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Summary
Harry was waiting in line for the ‘anchor lift’ as the employees here called it when he saw it. His jacket. His jacket on another person. A light bulb in Harry's brain turned red. No way in hell did that person have the same jacket as him. No fucking way.
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Or, the cute, fluffy, wintery fic where Louis and Harry meet because of the same jacket. And everything else is basically just love and hot chocolate. But that’s kind of the same thing, now isn’t it?
