Writing Club - CYB - (dialogue) "Right. I knew that."

Creativity Month - TattooArtist!AU (NevilleHarry)

Small Island Holidays - London - (character) Harry Potter, (word) crowd, (emotion) overwhelmed

Neville's timer was twenty seconds and counting.

"Mate, are you sure you're ready for this?" Dean asked hesitantly, his eyes fixed on Neville rather than the door. "He could be anyone."

Neville's jaw was set. "I don't care who he is," he said firmly. "It could be bloody Harry Potter, and it wouldn't matter to me. They're my soulmate."

Ten seconds.

"Or it could be Draco Malfoy," Dean suggested slyly.

Neville shook his head. "It can't be. His soulmate is Astoria."

Five seconds. Neville stared at the door, bracing himself.

And promptly choked on his saliva.

Harry Potter - oh my God, he had actually been right - walked through the door, and Neville could've sworn his heart stopped as their eyes met.

He looked straight out of the front page of a magazine. Chiseled jaw, tan skin, tousled ebony hair, vivid emerald eyes.

"Are you Neville Longbottom?"

Dean nudged him and Neville jumped out of his stupor, his mind crowded with emotions, the most prominent overwhelmed. "Y-Yes, I am," he squeaked. His cheeks immediately turned crimson from mortification.

Harry's eyes scanned the poster hanging from the ceiling. "Do you guys do dragon tattoos?"

His out-of-the-blue question earned him a raised eyebrow from Dean. "It says at the top that we're willing to do tattoos that aren't on the list," he clarified.

"Right. I knew that." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, flexing his muscles, and Neville practically drooled.

"Where do you want it?" Dean asked, seeing as his friend was in no state to continue the conversation.

Harry smirked and Neville's cheeks, if possible, heated up even more. "My chest."

And Neville died. Metaphorically, of course.

But it felt as good as. His skin was flushed, his palms sweaty, and his mouth salivating. Harry Potter's chest, exposed? There was no way in hell he was missing that.

He was so absorbed at staring at Harry that he didn't see the almost devious grin cross Dean's face. "Neville'll do it, won't you, Neville?"

Most girls (and guys) would be dying to be in his position right now.

"Of-of course," Neville stammered.

And then, without a warning, Harry pulled his shirt over his head and Neville's jaw hit the floor.

Dear sweet Jesus, he didn't how he was going to make it through this entire operation.

385 words