"Door, Stefan!" Harry shouted, just finishing up giving a client the last bit of aftercare instruction. He dispelled the sanitation charms on his hands and stepped out of his private room.

"Who is it?" Stefan shouted back from the staff room.

"Never mind, it's one of mine!" Harry called. "Hey Blaise."

"Hello, Harry," the Italian man answered, browsing the flash on the walls. "Is this all your work?"

"Nah, that's just flash. Standard designs every artist can do. This is my custom work." He plucked a binder off a shelf. "Looking for something in particular?"

"Not really, no," Blaise murmured, flipping through the pictures. "Just something…striking, you know? For here." He ran a finger around the top of his right arm, in the natural depression created by the two muscles there.

"Hm." Harry looked him over. "Well, I'm free right now. I can give you a consultation if you like."

Blaise flashed him a relieved grin. "That'd be great."

Harry led him back to his private studio, bringing the binder along with them. He directed Blaise to take off his shirt and sit on the chair. "Your skin's a bit dark for coloured ink," he noted. "You should stick to black, maybe some grey shading."

"I defer to your expertise, oh ink master," Blaise smirked.

Harry laughed. "As well you should. Now, something striking…what do you think about a tribal design? It's a Muggle concept, but I think it would work well." He conjured a quick glamour charm, laying an image of a quick concept idea over the skin on Blaise's arm.

Blaise inspected the solid black shapes thoughtfully, twisting his arm to and fro. He smiled. "I like it."

"Great," Harry grinned back. "Give me a few days to work up some sketches, and I'll get you an appointment to come back in for the real deal."

-0-

By the time the door slammed, Draco was putting dinner on the table. "How were the Muggles?" he called. Harry still worked in Muggle London on Thursdays, through his profession had changed. There was a shop in Camden Market where he did his tattoos by appointment.

"Stupidly uncreative today," Harry replied, coming into the kitchen and collapsing into his chair. He leaned up to kiss Draco as the blond set his plate down in front of him. "I don't even want to know how many butterfly tramp stamps and Chinese characters I've done in the past year."

"Poor thing," Draco teased. "You don't have to go there, you know."

"I know," Harry muttered carefully through a mouthful of linguini, "but tattoos are a subculture, and the subculture is a hell of a lot bigger in the Muggle world. That's where are the trends are." He took another bite of pasta. "How was your day?"

"Dull." Draco worked as an investment advisor at Gringotts. It wasn't exciting, but it was stable and paid well. Unlike Cursebreaker, his job also had the added benefit of keeping him in London.

Draco set the dishes in the sink, turning on the tap to fill it with warm water.

"Just leave those, Draco," Harry said, but Draco shook his head.

"It'll only take a few minutes."

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Draco automatically leaned back. "Leave them," Harry murmured. "I'll get them later." Draco turned off the water. "Good man," Harry breathed hotly into his ear. "C'mon, Gorgeous, let's go to bed."

Draco let Harry lead him through the flat to their bedroom, marvelling at how sex with Harry always seemed new and the way that nickname could still make his knees go weak, even ten years later.

Faster than he could follow, Draco found himself naked on their bed with Harry between his knees. He groaned as Harry peppered little kisses over his hips and the insides of his legs. He laved the flat of his tongue over the simple tattoo on his hip, one that matched Harry's: the rune for change, symbolic of the way their meeting had changed everything for the better between them.

"Stop teasing!" Draco growled, jerking his hips up. Harry chuckled darkly, but he obliged and took Draco's cock in his mouth, down to the base. Draco could feel slick fingers probing at his hole as Harry gave a strong suck. He pulled off to circle the tip with his tongue as he stretched and prepared Draco.

He pulled back entirely, removing his fingers from Draco's arse, and Draco whined with need. "Just hold on, Gorgeous," Harry purred. He lined his own erection up with Draco's fluttering hole and pressed forward slowly. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist, forcing him to slide in faster.

It had been over a year since their meeting when they had first had sex, despite how much Harry enjoyed bringing Draco off, by hand or by mouth. Harry had serious problems with losing control over himself, left over from his experiences with his old dealers. So Draco had been patient and waited, and the result had been explosive.

"Draco," Harry groaned, shaking as he tried to hold himself still.

"Move," Draco whispered.

And Harry did. He pulled back and slammed back in, drawing a cry from Draco's throat. He kept going, adjusting the angle until Draco's back arched and his eyes flew open. "Harry! Oh fucking hell-"

Harry cut him off with a deep kiss, snapping his hips hard and fast until Draco broke off and screamed as his climax rolled over him, spraying release across both their chests. His muscles clamped down, and, after a couple more thrusts, Harry jerked forward and grunted. "Fuck, Draco…"

Exhausted and spelled clean, Draco lay with Harry curled around and over him, one finger gently tracing the Malfoy crest inked on the right side of his chest.

"I love you, Draco."

Draco kissed him softly. "I love you, too, Harry." He closed his eyes. "And I expect those dishes to be clean by breakfast."