#hmmihaventdecidedyet

[oflights]

Happy pride! For the drarry slice-of-life prompts, might I suggest: Harry in [whatever the first job you ever wanted to have when you grew up was] and a meetcute-at-work?

hi!! thank you!

so my mind immediately went to "marine biologist harry" because like, i was a 90s kid! of course i wanted to be a marine biologist! which then got me thinking of interesting ways to make draco meet marine biologist harry, which got me thinking of beluga whale animagus draco???? (because i was all about whales as a kid, that was the whole point of it for me.)

anyway. that's what this is? why is it 1.1k words again? who can say, i sure can't. happy pride 🌈🐳

Draco doesn’t expect to see Harry Potter while swimming in the chilly, salty depths of the St. Lawrence River.

Work had taken Draco to Montreal, and he’d booked the extra Portkeys to Quebec City and then Tadoussac without a second thought. Draco so rarely gets a chance to change into his Animagus form in an actually suitable environment, and he’s changed here before; this particular pod of beluga whales is incredibly friendly and welcoming even for his short visits, and so he’s been looking forward to this for months.

Until now, it had been all about getting into the water: making sure local friends have his coordinates in case something goes wrong; casting the proper Disillusionment Charms so no one notices a random blond nutter jumping into the river alone; letting the cold wash over his magic-warmed body for a few suspended moments, until he relaxes into the transformation and lets that magic overtake everything else.

That first moment of transformation—so freeing, so unique, nothing like Draco ever feels on land—always goes a long way to soothing the disappointment he’d felt when he’d first managed to become an Animagus.

He’d known it would be something aquatic; he’d felt drawn to the sea throughout the whole process. Even so, transforming into a beluga whale had not been expected, and after the initial sense of accomplishment, basking a little in all his friends’ delight and amusement, it had struck how difficult it would be to find opportunities to transform.

Draco had adjusted his travel plans and work trips to become colder and more Arctic, but he’d quickly learned how social whales are, and how intolerable they find it to be alone. So it became more about finding other belugas to swim with, to communicate with. Chancing upon this pod had been a stroke of luck, and Draco has missed them.

He could hear them as a human on the shore, high-pitched and soft and wailing, but it’s different as a whale. Hefeelstheir call within him like this, loses himself in it, revels in the sensation of immersive belonging he’s rarely felt before.

In moments like these, Draco loves being a beluga Animagus. It’s all worth it.

And then he sees Harry Potter.

It’s not so strange to see a team of marine biologists on the St. Lawrence. There’s a good amount of marine life here, not to mention the colony of merpeople that lives around the Saguenay Fjord that could explain the presence of magic folk. What’s really strange is that this team includes Harry Potter, not someone Draco would ever have expected to find halfway around the world from home.

Potter is dressed like he might be a marine biologist, which is ridiculous—Draco is certain he’d read that Potter had gone to work with dragons. He’s leaning over the railing of the small observation deck of his boat, dark hair blown wild and glittering with salt spray, radiating Warming Charms, grinning broadly at the friendly belugas streaming through the waters around them.

As Draco watches, still dumbfounded, Potter raises his wand and Conjures large, shiny bubbles, setting them to float over the water and delighting the belugas, who pop them with excited squeals, splashing happily as he Conjures more.

A few of the other members of the pod seem to sense Draco’s frozen disbelief and translate it as distress, swimming over to nudge him gently with their rounded heads, bonking him carefully on his flank. The movement draws the attention of Potter, who smiles at him in a way that Harry Potter has certainly never, not once, smiled at him before.

Draco has a rush of feelings that don’t entirely fit in the water. There’s old resentment, annoyance, a break of his peace—in his whale form, in the perfect, embracing cold, that all seems silly, wasteful. It’s easy to translate to a playful sort of mischief instead.

He starts swimming again, giving grateful return bumps to his concerned pod members on the way right up to the boat, Potter’s eyes trained on him the whole time.

“Hi,” Potter says brightly, giving him a wave as Draco pops out of the water. In answer, Draco gives an enormous spray of water, glittering bright in the sunlight and dripping all over Potter and a few other crew members, making them laugh. “Nice to meet you too,” Potter says. He laughs again as a few belugas follow Draco’s lead, a shower of water dropping down all around them.

Potter Conjures bubbles directly over Draco, smile widening as he pops them before they’re even fully formed. Draco leaps up higher and spots the strap of a messenger bag by Potter’s feet, and on the next bubble, he misses on purpose and takes a swipe at the strap.

The bag splashes into the water in an instant, the sound loud over Potter’s startled, “Hey, that’s mine!” as the rest of the team laughs again. It’s quick, easy swim work to duck down in the water and hook the floating strap around one fin, making sure to spin onto his side to show Potter he’s got it.

Draco takes off, squeaking happily when he hears a flat splat sound behind him, a bodyboard hitting the water. It’s followed by another splash, Potter calling out, “Give that back!” as he starts to swim after Draco.

Even with magic—infused in his wetsuit, driving the bodyboard, clear and unmistakable and disconcertingly familiar—Potter can’t exactly keep pace with a grown beluga whale. Draco revels in that for a few viciously satisfying moments before he slows only long enough for Potter to catch up, to reach out between Draco and the bodyboard, and to catch hold of Draco’s fin—before speeding up again and taking Potter with him.

He tows Potter back to shore, spurred by his laughter and exhilaration, the way he’s ignoring the alarmed shouts of his colleagues from behind them, delighting in the clicks and squeaks and lovely, encouraging calls of Draco’s pod.

Draco bumps up against the rocks where he’d jumped in, knocking Potter against them until he takes the hint and climbs up, eyes wide and amazed. There’s another moment where Draco hesitates—it’s always hard to change back after feeling like this, to want human feeling again, worse still to take away some of the magic of what Potter has just experienced.

But he wants to change back, wants to see the look on Potter’s face. He recasts the requisite Warming Charms and pulls himself back into his human form, landing on the rocks next to Potter, gasping unfamiliar human breaths for a few seconds before he gets his bearings and braves a look at Potter.

Potter, who still looks just as amazed, still exhilarated, and somehow not at all disappointed. His eyes sparkle familiarly, and Draco blinks and feels nothing of the old resentment, like he’d left it all in the water in that first, tall spray.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Draco says, holding up Potter’s stolen bag.     

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is pretending to be third cousins with a good friend for a month and a half so people will stop shipping you

.

[aggressivelyarospec]

For Aro Tunes Thursday (I know it’s not a Thursday but I only thought of it today):

Ticker Don’t Tock by Bitter Ruin

I don't think I can fly But I, but I believe in you I don't spend what I lack But I, but I believe that you're coming back

Added!

[snowthedemonfox]

Hey, weird ask but would you mind sending me a link to the Class of 17776 server? I’ve been wanting to connect with other fans of 17776 since I finished it, and that Discord server seems pretty active (I saw you made a post about it but the invite is expired)

oh yeah ofc! here's the link, just know that its a 16+ only server

[dorthyanndrarry]

Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy -41-

Tags: alcohol use, marijuana use, cigarettes, smoking, reckless behaviour, lack of self preservation, anxiety issues, chronic illness, deportation, racism, the fucking Tories, ptsd, super unhealthy coping mechanisms, Down and out Draco who’s friends with muggles, various OC’s, enemies to lovers, angst, mentions of throwing up/vomit, mentions of suicide, mentions of panic attacks, swearing

suggested rating: Mature

Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <- Part 40 || Part 42 -> 

-

Samuel soon exhausted all his social energy and excused himself to walk back to his flat alone. Draco knew better than try to walk back with him. Once Samuel’s social battery was empty, he became a bit of a bitch, which was fair enough. They all had their limits.

Draco stayed in that little nothing park for a while longer until the silence began to make him restless.

He apparated to Hogsmeade to rent an owl; he preferred the small village to Diagon. The streets were wider, and as long as the Hogwart’s students weren’t visiting, it tended to be quieter.

Draco went to the owlery and argued with the clerk about the value of muggle money versus the three knuts it cost to use a mail owl. Draco did not win the argument because the clerk was an idiot. They were quite sure that two pence coins had the same value as a knut because they were both copper coins of about the same size. Draco was fairly certain that two pence was worth fuck-all but gave up trying to convince them. He knew he’d be blamed for ‘fooling’ the clerk when the discrepancy was discovered.

Draco sent a message to Jarold about meeting up later that night to hang out. He decided to wait for Jarold’s response at Potter’s flat, getting Chinese take-out and watching random programs on the tv. It was starting to get dark when an owl finally came to the window and tapped gently on the glass.

It was another hour still until he and Jarold were going to meet up, and Draco stayed in the flat. He thought about going to his old building again, seeing if anyone else was around, but instead, he stayed. It wasn’t until he was leaving that he realised he had been waiting for Potter. A glance at the clock showed how late it was. And Potter had left for work early that morning. Draco took the crumpled note out of his pocket and read it again, just to be sure. Called in early, it said.

He put the note back in his pocket and flipped off the lights. Draco drew his wand out of his back pocket and very firmly ignored the feeling of disappointment in the back of his throat as he apparated away.

-

💜 Next update will be tuesday pst 💜gosh tuesday comes around faster than I remember 😅  Sorry it’s short, but babysteps, I suppose. I gotta start somewhere lol 💜 

Tags below v (I don’t have a permanent tags list. All tags are of the wonderful people who left messages or reblogs on the previous 2 parts.)

💜 @pain-changes-everything I love a good awakward convo😆💕 thank youuuuuuu 💜 💜

💜 @justafangirlslikes thank you!

💜 @shadowybook well, it can’t hurt XD they do show up a lot 💜 its’ so nice to get to show more of my sweet nervous samuel💜 thank youuu! 💜

💜 @idareyoutotakealook hell yeah!😎 thank you so much!!!! 💜

💜 @dewitty1 🥰harry’s a goood boy 💜 💜thank you!!!! 💜 💜

💜 @kaosuiinku yeah! I’m excited to for them to talk! 💜 thank you!

💜 @languedor71 thank you!!! as you can see I am taking it slow lol 💜 💜 💜

💜 @addicted-to-w0rds 🥰he’s made some good freinds 💜 💜thank you!

💜 @iamactuallya-cat   💜 💜thank you!!! 💜 💜

💜 @shirablu i love the park at night so much, it has such a good vibe 💜 💜thank you! 💜

💜 @devilrising 😍thank you so much!!! I’m happy you’re doing alright, I’m so happy to see you again💜 💜 💜 💜

💜 @draco-smokes-cigarettes  💜 @atomicauthorathletevoid  💜 @hmmihaventdecidedyet  💜 @chamomileteafuel  💜 @peaceinambiguity 

💜 @luna13e-blog  💜 @havingaverydrarryday  💜  @beelzebub-banshee  💜 💜 @lilyinthebreeze  💜 @icanlieandsaythatilikeitlikethat  💜

[elskanellis]

Getting to know me

Thanks for tagging me @goblinmatriarch (her delightful answers are here)

Three ships: Drarry (HP), Maxiel (F1), Spirk (TOS)

First ship: the first time I was outraged that two characters did not get together in canon was Anne/Diana.

Last song: "Who Is It (Carry my joy the left, carry my pain on the right)," Björk

Last movie: Frankenstein (1931). With the 12yo, who enjoyed it, and whom we will be showing Young Frankenstein (1974) next.

Currently reading: Go Down Together by Jeff Guinn. I'm hip-deep in a Bonnie & Clyde / Barrow gang research-hole–slash-hyperfixation right now. The book is fine. If I had world enough and time, I would instead be reading the entire 948-page FBI file on the Barrow gang, made available online (thank you, FOIA). I paused Wolf Hall to pursue this avenue, and will shortly go back to it.

Last thing I wrote: this drarry microfic and my contribution to the HP Law of Attraction Fest.

Currently writing: anon fic for unnamed fest

Are you named after anyone? YES! My first name is after my mom's grandmother. My middle name I chose and is in honor of (among others) Emily Brontë.

Favourite subject in school: any foreign language.

Do you have kids? Two! (Only one of them can handle James Whale horror films. The other one is afraid of the Arthur version of The Tell-Tale Heart.)

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I used to, but then I found out that I was a really poor judge of .. I guess the trajectory of my sarcasm? Where it would land, basically. And what I'd hoped would be witty and suave might just as well be cruel in the end. I enjoy sarcasm in other people but rarely use it myself.

What sports do you play/have you played? As a child I joined a municipal soccer league and was literally laughed off the team.

What's the first thing you notice about people? Their.... mien, I guess? This question confuses me.

Any special talents: I can sing "Landslide" in front of other people without crying.

Where were you born? Kentucky, USA

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing and avoiding writing, knitting, tarot, looking at things and talking about them. Currently I'm learning about the Barrow Gang (as mentioned) and I just started studying Uzbek.

Height: Six feet even, 182.ish cm.

Dream job: [redacted] because it's my job now, just without any pressures of capitalism.

Tagging, if you'd like to do it and no pressure etc, @citrusses , @sweet-s0rr0w , @hmmihaventdecidedyet , and anyone else who wants to do this!

[drarrywords]

before you read: hey! so, i wrote this drarry fanfic. it was supposed to be a long one but i can't give that level of commitment to it.

I want an opinion on it.

I'm working on an original novel and I have to set a writing style for it. Most of you are familiar with the writing style that I have but I've worked on it a bit more?

No pressure to read this but I would love an opinion in it. Constructive criticism, too. I do want to deliver my best.

It's called the stars that we lost. 1.7K words.

I'm tagging some of you. Please, please, please give me an honest review if you read it. Thank you so much😭

You can leave an anonymous review in the ask box, if you like<3

tags &lt;;3 @inflation-of-mind @missdrarrydawn @harryandginnydeservesbetter @sorry-i-ship-drarry @dearly-devoted-dawdler @textrovert-01 @prongsshipswolfstaranddrarry @nv-md @slytherinnbitch @rockingrobin69 @phoebe-delia @drarryspecificrecsdaily @slytherinnbitch @purplehotmess @loves-to-read-fanfic @cluelesspigeons @hmmihaventdecidedyet @thesmilingdisasterofalawyer @thecornerofbelu

[limetimo]

10 songs 10 people

Thank you @propheciesanddreams, @pjxckson for tagging me; just this morning I was thinking that I've fallen into a hell of YouTube only recommending me the same 2 playlists over and over again.

Kingdom Dance x Test Drive

The Plagues (Prince of Egypt (1998))

Fear And Delight by The Correspondents

House Of Memories by Panic! At the Disco

Hayloft II by Mother Mother

I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry

Darling by Avrill Lavigne (or like, the whole Goodbye Lullaby album)

Here Comes The Boom! by Nelly

Cold Cold Cold by Cage The Elephant

Circus by Britney Spears

No pressure tag for @icrowler, @ncoincidences, @natache, @girlresting, @four-otters-in-a-trenchcoat, @bythehearts, @minkhollow42, @hmmihaventdecidedyet, @addicted2reading16, @moth-lover-not-mother

[secondbeatsongs]

NSFT means "Not Safe For Tumblr"

I used to just tag stuff as "nsfw", but since the ban in 2018, I often use "nsft" or "lemon" because there seems to be a lower chance of being flagged as a blog containing "sensitive content"

what a world we live in

[skeptiquewrites]

For the prompts, an Unspeakable!Draco and Auror!Harry are both undercover at the same place, a front for some evil operation. Neither know the other is undercover. One or the other thinks the other doesn’t know it’s secretly evil

Hi friend, this isn't quite that, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

cw: alcohol, implied violence.

Microfic: Undercover

"Fancy seeing you here," Harry says, leaning up and ordering a drink from him like he frequented new nightclubs in Knockturn all the time.

"I work here," Draco says blandly. At any other time he would be delighted, but Harry bumbling into an operation is bad. Very bad. Already Draco is more worried about Harry than the target. Even if Harry is an Auror, he doesn't know.

"Are you here all night?" Harry asks. Draco makes a non-committal sound, while taking other orders, keeping careful watch on Roland Farrier and his companions in the middle of the VIP lounge.

"This doesn't seem like your scene," Draco says when he makes his way back to Harry. It's loud and almost four am, after all. Harry's normally nodding off at eleven. Harry shrugs.

A loud soundwave rips through the air, and Draco doesn't even think before pulling Harry behind the bar and swearing.

Harry taps his wrist with his wand and whispers something, as people start screaming and running for the exits. He turns to Draco, "Get out of here."

"You don't know what's going on," Draco shoots back, as his heart hammers in his chest, wand clutched close. Harry leaves their position crouched by the sink to peek around a corner. Draco wraps a hand around his wrist. He looks back.

"The Department—" they both begin and gaze at each other warily.

"You have to be fucking joking," Draco says, picking up a cutting board.

"The Unspeakables sent you without telling me?" Harry hisses.

"This is what happens when you involve Aurors," Draco says, using the cutting board as a shield as he ducks around the bar.

[lostdrarryfics]

Hi! I’m looking for a microfic I read a while ago on Tumblr, it was eighth year and Harry kept dropping things and forgetting to speak when Draco walked by. I think Draco maybe had long hair? And at the end I think Draco asked him out while Harry was being a disaster

Sorry, we could not find this fic. Maybe one of our followers or @drarrymicrofic can help!

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is having a good friend at summer camp, and being physically affectionate with him because you’re a physically affectionate person, but having LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE assume you’re dating, or think that you MUST date, because he’s AMAB and you’re AFAB

.

[hannahyesss]

hmmihaventdecidedyet: Wait does it really say BREATHED??? As in said quietly under his breath, usually used in a romantic or seductive situation?

FRIEND, JKR used the word ejaculated to describe how Slughorn shouted his remorse/surprise that Snape had killed Dumbledore. JKR is NOT GOOD at WRITING. LIKE OBVIOUSLY she meant BREATHED as "whispered in a disbelieving/incredulous way" but. Like. Don't. Pick another way to say it, yeah?

[dewitty1]

Happy birthday!

Thank you! ＼(^▽^＠)ノ

[aggressivelyarospec]

Sorry, @hmmihaventdecidedyet! I just saw this.

We didn't do anything, maybe you see it like that because there's a tag in there you follow or have saved or something.

Does anybody else sees the tags gradient?

— Caro

[m0srael]

Harry Potter Has Antlers

(2.2k | G) This was such a treat to write, thanks for the picrew prompt @hmmihaventdecidedyet!! Read my other picrew drabbles here and send me an ask to prompt your own!

“Stop that, you’re making me itch,” Draco snaps one Tuesday morning over breakfast.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t even notice…” Harry replies, pulling his fingers out of his hair where he’d been absentmindedly scratching the side of his head.

“Harry, I swear to Salazar,” Draco growls ten minutes later when his fingers find their way back, worrying at the same spot on his scalp that’s been tingling for days.

“Sorry! I honestly don’t know that I’m doing it!”

“I think you need to go see…someone. A Healer, maybe. You’ve been picking at that spot for too long and I’m starting to worry that whatever you’ve got is serious.

“I’ve not got anything. And I don’t need to go see anyone, I have a live-in Healer! I’m just…stressed. Sorry. I’ll try to pay more attention.”

*

“Harry, I don’t think this is just stress,” Draco says one evening as Harry sits before him in the bathroom on a low stool. He has a comb in his hands and is carefully parting the hair around a noticeable lump under Harry’s scalp. When he prods at it with a careful finger it seems to push back out against Harry’s skin.

“What? What do you mean? What does it look like, I can’t see…” Harry’s voice is panicked and high-pitched.

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve been feeling this for weeks and it hasn’t occurred to you to do anything about it.”

“Do anything about what?! I don’t know, I’ve been so busy—the new school year, and McGonnagal’s curriculum reforms, and…” He lifts his right hand and begins picking at the same spot, but on the other side of his head.

Draco shifts around and begins to part the hair there. There’s a lump on this side, too, though it’s much smaller than the first. “Harry, something’s…happening. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Seen anything like what?! Draco—you work on the curse damage ward, you’ve seen literally everything!”

“Not this…” Draco trails off as he spins Harry around and hands him a small mirror.

“What…the fuck,” Harry whispers as he brings the lump into view. The hair on top of it and around it has fallen out, leaving it bare. He can see where his skin strains, pale around whatever is underneath. When he looks closely, he can see delicate threads of magic zapping across his flesh like a shimmery spider’s web.

*

“ARGH! Merlin, fuck!” Harry jolts up in bed, sending Draco, who had been sleeping peacefully on his chest, toppling onto the floor with a loud thud.

Draco groans and rubs his shoulder, “Whassit? Harry, w’appened? S’nightmare?” He asks, sleepily.

“Draco, I think something’s wrong.” He’d been woken from a deep sleep by a sharp, shooting pain, and now his head is throbbing. He carefully pokes at the larger lump on his head. His flesh is tender and hot, and his fingers come away damp.

“Lumos,” Draco mutters, and the blood on Harry’s fingers glimmers in the low light. He feels a warm bead of it begin to trickle around his ear.

“That’s it. Mungo’s. Now.” Draco hauls himself off the floor and begins to pull on trousers and one of Harry’s old Canons sweatshirts.

Harry struggles into a pair of Draco’s skinny jeans and an old Weasley jumper, even the gentle brush of time-worn wool against his scalp unbearable. Underneath the warmth of swelling around the wound is a different kind of heat—something magical. Another drop of blood rolls over his scalp and down the side of his face. He starts to feel woozy.

*

“You have NO idea?!” Harry paces back and forth around the small St. Mungo’s examination room.

“Dear, for the hundredth time, have a seat,” Draco says, impatiently.

“Well, we’ve never seen anything like this, Mr. Potter.” The nurse flips frantically through Harry’s substantial chart, like he might find the answer buried in there somewhere.

“I find it very hard to believe you’ve never seen anything even close to this. There has to be a…a bone growth curse, or maybe I took a tainted batch of Pepper Up, or…”

“I know, I really am sorry, Mr. Potter, but trying to diagnose you would be irresponsible of me. I don’t have enough information and none of the tests are showing anything besides a slight magical anomaly-”

“-slight magical anomaly?!” Harry drops into the chair next to Draco.

“I will pass your chart along to the Chief Healer and they can do some research, perhaps.”

“What do we do about the open wound on his head in the meantime?!” Draco has one hand curled posessively around Harry’s forearm.

“Right, yes. Of course, Healer Malfoy. Well, we can clean it up and put on some salve and bandages before we send you home. If it doesn’t seem to be healing in the next week or so, you’ll have to come back in.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry says. The throbbing in his head hasn’t lessened. If anything, it’s gotten worse.

*

Draco examines Harry’s head every morning and every evening before he leaves for Hogwarts. The salve the Healers gave him helps prevent bleeding and decreases the swelling around the wounds. Wounds, plural—because now the lump on the other side of his head has decided to open. If he takes a pain potion regularly, the throbbing is bearable enough that he can muddle through his lessons and stagger back home through the floo in his office.

He’s started wearing his tall, pointed hat every day to hide his strange growths. Draco teases him every evening about how much more of a disaster it makes his hair.

The situation is…progressing. Although the pain is beginning to fade, the lumps—which seem to be getting larger by the day—have begun itching again. Badly. Scratching them with his fingers isn’t satisfying at all, and now that they’ve begun to sprout a fine layer of soft fuzz touching them turns his stomach.

“‘Arry? S’at you? Are you arright?” Hagrid asks in a worried tone as he crashes through the undergrowth at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry freezes, bent at the waist with the side of his head pressed firmly against the rough bark of a tree. As he straightens, he can’t help but scrape the lump on his head firmly against the tree again, shuddering at the relief it gives him.

“H-hagrid, I…” Harry fumbles for his hat, which slips through his fingertips and onto the forest floor. Hagrid watches, his face screwed up in concern and curiosity, as Harry leans down then tries to tug his hat back on.

“I just came ter bring you this,” Hagrid finally says, “saw ye come out here and I figured, well, I didn’t want ter embarrass ye, but I think this will help yer, eh, furry little problem.” He passes Harry a small tin with something scrawled on the top.

“Antler salve?” Harry stares down at the little tin with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Use it on the jackalopes every spring. Takes the velvet right off their pedicles, stimulates the growth an’ all.

“Takes off the velvet…” Harry whispers, still staring at the tin.

“That… s’what you need, right? Why you’re out here scratchin’ against the trees? I see it every year, the ‘lopes do the exact same.”

“I have…ANTLERS?!” Harry yells.

Hagrid pulls off Harry’s hat that is now sitting jauntily perched between the two lumps on his head.

“Well, yeah, y’didn’t know?”

*

“Harry, Draco and I think we’ve found something.” Hermione is seated on their office floor, ensconced in a fortress of books, most of which look centuries old.

“You think?”

“Well, we have but…with magic this old, it’s hard to be sure of the origins of different theories and almost impossible to cross-check sources.”

“Reassuring.” Harry idly rubs at the base of his left antler. Hagrid had been right about his antler salve. After Harry got over himself and fished it out of the bottom of the drawer he hid it in, it soothed his discomfort and helped his antlers harden and lengthen rapidly. Now, they’re each about a foot long. The left antler has two small tines and the right antler has a single tine that’s quite pointy on the end and has nearly caught Draco in the eye on more than one occasion.

Draco and Hermione share a private glance, and Draco strides across the office to take Harry’s hand in his own.

“Harry, love, we think it has to do with your father.”

“My…my father? What does it have to do with my father?”

“Well, Harry, you know your dad was an animagus,” Hermione starts flipping through a large book as she speaks.

“Yes…”

“Well, we did some digging—”

“—and talked to Mcgonnagal—” Draco interrupts.

“You talked to—” Harry starts, face twisting into an angry frown.

“Harry, the day that your father and his friends completed the animagus ritual,” Hermione interjects loudly, “is also the date of a statistically significant astronomical event. That night, in addition to a major lightning storm, there was a total lunar eclipse and the first appearance of a new periodic comet visible in the sky over Scotland.”

“So, I’m growing antlers because my animagus dad had statistically bad timing?”

“Well, we think that’s part of the reason. Elemental magic, like the animagus ritual, is highly influenced by the moon and other astronomical phenomena.”

“Okay, so if that’s only part of the reason…”

“Harry,” Draco says, flicking away a small spider trying to start a web between the tines on Harry’s left antler. “We’ve also found writing from the early thirteenth century that suggests the power of the animagus ritual can be magnified exponentially if done by wix in pairs. Even more-so in groups. Your dad, he carried out the ritual with Sirius and Peter Pettigrew. They went through all the steps together, shared ingredients, probably used leaves from the same Mandrake plant, even. They likely ingested the final potion at the same time, and quite close to one another, physically. The concentration of elemental magic would have been…well…astronomical.” Draco chuckles quietly at his own bad joke. Harry can’t help but smile.

“Basically, Harry,” Hermione continues in a gentler voice, “the magic was strong enough to alter your father’s magical core to the degree that elements of his animagus form became heritable.”

“Elements like antlers,” Harry sighs.

“Elements like antlers,” Draco confirms. “The stars just happened to align for him, literally, to enable something that has a one-in-a-million chance of occurring. Seems to be a thing with you, doesn’t it?”

“So…” Harry screws up his face in concentration, “if Padfoot had ever had children…”

“Yes. They would have had an unnatural proclivity for big sticks,” Draco deadpans.

“This is mad,” Harry breathes, scrubbing his face with one hand. “What do we do about it?”

Draco and Hermione share another anxious glance. “Well, technically, we could remove the antlers, but they’ll most likely grow back next spring. Just like normal deer antlers do. And it wouldn’t be very pleasant.” Hermione’s looking at him like he’s a small, anxious child.

“There’s no way to…to cut them off at the root, or something?”

“‘Fraid they don’t work like that, love.” Draco is thankfully not looking at Harry like he might throw a tantrum at any moment.

“So…”

“So. You have antlers. Harry Potter has antlers. Harry Potter will always have antlers. So far as we know,” Draco says decidedly.

*

Harry’s antlers were nearly four feet across from tip to tip and they’d developed several more tines per side before the right one dropped for the year. His remaining antler has dulled down from a fresh bone-white to a flat, brownish yellow and has grown hard, but slightly porous.

Harry stares at himself in the full length mirror in his and Draco’s bedroom, fingers trailing almost reverently over his remaining antler. It won’t be long before this one drops, too. Draco’s already claimed them, convinced they’ll make an excellent spoon rack for his potions lab at St. Mungo’s.

He’d been so self-conscious about them at first, trying to camouflage them with hats and headscarves, but they’d grown on him over time, and eventually he and everyone else got used to the sight of an antlered Harry Potter strolling the halls of Hogwarts. Students certainly see weirder things in those corridors on a weekly basis.

“Uh oh, that’s the face of self-pity,’ Draco says, coming up behind Harry to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist and rest his chin carefully on his right shoulder.

“Not self-pity. I was just thinking that, sure, it’s…inconvenient to suddenly have antlers sprout out of your head, but they’re a part of my dad. I don’t have a lot of things that were just his. Good things.”

Draco presses several small kisses behind Harry’s ear. “Your godfather, too. I mean, it wouldn’t have happened if your dad’s friends didn’t care for each other so much that they’d invest months of their lives in some barmy ancient magic ritual that has a very high chance of failure. Your antlers happened because your dad was so loved and loved others so well.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers.

“You’re just as loved, you know,” Draco murmurs, unfastening the buttons he sewed down the back of all of Harry’s shirts so he can undress without tearing his clothes to shreds or cracking a tine. He presses another cluster of small kisses into the nape of Harry’s neck.

“I know,” Harry replies, leaning back into Draco’s touch.