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“Is that you, Harry?” Draco's voice called down the stairs. He was in the study, no doubt pouring over some poor chap's medical records. For one of the wealthiest wizards in the world, Draco Malfoy was a workaholic, Harry thought bemusedly as he kicked his boots off at the door. Must Not leave muddy boot prints all over the foyer.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, he says.” Draco sounded perturbed. Harry figured Draco must have sounded annoyed, aggravated, and inconvenienced since the day he was born. “Yeah. As if he weren't properly educated and working for the bloody fucking Ministry. Like some common…”
Draco trailed off and Harry heard the distant ruffling sound of a parchment unrolling. Harry took the stairs two at a time, excitement bubbling in his belly. The left side of his chest stung where the charm had stained his skin and he could feel the ink undulating across his ribs slowly. It tickled a little as it moved, but he knew from experience that the sensation would dissipate in a few weeks.
As he thought, Draco was standing in front of his desk, his back turned to the door, flipping through various scrolls and charts. He was impeccably dressed, even at ten o'clock at night, and judging by the white robes draped over his office chair, he had only recently gotten home. It was not unusual for Draco to stay late at St. Mungo's. Some nights he didn't come home at all, preferring to stay in his office at the hospital in case he was needed.
“I brought dinner.” Harry said, sitting down the take-away bags on the desk, almost on top of a pile of charts. Draco’s grey eyes flicked from the charts, to the greasy take-away bags, and finally to Harry with a look of practised disdain. And then he smelled the delicious aroma wafting from the bags and his stomach growled in protest. The ink from his new tattoo slid along the side of his arm, curling momentarily around his hand before rushing away to hide in his jumper. Draco hadn't noticed. Ah, well, there was time yet. Harry smirked as he set about serving up the food. He wondered if it weren't for him, if Draco would ever eat anything besides the swill they served at St Mungo's.
“Thank you.” Draco said gratefully, taking a few hurried bites from his plate before returning to his work. Harry did not take offense to this at all. Though Draco denied it to everyone, Harry knew that more than anything, Draco wanted the Chief of Staff position at St. Mungo's, and as a true Slytherin, he was working himself to the bone to make that happen. It meant long nights, insane hours, and taking on the most serious and difficult cases, but Merlin, if anyone could do it, Draco Malfoy could.
Harry took a seat on the setee near the fire, eating his dinner and watching Draco with fascination. Since the end of the war and the beginning of their relationship, there was nothing Harry Potter liked more than watching his lover. Well, perhaps he liked watching Ginny Weasley fly a broom a little more than he enjoyed watching Draco work. But that was only because her Quidditch trousers were much more form-fitting than the medical robes Draco wore. Harry smiled, his eyes drinking a little at the corners.
“You're in a good mood.” Draco had glanced over to see Harry mid-daydream, his green eyes sparkling with humor.
“Hmm?” Harry shrugged. “I guess so. Missed you.”
It's been nearly a week since they'd seen each other. Between Draco's schedule, and Harry's frequent missions, they had barely seen each other this month.
“I've been too busy to mi-” Draco stopped his grey eyes shooting to Harry’s right arm. He could've sworn he saw-there! He had seen something! A vivid black wisp of ink whipped from beneath the sleeve of Harry's jumper. A tattoo. A new one by the looks of it. Draco was very familiar with all of Harry's tattoos. He'd spent a good amount of time studying each one.
Shortly after his 18th birthday, and a few weeks after they'd begun seeing each other, he'd gotten his first. It took up the entire upper half of his back, depicting a magnificent pair of antlers, charmed to grow a new tine every year, surrounded by snow white lilies that swayed as if in a gentle summer breeze. A small golden snitch, originally stained onto the inner part of his right wrist. Now it never sat still, flitting over his skin like a tiny metallic hummingbird. Whenever he saw it, Draco would cup his hand over the ink, catching it, and feel the ink splitter and spark under his fingers, trying to break free.
Draco also knew that Harry had the names of every student and friend that had died at the Battle of Hogwarts tattooed across his entire body in invisible ink. He could call them up, in glistening purple and gold ink, with a mere thought, covering nearly every inch of his skin.
The new ink recoiled into the recesses of Harry's jumper and Draco caught him grinning.
“Is that a new tattoo?” Draco asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“It is.” Harry sat aside his empty plate. “I wondered how long it'd take you to find it.”
“Well, let's see it, Potter.” Draco said, finally abandoning his work to sit primly on the setee next to Harry.
“Ah, you know that isn't how we play this game.” Harry chastised.
“Harry.” Draco pouted, though if Harry or anyone else said that's what he was doing, he would have scowled and declared that he did not pout. Harry tried not to stare to hard at the slight pucker of Draco's lower lip.
“Draco.” Harry snickered.
“You're impossible, Potter.” Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm too tired.”
“It's been over a week since we've seen each other and you're too tired to snog your boyfriend?” Harry asked playfully.
“Yes.” Draco grimaced at the word “boyfriend”. He hated that term. Not because he was ashamed of their relationship. But it was only that “boyfriend” seemed too...frivolous for a relationship, a history like theirs. Lover was equally vomit-inducing. Partner was so sterile. But as he had never come up with a more acceptable phrasing, Draco only just tolerated “boyfriend”.
“But don't you want to see my new tattoo?” Harry asked, giving his right arm a gentle shake so a teasing tendril of ink peeked out from his sleeve before retreating back into the dark.
“I'm sure I'll see it some time or other.” Draco shrugged, standing up. As he thought he would, Harry grabbed Draco by the wrist, tugging him sharply down and into his lap. Draco struggled for a moment, feigning indignation, but really working to grind his hips into Harry's. He could feel the hard length of Harry's cock through their robes and instantly his own twitched in anticipation.
“Potter.” Draco growled, leaning forward so his cock pressed into Harry's belly.
“Do you want to see?” Harry asked, his lips brushing Draco's, just out of reach. Draco tried to steal a kiss, but Harry tipped his head back, denying him.
“Show me.” Draco demanded, that soft pink bottom lip poking out, begging to be kissed. Harry placed the barest of kisses on Draco's pouting lips, pulling away when Draco tried to pull him in deeper.
“Find it.” Harry said, his voice growing deeper with anticipation.
Draco rolled his eyes and slid a hand under Harry's jumper, fingers skillfully seeking out the slight raise of flesh, the increase in temperature, and the stain of magic the charm would leave behind. He felt along the hard muscles of Harry's abdomen, counting each swell of the rectus abdominus. He brushed over one nipple, enjoying the shiver it sent through Harry, and spread his palm out over the right pectoralis major. Harry leaned in then, and finally kissed him good and proper, sucking Draco's bottom lip between his teeth. Draco hummed in appreciation as he skimmed the hollows of Harry's collarbone, his sternum. Ah, and there it was. Across the left pec, Draco found what he was searching for. Harry lifted an eyebrow, watching Draco's face as he spread his hand wide over the ink stain, getting a feel for the size and then carefully tracing the raised lines, trying to form the picture in his mind. The stain seemed to curve gracefully in an ‘s’ across the chest, beginning at his collar bone, and ending at the apex of his heart.
“Care to guess?” Harry said after Draco had traced the design a few times, a look of perplexed annoyance on his face.
“An ‘S’ for Snape.” Draco deadpanned. “And right over your heart. Ah, Harry, he'd be honored.”
“Guess again.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“I feel...scales? Is it a snake?” Draco asked, utterly confused. Why would a Gryffindor get a snake tattoo?
“No.”
“Basilisk?” Draco guessed. “Fancy a sort of score sheet of all the creatures you've defeated?”
“Nope.” Harry suggested.
“I give up, Potter.” Draco tugged at the edge of Harry's jumper. “Just show me.”
“You're such a spoilsport.” Harry chuckled, lifting his jumper up and over his head, mussing up his unruly hair even more, if that were possible. Draco sat back a little in Harry's lap to get a better few of his chest. There, slightly raised and red against the pale skin, was the image of snake-like dragon, it's wings tucked along the curve of its back, jaws partially open, tiny little claws digging into his flesh. It was only the faint scar left behind from the charm, and would fade soon, Draco knew. The actual ink was hiding somewhere. He watched carefully, and spotted the flick of a tail around the back of Harry's left arm. Draco reached behind, his fingers finding the warm ink, and stroking along the curve of the dragon's back. He could almost feel the impression of little scales, the bumps of its spine. Slowly, like a lazy cat in a beam of warm summer light, the dragon slithered out from behind Harry's arm. Draco noticed now that the scales were shimmering white and gold and silver, but the eyes...the eyes were the soft grey of fur, the stone hills of Scotland, the same cool grey that looked back at him in the mirror. Draco sucked in a breath through his teeth. A dragon with golden silver scales, grey eyes, tattooed across his heart.
A dragon.
“Me?” He nearly choked on the word. “You got this for me?”
“No, of course not.” Harry deadpanned as he undid the buttons of Draco's shirt. “Its for Norberta.”
“You git.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”
Harry nodded, his hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer so he could kiss the soft skin of his neck.
“Merlin, Potter.” Draco breathed, watching the ink coiling across Harry's neck. The dragon opened its jaws, and a plume of red orange flame danced across Harry's shoulder and then fizzed out. Draco put a hand on Harry's forearm, and the dragon wound it's way to him, rubbing against his palm like an affectionate cat before slinking away, it's little claws leaving faint red marks on Harry’s skin that faded quickly.
“Do you like it?” Harry asked.
“I hate it. It's gaudy and…” Draco moaned softly as the dragon slipped down the trail of dark hair leading into Harry's trousers. “And….”
“And?” Harry said, tugging Draco's shirt off, and grabbing his hand. Harry guided Draco's hand to his trousers and groaned as he slid his hand in. Draco felt the brush of scales and the warmth of bat-like wings, as he curled his fingers around Harry's cock. It wasn't an expected sensation reaching into your lover's trousers and feeling scales and claws, but it wasn't unpleasant either, he thought as he felt the shadow of flames lapping at his fingertips.
“And?” Harry prompted again, scarcely able to breath as Draco slid his hand up and down his length.
“Hot.” Draco sputtered. “Merlin, Potter.”
Harry chuckled, standing up and carrying Draco out of the study. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist, clinging to him, and kissing every bare inch of skin he could reach. The dragon slunk between their bellies, wings unfurling as it climbed Harry’s chest to soar over the ridge of his shoulder and out of sight. Harry kicked open the bedroom door and set Draco down on the emerald green sheets.
“Fuck, Potter.” Draco purred, watching Harry step back momentarily to yank off his trousers. The dragon had perched on his hip, and walked slowly across his thigh.
“I missed you.” Harry said, almost tackling Draco in his eagerness. He pressed his full weight down on top of him, tugging at Draco's trousers impatiently.
“I'm sorry.” Draco breathed, nipping at Harry's neck, his collarbones, his shoulders, his arms. He took Harry's hands in his, nibbling along the inside of his plan before sucking gently on his pointer finger. Harry sucked in a breath, and finally managed to pull off Draco's trousers with his free hand. Before he could flip him over and fuck him insensible, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's hips and rolled, pulling Harry beneath him. Harry lifted an eyebrow, well aware that Draco normally preferred to be beneath him where Harry could take full control. Draco shook his head. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted to see the permanent, physical evidence that Harry James Potter loved him. That he was special enough, worthy enough to forever mark his skin. Draco shivered with pleasure, sliding Harry deep inside him. The dragon breathed flames and rolled, it's wings fully extended, revealing it's underbelly and the name Draco emblazoned on its scales.