#sdkmn

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WIP snip

thank u @uncannycerulean for tagging me in a @ficwip snippet post, which is much less intimidating than a "post something you wrote recently" tag because the prompt word means i don't have to choose a good bit 😅

the prompt word is VISIT – here's a bit from chapter 6/20 of the "harry makes friends with the slytherins while polyjuiced" WIP i've been mentioning for approx 5 years (🙄😵‍💫🤢) but desperately want to post this year

“…worried you were caught up with that attack on Gringotts!” Millie says, and Harry flinches so much his shoulder bumps into Draco, who wraps his hand around Harry’s wrist as if he’s afraid Harry is about to make a run for it. “The Prophet said the only people hurt were goblins,” Theo points out. “Well, we don’t know he’s not a goblin, do we?” Millie says. “He’s Polyjuiced.” “Are you a goblin?” Goyle asks Harry, his brow furrowed. “Of course he’s not a goblin,” Parkinson says. “Polyjuice doesn’t work on goblins.” “How do you know?” Millie says. “Have you seen a goblin take Polyjuice?” “I don’t have to see a goblin take Polyjuice to know—” The words echo around the inside of Harry's head like his skull is made from the damp stone of the Gringotts tunnels. Maybe he should have taken another day to rest before coming back. It’s too much: the lights and the noise and the people. And the guilt. He didn’t realise they’d be worried. They shouldn’t be worried. They were never supposed to— He could tell them. He could tell them right now. He could interrupt Parkinson with a quiet “I was at Gringotts, actually.” He could explain what he was doing this week—why he’s still bleary-eyed and twitchy today—why he’s wearing a different face. He doesn’t even have to come fully clean. He could just tell them that he’s an Auror. It’s unlikely that they know every member of the department. None of the others are as famous as Harry is. Or maybe he could just tell them his address. He could make them swear not to visit, but would promise to write back if they ever needed to contact him. That way they can know he’s okay if he ever disappears again. If they still care by then. But then he imagines Millie earnestly knocking on November’s door with a surprise breakfast only to be confronted with a sleep-rumpled Harry Potter. He imagines Draco leaving one of his trinkets on the doorstep, unable to stop himself peering through the window and getting an eyeful of Harry in his pants, staring dully at the television. He imagines Parkinson Apparating over first thing tomorrow to make absolutely sure he’s not a spy sent by their parents. He feels sick. “Anyway,” Draco says, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of long brown hair behind Harry’s borrowed ear. “Goblin or not, you’re back now, so it doesn’t matter. Want to dance?”

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WIP Snip

thank you so much @ghostofnoir for tagging me to drop a WIP snip!! a couple of weeks ago i'd've probably said i don't have a WIP on the go, but i'm slooowly starting to accept that i'm probably going to attempt to finish another chaptered fic 😭 atm i'm in the stage of refusing to write anything at all bc i want to "feel ready" (haha) but as it happens i do already have 30k of it sitting there waiting to be whipped (WIP'd) into shape the plot tl;dr: harry sneaks into a nightclub under polyjuice and accidentally makes friends with the slytherins, who don't know who he is. this is a lil chunk from (probably) chapter 4 – a bit from chapter 2 was previously posted here!

“Draco,” he says, “come and dance with me.”

Malfoy glances at Nott, who frowns at Harry. Harry knows he should feel bad for interrupting them, but the alcohol and Polyjuice in his system make him feel like himself again, like he can be impulsive, like he should be—so he keeps his gaze on Malfoy, keeps his hand extended in invitation.

“Oh, all right,” Malfoy says, shrugging—but Harry is watching him so closely that he doesn’t miss the way Malfoy looks at him through his eyelashes with a small, pleased smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

The shots, the anonymity, the thrill of being in Phoenix—it all bolsters Harry, makes him feel confident, makes him feel free. Once they’re in the middle of the crowd, music thumping around them, through them, Harry pulls Malfoy close and murmurs in his ear that he’s sexy when he dances.

Malfoy snorts and tosses his head. “I’d return the compliment, but I have no idea what you actually look like.”

Harry hesitates. The powerful feeling inside him falters. “Sorry,” he says—almost a question.

Malfoy shrugs. “I don’t care what you look like, as it happens,” he says, though his voice is a bit too casual. “You have a hot personality.”

Harry covers the swooping in his stomach with a laugh. “A hot personality?”

“That’s what I said. Now, come on. Dance with me, if you think I’m so sexy.”

Harry dances with him. There’s no hesitation when they touch each other now—just lingering eye contact, hands finding shoulders, waist, hips. Harry presses closer automatically. Malfoy tips his head back and moves to the music.

atm this is about the only bit that doesn't have more square brackets than actual words – much more disjointed than the beautiful snip you posted earlier, @ghostofnoir!!! i hope the editing process is being kinder to you this week!!! ❤️

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several sentences sunday~

cheers @tackytigerfic for the tag!! your snippets are always gorgeous and delightful and it’s a little embarrassing even looking at my light-hearted silliness after reading anything of yours – the way you can make anything heartwrenching in such an effortless(-seeming) way is consistently incredible! but here’s an early bit from my “harry goes to a club under polyjuice and accidentally befriends the slytherins” drarry wip anyway

“Pansy is right,” Nott says. His dark eyes are fixed on Harry’s face. “We don’t know who he is. He could be a reporter. He could be an Auror trying to frame us for something.”

“He could be one of our parents,” Parkinson adds, and a shiver goes around the table.

“I’m not any of those things,” Harry offers—he’s not trying to frame them for anything, after all. “And I was just dragged over here without warning, actually, so I’m just going to go…”

“Don’t be silly,” Zabini says. “Millicent, dear heart, budge over, would you? There you go, sit there, here’s your drink.” He puts the trifle bowl of terror on the events leaflet that Bulstrode’s martini just vacated. “The whole point of Phoenix is that your past doesn’t matter. That’s why us lot are here, isn’t it?”

Harry, still standing, tries to look politely blank. He very carefully doesn’t let his gaze fall to anybody’s left arm.

“It is unfair though,” Malfoy says, “if he knows about us and we don’t know about him.”

“Really, I’m not gonna stick around—”

“Who says he knows anything about us?” The question comes, quite unexpectedly, from Goyle.

“If he’s over the age of twenty and has ever read a newspaper, he knows about us,” Malfoy says. He tosses his head as if he’s trying to be careless, but his voice is tight. “Or at least some of us.”

The thought Harry might be under twenty is the only one that seems to make Zabini pause. “You’re not underage, are you? I don’t give a shit if are and you’re drinking, but I’ll have to adapt my behaviour towards you considerably if so.”

“I’m not underage,” Harry says.

“What if he’s old?” Parkinson says. “Like, too old.”

“Out of interest, how old is too old?” Harry asks.

“Forty?” Parkinson says.

“Fifty,” Malfoy and Bulstrode say.

“I dunno, ninety or so?” Zabini says. “But I’m open to being convinced otherwise.”

“Blaise!” Bulstrode wrinkles her nose. She has freckles. It’s the first time Harry’s been close enough to her to notice.

Zabini is watching Harry carefully. “Maybe up to a hundred?”

“Oh my god,” Harry says. “I’m not a hundred.”

i’m so out of touch that i have no idea who has been tagged this week and who hasn’t. if u haven’t and u want to take part, please consider this a sign from the universe to do it – and pls tag me in ur post so i can see what ur up to 👀