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They got carried away

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The Complimenting Charm
@drarrymicrofic | wc: 199 | prompt: charm
Harry had loved working in the Department of New Spells right up until the moment he got hit by a faulty Complimenting Charm.
It made him blurt out whatever he found attractive about anyone he looked at, which had already made three coworkers deeply uncomfortable.
He had retreated to his office to wait it out, staring fixedly at his desk and trying not to compliment the wood grain.
The door opened.
βPotter. I sincerely hope youβre not in the middle of anything vital. Iβve brought theββ
Malfoy. Shit.
Harry immediately clamped his mouth shut which couldβve passed as normal if one ignored the way he went violently red.
βWhat in Merlinβs name are you doing?β Malfoy asked, tilting his head.Β
Harry lost the battle at once. βYour eyes are really unfair, your hair looks stupidly soft, your shirt is too tight in a way that feels deliberate, and youβre so bloody fit itβs honestly annoying.β
Malfoy stared blankly at him for a moment, then sat down opposite him.
βWell,β he said, crossing one long leg over the other, βI was wondering when your tragically underdeveloped emotional faculties would catch up with your appalling lack of subtlety. Do continue, Potter.β
art by ηΉη°γ΅γ‘γ³ (@AoshimaShunnnnn)

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au where Snape raises Harry and Black escapes from prison.
@drarrymicrofic - history - rating g - wc 432
Draco is eleven again, standing in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions with his arms out and pins hovering at the hems of his robes. He sees a little black haired boy standing next to him.
Harry Potter.
He looks smaller than Draco remembers. His memory is hazy at the edges but Harry looks so thin, so frail. The robes he is in are being taken in at every seam because whoever measured him used a size that fit some other child, loved and fed properly.
Dracoβs stomach lurched because he had read the tell-all in Luna's Quibbler wherein Harry had talked about his childhood. He had spent nearly eleven years living in a cupboard under the stairs, starved of food, of warmth, living there without being held, without being loved.
Harry looks at Draco with cautious but curious eyes.
Draco remembered this part all too well. He remembers saying something stupid to Harry, bragging about his father buying him this, his mother that, not even paying attention when Harry said his parents were dead and instead asking if they're the right sort.
Draco wanted to say βI've heard of youβ, like he'd rehearsed in his head. It sounded neutral and proper.
He instead blurts out, βDoes it hurt? The pins, I mean.β
Harry blinks behind his smudged glasses. βNo. Does it hurt for you?β he asks.
βNo,β Draco replies.
"I didn't know what any of this was," Harry starts after a pause. "Two days ago I didn't know I was a wizard."
Two days ago he was still in that house with those cruel people and he had been so much like the cousin Harry had to live with.
"I expect it's a lot to take in," Draco says, keep his face perfectly set.
"Yeah." Potter glances at him sideways. "Are you nervous? About Hogwarts?"
Draco thinks about the war, about receiving the Dark Mark in his own living room at the Manor, about chosing the wrong side, about standing in a courtroom at eighteen, about not going to Azkaban solely because of the testimony given by eighteen year old version of the boy in front of him.
"A bit," he answers. "What about you?"
"Terrified," says Potter, cheerfully, like he's had a lot of practice with terror.
The fitter calls done and they both step down, and Draco does not offer his hand yet because he is not sure he'll do that right. But he doesn't walk away, either, and when Potter grins uncertainly at him, trying his best, Draco nods back.
It's not much but it is a start.
Β«A Patchwork of HopeΒ» π
like to charge, reblog to cast.
Drarry

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middle aged harry is prob the keanu reeves of the wizarding world. handsome guy, kinda shaggy looking these days, but cool because he doesn't try to be. very unassuming. kind to everyone. a little bit weird. widely beloved.
GeeseβI had to.
not now kitten. daddy's realizing that the scene he invested 1000 words into could be significantly improved but only if he started over from scratch
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nothing reveals typos better than the ao3 publish button. who needs spellcheck honestly