Title: The Shoppe
Author: elfflame
Characters/Pairings: Evan Rosier, Blaise Zabini, and a cast of many, named and unnamed
Rating: Soft NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Tattooing
Other Warnings: None come to mind
Word Count: < 4500
Summary/Description: There's a special shop in Diagon Alley that only certain people know about.
Author's Notes: Well, this ended up a good deal longer and a good deal more plotty than my norm, but once I started, I couldn't stop. The Main pairing is pretty different—Evan/Blaise, but there are others mentioned in here as well, and a special guest pairing at the end that is a favorite of mine, so if you like my pairings, I think you'll like this. I tried to be fairly obvious about who people were without giving actual names, though I kept it loose, so that some may have several options for who the character might be. Magnus is a RP character I couldn't help inserting because I needed an older character, and none of the ones we knew would particularly work for the role. He is indeed a Malfoy—brother to Abraxis's father. :) Thank you so much to wolfish_cat for this bunny, and for all her help. I don't know how I'd write without you to cheer me on. <3 And thank you to wolfish_cat and kabal42 for the great beta job.



No one who knew about the Shoppe knew how long it had been there—those who knew about it at all, that was. It had been there as long as anyone could remember, tucked away at the farthest corner of the Alley, and well away from Gringotts and most of the rest of the shops. It didn't have a name. Everyone just knew it as 'the Shoppe.'

Those in the know were the marginalized of the Wizarding World. Those with a "deviant" preference for their own sex over the opposite sex. For decades, it had been a place to come to get a tattoo to declare that preference to others who knew how to read the signs, though in recent years the openness of the Muggle World had given some Witches and Wizards the confidence to do the same in the Wizarding World, despite how it was looked upon by others.

It had had a long string of proprietors, each passing their skills on down to an apprentice who then took over the shop when the old proprietor retired. These days the shop was run by a wizard who went by the name of Ameros, though he had had another in days long past—Evan Rosier. No one called him by it, though. Few even remembered the name. And even if they had, the spells on the Shoppe itself ensured his safety from the rest of the Wizarding World. None who recognized him when they were in the shop could speak his name in conjunction with it once they left. And the shop's spells kept them from remembering why it was even a problem that he should be anywhere, given that the rest of the Wizarding World thought him dead.

He'd stumbled into the shop many years before, searching for a place to hide from the Aurors who were looking for him, and found not only a refuge, but a future he'd never imagined. The proprietor at the time had been an aging man who had simply gone by the name Magnus, though a few strands of pale gold in his otherwise pure white hair had led Evan to wonder if the man hadn't at one time been a Malfoy.

The man had offered him a job. First just cleaning the place up, then later showing him how to deal with clients—both before and after. And then showing him the skill that soon became his profession—how to use the needles to create the magical works of art each customer requested.

The first tattoo he did was his own, under Magnus's careful guidance. But others soon followed. A gold-eyed, wild-haired witch who wanted a whole Quidditch team on her back. A young Auror whose skin was almost too dark to take the ink—he'd solved that by adding a bit of gold to the mix. The resulting tattoo had been beautiful to look at. If he'd not been an Auror, Ameros might have spent a happy evening with him exploring the contours of his body. But he wasn't stupid enough to be alone with any Auror. Whether they recognized him or not.

The first pair he'd done had been soon after. The wild-haired witch returned with another witch. One he'd recognized as the healing matron from Hogwarts. They'd asked for a pair of joined hearts on their hips, and what had become an almost normal occurrence now took on a whole new meaning as his first pair soon became his first bonding.

The two witches could barely keep their hands off one another as he worked on them, their magic infusing into the tattoos of its own volition, making the room hum with energy and pheromones. Nor were they the only ones affected. Ameros found it incredibly hard to concentrate on drawing a straight line when all he could think of was how to get rid of them so that he could turn to Magnus and take his cock down his throat as deep as he possibly could.

It wasn't until after the witches had left that Magnus was able to explain why they'd all been affected that way by the tattoos. It seemed that sometimes, when couples came in to get tattoos to mark their commitment to each other, their magic caused a reaction to that of the tattoos. Both partners' magic merged together there, resulting in what many considered a true bond, not unlike what happened at some marriage ceremonies.

The result was a temporary increase in pheromones that caused all parties present to be highly aroused for several hours to several days, depending on the strength of the bond. Meeting Ameros's eyes, he smirked. "I give that one five years," he said.

After that first bonding, Ameros was hesitant to do the next pair that came in, but Magnus insisted. After all, if he wanted to take over after Magnus was gone, he couldn't exactly shy away from customers just because they might get bonded. He soon learned just how rare the bonding magic was. Maybe one in every ten pairs might manage that magic. And then, the magic was rarely powerful. He'd just gotten unlucky that his first pair had been as strong a bonding as it was.

Ten years after first coming to the Shoppe, Ameros became the full-time proprietor, and Magnus disappeared off to wherever it was he'd chosen to retire to.

After Magnus left, it got a bit lonely. But Ameros managed. There were rarely more than two customers in at the same time, and even that was rare. It was only their news from the outside world that kept him from going out himself. Young men and women continued to come to the shop, some familiar, others less so.

A young man who could only be a Weasley appeared one day, asking him to give him a lunar dragon down his left arm. It was an intricate tattoo, but the bloke seemed unfazed by the feeling, and when Ameros had invited him up for tea and other things after, he found out why—he had one dragon already curled across his right hip, and another snaking up his left calf. Ameros still thought his was the best of the lot.

Still, the Weasley didn't stay, and Ameros was alone again. The stream of customers never slowed to more than a trickle, and he found himself watching each new customer closer than the last. Surely his apprentice would show soon? At least, that was how Magnus had suggested the magic worked—that when it was time, the Shoppe somehow drew the next owner to it. How it knew who that should be, Magnus hadn't been able to tell him. All Ameros could do was wait and see if it happened.

Another war came and went, and Ameros found himself thinking that his newest clients were far too young to his eyes. Pureblood children who rebelled against their parents' beliefs or restrictions came to prove that they were nothing like those parents. War-weary young from all walks of life came to mark those lost in the war, be they lover or friend. New bonds were forged, and now, comfortable with the overwhelming lust, Ameros let himself be pulled into the feelings created by the bonds. It was better than being alone.

Then one afternoon, a young man came into the Shoppe. From his bearing, he was another pureblood, and his golden-dark skin, almond-shaped eyes and long hair seemed somehow familiar to Ameros. He was certain he'd never met the boy, but perhaps he had known his father or mother… Upon seeing him, the young man smiled, and proceeded to ask for the tattoo he wanted.

It took several tellings, because Ameros felt he had been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer. This was his apprentice. He couldn't have described how he knew. There was no choir of angels, or bright glow around him. Not even a shining arrow over the young man's head. He just knew.

And the young man's questions as they worked on a sketch for the tattoo only made things that much clearer. It was like he wanted to know everything.

The design itself was another good sign. The details were complex, and left a great deal of space for expansion. He wanted a long vine that started wrapped around his wrist, then climbed up his arm and across his upper back to end curled around his other shoulder. Here and there along the vine, he wanted flowers of different sorts—a silvery snapdragon on his wrist, a green thistle further up his arm, a golden shamrock in the hollow of his elbow, a single nightshade flower above that, a pair of orange pea-blossoms on his shoulder and near the hollow of his throat, a small blue cactus blossom.

It was an interesting mix of flowers, and Ameros found himself wondering about who each represented for the young man. He also wondered at the sadness on the young man's face at the mention of the pea-flowers. Someone lost in the war, perhaps?

The planning went on for long enough that soon it became dark. Ameros found himself hesitating between trying to begin that night, for fear the young man might not return, and asking him to stay simply for the fact that he wished him to.

The young man sensed his hesitance, and chose to make the choice for him, pressing himself against Ameros and kissing him, his hands sliding under his shirt to stroke up his back.

Unable to stop himself, Ameros chuckled. "Am I to become your next flower, then?"

The young man's golden eyes glittered. "Do you want to?" he asked with a grin.

The answer to that was simple. "Yes."

Clothes scattered the ground around them, and they sank to the floor, curled around one another kissing and touching and stroking. They only moved upstairs to Ameros's bed after they'd each come more than once, and talked for at least an hour before making love again, then curling up together and falling asleep sometime near dawn.

In the morning, Blaise—for that was his name, Ameros had learned—woke him with a well-practiced blowjob, then the two had a long breakfast together, punctuated with kisses and another bout of sex before going down to open the shop.

The tattoo took a week of visits to finish, and even once it was done, he continued to visit. First as lover, but soon as more, helping the clients choose their designs, even drawing them out himself, then learning the craft of tattooing from Ameros, punctuated by long lovemaking sessions after their clients were gone for the night. It made Ameros feel young all over again.

Many of the customers that came in now were known to Blaise, and when he was not working on someone, he often spent time chatting with the customers. Sometimes to the point where Ameros felt he knew them himself. Even when previous customers returned, he found Blaise knew more about them than he had learned in their previous visit.

Like one pair where he recalled one of the young men, but not the other. The more charismatic of the pair spoke in a lilting brogue that Ameros had found quite intriguing last time. He might have been inclined to invite him up after he'd finished his tattoo at the time, but the other young man hadn't looked like he was the type to share. Granted, he also hadn't looked like the type who could fall in love, but a word from his partner, and he'd seemed to melt. Still, he'd looked a bit hulking and sinister, and his voice was a growl at the best of times, so Ameros had decided it would be best not to ask.

This time, his calming influence seemed to be put to a different use. The young man he'd come with looked ready to flee, constantly running his fingers through curly red hair and adjusting his glasses, muttering something about overdue reports, and that he wasn't his brother and his mum would definitely not approve. Obviously recognizing both, Blaise assured him as best he could. The tattoo did not have to be large, and unless he showed her, Mrs Weasley would never find out.

The pair chose a simple design, and the Weasley watched first as his partner showed him how simple the process was. After they left, Ameros wondered how long the pair would last. Having someone that nervous in his shop had made him feel tense. He couldn't begin to imagine living with him.

The conversation he and Blaise had that night left them both a lot to think about. He told Blaise his reaction to the pair, and Blaise chuckled, saying that they'd been circling each other for years, so it hadn't truly surprised him, even if most hadn't noticed. When Ameros mentioned he was surprised the two hadn't bonded if they'd been putting it of that long, Blaise was surprised. He had yet to see a bonding, and said he couldn't imagine a tattoo causing that sort of reaction. But then, they hadn't had many pairs come in since Blaise had started helping him. Ameros smiled. He was certain it was only a matter of time before they worked on a pair that did.

He was right. Only another week had passed before it happened.

Even he recognized the pair that came in. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Ameros didn't read the Prophet much, but he'd read enough to see headlines about both young men. How Potter had saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort. And how he'd stood with the Malfoy family when they had been brought to trial. He'd not expected anything like this, though.

Blaise, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed at their appearance together. "It's about time. I told you about this place months ago…"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and from their banter, Ameros could tell they were long-time friends. "Well, I had to convince Harry, first. And…tell father. If we're going to do this, I refuse to sneak around behind his back any longer."

Remembering Draco's father, Ameros shook his head and snorted. Lucius had hardly bothered keeping his own dalliances with either sex private.

"How'd he take it?" Blaise asked.

"About as well as you'd expect. Horrified. And 'How dare I even consider not marrying to carry on the Family Name?'" He snorted. "Like we have a family name left to pass on… At least with Harry…well…There will be something to pass on…"

Blaise glanced at Potter, and for just a moment there, Ameros could see a clash of wills between them, but then it was gone. He glanced down to Blaise's wrist, where the edge of the snapdragon peeked out from under the cuff of his shirt, and suddenly the flower's meaning became clear.

"So…what were you thinking for your art?" he asked them, not wanting a fight to break out in the Shoppe. He wasn't sure if the wards would prevent a lovers' tiff.

Draco seemed to notice the tension as well, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "This was what we agreed to. Right, Harry?"

"Hm?" Finally, he looked away from Blaise, and towards his lover. "Oh…right. Yeah. Nothing fancy, but…"

Blaise took the parchment, then made a face. "Is this all? Are you sure?"

Ameros looked at the drawings. Certainly, the tattoos wouldn't be as complex as Blaise's, but there was a lovely symmetry to them. There were two line-drawings, one of a dragon biting its tail—the Ouroboros, if Ameros recalled the name correctly, and the other a firebird—or perhaps a phoenix, doing the same from the opposite direction.

"I wouldn't exactly call that uncomplicated, Blaise," he said. "And if we add colour…"

"No colour," Draco said. "Though if you want to play with the lines, you're more than welcome to do so. Just…black. The simplicity will make them…match."

Ameros smiled. "I think we can manage that. Want them done at the same time? I think Blaise can manage one of you while I take the other, if you like?"

Potter didn't look like he approved of that idea too much, but Blaise cut him off before he could argue the idea. "I can do your tattoo while Ameros works on Draco. All right?" It was only when Potter calmed at the suggestion that it occurred to Ameros what Potter had thought would happen, and rolled his eyes.

"Sounds good. Right, Harry?"

"Hm. I guess."

"And which side did you want them on…?" Blaise began to write down the details, and Ameros moved to the workroom to ready it for two clients at once. Later, he would swear he had an inkling that these two might be a bonding, given who they were, and how long they'd apparently been circling one another, but few believed him when he mentioned it.

The couple settled in the chairs set up for them, their hips bared and prepped for the tattoos, and reached across the gap between them to hold each other's hands. It should have been a short session. The tattoos weren't too complex, even with the thickened lines of the designs they'd chosen. It should have gone like any other tattoo session. But it didn't.

Blaise was so busy chattering away, that he missed the first sign. The moment the needle touched Draco's skin, Potter let out a soft gasp, but Blaise didn't notice until his own needle pierced Harry's hip, and Draco moaned softly. The pair looked at each other, wide-eyed, and Blaise glanced at Ameros, who shook his head to tell him, 'Not now.'

Bending back to the phoenix he was marking into Draco's skin, Ameros did his best to ignore as the tendrils of lust began to brush over him, causing need to curl in his belly. Apparently Draco was rather vocal, as he didn't bother stifling his reactions, and even pulled Potter's hand to his mouth, nibbling and sucking at his fingers and causing him to gasp.

Ameros smirked when he saw Blaise shift in his seat, and stopped for a moment to see his reaction. The room was humming with hunger now, and he could see the bulge in Blaise's trousers, smirking wider when he saw him trying to adjust himself surreptitiously.

Soon, though, the magic grew too strong to find much amusement in it. The handful of times Ameros had felt this before had been nothing like this. It was like being caught in the mating dance of a firestorm and a tornado, and all he could do was hold on tight. He knew that nothing could stop this until the tattoos were finished. He couldn't help but be glad the pair had chosen such simple tattoos. There had been one couple whose tattoos had taken nearly thirty-six hours, and they'd barely managed to eat or drink anything during that time because all three of them had been unable to stop touching each other.

Draco and Potter couldn't seem to stop touching each other now, and Ameros was hard-pressed to keep his mind on the task at hand, and had to clear his throat constantly to concentrate. Not to mention how much Draco kept moving. Maybe they should invest in chairs with straps…

Once he managed to finish the outline, Ameros stood to get them all a quick drink, and found himself with his arms full of a very aroused Blaise. "What…?" Blaise tried to ask between kisses, the sound of Draco's rising moans filling the room.

"Later," he whispered between kisses, his hand stroking down Blaise's back of it's own accord to squeeze his arse. "Let's…get this over with."

Blaise seemed to consider that for a moment, then kissed him again and nodded. "All right. But don't think I'll forget…"

Ameros chuckled at that. He doubted any of them would forget this any time soon. He gave Blaise a pat on the arse. "Go separate them. We've still a lot of work to do before they're done." He turned away and went to the water pitcher, glad of the cool liquid as he swallowed a gulp, then filled three glasses and returned to the work space, where Blaise was arguing with Draco about his being on Potter's lap.

"Then I'll move my leg so it's out of your way…"

"Ameros needs to be able to get at your hip, too, Draco. And with you like this…it just won't work. Go back to your chair. Now."

Draco huffed, about to argue more, when Potter cut in. "He's right, Draco. It's not too much longer. And then…" He looked at Draco, eyes intense. "We'll go home."

Draco met his eyes, then smirked. "And fuck like bunnies?"

Potter's voice was husky when he answered, and Ameros saw him shift his hips forward to grind against Draco's. "Yes."

The pair snogged for a long minute before Potter pulled back, his eyes still dark. "Now be a good boy so we can go home sooner rather than later."

Draco smirked again, then nodded, rising slowly from Potter's lap, then shooting Blaise a look before returning to his own seat. Yes, they definitely needed to invest in straps.

It was harder to keep Draco still now. Not that Ameros could blame him. He had to stop every few minutes just to breathe, and the way Potter was looking at him now each time he leaned in to work on the tattoo on Draco's hip made the battle of wills between he and Blaise earlier pale to insignificance.

He couldn't say he blamed him. If the two hadn't been a pair, he'd likely have already propositioned Draco, even if for no other reason than to see Lucius's reaction when he found out who his son had slept with. Not that there weren't plenty of other reasons to want him. Those pink lips that he kept licking, making them even more pink, not to mention swollen and edible. And the curve of his arse revealed by how low his trousers had been pulled to allow Ameros to do his tattoo… Not to mention all that pale, pale unmarked skin… It made Ameros's fingers twitch, just thinking about it.

They managed for another hour before Ameros had to take another break. Better that than snog the boy and have Potter finish the job the Aurors had failed at the first time… Blaise managed to keep working, though. How he managed, Ameros couldn't understand, but he wasn't about to complain, if it kept Draco in his chair. He brought more water for the rest of them, letting his fingers trace along the curve of Blaise's spine before going back to his own chair, determined to finish the job. None of them would be able to keep this up much longer.

By the time he'd finished, they'd had to push the chairs closer together to let them snog, or Draco would have climbed right out of his and into Potter's lap. Ameros swore that he could see the tendrils of magic curling around both men, and the feeling was so intense that he was sure he could come with a touch now.

"Blaise," he croaked, clearing his throat before continuing. "Could you…take Draco out to deal with the payment…?" They needed to get these two apart, and he was pretty sure being alone himself with Draco right now would be a very bad idea.

"What?" Blaise looked more confused than anything else, but the other two looked distinctly upset at the idea.

"No…I want to stay here…"

"I don't want him alone with Draco!" Potter snarled over them both, trying to rise to his feet.

Ameros placed a hand on his shoulder, and felt a shock of magic flow through him. "Blaise knows better. Don't you, Blaise?" Ameros asked him, his own voice a low growl as he met those greener-than-green eyes Potter was so famous for.

"Uh…yeah. Promise, Potter. I won't touch him. We'll be fine." He could hear the surprise in Blaise's voice, but he couldn't take the time to reassure him right now. The magic was getting too strong. He wasn't sure how bad it might get, but he definitely didn't want to find out.

It took another moment before Potter nodded, then sank into his seat once more. "We'll be right out, Blaise," Ameros told him, the tone of his voice a warning not to try anything when they were out of sight. He took Blaise's stool, and picked up the needle he'd been working with, then began inking where Blaise had left off.

He could feel the magic fade a little when they left the room. It was still tangible, and stronger than any bonding force he'd felt in the past, but it was almost tolerable now. He finished the inking as quick as he could while still being neat about it, then turned away to clean everything up. "Go on. They're waiting for you." He wasn't sure he could stand being in the room with the two of them any more, and wondered how long it would take for them to come out of the cloud of lust hovering around them now.

He was chuckling about what would happen when they walked through Diagon Alley to get to the Apparition point when he felt Blaise press against his back.

"They're gone. Are you going to tell me what that was all about now?" he asked, even as he nibbled at Ameros's neck.

Ameros turned and pulled Blaise close. "You couldn't tell?" he asked, grinning.

"If I could, I wouldn't have asked, now, would I? What? Some sort of lust spell?"

"Bonding," Ameros smirked. "Seems your friend there found his perfect mate."

Blaise looked shocked. "You weren't kidding? I mean…I thought you'd made that up."

"Nope. Now…are you going to come upstairs with me, or do I have to rip off your clothes and ravish you right here?" he asked with a growl, sliding his hand under the waistband of Blaise's trousers.

Blaise laughed, then kissed him, pressing his cock to Ameros's hip. "I'd be offended if you didn't," he said with a grin. "But since you asked…maybe a bed is better for those poor old bones of yours?" He pulled away, and grinned when Ameros swiped at his arse in passing, then led the way upstairs.

Grinning to himself as he followed him upstairs, Ameros decided that perhaps they'd take a day off tomorrow. After all, they'd earned it.