Body Art (Drarry)

Chapter 1

Harry could hear loud creaks coming from the Leaky Cauldron sign outside, which would sway back in forth every time it got caught in the wind.

"So, what do you think?" He said with a positively optimistic grin.

Hermione's mouth fell open in that shocked sort of, I-can't-believe-you-would-even-think-about-that-Harry way. He couldn't say he was surprised.

The idea to get a tattoo was a very sudden (and controversial) decision. But now that he's thought about it, he's officially decided.

"Have you really thought that through?" She said, incredulity creeping into her voice. "I mean, are you sure?"

She shared a significant look with Ron, who was next to her and looking a bit pale.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry reassured her, sounding a little too casual. He tapped the rim of his butterbeer glass with feigned nonchalance. "Totally."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione nudged his arm. She exhaled a heavy sigh, "Pick and choose your battles, Ron."

"I'm just saying- I mean, it's just a bit odd, Harry! And permanent!" 

"Muggles do it all the time! If they can handle it," He thought for a moment. "Besides, don't wizards have some kind of spell or charm that can erase it?" Harry asked, more curious than worried.

Hermione shook her head, pursing her lips.

Really, it had been a bit of an impulsive decision. He is a gryffindor after all. But it's just a tattoo, what's the big deal? He didn't expect his friends to love the idea, but he thought they'd at least be okay with it. 

"It'll hurt quite badly, I heard." Ron added helpfully. Harry wrapped his fingers around his glass, watching the way the light danced in the drink, an absurdly welcoming amber color.

"I've developed quite a pain tolerance," Harry replied with a made-up mind.

Hermione sipped her butterbeer, shaking her head. "I suppose if it's what you want-"

Ron opened his mouth to protest. Hermione shot him a look. He shrugged, raising his palms in the air defensively. 

"A shop opened up just 'round Diagon Alley a little while ago," He said instead, sounding wary. 

Harry nodded, a  smile playing on his lips. "Knew you guys would come around."

-~.~-

And all but a day later, he found himself walking down Diagon Alley, a nervous stiffness slowing down his steps. He shoved his hands in his pocket, swallowing his nerves.

He spotted a window shop, with tinted windows and a wooden sign. In big, blocky letters, it read: "TATTOO". Harry sighed.

"You're going to do this," He muttered quietly to himself, pressing his palm against the gold-painted door handle. 

He pushed the door open. A bell went off as he entered, and the wood creaked under his foot. The shop was completely empty. Dim lanterns burning were the only indication that it was even open.

"Um, hello?" He said, his voice echoing off the walls. The parlor was quaint, with a small counter in the front and a couple of chairs set up in front of it. Three black, leather seats in different areas were accompanied by trays containing different colour inks. Everything was crammed together in the tiny room, but there was a sort of appeal to it.

The most significant part was the walls, which were covered almost completely by framed stunning artwork. Different tattoos designs, he supposed. Some seemed to be done in water color, others in elegant, fine lines that provided only enough detail to be be beautiful.