Author: Marigold

Title: Harry's Tattoo

Info: Professor Snape receives a rather unusual request from the infirmary.

Beta:

Rating: Rated T for a bit of language and Harry's heinie.

Warning: Very much Slash. If you no likey, no ready.

A story based very slightly on a challenge from a the Snape100 blog. My first Snarry story and my first fanfic in a long time, please review!

Under his breath, Snape cursed that damned Potter boy. Again.

Of the many things that differed from the magical world to the muggle world, Potter had to get himself mixed up in one of the worst. Magical tattoos, especially those illegally gotten, did not simply sit on your skin and lie quietly. Evidently, Potter had come back to school after a weekend off with a tattoo that not only moved, it also muttered at passerbys and allegedly spit acid.

Of course, Dumbledore and Pomphrey had tried to coax it off, but the pattern was as stubborn as the skin it was etched on. Generally, the problems with tattoos weren't caused by any malignant spells, only magical ingredients in the ink. So Professor Snape had been called to the job, been called to get the burning green ink off of that skin. Been called to ignore the deliciously smooth, milky skin that he'd been so diligently ignoring for the past year and a half.

The door to the infirmary was propped open, and he let himself in. The candlelight was coming from behind a curtained-off area, and traces of movement flickered through the cloth.

"Oh, Severus! I'm glad you're here." Dumbledore seemed more relieved than usual when Snape came to save his arse. The darkly clad man lifted an eyebrow. Pomphrey was nowhere in sight, and Potter was sitting on the cot, looking caught between teenage rebellion and embarrassment. The dark-haired boy was clad only in muggle clothes and wasn't looking at the men. Dumbledore continued, "It seems young Harry has gotten himself into a bit of a mess…"

"How amazing suprising."

"Yes...well, frankly, I think you're the man to fix it. I'm sure you'll get it all cleared up." And with that, Dumbledore turned and walked out, leaving the smell of peppermints trailing behind him.

Odd for him to leave, Severus thought, staring at the anxious looking young man sitting on the cot in front of him. He crossed his arms imposingly and glared at Potter for a minute or so. "Alright, let's see it then, Potter. Let's see how much of a fool you've made of yourself."

Potter glared back, his green eyes catching the orange candlelight. He stood up, and for the first time Snape noticed the boy was only wearing a shirt and a pair of thin muggle under-shorts. Snape eyes widened slightly, perhaps the boy would consider it in amusement, and he decided that this could become much much worse than he had thought.

Almost against his will, he spoke. "Are you going to stand their all night, or are you going to let me remove that ink from your carcass?"

Harry smirked, suddenly, in defiance, before he dropped his shorts and bent down over the cot. Snape sputtered and coughed, covering his surprise and shock, but not before he heard Potter chuckle. He muttered a retort to cover himself while he regained his shaky composure. "Yes, well, if one must be stupid, they'd better be spectacularly so."

Once his heart has stopped racing and his hands were shaking slightly less, Snape leaned over to inspect the damage. There, on Harry Potter's right cheek, was a tattoo of a green snake curled around a vial of blue-green, bubbling potion. Upon Snape's inspection, the snake stuck out his tongue and curled lazily around the vial and back again. It was only when a deep sigh from Harry made the rosy curve the snake was perched on quiver that Severus realized he was staring intently at the arse of a student. A very fine arse, one that warranted further inspection and….

"So, are you going to fix it or stare at it all night?" Harry asked suddenly, feeling very very exposed and chilly in the high tower with the potions master gazing at his derriere.

"I'm sorry, Potter, I was merely shocked that even you would possess this level of stupidity. Had it been one of Lord Voldemort's servants instead of someone who simply had a bad sense of humor, you could easily have died. Yet you disregard reason and caution, as usually, to endanger both yourself and this school with your…," Severus' voice trailed off when he realized that his hand was cupped around the tattoo, firmly inspecting the handiwork. "Yes, right then, hexing it off…."

He covered his blush by trying various diagnostic spells on the ink, and found that it was a relatively common recipe. He dug into his bag of potions, and pulled out the stoppered bottle of powder he used. While he was mixing it with the right amount of ice water from the pitcher on Potter's bedside, Harry absent-mindedly shifted his muscles to a more comfortable position. The resulting wiggling motion caused the normally steady handed man to dribble freezing water down the front of his robe. Snape grabbed Harry's waist, with a little too much force, grabbed a brush out of his bag, and set about applying the potion to the tattoo. Harry wiggled again. Snape tightened his grip, and tried to dab on more potion. And then Harry wiggled a third time, causing Snape to drop his brush.

"Mr. Potter, there are much better times than when I am applying a delicate and expensive potion to it to wiggle your posterior." Snape hadn't realized how ridiculous that sounded until he'd said it.

"Oh? Really?" Harry spoke up for the first time in a while, his voice seriously too low for the Potions master's nerves. "Anyway, it tickles."

"I shall try to tickle you less. Just keep still!" He moved his hand to close to the tattoo, trying his damnedest to be professional. Damn Albus for leaving him alone with the boy! Finally, the entire tattoo was covered, and Snape dabbed one more swipe on for good luck. Unfortunately, that particular swipe was one too many, and the potion slowly dribbled down, past the tattoo, down that downy, well-rounded skin into...

"Oooh!" Harry squeaked, trying to turn around without moving. "Cold!"

Snape grabbed his bag, and turned to the cot behind him, moving quickly to cover his intense blush. He was stuffing his bag full of his ingredients, and reached up to button the top of his robe that he didn't remember unbuttoning.

"Tomorrow…" He cleared his throat. Damn his voice for betraying his emotions. He continued, more huskily that he would've wished. "Tomorrow, that ridiculous tattoo will be dry, and you can go about your life, however pointless it may or may not be."

He still wasn't facing the boy, though he heard rustling as Potter stood up and got his clothes on. Snape turned to face the door and hurry out before anything else inappropriate could happen.

Well, he thought Potter was putting his clothes on.

"Professor?" Potter was facing him, clad only in his t-shirt, thankfully long enough to cover everything (just). His voice was huskier than Snape's own and his eyes were dark. "Will there be any…side effects? Any unexpected complications?"

Severus' eyes widened at this supposedly innocent boy's questions. For a breath of an instant, he stared into those green, endless eyes before cold, ruthless reason came back to life. "Absolutely none, Potter. Get out of my way, and for Merlin's sake, get dressed."

Professor Snape swept past Potter, barely even feeling it as he brushed past the boy's heated skin. He barely fooled himself, and wondered if Potter had seen through him. At the door, Snape paused, his Italian leather boots resting just a moment too long on the threshold, but he didn't look back. If Harry had heard, he gave no sign.

Over the next week, things considered close to normal. He got the inter-office letter of thanks from Dumbledore filled with sweets that he immediately discarded. He got a letter from Rita Skeeter wishing to confirm a "naughty little rumor about the Golden Boy" that he immediately incinerated. And he got a week full of dark smoldering stares from Harry that, despite his attempt to dismiss them, lingered in his mind long after the boy left his classes. Damn anyone for being that likable, that instantly desirable. After a few guilty nights of lingering over those stares and a bottle of brandy, Professor Snape somehow managed to put that bizarre incident of the tattoo out of his mind. He hardly suspected anything to come of it, no matter how long and intently Potter glared at him.

He hardly suspected, that is, until the next weekend when students went into town, and he got another late night message from the infirmary. Damn that wretched, gorgeous, seductive, bastard boy.

Hope you liked :bows:. Please review!