andithiel

[andithiel]

“I’m thinking of quitting,” Harry says suddenly, playing with the unlit cigarette in his hands.

It’s the second time they’ve done this—met out here in the harsh chill of November. Two days ago, Harry had followed a long-ingrained urge to find out where Malfoy went, between auror training sessions, and found him on the roof of the Academy.

“Smoking?“

“That, too.”

The flash of Malfoy’s smile is brief, but real. Harry doesn’t know why it feels like a win.

Brief @drarrymicrofic {79 words}

[andithiel]

How it should have been. The bathroom scene.

[andithiel]

[andithiel]

why would you ever outsource fun to chatgpt? are you stupid? you can make mediocre shit by yourself too.

[andithiel]

@drarrymicrofic weekly challenge Prompt: brief (narrator: "holygnocchi was not brief") Word count: 609 Thank you to @citrusses for the beta 🫶

~~~~~

It’s been nine months since Draco was released from Azkaban, his record expunged, contingent on a stint restoring moth-eaten manuscripts in an abandoned corner of the Ministry archives.

It’s been eight months, 29 days, and 13 hours since he learned the only reason he was freed was because the Savior of the Wizarding World saw fit to save him, too.

It's been three weeks since Draco, nose stuck in a book he’d nipped from the archives, rounded the corner into the Ministry lunchroom and ran smack into the broad, firm chest of one Harry James Potter. It was the first time Draco had seen him outside the front pages of the Prophet. Harry’s hands had flown to Draco’s upper arms, steadying him with a “Whoa there, Malfoy!” 

With anyone else Draco would have apologized, politely and effusively. His reputation being…what it was. But it was Harry. And his dumb, symmetrical face. Infuriatingly, an easy, amused smile had replaced the suspicious scowl from school. Draco snapped.

“I know the sea parts for you wherever you go, Potter, but do try not to run over us mere mortals.” Nose in the air, he beelined to the nearest loo, hyperventilated in a stall, and skipped lunch altogether.

It takes the entirety of those three weeks for Draco to work up the nerve to confront Potter again.

It takes five minutes and 19 seconds to get from the Ministry’s subterranean 11th floor up to the second. Nine and a half, today, because Gilbert from Accounts catches him by the breakroom to drone on – again – about his 15th century gobstone collection. Draco spends about 6.2 seconds contemplating if it would be worth taking the next boat back to Azkaban just to escape this particular form of torture. 

In total, it’s 372 steps from Draco’s bleak, windowless office to the DMLE bullpen, with its charmed floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking St. James Park. Harry sits at a desk in the far corner, afternoon light glinting off his glasses as he throws his head back, laughing at something Weasley says. He sees Draco and stills. The flutter of nerves turns to a riot in Draco’s gut and he’s glad he skipped breakfast.

Draco must say something, or maybe he just stands there grimacing so intensely Harry feels compelled into action once again, because Harry is crossing the room toward him, Weasley watching hawk-eyed from their shared cubicle. The other Aurors are no longer pretending to be engrossed in their paperwork as Harry stops in front of Draco. 

“Do you need something, Malfoy?” His voice is pitched low in an attempt at privacy. Everyone else in the room wears expressions of mild suspicion or blatant distaste. One Ministry meathead clearly expects a fight and is leaning forward in his chair, eyes bright with bloodlust. But Harry’s expression is searching, open.

It sends heat flaring through Draco, an exothermic reaction of embarrassment and shame, resentment and attraction. But he’s come this far. “There are some things I need to say to you. Preferably in private.” Draco tries for a good-natured smile of his own. An unfamiliar contortion that probably comes across as a wince. But Harry just nods, once, and gestures down the hall to an empty conference room. 

When the door clicks behind them, Draco takes a steadying breath. Feels the air pressing against his ribcage, holds it there until it burns in his lungs. His first week out of Azkaban he wrote a letter he never sent. He went through dozens of sheets of parchment and countless words until the ink on his quill ran dry. Today he’ll keep it brief. Just two simple words to start. 

[andithiel]

god, GOD Freddie Mercury was such a fucking badass

[andithiel]

trans bears are literally stronger than any US marine

[andithiel]

Do kids today even understand why podcasts are called podcasts?

[andithiel]

The beginning (Grimmauld Roommates AU)

[andithiel]

back at it again begging to see harry enjoying hot boy summer in some hoochie daddy shorts..... the gang just landed in miami type shit

I’ve gotten numerous requests for hot boi summer hjp and I simply must deliver

[andithiel]

Tumblr gifmakers are better than $1mil worth of marketing. I’ll see endless ads for a show and be like meh but I’ll see one good gifset and suddenly I’m on s2 ep10 finding blorbo from my gifs

[andithiel]

those moments in au fics when you finally figure out how the author is reinterpreting a specific canon event and you basically go ‘oh snap that’s brilliant’ for five minutes straight

[andithiel]

“First and foremost I’m writing for myself,” I hiss through my teeth, resisting the urge to refresh my email for an Ao3 message for the 100th time.

[andithiel]

what you learn from hobbies:

consistent practice opens up whole worlds of skill that you couldn't imagine

making mistakes in the process of learning is not only natural, it is also essential

activities that you enjoy can give you more energy back than you spent on them

wow everything is so expensive

[andithiel]

[andithiel]

This is a reminder for those who handmake Christmas presents that now is not too early to start. It may in fact be a good time to start if you have a lot to make/your craft takes a long time. You should maybe start it now, whether that's brainstorming or actually doing the crafts!