"Harry Potter, what exactly are you doing in here?" The last person Charlie had expected to see in his favourite tattoo studio was Harry Potter – the Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived.
"Well this is a tattoo studio, so I'm obviously buying a new pair of shoes." Harry was pulling his jumper sleeve down over the bandage on his wrist – a sure sign that he'd just had some work done.
Charlie laughed, still confused about why Harry was here, "Never seen you as the type for a tattoo, surely the Prophet would've reported it?"
"After this many years of managing the Prophet, I've learned a few tricks of the trade." Harry winked, the casual gesture seeming somehow…flirty.
"So, do I get to see what you've got?"
"Maybe…depends if you play your cards right."
That had been three months ago, and although Charlie and Harry had been fucking since then and he'd had the chance to examine each and every one of Harry's pieces in detail, Charlie still had no idea what any of them meant.
Tonight, he was determined to find out.
"No." Harry always gives the same answer, not even explaining why he won't discuss his tattoos.
"Why not?" Charlie is sitting up against the headboard of his bed, Harry lying naked and – literally – shagged out at his side. He lights a cigarette with the tip of his wand, passing it to Harry without needing to be asked – three months of screwing have taught him some things about his younger lover, after all.
"Because."
Charlie feels a twinge of annoyance at this, and abandons the cigarette he had been lighting in favour of rolling over onto Harry's body, holding himself up on his forearms to avoid crushing the lean man under his brute weight.
"C'mon, it's not exactly likely I'm gonna go running off to the Daily Prophet. Or don't you trust me?"
"Why are you so interested in knowing?" Harry blows out his cigarette smoke in a dense cloud, eyes not meeting Charlie's as he shifts under his weight.
"Because I told you what mine are about – this is tit for tat," Charlie grins wickedly, "well, sort of."
Harry's eyes roam across the decorated expanse of flesh above him, eyes lingering on the dragons, the flames, the names. When he finally looks straight into Charlie's eyes there is hesitancy on his face, but a spark of trust in his eyes. Charlie wastes no time in making use of that:
"Tell me," he murmurs, bringing his face close to Harry's, "tell me, please."
The fact that Charlie so rarely says 'please' makes this moment a poignant one for both of them.
"Well, I think this one's pretty self-explanatory." Harry says, running a finger over his chest, where a double-banner is inked right over his heart, 'James' and 'Lily' written in beautiful cursive.
"It was the first, just after the war. I wanted something to remind me of them; something permanent…I know they're always with me, but still…"
Pressing his advantage, Charlie moves on quickly: "What was next?"
"I didn't want anything that'd be hard to cover up, so I went with this one." Harry pulls himself up slightly and motions to his shoulder blade, allowing Charlie to again examine the perfectly-inked image of a Snitch with fluttering wings, magically enchanted to be constantly in motion.
"Playing Quidditch…it was the first time I really felt like I was part of the Wizarding world."
Charlie nods; he could understand how the experience of flying for the first time – of truly being alive – would have made Harry know where he belonged.
"And this?" Charlie touches the tattoo on Harry's right bicep – a chess knight, with 'More Important Things…' in looping writing beneath it.
"The knight's for Ron, the words are Hermione's."
"So what does it mean?"
"Ron always talks himself down, so I got this one to remind him of what he's capable of. Part of why me and Hermione care about him so much." Charlie doesn't comment, he knows how complicated the relationship between the three of them is, has a clear understanding of how deep that relationship goes – that unspoken understanding that allows him to be okay with those secret looks and little touches between Harry, Ron and Hermione. Allows him to not ask what they do when Harry spends the night at their place, and to be okay with what he suspects it is.
"And what about Hermione's bit? Why did you get those words?"
"It's something she said to me back in our first year at Hogwarts; after she said I was a great wizard, and I pointed out I wasn't as good as her: 'books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery.'" Harry shrugs, "I doubt she remembers now, but it really stuck with me."
Charlie nods slowly, thinking of all that everybody has gone through, of how much friendship and bravery meant to all of them in those dark, desperate days of the war.
"This one needs no explanation," Charlie murmurs, rubbing a hand over the Hogwarts crest on Harry's chest, the only colour tattoo in his collection.
"It's my favourite place in the world," Harry shrugs again, "I considered getting a picture of the castle, but the tattoo artist said to get the details in he'd have to take up my entire back, and I didn't want to have it somewhere I couldn't see it." Harry strokes the Gryffindor lion stalking across Charlie hip – in this tattoo's meaning, they are utterly united.
In response, Charlie caresses the tattoo that runs down Harry's leg – 'Until The Very End' "So, is this one another Hogwarts thing; 'Gryffindor until the end' or something?"
Harry's eyes have become vaguely unfocused, looking into the middle distance even as they are fixed on Charlie's face.
"Not exactly…when I went into the Forest to confront Voldemort…my parents, Sirius, Lupin, they were all there. They said they'd stay with me until the very end, just like everyone did in the war…I needed to commemorate that."
"But, how…?" Charlie wonders if he's been mistaken about Harry, what if the stress of the war really did have some awful effect on his mind?
"It involved some unbelievably complicated magic, I promise to explain it all some time." Harry smiles and his eyes are once again lucid. Charlie files away the moment of doubt he had in the back of his head, resolving to ask Harry another time, not wanting to waste his opportunity to ask about remainder of the tattoos.
He strokes the pad of one thumb over the sensitive inside of Harry's wrist, a light touch across the number inked there, which has confused him since the first time he saw it.
"So what's this about?"
"57…it's the number of people who died in the Battle of Hogwarts, the last stand against Voldemort. The people who died so I could destroy him…I wanted it to be somewhere I would see it every day, so I wouldn't forget…" His voice trails off, as he becomes lost in memories once more. Charlie spots the tears blooming in Harry's eyes, and pulls him flush against his chest, arms tight around him as Harry shakes with silent sobs.
When Harry is no longer trembling and the embrace is comfortable rather than desperate, Charlie takes his chance to ask about the final tattoo:
"So, what about this one?" Charlie runs one calloused finger over the tattoo on the nape of Harry's neck, "I know that Ron and Hermione have the same one, so is it some private thing between you three?"
"Ah, that one," Harry reaches a hand around to rub the symbol – a triangle with a circle at its centre and with a single vertical line bisecting both "now, that one's kind of a long story…"
(N/B I am a massive shipper of Harry/Ron/Hermione – to me it just feels right. I know I'm going to hell.
57 is a very rough estimate of the number of casualties of the Battle of Hogwarts.)