Needles.
Harry Potter yawned, another day, another early morning. Until he saw the time. Harry cursed, left his breakfast uneaten and dashed off, running through the streets because he was late for work. He always opened his shop at eight precise. Today, for the first time in a good while, he had to hurry. Out of breath, he slid the key in its slot and turned it. He waited patiently for the wired security gate to move up and pushed the glassed door open when the gate had clicked into its place above his head. By the time he clicked the lights on, he had caught his breath and flew over to the desk, where the phone was already ringing.
The place was small. There's the front room, narrow enough that it only took just four steps from the front door to reach the two other doors on the other side. These doors, made of one sided look through glass lead to the backroom and his work space.
All the rooms were done in clinical white. In the front room, Harry had covered the lengthy wall in a disarray of polaroid photo's of his body art work. There were thank-you notes and even some cut-outs from where is work had been featured in magazines, the making of the wall piece took him a few years to build.
On the right in the front room, a two person couch stood, acting as a waiting area. Not too long ago, he purchased a coffee machine and a small table to fit it on. He created a snug little corner complete with customised mugs, the floral design on them drawn himself.
A desk was crammed in at the left and Harry, phone in his hand, crawled behind it, telling the person on call that no, he did not take apprentice applications. Those calls came more often but he didn't fancy teaching anyone. Normally getting behind the desk was hard enough but with a phone in his hand, it was double the trouble, really, if he would gain weight he would never be able to get behind it. The space was so small. He dropped himself in the white leather chair and sighed, dropping the phone back in its cradle. Simply another day of work just to begin and he liked it, just like that - Simple and easy.
For a moment, he stared at the single photo frame on the desk as he mused, about how far he had come. Harry had left Hogwarts mere months after the last battle had gone down. He had been haunted by the press, by the entirety of the population and he couldn't just go or be anywhere in peace.
He felt haunted by the people and mostly, by his own mind. The nightmares and alike shredding him piece by piece. He left the wizarding world slightly beside himself, with a mind in shambles and slightly suicidal.
Now however, five years later, at the age of twenty-three, he had cut all ties with his wizarding heritage. Well, if he had to speak in truth, that was beside the mind healer he saw once a week, a slight addiction to several sleeping potions and a certain blonde who could but wouldn't leave him alone. A blond named Draco Malfoy, who came to his shop every few days, just to be an annoyance.
All in all though, he had a nice little, shabby apartment he called home - a body art shop he found, funded and build up himself which was running quite famous as he held the patent on needle and wire art. A process comparable to embroidery, only on skin instead of fabric. The stitches tiny and ach knotted and cut, in case of accidental pulling out. Only then, one stich would be lost and the rest of the art work would stay intact. He had created it himself, learning with trial and error how to perfect his art and learn which placing was better and which placings unsuitable. Up until this date, He remained the sole soul in the world who was allowed to make such art, patent was a wonderful thing, and people travelled from far, just to get such an uniquely done piece stitched on their skin. It was safe to say, Harry felt quite proud.
He reflected, knowing he could have done better, or differently, but, he was content. He was happy and adored what he did, having all things considered, even if he had grown to be that lonely, unsocial hermit of the block.
The door of the shop was pushed open, the small bell above it ringing, alerting the black haired man a potential customer had come in.
Harry's eyes snapped up, and there he was, walking in as if he owned the shop. He was, as ever, dressed like a businessman minus the jacket and he carried two foam cups, a plastic bag dangled of his arm and he had some magazines snuck under it. Harry refused to say they were friends but really, if he thought about it, Draco could be counted as one. When Harry started developing his art, Draco lend out his skin for payment so Harry could master it, but, nowadays while he didn't need him anymore, he just, never left. Sometimes he even brought snacks and ordered, not asked, Harry to do fun things with him. They forged an odd bond, one in self exile, the other exiled and by coincidence moved into apartments in the same block.
"Malfoy." Harry acknowledged and slapped the photo frame with its glass down on the desk. The picture within a snapshot of the very first finished piece of art he ever made. The art stuck on the back of the man in front of him. He rubbed his eyes and settled his glasses back on as he let himself fall back in the chair, stretching, eying the other and wondering what he wanted this time.
"Hey four-eyes, how's life?" The man clad in a crisp black button up and dark blue slacks said, a grin on his face. "I've brought coffee, magazines and lunch, call me perfect."
Harry snorted as he tried not to laugh. "I'll call you ponce."
Draco pouted. Actually pouted and went to clear the table but in a rush, Harry stopped him. "Thanks," Harry mumbled. "Appreciate it." He slid the coffee close and merely asked, what he could do for him on this fine day. Which it was, the sun was shining and a light breeze kept the temperature within bounds.
"It's.. Not quite right." Draco made a lazy wave at his back. "It needs somewhat else?" He said unsure and wandered about the small space as he softly mused his thoughts out loud. "Another flower? Some swirls; my right shoulder needs to be edged with another colour. I feel some is a little bland, it needs to pop and shine."
"You're just addicted." Harry shook his head. "It's fine the way it is."
"I'm not," He huffed as he walked to the bureau and sat on top of it. He knew it irritated Harry when he did so but did it anyway. "I'm not taking fine, I'll take perfection though."
Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Always the snob, let's see what I can do."
Draco hummed when Harry got up and easily made his way to the door that let to the back room and snapped the light on. "After you." He bowed mockingly and motioned for Draco to enter.
The blonde hopped of the desk. "Why, thank you, kind Sir." Draco replied, his tone perfectly on par with Harry's jab. Harry shook his head, a smile still present as he followed Draco into the room.
Harry closed the door. "Choose your poison." Harry said and waved his hands about. Draco moved to the wall, small bits of wire were on display, the strands carefully lined and the light above put them in a good sight, their colour combinations splashing off the white wall.
Draco had a tough time choosing, stepping back and forth, halting a hand midway whenever he was about to point out one or another until, Harry slapped him playfully on the back of his head and admonished him. "Make a choice, or I won't be doing anything for you today."
Draco took the hint, whenever Harry said it in the past and he didn't comply, Harry held his foot down and didn't do any work. To not get too much on Harry's nerve, Draco pointed out a few. Harry took them down, writing down the numbers that were on their labels on a dingy note pad.
"Oh! New colours." Sounded with glee. Draco hadn't seen them up until now and Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as he had to take two more down. Armed with at least a dozen of numbers already, Harry knew the other wouldn't be leaving his shop anytime soon.
The process had taken long enough, Harry shoo-ed Draco out of the room and back into the front." Wait a moment," Harry said and got behind the desk, he quickly duplicated the list and slid it into a drawer. He went into the backroom and collected his materials. "Ok. Get in there." He pointed at the other door that led to his workspace when he came back into the front.
It was a thing he didn't had to say, Draco practically ran in, shrugging of his button up shirt as he went. Draco's skin was a sight to behold. His entire back was done by Harry but he had a tattooed sleeve that went on to part of his chest and his entire side. It effectively covered up his dark mark and most of his scars. The design of animals, leaves and flowers done in black and grey with just hints of dull green was beautiful.
The room, four walls with one covered in wire choices and a see through mirror door to the front didn't hold much. There being just a metal supply cart, a chair, as well as a bed in the middle and a basin next to the mirrors set in a corner for good view. A machine stood on the other side against the wall to clean and stock his instruments in. The room was cold and kept empty for easy cleaning.
Draco moved to the corner where the mirrors were handing so he could see his back. He ordered Harry around, having him hold the wires at different patches of his back until he was fairly sure which colour he wanted where. Talking all the while, Harry now knew what the other wanted, down to the details. Even though done, Harry was still staring at it for a while, his finger tracing a simple blue flower on the left shoulder. The stiches there weren't quite even, the leaves all slightly different in size and the stitched crosses following the outer line were uneven. Still, tracing it fondly, he was certainly proud of that particular piece. It being the very first, as Draco had signed up to be his guinea pig at the time.
The blonde too, cherished it. Harry had, in the past, offered to take it out, let it heal and redo it but the Draco had refused over an over again until Harry stopped offering and the flower stayed since. Harry was, secretly so, grateful for it.
Over the year he had removed a fair number of decorations from this piece and redone a whole lot more, one weekly basis. He added a thread here and another there but that first, silly clumsily done flower was always, just there. As if it had the power to demand to stay and both men obliged.
He traced a few more patches, admiring the advanced work he'd done, stitches with colourful wires from Slytherin green to sunny yellow swirled with bright purple he'd spend to many time on having in his hands. He pricked his fingers bleeding and kept going, another stitch, another hour on the clock and eventually, having to stop due to him not being able to see straight and Draco cramping from the pain. It was a long way from a painless procedure. Draco was lucky to be a fellow wizard. The muggles didn't have the pleasure of a numbing, disinfectant potion before and a healing charm afterwards.
"Harry." Draco snapped, pulling said man away from his examination.
Harry looked up, and caught Draco's eyes in the mirror. He flushed, Draco smirked and when Draco was about to make a, highly likely, scattering remark, Harry bested him to it. "Let's get this show on the road."
Draco nodded and lazily dropped himself on the comfortable bed in the middle of the room, waiting for Harry to get himself ready to start.
Harry disappeared out of the room, took the magazines from the desk and unceremoniously dropped them onto Draco's head. "That'll shut you up for a while, no?"
"As if. I can multitask." Draco said and Harry groaned but grabbed a white coat from the back of the door and washed his hands. He sat sown on the chair, pulled the cart close and set to the tedious job of cutting of pieces and sticking them through needles. Draco stopped him after the first five minutes and ordered him to do it by magic. It was easier and faster, but Harry wasn't entirely happy. If it had been his choice, he had broken and thrown away the pieces a long time ago. It was Draco who made him keep the wand and use it whenever he came down so, as to his words, Harry would keep in touch with his magic, just in case he might need to rely on it in the future.
"Ready?" Harry asked Draco who had made himself quite at home on the bed. Not getting an answer, Harry asked again. Draco reacted by making a noncommittal sound.
Harry shrugged. "I guess so, then." Harry answered. He wound the wire expertly around his finger and held the needle close at its point and settled it down. "Here it goes." He pierced the skin and settled the first stitch, Draco just hissed, but knew not to move.
Harry worked on Draco's back all morning, only taking a small break to gift a tongue piercing to a twenty-one year old. He turned out to be a quite excited guy who talked so much, it made Harry's job fairly hard to do, if not almost impossible. It was only because Draco, who hadn't bothered to get up from the bed snapping at the guy to shut him up that Harry was able to get the piercing in. When the guy left after paying they both knew much more about him then either men had ever wanted to know. Some people were awkward like that and Harry was gaining a lot of experience with it.
Just as Harry was about to ask Draco if he minded a break, the bell of the shop rang. Voices filled the front room, voices Harry recognized and he paled considerably. Harry's hands shook so badly, he dropped the needle mid-stitch. Standing up, Harry walked to the door leaving the needle poking out of Draco's back just like that.
When he looked, he almost yelped. He caught himself in time by slapping both hands against his mouth, trembling heavy, even Draco knew the dark haired man was rapidly building up to a massive panic attack.
"What's it?" Draco asked and tried to catch Harry's eyes, who avoided his with all his might while he was motioning for Draco to keep hush.
Draco raised an eyebrow and got up from the bed. Harry looked through the window again as if somebody had stung him badly, he started to run through the room, looking for a place to hide. Even if, there was none.
Draaco grabbed Harry by the upper arms and hissed. "What's going on?"
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