yule_balls_mod (yule_balls_mod) wrote in hp_yule_balls, @ 2008-12-01 12:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2008, character: charlie weasley, character: harry potter, fic, pairing: harry/charlie |
Fic: The Dragon and the Pygmy Puff pt. 2 (Harry/Charlie, NC-17) for softly_sweetly
Author: ciraarana
Recipient: softly_sweetly
Title: The Dragon and the Pygmy Puff
Rating: NC-17
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 as a row with his girlfriend, gets a tattoo, and discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.
Warnings: pitiful first attempts at dirty talk and spanking
Word Count: ~ 30,000
Author's Notes: Dear softly_sweetly, when I read your kink list, this bunny didn’t so much jump at but pounce on me. It beat all other ideas I might have had into submission and insisted it was the best. I hope it was right. The length is courtesy to muse: she kept petting the Pygmy Puff until there was little that’s still pygmy about it (talk about things that grow when you pet them…)
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 manage.’
‘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.
Part three