‘Thanks.’ Harry pocketed the parchment.

Pam winked. ‘Have fun with your Pygmy Puff, then!’

Harry refused to blush, only said goodbye politely, and then left the shop in front of Charlie.

They strolled back through Diagon Alley towards the public Floo. There were less people around now, and a couple of pastry shops were already closed. Harry thought about his tattoo which he could still feel as a warm spot on his loin.

‘How did it feel like, getting the dragon tattoo?’ he asked, curious about Charlie’s experience.

‘Hm?’ Charlie blinked as though he had been very far away with his thoughts.

‘How did it feel like?’ Harry repeated. ‘Did it feel warm, too? And tingle? I thought I heard someone humming while Pam painted it on. I guess that was the Pygmy Puff. Did yours, like, roar?’

Charlie chuckled. ‘Well, no. Amazingly, I thought I heard a giant cat purring.’

Harry stumbled on a cobblestone, and Charlie’s arm shot out to catch him before he fell.

‘A cat purring?’

The words recalled vividly to Harry’s mind the image he’d had last night, of Charlie being like Crookshanks.

‘Yeah. Of course, it was the dragon. You’ve probably never heard it, but when they’re really content, they do make a noise that sounds a little like purring.’

‘And the tingling? Did you feel that too?’

‘Of course. Pam told me that it’s from the paint, when it reacts to your magic.’

‘I felt it all over, though.’

‘’Course, magic is all over your body, so it would spread.’

‘And, um, did you…?’ Harry blushed. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

Charlie grinned. ‘Yeah, I did. The closer Pam’s brush got to my bum, the worse it was. I was so lucky I was lying on my stomach, though of course I ended up all but humping the mattress.’

Harry’s heart stumbled with his feet, and he had to suppress a gasp at the all too vivid image of Charlie lying half-naked on Pam’s table, hips moving. The Pygmy Puff shivered and hummed excitedly. Harry walked smash into Charlie, who had stopped to help Harry catch his balance.

‘Whoa, careful, Harry,’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘Are you all right?’

‘T-tattoo,’ Harry panted.

‘What? Does it make you feel dizzy? Should we go back to Pam?’ Charlie looked really worried.

Harry shook his head and clung gratefully to Charlie’s broad shoulders. ‘No, no, it’s all right. Just … unexpected. Like Pam said, it takes some time to get used to … some stuff.’

‘Okay,’ Charlie said slowly, clearly still not convinced.

‘Sorry,’ Harry managed and scrambled to stand up straight. Being this close to Charlie, almost leaning against his body and feeling Charlie’s strong hands hold his arms didn’t help the Pygmy Puff to calm down. The humming had become quite loud, and Harry could feel the tattoo twitch under his skin. His cock reacted and swelled with arousal.

‘Bloody hell,’ Harry murmured.

‘You think you can Floo?’ Charlie asked, leaning closer to peer into Harry’s flushed face.

‘Yeah, yeah, of course.’ Harry nodded, eyes closed, concentrating on subduing his body. ‘Fuck, this is difficult.’

‘Harry, what—’

But Charlie didn’t have to finish the question. Harry had swayed forwards, bumping into him, and Harry’s very hard cock had pressed unmistakably against Charlie’s hip.

‘Ah, I see.’ Harry shivered. Was it only his imagination or did Charlie’s voice sound deeper? ‘This kind of adjustment, hm? I wonder what set it off.’

‘Charlie, please, shut up,’ Harry groaned. ‘Let’s go back to the Burrow.’

‘If you think you can walk … Or I could carry you?’

The voice, the words, and Charlie’s arm that had slipped around his shoulders had the Pygmy Puff vibrating in delight. The vibrations stimulated Harry’s cock, like he had hoped they would. Of course, he’d thought he’d be alone or at least somewhere private when that happened …

With an effort, Harry managed to step out from under Charlie’s arm and away from him. ‘Th-thanks, I’ll w-walk.’

Then he noticed the curious glances they were attracting and swore under his breath. Forcing his shaky knees to cooperate, he hastened towards the public Floo building.

‘Hey, Harry, wait!’ Charlie caught up with him. ‘I’m sorry, I was just teasing you.’

Harry pulled up his shoulders and stared at the cobblestones in front of him. The Pygmy Puff twitched hopefully. ‘Yeah, okay. Just, don’t do it in public. I’d rather not make headlines tomorrow.’

‘Uh, sorry, didn’t think of that.’ Charlie smiled sheepishly, and Harry managed a small smile in return. They walked in silence until they reached the Floo station, and then had to wait for a family to go through first. While they stood back a little behind the harassed parents trying to coax their children to go through, Harry asked,

‘Um, Charlie? What Pam said, about hexing the tattoo…?’

Charlie grimaced as a little girl began shrieking she wanted another ice-cream. The father resolutely grabbed her and shoved her through the Floo, shouting the destination.

‘What about it?’

‘He said I wouldn’t want to have him hex my tattoo. I just wondered, it sounded like a threat, and if he can do it, shouldn’t I be worried someone else can, too?

They both winced as the girl’s brothers began howling in unison about the parents being awful to them.

‘Not in the sense that you mean. Yes, Pam can hex your tattoo. He made it, see, and he has some kind of connection to it. He knows it, he knows your magic. He can do very nasty things to your tattoo, and the worst thing is, probably no one but him can make those nasty things stop. But don’t worry,’ Charlie hurried to say as Harry began to look alarmed. ‘No one else can do that. They can hex you, and they can damage the tattoo, but they can’t hex the tattoo itself.’

The mother and one of the boys went through the fire, and the father struggled to send the last boy after them. The boy refused, shouting he didn’t want to go back to Granny. The window of the Floo station shattered.

‘That’s it!’ yelled the father as he flicked his wand to repair the window. ‘No more sweets for you for the rest of the summer!’

The boy’s protesting wail of ‘Daaaad!’ was cut off as father and son whooshed through the fire. The silence they left behind seemed to ring.

‘You know,’ Charlie said thoughtfully as he stared at the spot where the children had stood. ‘I don’t think I’d ever want one of those myself.’

Harry grimaced. ‘Not if they turn out like that, definitely not.’

Charlie shuddered. ‘No, I think I’ll stick to dragons, thank you very much.’

He dropped a Knut into the small box on the mantelpiece, received a pinch of Floo Powder, and vanished into the green flames. Harry followed him quickly.

Perhaps a little too quickly, for when he arrived at the Burrow, he stumbled into Charlie, who was still standing in front of the fireplace. Contact with all those firm muscles and the feeling of body heat set Harry’s tattoo off again. He gasped and stumbled backwards, almost falling into the fire. Bill, who had been standing next to his brother, grabbed him and put out the flames that had begun licking at Harry’s jeans.

‘Come over here, Harry, sit down,’ Bill said. Harry allowed himself to be dropped into a chair.

‘Oh, Harry, dear, are you all right?’ Mrs Weasley bustled over to him. ‘You look feverish. Charlie, you really shouldn’t have dragged him to this friend of yours!’

‘Mum, it was his decision,’ Charlie said but he cast Harry a worried glance. ‘Something the Floo did?’

Harry, sitting hunched over so as to hide his crotch, shook his head. ‘No,’ he said miserably.

The worried look vanished from Charlie’s face and was replaced by a smug smile. ‘Oh. That again. No, don’t worry, Mum. Harry’s fine. He’s just adjusting to the tattoo.’

‘So, you did get one, Harry?’ Bill asked as he handed Harry a glass of water.

Harry thankfully accepted it and sipped, hiding behind the glass from Mrs Weasley’s frown.

‘Yes, he got one, and its brilliant,’ Charlie said and plopped down on a chair next to Harry. ‘Very active, too. Pam was delighted.’

Bill grinned. ‘And? What did you get? George said something about a Hippogriff?’

Harry relaxed a little as his tattoo calmed down. ‘Nope, not a Hippogriff. Not a dragon, either.’

‘No, I wouldn’t think you’d get one. You don’t strike me as the dragon type,’ Bill said and considered Harry pensively. ‘At a guess, I’d say you’ve got something small. Nothing exotic, but unusual. Am I close?’

Harry nodded, surprised. ‘Yeah, it’s …’ He stopped and shot a glance at Mrs Weasley’s frowning face. ‘But I’m not telling you. Perhaps later. But yeah, it’s small and probably unusual.’

‘It’s bloody brilliant,’ Charlie chortled.

‘Oh?’ Bill’s eyebrows rose and he looked speculatively from Harry to Charlie. ‘Hm, I’ll be sure to try and find out what it is, then.’

‘Well now,’ Mrs Weasley cut in, ‘if everything is all right and you don’t fell unwell, Harry dear, you could help Bill setting the table. Charlie, you too. But no playing around with the chairs or the cutlery like last time!’

‘Tables,’ Charlie muttered under his breath. Mrs Weasley didn’t hear him because she had already pointed her wand at the cutlery drawer, and with a lot of clattering, forks and knives flashed out.

‘Please carry them outside, Harry,’ she said, her words more a command than a request. ‘The family’s here for dinner, so we’ll be eating outside. And the weather’s still so nice. Charlie, you take the plates.’

A cupboard banged open and a pack of plates surged at Charlie, who caught them instinctively. Bill quickly opened the door and flicked his wand at the chairs, floating them in a conga line into the garden. Harry and Charlie followed quickly.

Outside, they met Mr Weasley, who was fighting a horde of gnomes over the table cloth. The gnomes ran away when Bill set the chairs on them. Mr Weasley sighed with relief and spread the table cloth, securing it with a charm.

‘George must have done something to the gnomes,’ he said with a sigh. ‘They have been quite unruly for weeks.’

‘Gnomes are always unruly, dad,’ Charlie said.

‘Not like this.’ Mr Weasley shook his head and fell into a chair that Bill placed behind him. ‘They were constantly underfoot the whole day. And they were really very insistent that I should leave the confetti. They seemed to like it.’

He pointed somewhere behind him, and Harry saw that one of the flowerbeds was littered with confetti. He felt a pang of guilt; he should have been helping Mr Weasley cleaning the garden instead of going away and getting a tattoo. He apologised, but Mr Weasley waved it away.

‘Not to worry, Harry. You did help for some time, and we really can’t expect you to stay here on a Sunday afternoon and work,’ he said with a smile.

Harry still didn’t feel better but he was prevented from insisting by the arrival of Percy and his new girlfriend Audrey, who were quickly followed by Mrs Weasley hurrying from the kitchen with a tray balanced on her wand. The usual chaos ensued, where everyone stood in the other’s way while trying to help and the air was filled with chatter and flying pots and pans. It always amazed Harry how effective the chaos was, and only five minutes later, ten people and a baby sat down for dinner.

Harry had ended up at one end of the table with Charlie and George, and the three of them were watching the other end of the table, where Mrs Weasley cooed over her first grandchild. Baby Victoire received the accolades due to her with the air of a benevolent queen. Then she flicked her mashed vegetables at Ginny and laughed.

‘Charming,’ George commented. ‘I really like her style.’

While Mrs Weasley and Fleur were fighting over who would be cleaning up Victoire and Audrey embarrassedly helped Ginny to get rid of the green mush in her hair and on her clothes, George leant into Harry and whispered, ‘Talking about style, what did you get?’

‘Get?’ Harry was momentarily at a loss.

‘Your tattoo, mate. What is it? Did you get a Hippogriff?’

‘Oh.’ Harry cast a quick glance around, but both Mrs Weasley and Ginny were busy. ‘Um, not a Hippogriff. It’s a Pygmy Puff.’

George stared at Harry, stunned into silence. ‘What?’ he finally said feebly, disbelievingly.

Harry grinned, leant even closer, and told George about the added bonus.

George stared some more, and then erupted into wild laughter. ‘Who’d have thought,’ he finally managed. ‘Where is it? Let me see it.’ And he dived for the waistband of Harry’s jeans.

Harry gave a somewhat undignified yelp and jumped backwards, overbalancing on his chair, which tipped precariously backwards, and simultaneously tried to fight off George and stop his chair from falling.

‘Harry, what—?’ asked a bewildered Percy, Mrs Weasley shrieked, ‘George!’ as her son unmistakably reached for Harry’s fly and zipper, and Charlie caught Harry’s chair, allowing Harry to slap away George’s hands.

‘Ow, Harry,’ he protested.

‘George Weasley! What do you think are you doing?’ Mrs Weasley yelled. Baby Victoire began crying. ‘Now see what you’ve done! You’ve frightened the poor little darling.’

‘Me? I only wanted to see Harry’s tattoo!’ George spluttered.

Fleur got up and took her bawling daughter from Mrs Weasley. ‘I will take ‘er now, thank you,’ she said and, bouncing the baby in her arms, walked away from the table.

‘A tattoo?’ Percy peered at Harry. ‘I wasn’t aware you had one.’

‘He only got it today,’ George answered and once more tugged on Harry’s waistband.

Harry, face flaming with embarrassment, roughly shoved at him, but George only subsided when Mr Weasley said gently, ‘George. If Harry wants to show you his tattoo, he will do so later. Not during dinner, please.’

With slightly shaking hands, Harry tugged his t-shirt properly back into his jeans, trying not to listen to Mrs Weasley berate George. Somewhere in his mind, he felt like cowering, and it took him a while to understand that it was the Pygmy Puff. Either it had picked up on Harry’s mood, or it didn’t like being made a spectacle of anymore than Harry did.

Mrs Weasley finally stopped scolding George, and Bill quickly filled the heavy silence afterwards with a mildly amusing story about Victoire. Everyone took care to listen attentively, and Harry relaxed a little. But when he looked up, he found Ginny glaring at him. She tossed her head angrily and turned away. Harry suddenly felt wrung out and tired as if he had just played a long, trying Quidditch match during a storm. He sagged into his chair and quickly downed his Butterbeer.

Unexpectedly, there was a warm hand on his shoulder and a soothing voice in his ear. ‘You all right, Harry?’

The Pygmy Puff stopped cowering and hummed happily. The shiver of arousal that ran through Harry’s body made him swallow the wrong way. Coughing and chocking, he spat the rest of his Butterbeer onto his plate.

‘Harry? Is something wrong?’ Mr Weasley’s worried face blurred in front of Harry’s watering eyes.

He managed to shake his head, but when he tried to answer all he did was cough harder. Then Charlie was pounding him on the back so hard Harry was almost knocked into the table. Finally getting enough air into his lungs, he wheezed, ‘T-tattoo.’

Charlie stopped maltreating his back and patted his shoulder instead. The Pygmy Puff hummed its approval. Harry squeezed his eyes close and prayed his cock wouldn’t react this time.

‘Poor Harry,’ Charlie said considerately. ‘Such strong reactions…’

Harry groaned. Charlie’s hand was now lying on the backrest of Harry’s chair, and he could feel its presence there. It made the hairs on his neck stand up.

‘What is it?’ As if conjured, Mrs Weasley stood next to Harry’s chair, leaning down to look at his flushed face. ‘Harry, something must be wrong with you! Do you want to lie down? Come inside and I’ll have a look at Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. We’ll have you back up in no time.’

‘Ah, no, thanks, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine,’ Harry said hastily and forced himself to sit up straight.

But Mrs Weasley was unconvinced. ‘No, Harry, you are not fine! You look feverish, and this is the second time you had an attack since you came back! I think something went wrong with the tattoo and perhaps you had better contact this young man who made it, perhaps he can take it off again—’

‘Mum,’ Charlie interrupted his mother decisively. ‘Harry is fine. He’s merely adjusting to the presence of the tattoo. It’s perfectly normal.’

‘Normal?’ Mrs Weasley’s voice was rising dangerously.

‘Yes, normal.’ Charlie sounded entirely unfazed. ‘Besides, Pam won’t break the charm on the tattoo.’

‘Well, I call that mightily inconsiderate,’ Mrs Weasley huffed. ‘He really should be more accommodating to his customers’ wishes and take the tattoo off again when they want.’

‘He can’t,’ said Harry.

‘But Harry—’

‘He said it might damage my magic irreversibly, and for my part, I’d rather try and get used to the tattoo than end up on the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo’s.’

Mrs Weasley sighed. ‘But something is clearly wrong,’ she said almost desperately.

Harry managed a smile. ‘No, really, nothing’s wrong. I’m … It’s as Charlie said, I’m adjusting to the presence of the tattoo. It’s, well, a bit …’ He trailed of, shrugging.

‘Overactive,’ Charlie added with a small smile.

‘Molly, please sit down and let us finish dinner.’ Mr Weasley looked pleadingly at his wife. She sighed again but went back to her chair. Fleur had returned with Victoire and as if to compensate for the loss of fussing over Harry, Mrs Weasley made an enormous fuss over the baby. But Victoire didn’t mind, and Fleur just rolled her eyes.

The evening went on without any more major interruptions, except for Crookshanks chasing a gnome up Audrey’s robes, and with only a minor embarrassment on Harry’s part. Even after Charlie had shifted back to his own chair, Harry remained over-aware of the other man’s presence by his side. It was as if he could feel even from where he sat the warmth of Charlie’s body and the almost imperceptible ebb and flow of his magic. Once or twice, the Pygmy Puff tattoo seemed to react to either – or both – but never in a fashion Harry couldn’t hide.

Though he was extremely glad that they were all sitting down and no one was paying attention to the state of his trousers.

Once, when there was a lull in conversation, Harry pondered his extremely strong reaction to Charlie. There had been nothing like this around Pam. And even earlier, when George’s hand had almost been in Harry’s pants, all that the tattoo had wanted was to hide.

It wanted the exact opposite where Charlie was concerned.

It was dawning on Harry that this might have something to do with the thoughts he’d had earlier, when he had remembered all the times he’d got that fluttery feeling in his stomach when he was around Charlie. And then he remembered Pam’s words about the connection of the tattoo to a wizard’s emotions.

Wizards often aren’t aware of how their emotions influence their magic and so they’re sometimes surprised at their tattoo reacting to apparently nothing. That’s when they aren’t aware of their emotions or are denying them.

Sitting at the dinner table with the family of his best friend and probably-soon-ex-girlfriend was not the best place or time to come to the realisation that perhaps “denial” wasn’t just a river in Egypt.

Fortunately, Harry wasn’t drinking any Butterbeer at the moment, and so his realisation went unnoticed by anyone but him.

Sitting in his chair and feeling like he’d been struck by a Stunning spell, Harry wondered why he had never thought about this before. About this possibility. Why had he never even once considered that perhaps Ginny wasn’t the one who was meant for him? He stared at her, watching her chat animatedly with a slightly stunned looking Audrey, a little appalled at his own blindness.

‘She’s punishing you, you know.’

Harry started and turned to look at George. ‘Huh?’

George inclined his head. ‘Ginny. She’s punishing you. That’s why she’s ignoring you.’

Harry blinked at George and then looked back at Ginny. Had she been ignoring him? He hadn’t noticed, but now that George mentioned it, he realised that Ginny had not said one word to him all evening, and apart from her earlier glare, he didn’t think she’d looked at him at all. He hadn’t noticed. Perhaps she had been right this morning. Perhaps he really had been ignoring her.

‘It’s to make you feel bad,’ George went on, quietly. ‘She’s angry and hurt and she wants to hurt you as well by showing you how happy she is without you. It’s stupid, absolutely stupid.’

‘How do you know that?’ Harry asked, amazed.

George shrugged. ‘It’s what a lot of women do, playing this kind of game. And just because she’s my only sister doesn’t mean I can’t see what she’s doing. Or why. I just never thought she’d actually do it.’ Harry thought George looked disappointed. ‘It’s so stupid and in the end, she’ll only hurt herself.’

Harry nodded slowly. He remembered Hermione telling him she’d thought about inviting Zacharias Smith to Slughorn’s Christmas Party because that would annoy Ron. And then he thought of Hermione telling him that Cho had been talking about Davies because she had wanted to know whether Harry liked her. Sometimes girls really did strange things, Harry thought. Always the opposite of what they really wanted. And then they expected the boys to understand them.

Harry sighed. Perhaps he’d better stick to dragons, too.

‘She’ll come around, Harry.’ George misinterpreted Harry’s sigh. ‘You know her temper. She’ll cool down and then, well. You can talk to her again.’

Harry sighed again but nodded. Yes, he would have to talk to her again. If only to tell her he didn’t want to be her boyfriend anymore.

That revelation kept Harry silent all through pudding. He didn’t want to be Ginny’s boyfriend. And that was not because of Michel Lebeau or Ginny’s attempt to manipulate him or because of Harry’s strong reaction to Charlie. Or perhaps it was because of those reasons that he finally understood, but he’d been getting there for some time now.

It seemed Ginny really had been right this morning, as little as he wanted to admit that. He really hadn’t been treating her like his girlfriend. And that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact of him not wanting to have sex with her where her family or his house-elf could walk in on them. He liked her well enough as a friend but he didn’t want her to be his girlfriend anymore.

He didn’t want any other girl to be his girlfriend either. Now that he had admitted the possibility of being attracted to a guy – and not only one guy; now that he allowed the thought he remembered numerous times from Hogwarts where the naked body of a schoolmate had made him hard – he didn’t think he could ever want a girl again.

No, now that he acknowledged that, back at Hogwarts, it hadn’t been teenager hormones or a tendency for erections at the worst possible moment, he knew that he would never want the softness of a girl again. He wanted hardness, strength, the firm muscles and sharp angles of a male body, he wanted …

Charlie.

‘Well, fuck,’ Harry groaned while the Pygmy Puff in his mind hummed with satisfaction.

Spluttering made him lift his head, and he realised that just about everyone at the table had heard his outburst. He felt mortified and hung his head, cheeks bright red. The Pygmy Puff’s hum became soothing.

‘I’d be delighted to accept, of course, but I think I’d better not, rather.’ George grinned broadly and winked at Harry.

‘Uhh…’

‘Harry, dear, are you really sure you are all right?’ Mrs Weasley peered intently down the table at him, looking all but ready to pounce on him should he say no.

‘Yes, yes,’ Harry said hurriedly. ‘It was … I was … just thinking … er.’

‘The tattoo again?’ Bill asked.

Harry grimaced. He felt his cheeks go even redder and took care not to look at anybody. ‘Uh, yeah, you, er, could say so. Um.’

Bill frowned. ‘It strikes me as a bit odd that you have such strong reactions. Is that normal? I can’t remember Charlie ever reacting so strongly.’

Harry shrugged and clung to his empty bottle of Butterbeer. ‘It’s a very active tattoo, apparently,’ he mumbled.

‘And I never had the same amount of magic to control as Harry,’ Charlie added. ‘Besides, he’s only had the tattoo for a couple of hours. It takes some time to get used to it.’

Bill gave Harry a searching glance, but nodded and then drew his mother into a discussion of something or other to do with infants. Harry was thankful. Mrs Weasley had been eyeing him in a way that made him very nervous. He could see bedrest and potions and fussing in her expression.

Under the hum of voices, Charlie leaned closer to Harry and said softly, ‘Are you really all right, Harry? Because, well, your reactions are a bit strong.’

It was as though every hair on Harry’s body rose – in concert with his cock – as he felt Charlie’s breath fan over his cheek. He swallowed hard.

‘Yeah.’ It came out as a croak. Harry cleared his throat. ‘Yeah,’ he tried again and this time almost sounded normal. ‘I’m okay. It’s just not only the tattoo but, um.’ He shifted uncomfortably. His new-found knowledge pounded in his every rapid heartbeat. ‘Well, you, um, you know what Pam said about the tattoo and, um, a wizard’s feelings.’

He could feel Charlie’s eyes on him but didn’t look up.

‘Is it influencing the way you feel, Harry?’ Charlie asked. There was something in his quiet voice that made Harry clench inside.

‘N-no,’ he stammered. ‘Not how I feel. Just …’ He licked his lips and darted a quick glance at Ginny, who was still very determinedly cheerful and still ignoring him completely. ‘It’s just making me aware of … of what I feel,’ he finished. And then gave in to temptation and quickly looked at Charlie.

And wished he hadn’t. Charlie’s eyes were dark and focussed on Harry’s face in such a sombre, almost sad look that Harry felt a little pain in his heart. The Pygmy Puff seemed to shiver.

‘Harry, I—’

A sudden, high-pitched whistle interrupted whatever Charlie had wanted to say. Harry was glad for the distraction and looked up to see a small flock of lights dancing over Victoire’s head. They seemed to emanate from her rattle and every time she waved it, more lights shot out of it with the same, high-pitched whistle.

Victoire crowed in delight and banged her rattle against the table. The lights set Fleur’s folded napkin on fire, and with a scream both she and Mrs Weasley darted forwards to wrestle the rattle from Victoire. Fleur muttered in rapid-fire French and Mrs Weasley yelled, ‘Stop this at once, George!’

George was busy evading Percy, who was flailing his arms wildly as though he wanted to shoo the lights away from Audrey, whose robe seemed to be smouldering a little. Ginny grabbed a jug of pumpkin juice and dumped the contents on the burning napkin, splattering herself and Audrey. The poor girl yelped and tried to jump out of the way, smacked into Percy’s fist, and sent them both stumbling into the flower-bed behind them.

George, now free of Percy, flicked his wand and stopped Victoire’s rattle spewing sparks. Mr Weasley cleaned up the pumpkin juice soaked mess on the table, Mrs Weasley wrested the rattle from Victoire’s hand, and Fleur pulled her baby away from the danger. Victoire blinked and then began howling for her toy.

‘Don’t you just love those quiet evenings with the family,’ Bill remarked dryly as he helped Percy from the flower-bed.

The evening was quickly over after that. Percy and Audrey left after Mrs Weasley had, once more, begun yelling at George. Fleur took her screaming daughter inside. Everyone else quickly and quietly cleaned up, carrying plates, cutlery, chairs and candles inside. Mr Weasley came last, floating the table, with the soiled table-cloth still covering its surface.

Mrs Weasley made a nightcap for everyone and brought the tray into the sitting room where they had all gathered, but no one lingered long. Bill Apparated his family back to their own home and George soon followed their example and left for his own flat above the joke shop.

After he had left, Harry drained his mug as fast as possible to be able to leave the room. Mrs Weasley was still angry, Ginny was still pointedly ignoring him, he couldn’t talk to Charlie and Charlie somehow seemed to feel the same, and Mr Weasley simply sat in his armchair, eyes closed, and said nothing at all. It made for a couple of painfully awkward minutes before Harry could flee.

In the calm safety of Ron’s old room with its familiar Quidditch posters still tacked to the walls, Harry finally found time to relax and think about all that had happened today. He’d had a quarrel with his girlfriend, got a tattoo, and realised he wanted his girlfriend’s brother.

‘Well, fuck,’ Harry said softly and flopped down onto the bed. What was he to do now?

One thing was for sure, and that was that he would break off with Ginny. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to drag things out. And anyway, after last night and the quarrel this morning he didn’t feel like trying to reconcile with her. He only hoped they could remain friends somehow. But Charlie?

Harry pushed his glasses aside and rubbed his eyes. Yes, Charlie. Merlin, even the mere thought of him, his broad shoulders and strong arms covered with burns, his freckled back and the dragon tattoo, had Harry’s own tattoo vibrating with excitement. His cock twitched interestedly. Charlie.

Harry groaned. What was he to do? Was Charlie even interested in men? But even if he was, and was interested in Harry, what was Harry to do? Could he break it off with Ginny and then go and shag her brother?

And oh, how he wanted to! How he wanted to touch Charlie, feel his skin, and be touched in return. How he wanted to lick Charlie’s strong chest, squeeze his arse and touch his cock. Touch it, lick it, suck it.

Harry moaned and squeezed his rock hard prick. He had been blind, so blind and stupid that he had never realised how Ginny couldn’t do this to him! She could excite him, yes, but never like this, never this much, and never with only thinking of her! Never like Charlie did.

Harry groaned again and flopped onto his stomach. What was he to do?

The pressure of the mattress against his hard cock made Harry’s hips jolt instinctively. Even the mild friction that the move created felt wonderful. Harry sighed as his Pygmy Puff began humming and vibrating gently. The vibrations were like the caress of invisible hands on Harry’s cock and he couldn’t stop the slow thrusting of his hips against the bed, searching friction.

Steps on the staircase jolted him out of his slow, sexual daze, and he realised what he was doing. Humping the mattress. And with a flash he remembered Charlie’s words and once more saw the vision of Charlie’s half-naked body, moving rhythmically. Shivering, he bit his lip to suppress another loud groan.

What was he to do?

Gingerly, he sat up, and then had to twist a little to adjust. The hum in his mind sounded reproving, and his cock ached in protest. But there were more steps on the landing below Ron’s old room, and Harry could hear voices. The Weasleys were getting ready for bed, and he thought he’d better not do anything now. In case Mrs Weasley came for a last check, or something.

He hadn’t been lying to Ginny when he’d said that he didn’t want to have sex with her anywhere near her mother.

Absently, Harry listened to the sound of steps and voices downstairs. Doors opened and closed. A deep, snarled meow spoke of Crookshank’s protest against being shut in the kitchen. The ghoul moaned. The fourth-floor loo flushed.

‘Good night, Charlie!’ Harry heard Mrs Weasley call, and Charlie’s deep rumble answered.

It was enough to send another shiver down Harry’s spine. The tattoo tingled.

Suddenly, the door to Ron’s room opened. Harry looked up in surprise. His heartbeat sped up when Charlie slipped into the room.

‘Charlie?’

‘Harry. Um. Can I talk to you for a moment?’

Harry blinked and nodded. ‘Yeah, um, sure.’ He shuffled nervously aside when Charlie came over and sat down next to him on the bed. In the weak glow of the three candles on the windowsill Charlie’s red hair looked a deep chestnut brown. Harry fought to resist the urge to reach out and brush his fingers through it.

‘Harry, I…’ Charlie began hesitantly. He was staring down at his hands. ‘I … I wanted to say I’m sorry.’

That was so unexpected that Harry gaped at him. ‘Sorry? What for?’

Charlie shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry if I caused trouble between you and Ginny.’

‘Eh?’

‘I encouraged you to get that tattoo. If I hadn’t told you about Pam, you probably wouldn’t have thought about getting one. But I told you, and I encouraged you even though I knew Ginny didn’t like the idea. And, well. It’s my fault she’s angry with you. I’m sorry.’

‘Oh.’ Harry blinked. ‘Um. No, that’s okay. Really, it’s not your fault.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘George … George told me. About this morning. Told me that Ginny didn’t want you to get a tattoo. I could have said Pam didn’t have time for you today so that you could have thought about it a little longer. Perhaps you’d have changed your mind, or perhaps Ginny’d have changed her mind. But I didn’t and now she’s angry, so it’s my—’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Harry repeated. ‘Really. There were other reasons … never mind. Besides, it was my decision to get a tattoo. Not Ginny’s.’

Charlie shook his head again and turned to look at him. ‘Harry. I knew she didn’t want you to get a tattoo and I knew she’d be angry with you if you did. And I encouraged you and took you to Pam’s on a Sunday because I wanted to make her angry.’

‘Oh. Um. Why?’

Charlie stared at his hands again. ‘I was angry with her for what she did last night. That French bloke. Thought it would do her good to get some of her own medicine, you doing something she wouldn’t like.’

‘Oh.’ Harry began feeling like an old gramophone record with a scratch. ‘Um. Okay. But,’ he had reassembled his wits, ‘I still don’t see why that makes it your fault. I mean, Ginny told me she didn’t want me to get a tattoo. If I’d cared what she thought I could have not gone, couldn’t I?’

‘But you were angry as well. Probably wanted to get back at her, too.’

‘That still doesn’t make it your fault. Ginny and I, we’re both adults, aren’t we? We should both know better than to make decisions based on an idea of getting revenge.’ And didn’t it feel strange for him to be the one saying that? He must have spent way too much time in Hermione’s company. ‘Really, I didn’t get the tattoo to get back at Ginny for something. I made the decision before, um, before we argued. I got it because I thought yours was cool and I wanted one as well.’

‘But you still had a row with her about the tattoo.’ Charlie seemed intent on being guilty.

‘No, we had a row because I was angry with her about last night.’ Harry looked down at his own hands, hanging between his knees. ‘And we’d have had that row anyway,’ he added quietly. ‘Whether I’d decided to get the tattoo or not. Something would have … would have set me off. Perhaps not in the hearing range of your mum and George but, yeah.’

Charlie seemed inclined to argue that but in the end, he nodded. ‘It’s not surprising you were angry with her. What she did was awful, practically shagging that guy right under your nose. I don’t understand why she did it.’

‘Apparently because I ignored her and she wanted to show me that there are other men who won’t,’ Harry snorted. At Charlie’s stunned expression he shrugged. ‘That’s what she said, anyway.’

‘That’s … but that’s …’

‘What girls do.’

‘What?’

Harry sighed. ‘Seems to me, a lot of girls do stupid stuff when they, er, like someone. And usually the opposite of what they should do. Like telling you how cool they think another guy is when they want to know whether you like them.’

‘Ginny did that?’ Charlie’s eyes were narrowed.

‘Eh? Oh, no. That was another girl from Hogwarts.’

Charlie turned and looked searchingly at Harry, who felt both uncomfortable and uncomfortably aroused under the scrutiny.

‘You don’t sound angry,’ he finally said. ‘I don’t know, but somehow I expected you to be, well, a good deal more furious.’

Harry flushed and rubbed his neck. ‘Erm, I was. This morning. But. Uh. I mean, I’m still angry with her for doing stuff like that, but. Well. It’s …’ He took a deep breath and then said in a rush, ‘It’s okay because I want to break up with her anyway.’

‘You don’t want to try and reconcile?’ Charlie sounded honestly surprised.

Harry felt his blush deepen. ‘Erm. No. I mean, do you think I’d want a girlfriend who goes off and snogs another guy whenever she’s miffed at me?’

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Charlie shake his head. He still looked stunned. Glancing back down at his fingers that were clenched together, Harry licked his lips and slowly went on, ‘Besides, some things Ginny said were right. And, well, it seems pretty unfair, now that I know, to try to keep things like they were.’

‘Some things she said were right?’ Charlie shook his head as if to clear it. ‘But, you said earlier, the tattoo made you realise what you felt? Oh. Was that …?’

Harry bit his lip. ‘That wasn’t about Ginny,’ he admitted softly. He couldn’t look up right now though he wished he knew what Charlie was thinking. He wished he had the courage to tell Charlie what the things were that Ginny had said and what the tattoo had made him realise he felt. But his courage had never extended to things like relationships and emotions and so he didn’t look up, didn’t say more.

‘Harry?’ Charlie’s voice was very quiet. ‘Was one of the things Ginny said … George told me she accused you of not liking girls. Was that right?’

Harry swallowed and nodded.

Charlie’s breath hissed through his teeth. ‘Oh, fuck, Harry.’

Harry peered up at Charlie and saw him staring. The expression on Charlie’s face told Harry that he had put the pieces together.

‘Um,’ he began. ‘I—’

But he wasn’t able to go on and say anything more – not that he would have known what to say – for he found himself pushed back onto the mattress, Charlie’s body pressed against his, and Charlie’s lips were hot and strong on his.

For several suddenly fast heartbeats, Harry didn’t react, too stunned to even think. He felt Charlie’s body hard against his own, felt the warmth of Charlie’s body seep into him. Charlie’s lips were knowing and demanding, teasing and encouraging. The Pygmy Puff shivered with delight. Its humming in Harry’s mind sounded almost like a melody.

Harry groaned, arching up into Charlie. Then his hands were clinging to Charlie’s shoulders and his lips were opening and he was kissing Charlie back, kissing with all the desire that had built up throughout the evening.

Charlie shuddered. His hips jerked forwards, into Harry’s, and Harry felt the hard ridge of Charlie’s erection. He moaned as the sensation and the happy humming of his tattoo sent waves of lust and heat through his body. Twisting his hips, Harry moved until he could press his own erection against Charlie’s. The tattoo began vibrating softly, and Harry thought he was going to pass out, it felt so good.

Charlie gently bit Harry’s lower lip before he pulled back. His breath was coming in short, fast pants. Harry whimpered as hot dry puffs alternated with hot wet kisses that Charlie placed along his jaw.

‘Oh, fuck, Harry,’ he whispered.

‘C-Charlie.’ Harry moaned.

Charlie nipped his jaw and shuddered again as Harry’s hips rolled against his. ‘Fuck. Do you have any idea of what you’re doing to me?’

Harry whimpered and tugged on Charlie’s hair, pulling his head up so they could kiss again. Charlie gave a choked laugh.

‘I want you.’

Harry moaned in agreement.

‘I’ve wanted you for so long.’ Charlie licked along Harry’s jaw to his ear and pulled the lobe between his teeth. ‘Wanted you for ages. Wanted to kiss you.’ He shifted and pressed his mouth on the rapidly beating pulse in Harry’s throat. ‘Wanted to bite you. Take you. Shove my cock up that sweet arse of yours until you’re screaming my name.’

Harry’s hips bucked uncontrollably up against Charlie’s body. ‘Please,’ he almost sobbed.

Charlie hummed against his throat. Then, suddenly, his hands were under Harry’s t-shirt, sliding up his flanks. His rough, calloused hands were so hard, so different, felt so good on Harry’s skin.

He raked his own hands up and down Charlie’s back, pulling on his shirt. Charlie groaned, a deep, growling sound that made Harry and his Pygmy Puff shiver with desire.

The vibrations of the tattoo became stronger. Harry pushed his hips up more insistently and moaned as he felt Charlie’s cock slide over the jeans-covered tattoo. The Pygmy Puff twitched and hummed louder. Charlie’s breath hitched.

‘Fuck,’ he rasped, breath blowing hot over Harry’s moist skin. ‘Oh, fucking … Harry, your tattoo! I can feel it.’ His voice ended on a choked breath, and he shoved his cock almost violently against Harry’s tattoo.

His erection slid over the Pygmy Puff. His hip rubbed over Harry’s hard, straining cock. Harry dug his fingernails into Charlie’s back as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Charlie growled and suddenly pulled back, crouching over Harry’s body. Harry whimpered at the loss of contact. He wriggled and arched to get it back.

Charlie put one hand on Harry’s hip and held him down. He stared at Harry. In the dim light his blue eyes seemed almost black.

‘It’s me, isn’t it?’ His voice was ragged, urgent. ‘It’s me your tattoo reacts to.’

Harry nodded. No sense of trying to deny it now. ‘Y-yes, you.’

A visible shiver ran through Charlie’s body. His hand on Harry’s hip tightened.

‘I didn’t believe it. When Pam said it was me, my presence that your magic reacted to, I didn’t believe it.’

He seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he dove back, kissing Harry, devouring his mouth. The sensations of the hard, warm body, the hard cock pressed against him once more, nearly overwhelmed Harry. But before he could do more than try to cling and kiss, Charlie tore his mouth away again.

‘Charlie, please,’ Harry whined, and then groaned loudly when Charlie ground his cock into Harry’s tattoo.

‘I didn’t believe it,’ Charlie repeated, panting hard. He was staring intently at Harry’s face while his hips thrust slowly. ‘I thought it was the magic of the paint. That you were reacting to the magic.’

‘No,’ Harry moaned. ‘You. Want. You!’

Charlie thrust down. ‘Not Ginny.’

Harry bucked up. ‘No. You.’

‘How much.’

Harry grabbed Charlie’s arse, moaning at the feeling of it in his palms, and pulled. ‘Bad,’ he admitted. There was no thought left in his mind for embarrassment or worries about what he was to do, no thought about Mrs Weasley hearing them, no thought about anybody or anything else but Charlie.

Charlie’s teeth flashed in a predatory grin. ‘How bad.’

Harry keened and surged up to kiss Charlie. Charlie grabbed the back of his neck, holding him up, as they kissed greedily, messily.

‘How much,’ Charlie said into Harry’s mouth. ‘Tell me.’

Images flashed through Harry’s mind, things he wanted to do to Charlie, wanted Charlie do to him. ‘Charlie,’ he pleaded.

Charlie let him fall down onto the bed. ‘Tell me,’ he repeated. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘You!’

‘How?’

Harry tossed his head. ‘Any way.’

Charlie abruptly sat back, shoved Harry’s shirt up and swooped down. Lips, teeth on his stomach, and Harry writhed. His cock throbbed and a wet patch formed in his pants. Charlie’s mouth was so close …

Unconsciously, he grabbed Charlie’s hair and pulled until Charlie’s hot mouth closed over Harry’s cloth-covered cock. Heat and wetness seemed to seep through his trousers and pants and envelope his prick. And then Charlie opened his mouth further, and Harry felt teeth graze over his cock through the denim. It felt like both a threat and a promise.

Charlie lifted his head and peered up at Harry along his body. ‘What do you want, Harry?’ he asked again.

His deep voice shot another sharp bolt of lust through Harry’s body. The tattoo’s humming in his mind had become so insistent that Harry felt his entire body pulsate. He could only whimper and thrust his hips up to convey his meaning.

‘Hmm.’ A slow grin formed on Charlie’s face. ‘What is it you want me to do, Harry? Something about this?’

And he grazed the bulge in Harry’s trousers with his teeth again. Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes.

‘Or do you want me to do something else?’ Charlie’s voice was rough, but strangely seductive. ‘Perhaps open your trousers and lower your pants and suck you?’

Harry swallowed hard. Charlie licked his lips, and then raised a hand and covered Harry’s erection, giving it a gentle squeeze.

‘Please,’ Harry gasped. ‘Oh, please, Charlie!’

‘What? Tell me.’

‘D-do it, please.’

Charlie trailed one finger down the straining erection. ‘Do what?’

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his cheeks heat as he stammered, ‘S-suck me, p-please.’

‘Hm, oh, yes,’ Charlie agreed throatily, and then proceeded to do exactly what he had told Harry. Nimble fingers opened Harry’s fly and lowered the zip. Impatient hands tugged trousers and pants down. And then Harry’s cock was enveloped in wet heat.

It felt incredible. Lips wrapped around him, a tongue swirling and caressing him. Sudden suction, and Harry bucked up his hips, wanting more, deeper, more! He heard Charlie chuckle and realised that he had once more spoken aloud what he thought. But then Charlie gave him exactly what he wanted and Harry lost focus on everything but the rising tension in his body.

He wailed when Charlie suddenly let him flop out of that incredible mouth, but the wail was cut short by the feeling of a tongue flicking over the Pygmy Puff tattoo.

White lights seemed to go off behind Harry’s closed lids and the world fell silent around him, silent except for the humming in his mind. Every nerve end of Harry’s body tingled. He could feel something throb right under his skin, a strong, rapid pulse that filled his whole being.

It was like Harry had felt earlier, when Pam had painted the Pygmy Puff onto his skin, and yet it wasn’t like that at all. His body pulsated; he could feel the vibrations in his throat. And then the hot mouth was back on his cock, sucking, and a warm hand cupped his balls, and rough fingers caressed the tattoo, and Harry exploded with a force he had never experienced before.

Panting wildly and trembling all over, he opened his eyes. The room seemed darker and strangely blurred, but he could see Charlie propped up on the bed next to him. Then he realised that he was still wearing his glasses and that the lenses had fogged up, making for his blurred view. With shaking hands, he shoved his glasses off and blinked at Charlie.

Fingers brushed over his, and the glasses were taken out of Harry’s hand. Then he felt a soft caress on his cheek.

‘You all right, Harry?’ Charlie’s voice was still hoarse with desire, but Harry could hear the concern. ‘I think you blacked out for a while.’

Harry nodded shakily. ‘Yeah,’ he croaked. His throat felt odd. ‘All right.’

Charlie nodded. In Harry’s slightly hazy view he looked tense. ‘I … That was …’ He appeared to be having trouble speaking as well. ‘Your reaction, your tattoo’s reaction, I’ve never even heard about something like that before. It was … you were humming, Harry!’

Harry nodded again. That would explain the feeling in his throat.

‘Humming, like your tattoo,’ Charlie went on. ‘I could hear it. When I … when I sucked you, I could hear it, and then you began humming as well. I…’ He swallowed and then shrugged, obviously at a loss.

Harry could feel a smile stretch his lips. No, make that a goofy grin. ‘It was brilliant,’ he croaked.

Charlie blinked, and Harry elaborated. ‘You. Sucking me.’

Charlie closed his eyes and shivered. Harry frowned, but then noticed the tension in Charlie’s body and glanced down.

Oh.

Exhilaration rushed through Harry’s tired body. Suddenly he didn’t feel tired at all anymore. He sat up, and then winced as the zip of his jeans bit into his thigh. Harry flushed as he realised that he was still almost entirely dressed.

‘Harry, what…?’ Charlie began, and Harry half-turned and pushed the other man down onto the bed. ‘Wha—?’

Harry grinned at him. ‘My turn.’

He quickly pulled off his t-shirt and then shimmied out of his trousers and pants, only temporarily delayed by his trainers. It was strange, he had always been so self-conscious about bearing his body to anyone, but now he wanted to be naked, wanted Charlie to see him.

There was the sound of a strangled groan behind him when he bent down to pull off his socks, and Harry turned to peer over his shoulder. Charlie’s eyes had widened, and he was staring at Harry’s arse, one hand rubbing his cock through his trousers. Harry felt himself blush once again but he didn’t feel embarrassed, only excited. Quickly, he turned on the bed and slapped Charlie’s hand off.

‘My turn,’ he repeated.

Charlie shivered and lay back, eyes intently on Harry’s face. Harry grinned; his heart was beating fast. It seemed so extraordinary to him that he was here, Charlie laid out in front of him, waiting for Harry to touch him, to do what Harry had been longing to do all night.

It had only been this afternoon that he had realised he wanted Charlie, yet it seemed to Harry as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this.

He reached out and tugged on Charlie’s shirt. Together, they pulled it over Charlie’s head, and then Harry threw it aside, not once looking away from Charlie’s naked chest. Oh, he’d seen it before, once of twice, of course he had, otherwise he couldn’t have been fantasising about it as he had done earlier. Just last night he’d seen it. But these had always been only fleeting glimpses and now Harry could look all he wanted, as long as he wanted. He could look and touch and lick.

Lick. Harry licked his lips. Charlie’s groan made him smile, and then he pounced.

Harry kissed Charlie, hard and fast and passionate, first on his lips and then down his neck to his chest. Running his hands over the hard muscles of Charlie’s arms, feeling smooth skin alternating with the slightly rougher parts of the burn scars, Harry peppered Charlie’s chest with kisses. He licked both nipples, and then traced the outline of firm pectoral muscles with the tip of his tongue.

Charlie groaned under him, and his rough hands began caressing Harry’s shoulders and back. Harry hummed happily and tickled the soft skin just above Charlie’s left armpit with his tongue.

‘Harry,’ Charlie groaned, drawing the name out.

‘That’s what I’ve been wanting to do,’ Harry said. His voice sounded absurdly breathy.

‘What?’

‘Licking you.’ Harry ran his tongue down between Charlie’s nipples to his navel. ‘All over.’

‘Oh, god, Harry.’

Red hair so dark it was almost brown curled around Charlie’s navel and ran down, disappearing into his trousers. It tickled Harry’s chin as he mapped out the hard muscles of Charlie’s abdomen with his lips and tongue. Hmm, Charlie was hard everywhere. It was fantastic!

And then, Harry’s exploration reached the waistband of Charlie’s trousers and he faltered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it. It was just that he’d never done this before and he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Hesitating, he ran his hands over Charlie’s body, arms and chest, and then his thighs. They felt wonderfully hard under his hands.

‘Harry?’

Harry peered up at Charlie, who had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching him. Charlie’s cheeks were flushed, his many freckles darkening the colour of his skin. Harry wondered idly if Charlie had those freckles everywhere.

‘You,’ Charlie began, bit his lip, and then went on, ‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’

Harry shook his head. ‘I want to. I … I really want to.’ He took a deep breath, fortifying himself, and then burst out, ‘I want to touch you. Your cock. Suck you.’

Charlie’s legs twitched under Harry’s hands and he spread them a little further. ‘Feel free,’ he said, trying to joke.

Harry hesitated only a little longer, but then took courage and tackled the fastening of Charlie’s trousers. It wasn’t easy to open the two buttons, and the zip got stuck halfway down. Harry felt like an idiot, bumping Charlie’s cock again and again while he struggled, but Charlie didn’t seem to mind and only moaned every time Harry inadvertently touched him. It encouraged Harry to keep trying.

The trousers were finally undone, and Harry tugged. Charlie lifted his hips and helped him. Then the trousers were gone. Harry shoved Charlie’s pants down, and then he could only sit and stare as Charlie toed them off the bed. Yes, Charlie was freckled everywhere. And he was hard everywhere. Harry felt his mouth water.

Charlie lay back down, opening his legs in invitation. Harry swallowed. The Pygmy Puff hummed softly in his mind. Harry felt his prick twitch. He knew this sight would be burnt into his mind forever, Charlie naked and open in front of him.

In the light of the only remaining candle on the windowsill Charlie’s hair was a deep, dark red. His skin where usually covered by shirt and trousers was very white but covered with freckles, everywhere, so that it almost looked pale golden. The burn scars on arms and shoulders glistened brownish. The trail of dark hair on his stomach seemed to pull Harry’s eyes down to the hard cock curling up against Charlie’s stomach.

Harry licked his lips and reached out to touch it. When his fingers closed slowly around it, both he and Charlie shivered. Harry bit back a moan. He had wanted to touch Charlie’s cock but he had never thought that actually touching it, feeling it hard and hot in his hand, would feel so good.

He moved his hand in a slow caress, watching in fascination. Charlie’s cock was dark red, almost the same red as Harry’s tattoo. It pulsed softly in his hand. Clear liquid seeped from its tip. Harry rubbed his thumb over the head, spreading the pre-cum, like he did when he wanked, and tightened his grip. Charlie moaned.

‘Move it, damn you,’ he panted. He placed one hand over Harry’s and gave a few hard, sharp tugs. ‘Like this.’

Harry shook his hand off. ‘No, no, let me.’

‘Harry,’ Charlie growled, almost threateningly.

‘Let me,’ Harry repeated. ‘I … I want to feel you. Not … not rush this. You feel so amazing in my hand, you know.’

The sound Charlie gave could only be described as a whimper. His hips bucked up uncontrollably. ‘Tell me,’ he gasped.

‘What?’

‘Tell me. What it feels like.’

Harry blinked, a little confused, and looked down. ‘Um. Good. Brilliant.’

Charlie choked on a laugh. His fingers clenched into the sheets. ‘Oh, Harry …’

‘What?’ Harry felt a little hurt.

Charlie clenched his teeth. ‘N-nothing. It’s … all right. Just … keep moving. Don’t stop.’

Harry resumed stroking a little awkwardly. But soon the feeling of hot, damp cock in his hand made him forget about awkwardness. Feeling Charlie, hearing him moan, watching him buck and writhe was amazing. If he felt that good in Harry’s hand, how would he feel in his mouth?

Thinking and doing was one to Harry, and then he had his lips wrapped around Charlie’s cock and Charlie’s taste hit his tongue. Charlie gasped and grabbed Harry’s hair. His hips bucked, forcing his cock deeper into Harry’s mouth, and Harry gagged.

‘S-sorry,’ Charlie choked out but Harry didn’t listen. Having his mouth on Charlie’s cock was even better than having it in his hands and he wanted more of this. Wanted all of it, wanted to explore everything and try what he could do to make Charlie feel as wonderful as he had felt. So he did, licking and sucking and trying to twirl his tongue around the head of Charlie’s cock.

Above him, Charlie kept moaning and his hips twitched restlessly under Harry’s hands. Harry figured he couldn’t be doing this too wrong and applied himself vigorously. The Pygmy Puff’s humming became a little louder. It was deeper than before, more like a purring. Harry moaned delightedly, and then felt Charlie tugging on his hair. He gave a small sound of disapproval and sucked Charlie as deeply into his mouth as possible. Charlie hissed and tugged harder.

‘Harry, stop, oh fuck, stop, I’m gonna—’

He was close, Harry knew it, knew and wanted. He sucked harder, making Charlie groan loudly, felt Charlie’s thigh tremble at his shoulder. The Pygmy Puff tattoo twitched and hummed in Harry’s mind. Harry hummed along, and then Charlie shouted, his hands gripping Harry’s hair painfully, and came.

Harry swallowed reflexively, coughed, and swallowed again. Warm droplets hit his cheeks as Charlie jerked back, gasping. Charlie fell back down limply with a deep sigh that was almost a purr. Harry licked his lips and wiped his face before he crawled up and lay down next to Charlie.

Charlie turned his head to Harry and half-opened his eyes. He smiled, wrapped one arm around Harry’s shoulder, and kissed him. His other hand came up, wiping Harry’s temple. Harry snuggled closer to Charlie, tangling their legs, and kissed back happily.

‘I’m sorry for this,’ Charlie whispered sleepily and he cleaned his hand on the sheet. ‘I tried to warn you.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Harry kissed Charlie’s jaw.

‘Why didn’t you—?’

‘Hmm, you taste good.’

Charlie’s arm tightened around Harry and he made that sound again, like last night, like earlier, a sigh almost like a purr. While Harry was still remembering happily what Charlie had told him about his own dragon tattoo, he fell asleep.

Some time later, he half woke up when someone was tugging on the bedding under him. It was dark and he grumbled indignantly. Then, he was pulled against a hard, warm body and a soft, warm blanket was spread over him. He fell asleep again.

The next time Harry woke, the room was lightened by the pale blue light of early morning that fell through the window. Right in front of him, a mess of dark read hair obstructed his view of everything save a little bit of the window. He blinked, confused for a moment. Then he remembered last night and flushed.

Oh God. Charlie. He’d had sex with Charlie. Brilliant sex. The best ever. And no one had cast a Silencing Charm, so probably the whole house had heard them. Harry hid his face in Charlie’s hair, insides squirming with embarrassment.

The feeling of Charlie’s warm, relaxed body calmed Harry a little. As he stopped berating himself, he became aware of the soothing humming in his mind, and for some reason relaxed even further. Well. If they’d heard him and Charlie at least he wouldn’t have to tell Ginny. Though it was still awkward as hell.

Harry sighed and emerged from his pillow. A few red strands tickled his cheek. He smiled, all thoughts of ex-girlfriends forgotten. Charlie’s hair felt really nice. Harry leaned closer and buried his nose in the red mess. It smelt nice, too. Charlie smelt nice, Harry decided as he rubbed his nose over Charlie’s neck and breathed deeply.

The Pygmy Puff’s humming changed to content and Harry caught himself softly humming along. He grinned lopsidedly and forced himself to stop. It was very early and Charlie was obviously still asleep. Harry didn’t want to wake him.

But he just couldn’t go back to sleep, either. Or stop looking at Charlie.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at the sleeping man. He was lying on his stomach, with his hands thrust under the pillow, facing away from Harry. The blanket had slid down to his waist, exposing his magnificent tattoo. Lower down, toes peeped out from under the blanket, making Harry smile softly before his attention went back to the golden dragon twining around Charlie’s spine. He bent a little closer, curious.

It was the first time he really saw it. Two nights ago, he had been more than a little drunk, and although he wasn’t wearing his glasses right now, the tattoo was clearer and even more magnificent. It really looked as if the dragon was sleeping right under Charlie’s skin. With what he now knew about wizard tattoos, Harry wondered what would be necessary to wake it up. And what it would do when woken.

He leaned a little further in and ran his eyes over the dragon. Its head was lying just below Charlie’s left shoulder, and its tail disappeared somewhere underneath the blanket. Harry wanted to see where it ended and carefully pulled the blanket lower.

His breath caught in his throat. The Pygmy Puff hummed in approval. Harry licked his dry lips and bit back a moan.

The tip of the dragon’s tail rested just above the crease of Charlie’s arse, teasingly calling attention to what lay below it. And what a nice arse it was, Harry thought, appreciating the view. Nice and round but firm and, oh, were that dimples? God, Charlie had the most gorgeous backside Harry had ever seen. He wanted to touch it. All of it.

Sneaking a quick glance at Charlie’s half-hidden face, Harry carefully reached out one hand and laid it on Charlie’s arse. The skin was sleep warm and soft, but Harry could feel the muscles underneath. He couldn’t stop his fingers tightening, squeezing just a little. Gorgeous.

He’d never thought he could get so excited over a man’s arse, but here he was, getting excited all right. Carefully, Harry squeezed a little tighter. Charlie sighed but didn’t wake up.

Harry ran his fingertips over each buttock, enjoying the curves and the little dip of the dimples. And then he just couldn’t resist and brushed one fingertip over the dragon’s tail.

A shiver ran up and down Charlie’s spine. The tail twitched ever so slightly, and Harry could have sworn the skin warmed. So, of course, he had to do it again to be sure. Charlie sighed again. His hips moved a little, pressing deeper into the mattress. Harry smiled as he caressed the dragon’s tail.

He remembered doing this two nights ago, caressing the dragon, tickling its tail. Charlie had been lying on his stomach, just like he was doing now, and he had been moving, stretching and purring. Harry’s hand suddenly stilled as a few other bits swam up in his memory.

Charlie’s cock had been hard when he’d got up. Harry had been so drunk he hadn’t registered but yes, Charlie had been hard. Pam’s words echoed in Harry’s mind, and he remembered how it had felt when Charlie had been licking his own tattoo.

Oh. Harry felt himself blush. Charlie’s tattoo was apparently as sensitive as Harry’s and Harry had been stroking it! If Charlie’s tattoo was anything like Harry’s he might just as well have been stroking Charlie’s cock! Harry was torn between embarrassment at his past ignorance and breathless desire to do it again.

Desire won and Harry let his fingers trail over the tattoo.

Charlie shuddered lightly and wriggled a little but he still seemed to be asleep. Harry smiled at him before he focused his attention on the tattoo.

He sat up and, using both hands, began caressing the dragon. He traced the slender body’s outline with his fingertips and rubbed the sinuous form with his thumbs. Then he used his fingernails to lightly scratch its belly, hind legs, and tail.

The skin was definitely warming up under Harry’s ministrations and the dragon twitched every now and then. Every time it did, Charlie’s breathing hitched a little. Harry grinned and redoubled his efforts.

Charlie’s spine beckoned him, its knobbly ridge, like pearls on a string, guarded by the sleeping dragon. Harry bent down and touched his lips to it. He could feel where the dragon was coiled as it had begun to exude its own heat. Eyes closed, Harry tried to follow the dragon’s body with his lips.

A sensuous shiver ran through the body under his lips. Charlie’s back arched a little, then the body moved into a lazy stretch. The low, content sound rumbled in Charlie’s throat, followed by a sleep-rough, ‘Hmmm?’

Harry looked up. Charlie’s eyes were half-open and a happy smiled curved the corners of his mouth. Harry felt unaccountably shy.

‘Hey,’ he said softly.

Charlie turned his head on the pillow and peered sleepily up at Harry. ‘Feels good,’ he mumbled.

Harry smiled back and quickly looked down again, feeling his cheeks heat. Absently, he rubbed his fingers over a little wet spot he’d left earlier. The dragon’s body coiled noticeably around his fingers, and Harry froze in surprise.

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed softly. ‘It … Charlie, your tattoo. It moved!’

Charlie’s back shook in a laugh. ‘Of course it did.’ The roughness in his voice was not sleep alone.

Harry grinned excitedly. It had woken! He bent closer and rubbed the dragon again. It curled its back around Harry’s fingers. Charlie groaned softly and wriggled.

‘Did you feel that?’ Harry asked.

‘Hmm, yes.’ Charlie moved to prop his chin up on one hand and peered over his shoulder. ‘You can feel yours move too, can’t you?’

‘Oh. Yes, of course.’

‘It feels wonderful when you touch me,’ Charlie went on softly. Harry looked up to see Charlie watching him with an unmistakably lustful expression. His own tattoo shivered excitedly which sent a jolt of heat into his hardening cock.

Charlie’s smile widened and his eye-lids drooped a little further. Harry felt his mouth go dry.

‘I thought so the other night.’ Charlie’s voice was so low it was only a murmur. Harry’s heartbeat sped up. ‘Hmm, and I fantasised about you. Being alone in a bed with you, like this, and have you touch me.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Made me horny as hell.’

Harry swallowed. ‘You, er, your tattoo always moves when you’re, um, horny?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Charlie shifted to press his back against Harry’s hand. ‘What do you think Pam was so chuffed about earlier? He knows my dragon pretty well, after all.’

Harry glanced down at his hands, not wanting to meet Charlie’s eyes, and half-heartedly tickled the dragon.

‘So, um, you mean your tattoo always goes off when you’re horny?’ he asked hesitantly.

Charlie didn’t answer immediately, and when he finally did, his voice was low and serious.

‘It’s a bit more than that, Harry. You remember what Pam said about a wizard’s feelings? It’s not just horniness that makes the tattoo move. It’s always connected to emotions.’

Harry’s eyes flew up to Charlie’s face again. Their eyes met. Charlie’s were very blue and very serious. Harry felt as if all air had left his lungs. He was surprised, delighted, feeling so light as though he could lift off every moment yet comfortably grounded at the same time.

A lopsided smile tilted Charlie’s mouth. He reached out one hand and gently cupped Harry’s face.

‘You really have no idea of just what you do to me, Harry, do you?’ Charlie’s voice was tender and a little self-deprecating.

Harry’s hand came up to lie above Charlie’s. He flushed and stammered, ‘I … I … Charlie …’

Charlie’s smile rose up to amused. He gripped Harry’s hand and pulled until Harry lay stretched out on top of him, front to back, and peered at Harry’s face on his shoulder. His fingers linked with Harry’s.

‘No, you don’t,’ Charlie answered his own question. ‘You’re absolutely adorably oblivious to your effect on other people.’

Harry blinked and only managed a confused, ‘Hnuh?’ before Charlie went on, ‘I want you, Harry, I’ve wanted you for years. Ever since the day you defeated Voldemort.’

His blue eyes, clear and bright, looked up into Harry’s. ‘I’d just arrived from Romania after getting Bill’s message and I met Slughorn up on his way to Hogwarts. He said you’d been fighting since last night.’ His fingers tightened around Harry’s. ‘I hadn’t seen you in over a year, and you’d grown and changed so much I almost didn’t recognise you as little Ron’s friend. I saw you fighting, and then I watched you face off with Voldemort.

‘I’ll never forget that morning. You were so thin and shaggy, dirty and unshaven and bloody, your hair even worse than ever, and then the sun went up and you looked like you were standing in a halo of light. And you stood there, when he fell, just stood there, looking a little confused, as if you couldn’t quite believe it was over. And it hit me so hard.’

Harry blinked rapidly. His heart was thumping so hard against his ribcage he thought Charlie had to feel it. ‘Charlie, I …’

‘Hush, love, let me tell you.’ Charlie’s voice was hauntingly soft. ‘It hit me hard, that morning. You, the kid I’d known for years, you were this amazing man who’d just defeated Voldemort with a little spell like Expelliarmus. And when everyone crowded in on you to hug and kiss you, you still just looked confused as though you didn’t understand what everyone was on about. I fell in love with you right there and then.

‘Although, looking back, I must say it had been coming for a long time.’ He chuckled. ‘I think ever since the time I saw your very nice ass on a broom, during the Tournament, when you outflew my most vicious dragon lady.’

Charlie smiled tenderly into Harry’s flushed, stunned face and leant in, brushing a soft kiss over his lips.

‘I fell a little more every time I saw you. I never thought I’d have a chance, of course, and then you got back together with my sister. But I just couldn’t keep away from you. Didn’t you wonder why I came back to England so often? Why, when I was here, I spent so much time with you, to the exclusion of most of my family? No, I know you didn’t. I don’t know if it made things harder or easier for me that you had absolutely no idea how you turned my insides upside down every time I did so much as hear your voice.

‘And that, Harry, is why I felt so guilty for causing trouble between you and Ginny. Because I wanted you so much for myself that I couldn’t help wanting to break you up. So that I could have you.’

He fell silent then, only looked at Harry, smiling. Harry took a deep breath.

‘I … We would have broken up anyway.’ His cheeks were burning but he forced himself to hold Charlie’s gaze. ‘Because … because she was right. I … I only realised during dinner last night that I like boys better than girls. Um. But … I … I mean, she was right too that I preferred to spend time with you, and … and I’d been getting this … this feeling, around you, every time, and …’

He stopped his babbling and, deciding he’d always been better with actions, pushed himself up a little and kissed Charlie firmly on the mouth. After a surprised second, Charlie began kissing back enthusiastically.

The Pygmy Puff, who’d been mostly silent throughout the conversation, began humming again. Harry felt Charlie’s buttock press against the tattoo, hard and hot and delicious. The Puff clearly loved the feeling of Charlie’s arse against it. Harry could only agree.

It was made even better with Charlie’s tattoo pressed against his front, the warm golden skin of the dragon a fiery ribbon against his chest and stomach. And that glorious tail tip rested just above Harry’s hardening cock. If he moved a little …

Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned when he felt the hot tail twitch and brush his erection. It was as though a little, fiery tongue was licking him. He rotated his hips, brushing his hard cock over Charlie’s arse again, and the dragon’s tail flicked for a second time.

Charlie moaned into Harry’s mouth and pushed his arse upwards. His motion made one buttock slide over Harry’s tattoo and the dragon’s tail swipe the length of Harry’s erection. Harry whimpered and thrust forwards roughly.

They moved together like this for a time, mouths locked together, and fingers still entwined on the pillow. Harry’s tattoo had begun vibrating and its humming was loud in Harry’s ears. He could feel his vocal chords once more thrum with it. Charlie was making deep noises in his throat every time his dragon’s tail swished and moved, touching Harry’s cock.

The low purr, the vibrations of the humming Pygmy Puff, all that hot skin under and against his own drove Harry quickly to the brink.

Gasping, he tore himself away, pulling back from Charlie’s body. He didn’t want to come so soon.

Charlie made a protesting sound and thrust his arse up in the air. Harry bit his lip at the temptation of Charlie’s gorgeous backside. Another whimper from Charlie, and Harry ducked back down. He went for the dragon tattoo, kissing and licking every inch of it and Charlie’s wonderfully firm muscles.

When he had reached the dragon’s tail, the next logical step was to continue down to Charlie’s arse. Harry grabbed both cheeks, squeezed them together, and kissed each. He tickled the dimples with the tip of his tongue and nibbled on the wrinkly skin where thigh met arse.

Charlie trembled and moaned softly, wriggling against the mattress every now and then. When Harry’s curious fingers dipped into Charlie’s crease, his hips thrust forwards uncontrollably. Harry eyed the clenching muscles in Charlie’s arse with fascination. He raised one hand to feel the muscles moving against his palm, then gave in to an impulse and gave the cheek a resounding slap.

Charlie started, making a surprised sound.

‘Oh.’ Harry hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. ‘Um, sorry, did I hurt you?’

Charlie peered over his shoulder. To Harry’s relief, he was grinning. ‘No. Just surprised me. I didn’t know you were into that.’

‘Um.’ Harry felt his face heat up. He looked at the clear imprint of his hand on Charlie’s arse. ‘’m not.’

‘No?’

Harry smacked him again and Charlie’s breath hitched a little.

‘Hm.’ Harry tilted his head and gave Charlie a shy smile. ‘Might be. You … um, your bum looks nice with my handprint on it.’

Charlie laughed breathlessly and lay his head back down. He waggled his arse at Harry, clenching und unclenching his arsecheeks. Harry bit back a silly giggle and smacked both cheeks. Charlie gasped each time, but in a good way.

‘Um, do you like that? When I slap you?’ Harry asked curiously.

‘It’s called spanking, baby boy,’ Charlie corrected. ‘And yeah, I like it when you do it.’ He threw a leering grin over his shoulder. ‘One day, I’ll do it do you.’

The sound Harry made at that could only be described as a startled ‘eep!’

‘And you’ll like it,’ Charlie went on, lower. ‘I promise.’

Harry wrinkled his brow doubtfully. ‘But … it hurts, doesn’t it?’

‘But it hurts good.’ Charlie settled back down. ‘Come on, gimme eight more.’

‘Eh?’ Harry blinked, looked at his hand, then at Charlie’s arse, one cheek already nicely red, shrugged, and did what he was told.

Charlie really seemed to enjoy being spanked, if the gasping and moaning was anything to go by. And after the first hesitant slaps, Harry found a rhythm, alternating cheeks until they both glowed red. Harry’s palm was hot and stinging a little, and Harry thought Charlie’s arse probably felt the same.

He brushed his other hand over the red skin. Yes, it was warm. It seemed to be pulsating slightly, too. Harry shuffled on the bed until he could lean down and rub his face over the hot skin, cheek to cheek. Charlie gave a low sound that definitely reminded Harry of a content Crookshanks.

‘Hm?’ he made.

‘Stubble,’ was Charlie’s muffled reply. ‘Do it again, rub it against my arse. Yeah. Feels so good.’

Harry happily obliged, rubbing his face all over Charlie’s bum, like a giant cat. Charlie made that low, purring sound that Harry recognised by now. Smiling, Harry let his hands slide up and over the dragon tattoo.

Charlie moaned loudly. A shudder ran through him. He seemed to freeze for a moment. And then he moved, so suddenly and quickly that Harry could only blink, disoriented, as the world spun around him.

When it stopped spinning, he was lying on his back, pressed into the bed by Charlie’s weight, Charlie’s body between his legs, and Charlie’s lips hot and insistent on his own. Charlie’s very hard and slightly damp erection was pressed against him. Harry threw up his arms around Charlie’s shoulders and lost himself in their kiss.

He wasn’t really aware of Charlie moving, too overwhelmed by sensations – lips, tongue, hot skin on his tattoo – to notice what was going on around him. He did notice when Charlie’s rough fingertips touched his opening.

Charlie broke the kiss at Harry’s sudden stillness and glanced down. ‘If you don’t want this, say so, now, and I’ll stop.’

His voice, rough and with an underlying growl, send a shiver down Harry’s spine.

‘I … I don’t know … I’ve never …’

Harry shook his head and squeezed his eyes close. His ideas about how two men would have sex had always been rather vague. But he remembered what Charlie had said last night, what he wanted to do with Harry. It was frightening and exciting at the same time to even think about actually letting Charlie do it.

‘Harry, I swear, it will only hurt a little.’ Charlie’s voice was hot and a little desperate in Harry’s ear.

Harry nodded. ‘’s okay.’

‘Are you sure?’

Harry looked up into Charlie’s darkened eyes. His red hair was mussed and formed a weird halo around his head. His lips looked bruised. Harry tightened his arms around Charlie and pulled him down into another kiss.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he whispered against Charlie’s lips.

Charlie groaned and kissed him, and then Harry felt a finger slide into his arse. It felt odd, not bad though. Charlie curled the finger inside of him, and suddenly Harry felt the urge to pee. The finger moved again and the urge was gone, replaced by a burning sensation. Harry hissed softly.

Then the fingers were gone and Charlie leaned across him, reaching for the bedside table.

‘Charlie?’

‘I need lube.’

‘Oh.’ Harry lifted his head to rub his cheek over Charlie’s stomach. ‘Second drawer. It’s a blue bottle.’

A moment later, Charlie had found what he had been looking for and lay back down, chuckling softly. ‘Should I wonder why you know so well where Ron keeps the lube?’

Harry spluttered and screwed up his face. ‘Ew. No. That’s, um, that’s not Ron’s. It’s mine. I, er, brought it with me.’

Charlie raised his eyebrows and Harry squirmed in embarrassment. And then he squirmed again, for while he had been busy being embarrassed, Charlie had dipped two fingers into the bottle and brought the slick digits to Harry’s hole. They slid effortlessly in.

‘That okay? Doesn’t hurt?’ Charlie asked, slowly moving his fingers in and out.

Harry wriggled a little. ‘No, it’s okay. Feels a bit odd, though. Um, what are younmrahh!’

Charlie hit the spot again and Harry arched off the bed as shiver after shiver of pure pleasure ran through his body. The tattoo went wild, twitching madly, and its humming became almost deafening. Harry’s cock went from hard to aching within a single heartbeat.

‘Oh, oh, fuck, Charlie,’ he panted, clinging to Charlie’s broad shoulders. ‘That’s, fuck, what’s that?’

Charlie bit Harry’s shoulder. ‘Prostate.’

‘Oh god,’ Harry almost sobbed as Charlie kept caressing that spot. ‘Oh, ohhh, hnn, didn’t know I, ngh, had some-something like that!’

Charlie gasped a laugh. He pulled his fingers out, making Harry whine in protest, then slid three fingers in, moving slowly and cautiously. Harry all but squealed with delight and pushed back against the fingers. The Pygmy Puff tattoo had begun vibrating, the gentle motions stimulating Harry’s cock. Together with the new, strange sensation of being filled, Harry’s senses were almost on overload.

And then the fingers were gone again, replaced by something thicker that pushed slowly in. Harry gasped and clung to Charlie’s shoulders, bearing down. It was different than the fingers, fuller, and it burnt and hurt a bit. But even that was fine.

Charlie grabbed Harry’s hips to keep them from thrusting back against him and buried his face in Harry’s neck. He moved so slowly. Harry grabbed his arse and pulled, making Charlie whimper.

‘Harry, slow, slow down,’ he panted. ‘You’ll hurt yourself. Fuck, you’re so tight!’

‘And you’re so big,’ Harry laughed breathlessly in Charlie’s ear. ‘Move, move, please!’

Charlie swore and kept a string of expletives going under his breath until he was he finally all the way inside. Harry could feel Charlie’s balls resting against his arse. He whined softly and wriggled his hips in Charlie’s grip.

Charlie gave a choked sound. His hold tightened. Then he began moving, inching out and shoving equally slowly back in. Harry wrapped his legs around Charlie’s back and pushed up against the intrusion.

Soon, Charlie’s movements sped up, his thrusts became harder. Harry gasped and keened every time Charlie’s cock hit that special place inside. His blood was rushing through his veins, pushed forward by his rapid heartbeat.

With every thrust, Charlie’s groin rubbed against Harry’s, against the tattoo, intensifying every sensation until all Harry could do was cling to Charlie and moan faintly. The tattoo hummed and throbbed.

Harry’s fingers dug into the firm muscles of Charlie’s back. He could feel them move, feel the hot ribbon of the dragon’s body twist under his fingers. Charlie growled and thrust harder, faster.

Suddenly, a hart hand grasped his cock and pulled. Harry cried out and arched into the caress, feeling the tension in his groin curl tighter. He shook, teetering on the edge, and then Charlie hit that spot again and Harry came with a long, shivering moan. Charlie shuddered and lost his rhythm, thrusting erratically before he too came, groaning softly into Harry’s ear.

They slumped onto the bed, sweaty, sleepy, and sated. Harry brushed his fingertips over Charlie’s heaving back. Through the satisfied humming, he could hear soft, purring growls. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~ * ~

Some time later, Charlie shook him awake.

‘Hmmm,’ Harry grumbled and buried his face in his pillow.

‘Wake up, Harry.’ Charlie’s hand squeezed Harry’s naked shoulder. ‘Everyone’s up already. Breakfast will be ready soon and I think your training starts in about two hours. We’d better get down. The family will start wondering where we are.’

‘Hmpf,’ Harry commented. ‘Let them. Though I don’t think they will wonder,’ he went on with a grimace after a slight pause. ‘I never thought about casting a Silencing Charm and, uh, we weren’t exactly quiet.’

Charlie was silent for a moment, then he sat down on the bed next to Harry. ‘I cast one,’ he said quietly.

Harry’s head shot up. ‘You what? When?’

‘When I came up.’ Charlie shrugged and grinned a little ruefully. ‘Remember, I came to apologise to you. I thought you’d be angry with me. That you might yell at me. I didn’t want anyone to hear that.’

‘Oh.’ Harry blinked. ‘Oohh. You mean, they haven’t heard?’

‘No. I know how to cast a Silencing Charm.’

‘Oh,’ Harry repeated.

‘So, you see,’ Charlie went on, looking grim, ‘no one knows but you and me. If we go downstairs now, they’ll never know, and you—’

‘No!’ Harry sat up abruptly, wincing slightly at the soreness in his arse, and looked intently at Charlie. ‘You don’t mean to hide me, this, us, do you?’

Charlie gazed down at his hands. ‘I wasn’t sure there would be an “us”.’

‘What? But you said, last night …’ Harry stopped and swallowed. ‘Didn’t you mean anything you said?’

‘Of course I meant what I said!’ Charlie shot back, almost angry. He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. ‘But, Harry, until two days ago, you were straight, as far as anybody knew, and my sister’s boyfriend. And to break up with her to get together with one of her brothers … I don’t know how everyone will react to that.’

Harry nodded. ‘Yeah. They’ll probably be angry. Ginny will be, definitely.’ He slumped a little, hugging his knees. ‘But I don’t want to hide this. My magic likes you. My tattoo likes you. You make me feel amazing, and I don’t want to lie about that. Besides, I don’t think I could hide what I feel, even if I tried. I’m not very good at that.’

He looked up when Charlie caressed his cheek. Charlie’s blue eyes were soft with tenderness and wistfulness. Harry smiled at him, but then suddenly something occurred to him and he grabbed Charlie’s hand.

‘That is, if you want them to know about is,’ he said hastily. ‘I mean, you’re probably only here for a couple of days more before you … before you go back to Romania, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to cause an uproar and—’

Charlie shut him up with a kiss, and Harry clung to him, suddenly feeling quite awful.

‘Harry,’ Charlie said softly as he pulled back. ‘I’d love to be together with you openly. And if you’re sure, if you really want this, I don’t care what everyone will say. Besides, George knows already, he guessed years ago, and I’m quite sure that both Bill and Dad have their suspicions. You’ll probably only shock Mum and Ron.’

‘I am sure,’ Harry said forcefully. ‘It’s going to be hard, with you in Romania and me here in England, and I can’t leave for at least another year until my training is over, and—’

‘Well, then it’s a good thing that the dragon reserve in Wales offered me the recently opened position of Master Keeper, don’t you think?’

Harry gaped at the broadly grinning Charlie. ‘What? You?’

Charlie chuckled and slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders. ‘Yes, they offered. I wasn’t sure whether to agree or not. It’s not as interesting as Romania, the reserve is smaller and there aren’t as many different breeds of dragons. The pay’s higher, though. And, well. You’re here.’

Harry threw himself into Charlie’s arms, making him overbalance, and they both tumbled back onto the bed. Charlie laughed and hugged Harry tightly.

‘I’ll put up with boring as long as I can have you,’ he whispered in Harry’s ear.

‘Git,’ Harry mock-growled. ‘I s’ppose I have to make things exciting for you, then.’

Charlie’s hands trailed down Harry’s naked back to his arse. ‘Hm, I think you’ll do splendidly,’ he said with an affectionate leer. He gave Harry’s arse a gentle squeeze, and then smacked both hands down, hard.

‘Ow!’ Harry glared at Charlie. ‘That hurt.’

Charlie grinned and patted Harry’s arse soothingly. ‘I’d kiss it better but I’m afraid we’ve got a breakfast waiting for us.’

Harry wiggled a little. ‘Can’t that wait a little longer?’

Charlie laughed and, standing up, lifted Harry off him effortlessly. ‘Come on, we’d better get down or we’ll have Mum here in no time.’

‘Uh.’ Harry grimaced and reached for his clothes. As he bent down to retrieve his t-shirt, Charlie smacked his arse again.

‘Charlie!’

Charlie kissed Harry’s ear. ‘I’ll kiss it better tonight. Promise.’ He winked and left the room, completely naked.

Harry gaped after him for a moment, then shook his head and followed him downstairs, to the shower, and then breakfast, a painful talk with Ginny, and the promise of an exciting future.

The Pygmy Puff hummed with happy anticipation.

End.