This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Word Count: 2251
Title: Friendships Forged In Ink
Note: Stand-alone sequel to The Show Must Go On (in which I created this OC). Harry's behaviour in hugging a practical stranger is based on my headcanon that Harry wants to help everyone, that's why he hugged her during Snape's funeral.
Warnings: partial nudity, prejudice against Purebloods, slightly suggestive content.
Beta: DarylDixon'sgirl1985, Claude Amelia Song, Ebenbild, Katie Alden
International Wizarding School Competition:
[School]: Durmstrang
[Prompts]:
Main: [Character] Original character
Additional: [Object] Dragon tattoo
[Theme]: Write about a character forgiving someone who wronged them.
[Position] Exchange 1, Year 2
[Special Rule] Durmstrang: A pure-blood
Of course, it was hard going back to school when all around me, I was faced with reminders of our individual and collective losses. The castle had been in shambles...I found it shocking they had even managed to restore it in time. Well, it is a magical castle, I shouldn't be too shocked. Of course, fifth year was going to be a scary adventure, and none of the final year Slytherins returned. I couldn't blame them, our entire house's honour was called into question. I for one was still a little offended by the way our new Headmistress had cast all Slytherins into the darkness, quite literally, during the war. But in a way, I understood. After all, it was after Pansy Parkinson's remark that she'd sent us to the dungeons.
I wiped my blonde hair out of my face and focused my grey eyes on the building in the distance. Over the summer, during the few times I'd come to try and help renovate the castle, I'd learnt that Thestrals were the creatures that carried our carriages to Hogwarts, not magic. I cannot believe that we'd never been told before. So many of my peers could see them now, it hardly seems fair. I wished I could see them too. Not because I wanted to see death, not in that sense, but I would have liked to have had the choice to fight. I regret that it had been taken from me. I was really sad and disappointed, to be unable to help fight against the biggest terrorist our kind had ever known, to be able to help and make a change. Why? Because I am just Bree Tanner, silly little Slytherin girl, focused on ambition and obsessed with lineage. Sometimes, labels really suck, and even more so people who help create the labels for us.
I sighed, and the Gryffindor girl in the compartment eyed me curiously.
"What do they look like?" I asked her. "The Thestrals."
"Are you mocking me?" she asked defensively, narrowing her brown eyes at me.
"No," I said simply. But I didn't expect her to believe me, so I turned my head to look at the castle in the distance, growing larger as we approached.
I thought back to what happened at the end of last year, after the war was freshly won and I found myself at the funeral of my former Head of House.
"I'm sorry, I don't know your name, Miss?" Harry asked me, strangely politely.
"Bree Tanner," I replied.
"I'm H…" he started, but I cut him off.
"I know who you are, war hero," I replied. I wasn't sure if my response came off as haughty or awed. I hoped the former.
Potter just nodded and motioned for me to continue talking, I had said I wanted to say something.
"Professor Snape was a courageous man, he didn't appear charming, he clearly favored us above all other houses and was biased against Gryffindors. He was a terrible headmaster," I heard a chuckle from the redhead next to Harry at this.
"But I heard it was a guise because he needed to keep up appearances with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I believe he was a great teacher who put his students first, as much as a Slytherin is allowed to put anyone else first." I stopped talking suddenly. I am not sure what the people thought...please don't cry, please don't cry. Come on, Slytherins don't cry…I wiped my pale hand across my face, horrified at the tears falling from my usually stony blue eyes.
I didn't know what to make of it when I was enclosed in a hug from none other than Harry Potter himself, but I tried not to dwell on it too much after the fact. My hands were shaking when he let me go, my eyes red and bloodshot, but I regained my composure.
"The show must go on," I said, trying to look tougher than my fourteen years.
Sitting in the Great Hall, my eyes wandered over to the Gryffindor table. I could see that the couple of eighth years who had returned were sitting together, chatting seriously about something. I almost turned my head back to my food, but then I saw Potter pause, and look right at me. I broke eye contact, trying to pretend I was interested in my breakfast cereal.
It wasn't long until I felt a looming shadow appear behind me, and I almost jumped. It didn't do for a Slytherin to be caught unawares.
It was Potter.
"Bree Tanner," he said.
"Yes?" I answered, and stood up, trying to look as tall as possible; my size had always been a slight disadvantage.
"I owe you an apology," he said, running a hand through his messy black hair.
"I would say that sounds about right," I replied.
Potter blushed. "Hermione told me you can just go around hugging strangers, even at a funeral."
Professor Snape's funeral didn't play on my mind often; it was over now, we had to go on.
"Especially considering I'm underage, it could be seen as sexual assault," I added. I was winding him up. I was going to forgive him, but it was a good opportunity to get him to help me get the tattoo I wanted. After all, Potter was a good choice. He didn't know of my family, and didn't scare easily. It really was all so simple, a five year old could do it.
"Um, I am really sorry, I just," he stuttered.
"I will think about it," I replied.
"Um, thanks," Potter murmured.
"If you do something for me."
"Anything," Potter agreed eagerly. It was clear he really didn't like being disliked by anyone, even a nobody like me.
"I would have asked Draco, but he um, didn't come back," I said, almost losing my composure for a second. I took a piece of parchment and wrote a classroom and 10 pm on it, handing it over I added, "Come alone, and no funny business."
Potter nodded. But would he show up? Only time would tell, I suppose.
10 pm found me sitting in one of the chairs of the abandoned classroom on the sixth floor, waiting for Potter. I've made sure that everything was ready: enchanted emerald green ink, the dragon stencil for the tattoo which I designed myself, and the tattoo quill.
I wondered for a second if Potter would panic; I knew he was familiar with the Pink Toad's torture quill. This wasn't the same, it would feel like being scratched by a pen, and wouldn't make scars in blood.
I had wanted this dragon tattoo for a long time, and Draco had promised me he would help me this year. With a sigh, I remembered his words. "If we live, kid, I will give you any tattoo you want." But in the end, he hadn't come back. I smiled bitterly. In a way, I hadn't really expected him to return, not after everything that happened with his family.
I was only wearing my robe and underwear, as I wanted the tattoo on my lower back, and of course, I couldn't reach it myself. Despite Potter's lapse in judgment, he seemed like the most honourable person I knew. For a second I let myself wonder what my mother would say. I doubted her words would be very ladylike.
Mrs Julianna Tanner, my dear old mum, was a very impressive Ilvermorny student who had graduated top of her class. She was in the Horned Serpent house. My father was a Slytherin, and the Tanner name was synonymous with a good Pureblood history.
The door creaked open, and I eyed my watch. 10:05 pm.
"You're late," I said instead of greeting him.
"I'm s-" he started but stopped when he spotted my equipment on the nearby table. "What in Merlin's name is that?" I noticed him rub the back of his hand almost automatically.
"Don't panic," I said firmly. "It's just a tattoo quill."
"What's a tattoo quill?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his green eyes at me and walking towards the table.
"After Muggles designed tattoos, Wizards decided to one up them, as we do," I smirked at my inside joke. "Wizards designed tattoo quills, that are used with enchanted ink to tattoo onto skin, as normal quills don't work for that. I have everything here, including the ink and the stencil."
"Where did you get all of this?" he asked me.
"I bought the ink and quill secretly from Marvin's Tattoo Emporium in Hogsmeade and I made the stencil myself."
"You made a stencil?" he asked. I nodded encouragingly.
"Draco promised me he would do it as I mentioned, but he's not here and nobody else is brave enough…"
"Why? What's so scary about you?" he asked, eyeing me up and down. "Are you related to Malfoy? You sure do look alike."
I laughed. "All Pureblood families are, but it would be a couple of generations back," I explained. "Of course you wouldn't know, but the Tanner name is quite intimidating to some."
"So nobody would help you because your parents won't like it?" Potter asked.
"Some people say you're slow, but that's spot on, Potter."
"You can call me Harry," he said suddenly. I thought about it, and considering the position we were in, it seemed a logical choice.
"Okay, Harry," I spoke. "How would be most convenient for you?"
"Where do you want it?" Harry asked, clearly realising the size of the area needed for the beautiful outline of the dragon.
"My lower back," I replied. I saw his face go red.
"Um, lean over the table, I suppose," he muttered.
I lifted my robes facing away from him and leaned over the table. I indicated where the stencil should be placed and felt him gently place it on my lower back.
"Face facing to the right," I added. I was glad I was good at controlling my emotions for the most part, because thinking about having this practical stranger seeing me in my underwear made me slightly nervous, but something about him just longed for me to trust him. Perhaps it was the fact that I've seen the way he treats his friends during our time at school or the fact that I knew he'd sacrificed himself to save everyone back in May, despite him stealing the sunshine from most students by just being born.
As he placed the stencil, goosebumps rose over my skin, and I knew this was it.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. I simply nodded.
"This is for all those who didn't make it," I said suddenly. My honesty was slightly surprising, as I was making myself not only physically, but also emotionally, vulnerable to him.
"I can understand that," he replied in almost a whisper.
"So, just place the quill in the ink, and then trace the lines. Once you are done, remove the stencil, and if it moves, we know the enchantment works."
"That's so cool!" Harry exclaimed with excitement. It was a sudden change on his part, but I was glad. The less nervous he was, the less likely to make mistakes.
"You didn't know tattoos could move?" I laughed a little.
"I grew up with Muggles," he explained.
"I know about your past," I said. "But once you got here, I thought you would want to know everything about our world."
"I suppose tattoos didn't rate very highly on the to-do list," he said with a slight bite.
I felt the slight scratching feeling of the quill on my skin and felt the enchanted ink tracing the lines of my art. Harry had gone quiet, so I let him focus.
"Almost there, Bree," he said, what felt like hours later. "If I can call you Bree, that is," he stuttered.
I chuckled. "Sure."
Once he finished, he slowly removed the stencil. When he gasped, I knew it had worked. In addition, I could feel the dragon tattoo moving, lifting his head as if to strike at Harry.
I grabbed my wand, enchanting a piece of the wall of the classroom into a mirror to admire my work. Our work, I suppose. We now had a secret, a secret nobody else knew about. It was kind of exciting.
"That's so cool," Harry said in awe, as I stood, dropping my robes to cover my cold skin. "I suppose it doesn't need cleaning or anything? Like a Muggle one?"
I shook my head. "No. It's perfect as it is. I never need to touch it up again."
"You are a really talented artist," Harry said.
"Thank you." I smiled at him and watched his expression change. "What?"
"Your smile reached your eyes."
"You did a good job," I said, trying to play it off.
"So, do you forgive me then?" he asked.
"Yes, I forgive you, I…" I wanted to ask if we could be friends. Would he even want to be? He was older than me and super popular.
"Do you think we could be friends?" Harry asked. For a second, I wonder if he read my mind, or saw it on my face. Regardless, since he asked I didn't need to risk rejection.
"I would like that," I said. Then the two of us left the classroom to go to our respective dormitories and I smiled. I was happy to finally have a confidant. Even if it was Harry Potter. It seemed he wasn't so bad after all.