Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own Harry Potter. That's okay with me though. What I'm sad about is the fact that I don't own Severus Snape. /pouts/ However, the idea for the story belongs to me, and if you steal it, I will do awful things to you. So don't.

A/N: I know what you're all thinking, but screw you and the horse you rode in on. About What They Didn't Tell Him, I started the next chapter on my computer at school, so I can't write it at home. As for the others, I have no excuse. Muahaha.

Caution: Thar be tattoos and demons and convenient plot twists ahead.

Special thanks to Neon Leprechaun, one of my bestest friends ever, for coming up with the Madam Hooch idea. You rock my frickin' socks Neon, dear. /blows kiss/

It was the summer after seventh year, a swelteringly hot season, that Harry got the tattoo. He hadn't planned on getting a tattoo, hadn't even contemplated the idea ever, at all. It had always seemed too tough a thing for him to do. Sure, he was the savior of the wizarding world, and sure, that was a tough thing to do; he just didn't think he was the black-leather-biker tough that was required for one to get a tattoo.

He hadn't even known there was such a thing as a wizards tattoo, let alone that there was a parlour placed at a convenient location in Knockturn Alley.

However, there was a tattoo parlour placed conveniently in Knockturn Alley.

Harry was wandering around Diagon Alley, bored, when he noticed he was near the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Suddenly, the day wasn't looking so boring anymore. Darting his eyes around to see if anyone was paying particular attention to him, Harry sidled towards the infamous alley. He slipped in unseen and then pulled the hood of his cloak over his face. There was really no need to alert anyone to the fact that Harry Potter was in a relatively bad part of town.

He stalked along, waiting for something to catch his eye. A bookstore, the wizard equivalent of a pawn shop, what looked suspiciously like a brothel…

And then he saw it.

A sign proclaimed that the dirty, shack-like building was 'Larry's Magickal Inke Shoppe.' There were more pieces of parchment hanging in the grime-covered windows that showed the artistic talent of Larry. They were surprisingly good. His interest piqued, Harry crossed over to the shop and hesitantly pushed open the door. A bell clanged half-heartedly in the bowels of the back rooms and a muttered curse answered it. "Be there in a second! For the love of Merlin don't steal anything!"

Harry smiled a bit and wandered around the shop.

Though the outside had been almost enough to discourage Harry from even entering, the inside was hospital-clean. The wooden floors shone with wax and the walls were freshly painted. There were more paintings on the walls, and, surprisingly enough—to Harry, at least—some of them were moving. He assumed—correctly—that it was some sort of magical paint.

By a small register near a door presumably leading to the back of the shop there was a sign saying that a normal inking cost 15 galleons, a 'magickal' would be about 28 galleons, and an original design in 'magickal inke' would cost a whopping 50 galleons. Harry thought this was a bit steep, but he figured that since Larry couldn't spell, it came to reason that he couldn't do math properly either.

"Hello there, Customer!" said a cheery voice.

Harry turned around and smiled at the tall, bald, mustached man. "Hello," he said and stuck out his hand.

As they shook, the man looked him over. "I'm Larry, and you are Harry Potter! Pleasure to meet you! What can I do you for?"

"I was wandering outside when I saw your sign. You have amazing art!" Harry exclaimed.

"Why thank you, Mr. Potter! I'm glad to see someone around here can appreciate real art! But I'm sure you didn't just mosey on in here to compliment me. You'd like a tattoo?"

"I guess I would. It says that you do requests…?" Harry trailed off.

"Why sure I do! If you can think it, I can draw it! Now, what were you thinking of? And normal or magical?" Larry led Harry through a door and into a back room.

"Well, can you do a Grim?" The thought had hit Harry almost immediately after seeing the sign. Wouldn't it be a great idea to get a tattoo in honor of Sirius?

Larry stopped leading Harry to a chair and turned to eye him. "A Grim, eh? Why would you want one of those on you?"

Harry tried to think up a plausible excuse and was at a loss.

"Never mind, never mind! Not my business to know. I'm just the inker! Just so long as you're careful. Now, sit down and tell me where you'd like it!"

Harry sat. "I thought maybe on my arm, here." Harry pointed to his left bicep.

"The arm, the arm, excellent choice. Magical or normal ink? You know of course that magical is extra, along with the original design?"

"Yes, I saw the sign out front. I'd like the magical ink, please."

"You want to draw it out or anything or would ya like me to just go at it?" Larry asked?

Harry rolled up the sleeve of his robe and gestured at his arm with a flourish. "Be my guest."

Larry grinned and grabbed his wand. "I'm not gonna lie to you: This will hurt. Muggle tattooing ain't no vacation, but this uses magic, so it's a lot more painful. You can scream if you want."

Harry gulped and was rethinking his hasty decision when Larry started. Then he just concentrated on staying conscious.

It was an hour or so later when Harry stumbled from 'Larry's Magickal Inke Shoppe.' He tripped his way to the Floo station and then grabbed a handful of the powder, muttered '12 Grimmauld Place' and stepped into the large communal fireplace.

When he reached home, he felt more ill than ever and ran into the bathroom as quickly as possible. After emptying his stomach three or four times, Harry dragged himself up to his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"Harry! Are you here, my dear boy?" the annoyingly familiar voice got closer as Dumbledore neared Harry's closed bedroom door. "If you don't answer me I'm afraid I'll be forced to knock down your door by force, and I'm sure you don't want that. My old bones couldn't take it!"

Harry moaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a faint thump as it hit, and some muffled surprise from the other side of the door. "Mr. Potter! Don't you dare throw things at me! Now wake up! I am in desperate need of help and you are the only one who can help me!"

Grunting unhappily, Harry heaved himself out of bed. He was a bit surprised when he realized he was still wearing his robes from yesterday, but then a throb from his arm reminded him why. "I'm coming! Don't tie your panties in a knot!"

On the other side of the door Albus chuckled and called, "I'll meet you downstairs! Get cleaned up and we can talk over breakfast."

This seemed like a reasonable idea, so Harry clomped to his adjacent bathroom and took a quick shower. He dried himself off with a quick spell and was pulling on his clothes when a voice stopped him. "What's that? Got a tattoo? Kind of depressing, if you ask me!"

Harry turned to look at the mirror. "Well, no one asked you, now did they? You're just a piece of glass." The mirror pouted.

But this had reminded Harry: He hadn't seen the tattoo yet. Yesterday he'd been in so much pain that he was lucky to have made it to his own home, let alone look at the thing which had caused him such soreness.

It was two or three inches long, and an inch or so wide. It was a dog, obviously, and looked almost identical to that dog that Harry had seen so long ago and mistaken for a Grim. Done in black ink, colored in grey, with bright silver for the eyes, it was vaguely frightening. Especially when it moved. Harry let out a shriek of surprise and banged his head on a low-hanging light-fixture. The Grim had looked at him. Well, he supposed he had gotten his money's worth.

He stared for a bit longer before finally grabbing a black robe and heading downstairs.

Albus was conjuring up scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, toast and coffee as Harry leaped down the stairs, and he handed a plate to Harry before making one up for himself.

"Sit down, Harry, sit down! Eat up, and drink some coffee! You look exhausted. Still mourning Sirius?"

Harry sighed. Why did everyone think he was angsting over Sirius? "No, Professor Dumbledore, I'm fine. I just…er…I sort of got a tattoo yesterday."

"A tattoo? Really? Well, let me see!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

Harry pulled up his sleeve hesitantly. Dumbledore stared expectantly.

"Oh, a Grim, I see…Oh! It just moved! Magical then."

"Yes. I got it at a place called 'Larry's Magickal Inke Shoppe."

"Yes, I know Larry. He was a Hufflepuff. Those Hufflepuffs get all the artistic talent, you know…But be careful, Harry. There's a reason magical ink costs so much—and not just because it moves. Sometimes the tattoos…come alive. Just a bit. Especially if they come from memories. A powerful burst of magic could be enough to do it…"

"Really?" said Harry, who was not very interested, "Well, what did you want to talk about, Professor?"

"What? Oh yes! I was wondering if you would be interested in a job at Hogwarts. Madam Hooch has, unfortunately, died in a fiery broom accident. Would you care to fill the position?"

"A fiery broom accident? How did that happen?"

"No one knows, really. So, would you like the job?"

Harry had been getting tired of living all alone. And he was bored all the time… "Sure, Professor. When would you like me to start?"

Dumbledore smiled happily. "Today, if you could. But the flying post has only two classes a day, five days a week. Quite an easy load, considering the fact that you don't even have to grade papers! Of course, it would be kind if you were to take on the Quidditch coaching, also…"

Harry sighed and nodded.

"Excellent! I'll expect you in my office by dinner. Pack up, then apparate to Hogsmeade and walk to the school. See you then!" Dumbledore stood up and apparated out of the house. Harry frowned. He shouldn't have been able to do that. But he was the second most powerful wizard in the world, now the Voldemort was gone. Harry, of course, was the first. He could apparate out of anywhere. He could probably even apparate straight into Hogwarts if he wanted.

He had finished gathering together everything he had needed when he realized he had no trunk. His old school one had been loaned off to Neville (who had destroyed his in seventh year), and he'd never bothered to get a new one.

But there had to be one lying around.

Harry trumped around the house before remembering the attic. There would definitely be one there.

After a few moments of trying to leap up and reach the string which pulled down the steps leading to the attic, Harry admitted defeat and, scowling at his short stature, went and got his wand.

A spell or two later and the steps clanked down to meet the floor. Harry climbed up and muttered 'Lumos' before looking around. Boxes, boxes and more boxes. But there had to be one up here…There!

Grinning, Harry climbed his way over to the old chest, coughing as he threw up dust. "Thought you'd gotten away from me, did you? Ha-ha, but I found you!" Harry said, and threw up the top.

He peered inside.

Empty. …Except, was it? There was something at the bottom…A little brooch.

Harry reached in and grabbed it.

There was a flash of violet light.

Harry let out a screech of pain and threw away the ornament.

Unseen, under the sleeve of Harry's robe, the Grim tattoo jerked and let out a small cry, almost like the scream a new-born will make when first entering the world.

"Shit that hurt!" cried Harry. He glowered into the gloomy recesses of the attic, but couldn't locate the thrown brooch. 'Oh well,' he thought, 'at least I found a trunk.'

He grabbed the trunk and dragged it downstairs before throwing his belongings into it.

He did not notice the whisp of smoke the rose up from after the brooch burned, nor the small, black inverted pentagram smoldering on the wood.

As he was straightening up he caught sight of the clock. 'Crap! It's almost dinner time at Hogwarts!'

Grabbing hold of one of the rings on the sides of the trunk, Harry apparted out of 12 Grimmauld Place.

When he appeared in Hogsmeade, the streets were mostly empty; most witches and wizards were inside eating their supper. Levitating his trunk in front of him, Harry sprinted towards the Hogwarts gates.

By the time he got there, Harry was out of breath and cursing under what little breath he had left.

"At least I'll make a dramatic entrance…" he murmured to himself before clanking open the gates and stepping back onto Hogwarts ground.

In the Great Hall dinner had just started and Albus was getting a bit worried. He turned to Severus—conveniently seated on his left side—and said, "I told Harry to get here by dinner. Whatever could be taking him so long?"

Severus scowled at being interrupted during his dinner and turned to glare properly at the headmaster. "How the hell should I know? And, more importantly, why the hell should I care?"

"Oh Severus, we all know you fancy the boy! But where could he be? I wonder if some Black relic has killed him…"

A faint pink tinge touched the potions master's cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about. I certainly do not fancy Harry-bloody-Potter! And even if I did," he hissed, "how dare you mention it during dinner!"

Albus let out a merry chuckle. "Don't be silly, my boy! Everyone knows that you've had a crush on Harry since his seventh year!"

The teachers—who had up until then been listening unobtrusively—nodded. Even a few of the students at the nearest tables looked up and, grinning, nodded. Severus' scowl deepened. "Oh, go to hell, the lot of you!"

Harry pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, effectively ending Severus' very own personal hell.

He was not, however, amused when a twinkling Dumbledore elbowed him in the ribs and said, "Aren't you happy, Severus? You lady—though, in this case, I suppose it would be lord—fair is come! Smile! Look happy! I'll seat him next to you so you can chat him up!"

Severus groaned and slammed his head into his head before muttering to Albus. "If you say anything to alert Potter to my…romantic views on him, I will personally go out and buy a Muggle gun to shoot you with. Do I make myself clear?"

Albus just smiled knowingly at him. "As you wish, my dear."

Then he stood up and opened his arms dramatically, "On behalf of all the Hogwarts student and staff, welcome home, Mr. Potter."

Harry had been back at Hogwarts for two months when it happened.

He was showing a first year how to properly mount a broom when there was suddenly a foreign voice in his head. 'Stupid little brat! Little mudblood wants to learn how to fly, does he? I'll teach him how to fly!' And Harry had a vision of grabbing the boy, flying straight up, and then dropping him.

It was so odd and abrupt that for a moment Harry actually wondered if he was the one who thought it.

But then he realized.

The voice had been Sirius.

A week after the first time he had heard the voice, Harry was skulking around campus late at night, trying to figure out where the hell Sirius' voice had come from, when he ran into someone.

Severus had also been skulking around campus—though of course he would never call it skulking—thinking about Harry, actually, when he ran into someone.

Surprisingly enough, it was not each other they ran into.

McGonagall gave Harry one look and then dragged him off to the library, asking what it was that had happened, and when, and what kinds of books did he think it could be solved under?

Harry, after trying to fend off her questions, gave in and told her about the tattoo, what Dumbledore had told him, the brooch, and, finally, the murderous voice of Sirius which had filled his head.

"Oh," said McGonagall, "I don't really need a book for that, now do I? Albus was right, of course, as he usually is. The brooch must have been magical, obviously, and filled with some old Black curse. When you touched it, it 'activated' your tattoo. Because Sirius was the only Black you ever met, it only makes sense that it is his voice you hear. As for the murderous intent of the tattoo, well, it seems that the other Black 'ghosts,' I suppose you could call them, entered the tattoo. Luckily for you, I know a spell to change the tattoo, at least a bit."

Harry tried to digest all this as she performed a spell over his arm. There was a sigh of light, but it was gone before Harry even had time to register the color.

"There," said McGonagall in a satisfied tone, "glad that's done! You might still get a whisper here and there, but it definitely won't be as strong as it was before. Unless you get the tattoo removed, though, you'll always get the voice."

"Thanks.." said Harry, rubbing his arm through the robe.

"No problem, Mr. Potter. Now, I have to get back to my quarters. Albus is expecting me…" she said, with such a tiny hint of suggestiveness in it that Harry wondered if he'd even heard it. "I'm spending the night there," she continued, and Harry blinked and shuddered a bit. "You know…" she said, "I'm sure Severus would be happy if you were to spend the night with him…"

Harry continued to blink. "…What?"

"You don't know? Oh for heaven's sakes, Potter! You mean to say that over the past two months you have not noticed the way Severus stares at you?"

When Harry shook his head she threw up her hands. "Merlin! Listen to me, Harry. Severus fancies you. Heaven knows why, but he does. You fancy Severus."

Harry blushed and started to protest. "No—"

"Don't you lie to me! Whenever Severus isn't staring at you, you're staring at him! And I'm not the only one who's noticed. As we speak Albus is talking some sense into Severus."

"But I don't—"

"Silence! Now, you get out there and you walk around until you find Severus, and then you talk, do you hear me?"

Harry nodded and stalked out of the library.

As they spoke, Severus was indeed being talked to by Dumbledore.

"—I've told you before Albus, do not meddle n my life! Potter does not have feelings for me, so leave it!"

Dumbledore just smiled that infuriating little smile. "My boy, if you did not have your head so far up your ass, you would realize that the boy is as enamored of you as you are of him."

Severus gaped at the headmaster. "Did you just say…"

"Yes. Now listen to me. In a few moments Harry is going to walk right this way. You will stay here, and you will talk to him. Do you hear me?"

"Wait! Did you give Potter the job just to…get us together!" Snape exclaimed

"No. Mostly, but not all. I needed a flying instructor. Now, I shall make my exit. Stay!" Dumbledore ordered.

Severus knew that tone of voice. He stayed.

Harry was stomping his way back to his rooms, blatantly ignoring McGonagall's orders when he ran into something. Again.

"Son of a gun!" he yelled.

"What the hell!" yelled the other person.

This Harry had run into Severus.

"Er…oh, hello." said Harry when he realized who he had crashed into.

"…Hello." replied Severus.

"I was just…going back to my rooms. Minerva stopped me." Harry said, eyeing Severus to see what sort of reaction he would get.

Severus, guessing just what kind of things Minerva had been likely to tell Harry, felt himself blush.

"Yes…Albus just finished talking to me."

Harry blushed, too.

There was a not-quite-awkward moment of silence.

"…Would you like to join me in my rooms for a piece of cake?" Harry asked.

Severus jerked and turned to meet Harry's eyes. "…Alright."

A month or two after their first evening in Harry's room, sharing a chocolate cake, they were in Severus' room, amiably complaining about the students.

"—Longbottom had nothing on this boy. He's a complete disaster! He single-handedly destroyed six of my cauldrons today! Six! Is that normal, I ask you? Is it even possible?"

Harry laughed and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. Amazingly enough, he liked these evenings spent with Severus. After dinner and an hour or so of grading, one would appear at the other's door and they would spend the rest of the night sitting in front of a fire and talking, or even reading. It was crazy.

Looking over the rim of his glass, Harry took a moment to stare at Severus. His features were animated, happy even, and his hair was highlighted beautifully by the light from the fire.

A phrase from an old song half drifted through Harry's head. 'And I think to myself, what a wonderful world…'

He smiled at his own silliness and then took another drink. Of course it was a wonderful world. He had money, food, drink, a job, and most importantly, he was in—

Wait. What?

He was in love.

'Dear God,' he thought to himself, 'I'm in love? With who?'

The answer came so quickly, Harry was surprised that he hadn't realized it before.

Severus.

'' thought Harry.

Then suddenly, insidiously, 'That's sick. You're sick. You're in love with Snivellus? There's no way in hell I could ever be the godfather of someone in love with greasy, slimy, ugly, Snivellus.'

'But,' thought Harry, 'There's nothing wrong with Severus…Is there?'

The voice answered. 'Of course there is. You don't like him. You certainly don't love him. Do you? No. No. No. No. NO!'

"Harry, are you alright? You don't look well."

Harry jerked out of his thoughts and turned to Snape. "I'm fine. I just feel a bit ill. You should go."

Severus looked surprised. "Okay…I'll see you tomorrow. If you feel worse, come find me and I'll give you a potion." He smiled. Harry loved it when Severus smiled. ('No you don't. You hate his smiles. Make him leave. NOW.').

"Yes. Goodbye."

Severus' smile wavered, and then fell. "Goodbye…"

Harry felt his aloofness falter. 'No. Let him go.'

He let Snape leave.

Albus Dumbledore was worried. "Minerva, what do you think is wrong? Things were going along so nicely! Harry and Severus were spending time together every night! I was sure that they would soon become a couple! Now they hardly speak! What could have happened?"

Minerva looked at Albus. "I'm not sure…But Severus has been attacking his students verbally like never before and Harry…"

"Yes," said Albus, "Harry has been acting like a monster. Teasing the students, picking on Slytherins, pulling pranks! If it wasn't for the fact that he's been studiously ignoring Severus, I would say it's just like Sirius Black was back at Hogwarts."

Harry was sitting on a broomstick, two-hundred feet or so above the ground, having an internal battle.

'Go and get Snivellus. Hurt him beat him humiliate him kill him.'

'No…Leave him alone. Leave Severus alone.'

'Killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill—'

'Leave him alone!'

'No. It's not fair. I'm dead and he's not. He should be dead! IT'S NOT FAIR!'

'JUST SHUT UP! Leave Severus alone!'

'KILL HIM!'

Time had passed. It was now three weeks since Harry had fought against the murderous intent of his tattoo. If it wasn't so terrifying, Harry would have laughed.

But he couldn't laugh. He couldn't feel anything. All his strength was internal, keeping the scarily-Sirius-like tattoo from killing Severus.

He felt nothing.

Severus, meanwhile, could feel. He'd felt his previously thawed heart cracking, preparing to break. And if it didn't hurt so much, he would have laughed at his weakness. He knew something was wrong with Harry.

He also knew that Albus and Minerva were aware of it.

He was tired of their pitying eyes.

He wished that Harry would come back.

'—if you don't kill him, I'll leave. Forever. Do you really want this last link to me gone?'

'No, but—'

'Then kill him!'

'I don't want to kill him!'

'Then maybe I should leave.'

'Yes, maybe you should.'

There was a shocked silence from the tattoo. Harry felt a little of his old self seep through and smiled, just a bit.

'Now come on, don't be like that…Just kill him. It wouldn't be that hard! The stupid git loves you! You could walk right into his quarters and Avada kedavra his greasy head off. …Maybe it would be better to torture him a bit first though.'

Harry was tired from holding Sirius back for so long; his magical resources were almost gone, in fact. Perhaps he might have finally broken down and let Sirius do anything he wanted to Severus—

--But.

But Sirius said that Severus loved him.

Love.

Love has started wars, but it has stopped more than it has begun.

It was a bad idea on demon-Sirius' part.

'Love?' Harry asked.

Maybe demon-Sirius sensed a little of this, for he tried to stop Harry. 'No, of course not. I was just—'

'No. You said love. And it's true. He loves me. And…' Harry gathered up what little strength was left to him and pushed. '…And I love him.'

There was a brief, strangled half-scream from the thing that had masqueraded as Sirius, and then it was gone.

Harry was free.

Epilogue, of Sorts

"Lovely to see the two of them finally together." sighed Minerva.

"Yes, good to know that Harry could get rid of that Black-demon. Who knows what would have happened to Harry if he'd given in and killed Severus." said Albus.

"Who indeed?" replied Minerva.

As for Harry and Severus, they ignored the chattering of the other teachers as best they could.

"You know of course that I love you?" asked Severus.

"I was quite hoping, yes." smiled Harry.

"Have you gotten rid of that bloody tattoo yet?"

"Yesterday, as a matter of fact. Larry said he thought I'd be back. He knew a Grim was a bad idea. Attracts all sorts of nasty things."

"Too bad you never showed it to Minerva. She would have made you gotten it removed."

"She never asked to see it," Harry said, "Besides, I don't see why I was expected to know that Grim's attract demons! I was Muggle-raised, for heaven's sake!"

"Just be glad the demon from that brooch didn't win. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"What, alive?" Harry asked.

"No, with me."

Harry smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Severus was quite happy to give it.

A/N: ...Wow. That was pretty weird, eh? Yeah. Well, I really like the beginning, but after Harry invites Snape back to his place for cake, I kind of think it goes downhill. I'm not good at writing romance.

Also, for the part about the inverted pentragram being a sign of the demon, don't go all new-age freaky on me, people. If you're Wiccan/Wicca/Witch/Some other thing starting with a 'W', don't flame me just because of that, mkay? I once considered becoming Wiccan, so I know all about it, and I know it's not Satanism. But I Wikipediad demon symbols, and all it really gave me was inverted pentagrams and inverted crosses. So don't be an idiot. Okay? Okay.

Now that I'm done ranting, what did you think? Was it way too stupid? Did it confuse you? Because I wrote it all in about two-three hours, includuing revisions, so I'm not really sure.

...The epilogue annoys me. It's so lame. It amuses me how cliche the 'Snape has always had a crush on Harry' part was. I was just too lazy to make Snape come around. I wanted to get this mother out today.

Are you happy Neon Leprechaun, dear? I love you too. /smirks/ Ezachtly man, ezachtly. ...Sorry.