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6th year

‘Did you hear? Another soul bond formed yesterday.’

Whispers and soft breathy conversations followed Draco everywhere. He tended to ignore gossip, as it lost its appeal the moment he became the center of most of it. Oh, he used to like it, but that was when it was mostly innocent. He didn’t mind the exaggerated re-tellings of his silly but successful attempts at goading Potter. That was one thing he had always been good at, annoying Potter. 

Something he still fancied when the opportunity arose.

‘The soul bond didn’t form yesterday; it was discovered yesterday. There’s a difference.’

‘Who are you, Granger? Who cares about the distinction? I swear my best gossip is ruined on you.’

Soulmates.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. The hidden romantic inside of him that his father liked to crush loved the idea of soulmates. Made him want to meet his, made him want to know who was meant for him. Would they like who they saw? Would they judge him for things they couldn’t possibly understand? Would they open their eyes and truly see who he was?

Or would they see what everyone else saw? The sins of the father.

The rational side of him doubted the concept of soulmates. Oh, he believed in them, knew that they existed as the truth was bold and loud throughout history. The concept of one person and one person alone was never in question, it was that it had to be romantic that had his mind clouding over with doubt.

A connection made sense. Someone out there was connected to him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it, or them by extension. Who was to say he ever would? Not that he was holding out hope that he’d ever find them.

Soulmates weren’t exactly common. Oh, they were in the papers, plays, books, songs and scattered across historical texts but the actual rate at which people found their soulmates was slim to none.

Until recently.

More and more of them began popping up. No explanation, no rhyme or reason. The Ministry refused to acknowledge the ever-growing phenomenon, because that’s what it truly was, a phenomenon. Draco didn’t have to be in contact with his father to know that his father believed that it was all staged. His mother refused to talk about soulmates and always pretended she couldn’t hear the conversation.

‘Who was it this time? Anyone we know?’

As always, the only one barmy enough to have a theory at all was Dumbledore and that damned sorting hat. They claimed that in darkness love would always shine through, but Draco wasn’t so sold. That gave a lot of power to the Dark Lord, more power than he felt was deserved.

How could the Dark Lord influence soulmates? That would imply that soul bonds formed in times of distress. Would it make it environmental? History didn’t back that up. Wars were aplenty through the years and there was no written correlation to soul bonds.

‘Bates and Jefferies. They started sharing too many abilities to not be noticeable.’

Draco wished he could tune them out, but they were walking in the same direction, and their voices were louder than his mind.

‘Didn’t they graduate last year?’

‘Two years ago.’

‘And we care why?’

Finally, that was the first thing Draco could agree with them on. What did it matter?

‘It’s the closest we’ve had to someone in Hogwarts having a soul bond.’

‘Like that even counts.’

‘No, but could you imagine? A soul bond forming here?’

Soul bonds were supposed to be sacred, were highly regarded amongst society and those fortunate to have one always found themselves in some form of spotlight afterward. The exact opposite of what Draco was looking for. The last thing he needed was to have even more eyes on him. Not after his father—

‘I suppose it would be interesting. But only if it was worth it. Like Potter!’

Of course. Potter. Everything always came back to Potter. Didn’t it?

‘Potter? That would fuel the gossip train for years. Well, not lately. Lately it’s been Malfoy—’

‘Malfoy? Can you imagine anyone who would be unfortunate enough to have him for a soulmate?’

Draco sighed, hands clenching as he tried to block their conversation out of his mind but all it did was cause them to turn toward him, eyes widening when they recognized him—not that he recognized them at all. He could tell they were in Hufflepuff by their uniform, and if he had to guess he’d say maybe third years.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Draco drawled, tone not quite as hostile as it had been as of late, but it didn’t have any warmth to it either.

One of the girls’ eyes were so wide-eyed that the other one elbowed her. It would have been more comical if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“Malfoy.”

He jerked his head in reply and watched as their unease mounted. It was the most entertainment he’d had all week, and he almost wished his next class wasn’t about to start.

“What are we gossiping about?” Draco whispered as he leaned down. “Do share.”

“Um..uh—no, um.”

“We weren’t—”

“Oh, you weren’t?” Draco asked, finger on his chin as he narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t my name out of your mouth just now?”

He smirked when they began to stutter and look for a quick exit.

“N-no, of course not. We were just—”

“You were just,” Malfoy mocked, hand gesturing for her to continue. “Just what? Talking about things that you couldn’t possibly understand? Shoving your nose into things that don’t concern you? What? What was it exactly that you were doing?”

One of them looked like they might cry, but he wasn’t feeling too generous to stop. Before they could say anything, an elbow was shoved into his side, and it had Draco’s lips thinning as he shoved the elbow away from him and the girls took his split moment of distraction to run down the hall. 

“Picking on third years, are we?”

The familiar but entirely unwelcome tone had him wishing he had stayed in bed and not bothered to show up for class, despite all of the weird dreams he had been having lately.

“I would’ve chosen you, but you weren’t anywhere in sight,” Draco drawled as he glared at Potter. “Had to make do with them.”

Of course Potter would swoop to their rescue. Why did Potter have to save everyone? Did he get a kick out of being the hero? The damn savior for everything. It had to be a fetish at this point.

“At least I was your first choice.”

There was an openness to Potter that hadn’t been there before everything had changed, and he was bitter enough to hate it. Just as Potter was always around to save a damsel in distress, Draco was destined to be a byproduct of his father’s decisions.

“What did they do to get your wand in a twist?” Potter asked as he unfortunately began walking next to him. Leave it to a Gryffindor to not know when they weren’t wanted. “Make fun of your hair?”

Draco paused mid step; eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing,” Potter said, lips twitching. “The loose look is different on you.”

Horror filled Draco when he realized that he had forgotten to slick it back when he woke up. The alarm spell hadn’t gone off when it was supposed to, and he had absentmindedly rushed through his morning routine.

Draco was afraid to look, but he had to know. He transfigured a spare quill into a mirror and groaned when he saw how wild his hair looked. It was definitely a bed type hair style. “I don’t look quite as atrocious as you but if it had been any wilder I would have been your hair twin.”

Potter laughed; the sound surprising them both. Draco didn’t like it. Didn’t like that Potter was even speaking to him.

“If it wasn’t your hair that they were talking about, what was it?”

What did it matter to Potter?

“If you must know, they were talking about soulmates,” Draco said, shrugging one shoulder. He didn’t miss the way Potter’s eyes widened. Whether at his honesty or the subject, he wasn’t sure. “And that they couldn’t imagine me with one, how unfortunate it would be for someone to form a soul bond with me.”

Potter came to an abrupt stop, but they were at their destination. Professor Slughorn’s door was open early, something that Snape never did, and it was kind of nice. It meant that they didn’t have to converge in the cramped hallway or wait for Snape to open the door dramatically late with a flourish of his robes.

“Rather tame if you ask me,” Draco said, eying the way Potter still hadn’t moved. “I’ve heard worse. The day I sob over a third years’ opinion is the day I get kicked out of Slytherin.”

He didn’t care what they thought of him, nor did he care what a single person at Hogwarts thought either. They didn’t matter. None of them did.

When Potter still didn’t move, Draco left him at the entrance. He wasn’t going to be late just because Potter was fucking weird. Slughorn barely tolerated him as it was, and he didn’t want to give the professor any room to dock points.

As usual, his table was empty just as it was in every class. No one in his year wanted to work with him. As much as he could shrug that off—he didn’t need anyone else—he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting a little bit.

“Good morning,” Slughorn nearly bellowed, startling several people in the front tables. “Today we will be starting with a little quiz.”

Several groans filled the room, and Draco didn’t have to look to know that they all came from the Gryffindors—their lack of decorum was horrifying.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Draco blinked a few times as he turned to see Potter standing next to him as he rubbed the back of his head.

“I do actually,” Draco said, arms folding across his chest. “I’m not interested in doing all of the work.”

“I’ll pull my own weight,” Potter promised, and he felt that he was justified in the way his brows arched, and doubt twisted his features. 

“I will,” Potter added the longer Draco stared.

Indecision had him biting his lip as the pros and cons briefly flittered across his mind. It would be nice to not have to do all of the work while everyone else was in duos, but then it would mean spending time with Potter, and did he really want to punish himself like that when he had enough to deal with as it was?

Draco sighed loudly, a hand gesturing toward the empty seat next to him. He could already hear whispers from the tables behind them. Great. He had hoped that the gossip surrounding him would fade but add Potter to the mix and it would never die down.

Slughorn announced that he would be moving through the tables with a cart full of several small cauldrons of potions on it in an attempt to see who could guess them correctly. It was Draco’s luck that Slughorn zeroed in on Potter and made a bee line straight to them.

“Potter my boy,” Slughorn said with a low chuckle that shook his whole body. “I just know you’ll do good.”

The grimace on Potter’s face was at least entertaining. He knew that most people assumed that Potter liked the extra attention his name brought but Draco had spent the last five years observing him and knew that Potter went out of his way to not be noticed. A notion that Draco had never understood, until it happened to him. If he was a better person he might even feel guilty over thinking the worst in Potter, but he wasn’t a better person and he sure as hell wasn’t about to lose sleep over it—especially not over a damn Gryffindor at that.

A cauldron was placed between them and Draco could tell by the purple spirals that it was—

“A memory potion, sir.”

Draco blinked a few times as he stared at Potter. He wasn’t the only one either. Granger turned around and looked at them with arched brows.

Slughorn patted Potter on the shoulder as he congratulated him. “Well done. What gave it away?”

“The purple spirals.”

When the potion was removed, and a second cauldron was placed in front of them Draco turned to Potter curiously. Sure, the memory potion had a visual clue as to what the potion would be but surely he wouldn’t know—

“A wound cleaning potion.”

“Your reasoning?”

Potter looked around the room, no doubt realizing that everyone was looking at him and Draco wondered if it would make him choke and lose his train of thought. Would serve him right.

“It’s odorless.”

“Other potions are odorless too,” Draco pointed out as he angled his body to where he was facing Potter directly.

“Yes, but other ones aren’t odorless, clear and cold. I can feel the temperature from here.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Potter?”

There was a mischievous twinkle to Potter’s eyes that did not bode well. Draco wanted no part in whatever was going on in that head of his and he wished he hadn’t asked at all.

“What? I can’t pick up a hobby?”

“Hobby?” Draco snorted. “You and potions are like fire and water. Two things that not only do not work together but leave a catastrophe in its wake. You’d be better off fighting fire with Fiendfyre.”

“I take offense to that. My name is not Neville.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry Nev!”

Draco hated that he wanted to smile. Fuck Potter and his stupid humor that was not charming.

“What about you Mister Malfoy? Can you tell me what this one is?”

Startling, Draco jumped a little when he realized that Slughorn had replaced the cauldron with a new one. He peered at the potion instantly recognizing it by the colour and the way the potion was entirely still as if immobile. When he looked beside him, he could tell that Potter knew it too.

They locked eyes as they said at the same time, “The Draught of Living Death.”

“Splendid!” Slughorn clapped and jumped once before, “The two of you will make wonderful potions together.”

“Oh, no,” Draco shook his head rapidly, a frown already forming. “It was just for today.”

“Nonsense,” Slughorn waved that away as he began moving down the tables. “Potion partners for the rest of the year.”

Draco’s mouth parted to argue but Slughorn had already started hounding Weasley whose face turned redder and redder with every question thrown his way.

“It won’t be so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Draco scoffed, resting his cheek in his palm as he stared at Potter who was unnervingly staring right back at him. “I’m still suspicious.”

A dramatic eye roll. “Of what? I think I proved myself rather nicely.”

There was something off about the whole thing. “You hated potions.”

“I hated Snape. There’s a difference.”

Fair, but still. “You can’t tell me that Snape made you atrocious at potions for six and a half years.”

“Five and a half years. If we’re going to go there it at least has to be accurate.”

Draco tried not to laugh so he shook his head instead. “Fine, five and a half years. That would mean that halfway through our fifth year you suddenly found a second love of potions?”

There was that mischievous look again.

“Something like that,” Potter whispered softly.

Clearly, there was something that Potter wasn’t telling him, but he wasn’t sure he cared enough to figure it out. Potter could keep his secrets. Draco had his own problems to solve and didn’t need to waste another minute on Potter’s.

Even if he was intrigued.

Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Even if.

‘Did you read Witch Weekly? They ran a special on soulmates.’

‘They always run a special about soulmates.’

‘Yeah… but this time they interviewed Bates and Jefferies.’

Draco stabbed at his diced Flobberworms a bit too viciously as he imagined it was Brown and Patil. Maybe that would get them to quit gossiping. What was with the incessant need to constantly bring up soulmates? What did it matter what Bates and Jefferies did? They didn’t even know them.

The sound of a low gurgle had him lazily flicking a piece of Flobberworm toward the Chomping Cabbage he was supposed to be feeding. The plants were supposed to be a line of defense in a garden, but they were too hungry to not devour anything they came in contact with, other plants included. He never understood the point of potting a plant that would destroy a garden by the end of the season.

‘The interview was so romantic. Bates said he had always known Jefferies was his soulmate but the reason it took so long was that Jefferies hadn’t known.’

Draco tilted his head as he frowned as Brown’s voice carried over. It sounded fake to him. In the majority of recorded history, soulmates were always connected in some way. The desire to be near them. It was supposed to feel different than interacting with other people. A lot of people assumed that it was love, but Draco rather thought it could be any emotion. Perhaps soulmates just felt strong emotions about each other. Positive or negative.

“I don’t think you’re doing that right.”

Draco clutched at his chest as he startled, snarling as he turned to face a smirking Potter.

“Leave me alone before I sick my plant after you.”

“Now that is definitely a threat. Your Chomping Cabbage looks particularly vicious,” Potter said, casting a wary look at his potted plant. “Are you starving it?”

He would have responded but he was far too distracted with the realization that Potter didn’t have his glasses on. The thick frames were nowhere to be seen and he kind of hated how much attention he was giving to Potter, but he couldn’t make his mouth move nor would any words reach his lips.

“—ou alright? Malfoy?”

“Where are your glasses?”

Potter blinked twice before he smiled a strange smile—dare he say it was shy—that did not fit the conversation.

“Sometimes I need them and sometimes I don’t.”

“That’s not how vision works.”

Potter laughed, eyes crinkling as he stood next to him, picking up pieces of Flobberworm before he began to feed Draco’s plant.

“Don’t spoil him.”

“I wouldn’t be spoiling him if you didn’t starve him.”

“I’m not spoiling Edwin, he’s on a strategic diet to optimize his stature.”

“Edwin, huh? How very posh of you.” Potter bit his lips, eyes filled with a mirth that had Draco’s eyes narrowing. The conversation was almost pleasant, and he didn’t like it. They didn’t do pleasant. Draco didn’t do pleasant—he wasn’t pleasant.

“Just because you don’t care about your Chomping Cabbage doesn’t mean that the rest of us don’t.”

“I care about mine,” Potter said, head shaking. “But mine has a strange fascination with Hermione’s and they refuse to be separated.”

“A lot of words just to say you pawned yours off on Granger.”

Potter scowled and it brought a sense of normality to the conversation. This was much better. This was how he wanted them to be.

“I did my fair share of growing the blasted thing,” Potter said, arms crossing. “Herbology has never been a subject I care much for.”

“Agreed,” Draco admitted reluctantly. “If it weren’t for their uses in Potions, I doubt I’d have continued to take the class.”

Magical plants had their uses but the majority of them were dangerous. There were far too many rules to them that he had never been able to memorize, nor did he want to. If he were to ever become a Potion Master he’d just buy his ingredients, no way was he going to have his own greenhouse.

“I’m not sure why I’m taking the class at all,” Potter mused, tossing a few more Flobberworms to Edwin. “I wanted to be a Auror, but I don’t think that’s a right fit for me.”

Oh? An Auror? In some ways he could see it, could see Potter joining the Ministry and doing the world a sense of good. However, the Ministry didn’t even like Potter. Oh, they pretended to now that there was proof that the Dark Lord had returned, and they had no choice but to admit that they had been wrong. But still. The hypocrisy had to burn. If it had been him, he’d have told them to get bent. He’d have—

“I can’t get passed how they treat me though,” Potter continued, as if he could read Draco’s mind. “They can’t make up their mind when it comes to me. One minute I’m a depressed orphan that needs all the love he can get and the next I’m an attention seeking monster that only knows how to lie.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “Neither of those suits you.”

“What does suit me?”

“Don’t fish for compliments.”

“You were going to say something nice? To me? Oof. My heart can’t take such a thing.”

Draco rolled his eyes, flicking a Flobberworm at Potter who didn’t dodge it at all, and it landed in between his eyes, drawing attention to the lack of glasses again.

“Did you take a potion?” Draco asked, mind distracted as he tried to rationalize it. “I don’t understand how your vision would fluctuate.”

“It’s not a mystery.” Potter shrugged. “Well, not anymore at least.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It would if you’d open your mind a little.”

What an odd thing to say. He almost wanted to ask for clarification but in the end, it was only about glasses. What did he care if Potter could see or not, that wasn’t Draco’s problem. Giving up, he turned back to his Chomping Cabbage and hoped that Potter would get his underlying message and leave.  

“Do you want to be Herbology partners?”

“No,” Draco gasped, aghast. “Merlin, no.”

That was the last thing he wanted. Spending more time with Potter was a distraction that he didn’t want to have to put up with. There was too much going on in his life already and he’d be damned if he brought more attention to himself just because Potter wanted to use him as a next adventure.

“I think we’d make a good team.”

“And deprive Granger’s Chomping Cabbage of yours? How cruel of the Chosen One.”

“They would get over it.”

Draco spun around; lips pursed as he regarded the expression on Potter’s face. There was a reason that Potter was bothering him. Once was an outlier but this? Something else was going on and as loath as he was to figure it out, he was beginning to think that was the only way to make it stop.

“I’ll think about it.”

When Potter narrowed his eyes, Draco couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. He liked the suspicion, reveled in it.

“What are you planning?”

“You tell me first.”

Potter huffed before turning around, only pausing to say over his shoulder, “See you next class, partner.”

When several people turned to stare at him, he felt a bit wary. Just what did he get himself into?

And why was he looking forward to it?

‘Malfoy again. I don’t know why his mother didn’t pull him from the school.’

‘I heard that she couldn’t. That the Ministry is forcing him to go as part of the plea deal.’

‘That doesn’t even make sense. Malfoy doesn’t have a deal, his father does.’

What was with the incessant need to gossip? Didn’t people have better things to do with their time than to focus on what other people were doing? Were their own lives that pathetic?

Draco elbowed his way through the hall, shoving people out of his way, ensuring those that whispered hate the loudest would be the ones that hit the wall the hardest. Part of him wished his mother would have let him switch schools but the deadline to do so had already passed and they had denied all of his appeals. The Ministry didn’t give a damn about him or his mother, they only wanted his father.

Well, they certainly had him, didn’t they? 

When he entered Defense Against the Dark Arts, he ignored the stares that followed him. The stares that he knew would only ever get worse as time progressed. With each damn ‘insider scoop’ that was released the further he became a social pariah from the very people he had surrounded himself with.

There was only one table left, and he groaned internally when he realized that it was at the very front. At least no one would be able to twist in their seats to get a look at him, they’d have to settle for staring at the back of his head instead.

Snape wasn’t in the room, and he knew that was because the man liked to make a dramatic entrance and would probably show up a few minutes late. Part of him wondered if Snape should have gone into theater instead of teaching. At least then there’d be applause, and people might actually like him.

Draco skimmed the lesson they were to go over as he impatiently waited for class to begin. The quicker it started the quicker it would end. He just wanted the day to be over. The words on the page blended together despite a sense of familiarity to them that he couldn’t quite place. He hadn’t read ahead, had he?

‘He always sits alone.’

‘Karma, don’t you think? Used to act like a king amongst us only for it to all crumble.’

‘What happened to his friends?’

‘What friends? Did he ever have any or were they just afraid of him?’

The bitter truth in their stinging words had his throat closing. Draco closed his eyes as his fists clenched. If he wasn’t in Snape’s classroom he’d hex them into next week, but his head of house was cruel when it came to detentions, and he didn’t fancy the torture he’d no doubt have to endure.

The sound of a chair scraping loudly against the floor preceded a breathless, “Sorry I’m late. Ran into Peeves, and he chased me into a corridor I had never been in before.”

Draco groaned out loud this time as he turned his head to see the last person he wanted to interact with sitting next to him as Potter opened a rucksack and pulled out several bits of rolled up parchment that had seen better days. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked defeated. Maybe karma really was to blame for his misfortune.

Potter. Every time he turned around there he was. Potter. Fucking Potter. Perfect Potter. Charming Potter. Potter, Potter, fucking Potter.

“Pretending that life is fair and that I’m just another student who gives a fuck about their grades and that there isn’t a madman that wants me dead year after year. You?”

“Pretending that my father isn’t in Ministry protection and that he didn’t turn against the Dark Lord for immunity.”

“What a pair we make.”

“Don’t associate yourself with me. My reputation can’t take it.”

Not that there was a reputation left at all that wasn’t in shambles. Neither side wanted his family as both sides of the war united in their distrust of the Malfoy name.

A traitor.

That’s what was hissed at him at every turn. Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lord’s right hand man turned traitor at the drop of pressure from the Ministry. The great Malfoy name was nothing more than a memory, of a before. That’s what was left of them. A before and an after.

“Mine can.”

Before Draco could say anything the door to the class slammed shut as Snape walked into the room, robes billowing. He paused momentarily when he noticed the two of them sitting together but continued on to the front of the class.

“I trust that you all did your homework.”

It was a statement not a question. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Potter lean his head on his hand before closing his eyes. Bold and stupid.

When Snape began randomly asking specific students questions Draco sat up straighter as he paid attention. Snape didn’t ask questions for the hell of it, no, there was always a reason to his methods. If one paid attention all of the answers to every assignment or test was plainly in the lesson. Every word that was spoken held a purpose—one just had to listen.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a tough class. He understood the theory behind it more so than most of the students because he knew the Dark Arts in a way that was entirely illegal. That was the problem though. Countering the Dark Arts was a hell of a lot harder than performing the Dark Arts. In a way he was unlearning a particular set of magic and changing the entire purpose of it. He could get an outstanding on any essay, but actively performing the magic was another thing entirely because he was fighting his instincts.

He mouthed the answers as some of the students got the questions wrong and watched intently when Snape began picking out select students to perform a mock duel that was timed. The longer he watched them the more he realized that he was able to predict the outcome most of the time. Not in a way that would make Trelawney happy but more in the aspect that he could tell by their stance and their wand movements who had the upper hand. Could tell who had a firmer tone with proper inflection and which one had the best chance at winning.

But…

He wasn’t sure why he was picking up on things he had never really paid attention to before. Duels had been something his father loved to watch professionally but it never really interested him. He used to bet on whoever looked the best or whoever had the best statistics.

When it was his turn to go up against Longbottom he wasn’t as nervous as he expected he would be. Usually, his palms would get a little sweaty and he’d try to remember all of the typical defensive spells instead of instantly going for illegal ones that would get him kicked out school. It was hard to remember to use a tickling charm when his gut instinct was to go for a cutting curse to the face.

He wasn’t built for tame spells.

The moment Snape signaled them to begin, Longbottom immediately threw out a slew of spells that hit a protective barrier that Draco instinctively shot out in an instantaneous reaction that had him blinking a bit.

The instinct to use darker spells was still there but it was a background buzz rather than the distracting presence that it usually was, and it had him performing better than he ever had before.

The timer on the duel would end any second and when Longbottom opened his mouth, Draco yelled, “Expelliarmus.”

Draco frowned and so did Snape as he gestured for them to take their seats as he called the next duo to duel. He was still frowning as he turned to the table and saw Potter looking at him with a smile that reached his stupidly pretty eyes that had that mischievousness to them again, and he didn’t like it.

“Interesting ending, don’t you think?”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing as he sat down, pulling out his wand and staring at it pensively.

“Peculiar ending,” he whispered to himself, thumb rubbing along the wand curiously. He wasn’t sure what had happened and part of him didn’t want to know.

Without looking he could tell that Potter was staring at him, and he knew that he didn’t want to know about that either.

Not at all.

“I’m afraid it’s a lost cause my dear.”

Draco glared at the mirror and willed it to shut up. First his wand behaved weirdly in the duel with Longbottom and now it didn’t want to style his hair. He used to borrow Pansy’s hair care products from time to time but that wasn’t an option anymore. Not when his father told the Ministry that the Parkinson family laundered money with the Dark Lord to fund their cause.

Hard to keep friends when your father spills all of their family secrets to the public.

When his father decided to turn on the Dark Lord his lips grew loose and out came a lot of information, more than most realized his father would even know. His father had to be on the top of the ‘To Kill List’ right at number two after Potter. Draco was pretty sure he was also on the list just because of his association with his father.

The Ministry had wanted to keep him out of Hogwarts entirely. It wouldn’t look good to the public if someone with such a high-profile case had something happen to their family. But his mother wouldn’t hear of it. If the other schools wouldn’t take him in with such short notice, then Hogwarts would have to do. The Ministry provided extra security for him, which was his own private room, and shotty protection spells that anyone with a smidgen of a brain could figure a way around them. Which was pretty on par for the Ministry, so he hadn’t even been disappointed or surprised.

No, he’d have to take care of it himself. Which he did. His father might be a traitor, tucked tail, ran and left his only child behind to fight his battles for him, but that didn’t mean that Draco was weak. That didn’t mean he suddenly forgot how to stand up for himself, and he certainly knew how to put his wand where his mouth was.

There wasn’t much that he couldn’t do… except for getting his hair to work with him it would seem.

Draco groaned, forehead pressed against the mirror when his hair went flat for a few seconds before springing right back up, like it had a mind of its own. He didn’t understand. His hair always had a slight curl to it that was easily covered with spells and hair care products. What changed?

“Have you considered a hat?”

“Get bent.”

The mirror gasped and he knew if it could, the mirror would have turned a back to him.

A hat might work, but he never felt that they looked good on him. He debated about using a growth spell on his hair and pulling it into a ponytail to tame it, but he really didn’t want to look in the mirror and see his father looking back at him. He supposed he could cut it, but that was a drastic measure that he wasn’t so sure he could stomach doing.

That only left one option.

He’d have to go out looking like a better-looking Potter. Again. All he was missing was some glasses and no sense of self preservation of any kind and they would be twins. Draco glared at his reflection one last time before storming out of the common room.

Draco ignored the stares from the people in the hallways and even from the blasted nosy portraits that had nothing better to do than gawk at him. He ignored the stares from his classmates as he entered the Charms classroom.

What he couldn’t ignore was the sound of someone sitting next to him.

“Don’t start,” Draco warned, glaring at the table, wishing that Flitwick would begin the lesson soon.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Codswallop.” Draco turned to see Potter looking at him with unabashed humor and it had him reaching for his wand on reflex.

“Really,” Potter said unconvincingly as his lips twitched. Draco began thinking of creative ways to murder him, each one more painful than the last. “I wasn’t going to mention that your hair looks like a rat’s nest at all.”

Draco gasped, back straightening as his fingers clenched with the desire to choke out every last miserable breath Potter would take.

“Have you looked in the mirror? Your hair looks—”

“Strikingly like yours.”

The inflection to Potter’s tone had Draco peering at him curiously. There was an intensity to pretty green eyes that startled him a bit. Whatever Potter was trying to silently say was lost on Draco.

“Meaning?”

“You tell me.” Potter sighed; the frustration evident as he stared at nothing in particular.  The frustration bled into Draco too for he had never been able to understand Potter. Not when they were eleven and certainly not now at sixteen.

Before he could think of something to stay Flitwick walked into the room to begin their lesson.

“Last week we focused on the Draught spell. Can anyone tell me what the counter spell is?”

The answer was obvious, but Draco wasn’t big on talking unless he had to, so he remained silent with his hands at his side. No, he was perfectly content with showing his knowledge in essays and tests.

However, it was no surprise that it was Granger who said,

“The counter to a Draught spell is the Water-Making Spell, more commonly known as the Aguamenti Charm.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Draco rolled his eyes when he could hear Granger make a pleased sound as if surprised that she got the answer right. He wouldn’t be surprised if she read the unassigned chapters before each class.

Flitwick showed them how to cast the spell with the proper wand movement and that was the only time that Draco had paid much attention to the lesson. He was amused to notice that it was the complete opposite of—

“Fiendfyre.”

Draco blinked a few times as he turned his head to stare at Potter. “Pardon?”

Potter jerked his head to where Flitwick was showing Goyle that he was flicking his wrist incorrectly. “The movement is the opposite of Fiendfyre.”

With a head tilted and eyes narrowed, Draco said, “Yes, but how did you know that? Fiendfyre is a very dark spell that has even darker counters to it.”

“I’ve been doing some light reading.”

They stared at each other as Draco regarded him in disbelief. “Even you don’t believe that.”

Potter shrugged, a slight curl of his lips. The frustration came back when he realized that there would be no explanations, that Potter was going to keep his secrets. Part of him wondered what the Ministry would think if word got out that their Chosen One was looking into the Dark Arts.

Curious, Draco said, “Do you know why it has the opposite hand movements as Fiendfyre?”

“Because it came second.”

“Exactly,” Draco nodded once. “It’s entirely useless at its intended purpose. The Aguamenti Charm does nothing to Fiendfyre at all, because Light Wizards are notorious for underestimating the Dark Arts.”

“How so?”

The only reason Draco continued to talk was because there wasn’t any judgment on Potter’s face, just open curiosity. 

“Just look at Fiendfyre, it came first, Aguamenti second and then fire when Light Wizards refused to use it and wanted a less dangerous version.”

Potter lifted a finger as he squinted. “Fire is still dangerous.”

“Thank you!” Draco said a little louder than he intended, ignoring the curious looks he got from Granger and Weasley who were behind them. “That is the entire point of their hypocrisy. They condemn Fiendfyre because it’s meant to last, so they created fire in a sense of false morality to show how humane they were in comparison, but fires kill people whether they were Fiendfyre or not. It’s still dangerous.”

“But—”

“Furthermore,” Draco said, speaking over Potter. “I don’t understand their mindset. Sure, in theory I can understand the Light Wizard mentality. Not everyone is cut out for the Dark Arts, their cores can’t take it, nor do they have the right type of disposition required. Obviously, they would have to come up with their own alternatives. However, what I fail to understand is the judgment of something that they not only can’t perform if they wanted to but the judgment of something that they don’t understand.”

“But—”

“But what?” Draco growled, hands clenching on the top of the desk as he turned to see Flitwick praise Granger for getting it on the second try. “That the Dark Arts are bad? That they are evil?”

“Well, yes.”

Draco scoffed. “You don’t know the first thing about the Dark Arts. Not a damn thing.”

Instead of being offended like he thought Potter would there was only intrigue, and it had him wary. It was as if he was speaking with a different Potter, someone with more patience and a thirst for knowledge that wasn’t present a year ago.

What happened to Potter?

“Give me one reason why you think that.”

There were a million reasons but he wanted to prove his point so he whispered, “Light Wizards have tried to find a way to defend against the Dark Arts for thousands of years but will never be able to properly do it because they don’t understand the first requirement of being a Dark Wizard.”

“Which is?”

There was a peculiar sheen to Potter’s eyes that had him a little breathless as he continued in a low tone as Flitwick was a few students away.

“Creativity,” Draco said, smirking when Potter blinked rapidly. “I can create horrors with a flick of my wand, or I can create salvation. The Dark Arts isn’t about power, no matter who says otherwise. It’s about changing reality to suit your desires. The Dark Arts is a way of life, not just Magic. There are rules, ordinances and guidelines. The Dark Arts is creativity in the rawest form. You can do anything, be anything and create anything.”

Some things were better left un-created, but that was life. There would always be those that abused their power, abused their creativity and created things that were true horrors.

“But Vold—”

“Misuses the Dark Arts,” Draco hissed, eyes roaming the room to make sure that no one could hear him. His father might be a traitor and himself by extension, but he didn’t want to make it even harder for himself if he was overheard speaking negatively about the Dark Lord.

“His creativity is stunted,” Draco said, voice barely coming out and Potter had to lean forward to listen. “He only ever sees power and what that power can get him. He believes that power is limited and is always seeking more of it. Well, that’s his own creation. He created his downfall.”

“How?”

“By believing in it. He has molded his version of the Dark Arts to be always chasing the next source of power, the next big thing to keep him around. And that is his downfall. Because his creativity couldn’t see an end goal.”

“That sounds like imagination not creativity.”

Draco arched a brow. “Imagination is watered by creativity to grow something magical, Potter. Where do you think spells came from? Someone imagined them, found enough creativity to create it. The spells you use came from the mind of someone with a spark of imagination that had enough drive to make something tangible, something real. The mind is where true power lies. The mind can create anything as long as you have enough creativity to give it life.

“That’s what the Dark Arts is. What it is supposed to be. People fear what they don’t understand and those who feel misunderstood can do terrible things in return.”

It wasn’t an excuse, just an explanation. The current Dark Arts was a bastardized version of what it was supposed to be, and he knew the bulk of it was due to the Dark Lord. Someone with a powerful mind that could have created amazing things, but didn’t have enough imagination to put it into motion and could only do one thing—talk. The Dark Lord had a way with words that made up for his lack of creativity. It was his mouth that got him followers, not his skills or his magic.

“How do you know if you have the creativity?”

Draco squinted a bit as he stared at Potter. “Are you asking me if you can perform Dark Magic?”

Potter licked his lips, nodding quickly.

It wasn’t as easy as Potter was making it out to be. There were those that had promising affinity for the Dark Arts but not the creativity. There wasn’t a simple test. But… there were signs, little tells that let others know what to look for.

“When you hold your wand and you think about performing a spell, what do you feel?”

A typical Light Wizard response would have been confusion, they’d have said that you can’t feel anything when performing a spell, that spells don’t have emotions or movements, that it’s just words.

But when has Potter ever been typical?

Potter lifted his wand, eyes closed as he thought it over. “I feel warmth.”

Heart racing, Draco said a little breathlessly, “What else?”

There was a frown marring Potter’s features as he huffed once. “It’s not quite a feeling, it’s a movement. Tiny vibrations.”

Draco shakily exhaled as he placed his hand over Potter’s grip on the wand, causing Potter’s eyes to snap open as they went wide, and awe filled his gaze.

“It’s amplified,” Potter whispered, the awe bleeding into his tone. “The vibrations are so loud I think I can hear them.”

“That’s because you can,” Draco said, head shaking in disbelief. “You, Potter have so much creativity inside of you.”

So much. For Potter’s mind to have created sound from the magic that wasn’t there before—with no training—had fear clawing at his throat. This is what the Dark Lord thought he had. This is what the Dark Lord sought after. Merlin, Potter could ruin the entire world.

“I don’t think it’s all mine,” Potter mumbled to himself with a small hint of a smile. “I think it’s shared.”

Draco couldn’t fathom what Potter was on about, that didn’t make any sense to him. Whatever creativity Potter had was solely his own. 

“That’s a lot of talking, boys.”

Potter startled, body jerking toward Flitwick who seemed both amused and exasperated by them.

“It was about the lesson, sir,” Draco lied smoothly despite knowing that Flitwick wouldn’t buy it for a single second.

Flitwick arched a brow, gesturing toward Draco with his hand. “Prove it.”

Draco lifted his wand, the vibrations he felt from Potter left phantom movement in his fingertips and he could almost imagine that it was still there, lingering. He performed the required wand movement as he said, “Aguamenti!”

He knew what the spell was supposed to do. There was supposed to be a stream of water from his wand. The stream itself was dependent on the movement, ease and strength behind the spell. Part of him expected it to not work, at least not on the first try.

What he hadn’t expected was for a massive wave of water to shoot out of his wand and drench the entire classroom as several people shouted as they tried to dive onto the tables to get out of the way of the roaring water that was still coming out.

Mouth parted in shock, Draco lowered his wand, speechless as his breath left in panicked exhales.

Flitwick squeaked as he gripped the table to keep him upright as the water was nearly as tall as him.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco repeated over and over not sure how to fix it. His mind raced as he tried to think of adequate spells to get rid of the water, but most of them would require a lot of time. He could probably create one, but he doubted Flitwick wanted him to perform Dark Magic in the classroom, no that was probably frowned upon.

Flitwick waved his wand several times and the water slowly left the room until all that was left was enough to fill a vial, and that was exactly what he did. Flitwick bottled a vial of the water and set it on his desk.

It felt like the room was silent, but it wasn’t. Students were rapidly attempting to dry their things; some shot him glares while others were openly talking about him. But it was the silence of Flitwick that concerned him the m—

“Fifty points to Slytherin.”

Draco let out a rough exhale. No one but Snape had ever given him that many points before.

“For the best Aguamenti Charm I have ever witnessed in my lifetime.”

Flushing, he tried to ignore the way he felt a dozen eyes on him. Hopefully, what happened wouldn’t make it to the rest of the school but his luck this year was quite dismal, and he knew by lunch time that the usual whispers would carry his name.

“That was a lot of power,” Potter said, tone conversational as the class came to an end and the rest of the students trickled out of the room, glancing at him as they passed by.

“I don’t know where it came from,” Draco admitted honestly. He always had a lot of power and creativity, more so than his father, but nothing like that. He wasn’t sure what had happened, and part of him was afraid to find out.

“You don’t? Are you sure?”

“What are you implying?”

Potter looked to the ceiling briefly before adjusting his rucksack on his shoulder. “All that creativity and imagination and you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

Draco stared at Potter’s back as he walked away, leaving Draco standing in the classroom by himself, surrounded by the after effects of his spell wondering where he had gone wrong.

He didn’t understand and was beginning to think he never would.

Draco was pretty sure he was cursed.

That was the only explanation for everything going on with him. The gossip and whispers continued, which was to be expected no matter how irritating it was. On the days that Potter made a fool of himself and spent time with him the gossip grew in intensity, which seemed to be every single day regardless of the insults Draco threw at him.

He was pretty sure Potter had a kink for name calling.

As Draco rushed down the corridor to try and make it on time to Transfiguration, he passed by a group of what he could only imagine were first years with how tiny they looked. Surely, he hadn’t been that small.

He was nearing the end of the corridor when he heard a cry of pain, and he stopped in his tracks when it dawned on him what was happening. Indecision battled inside of Draco as to whether he was going to do anything about it. Part of him didn’t want to get involved at all. It had nothing to do with him and he was better off minding his own business. But there was a disgusting thought to help, and it had him shuddering.

Draco groaned, kicking at the wall as he turned around and walked toward the loud jeering and a much quieter sniffling. When he reached a deep alcove, he watched as four first year Slytherins had a Gryffindor first year surrounded as they threw insults—not spell—at her.

“What’s going on here?”

They all startled before rushing for a jumble of explanations, each excuse tapering off as they realized who was standing there.

“We were teaching the blood traitor a lesson.”

Draco looked to the ceiling as a horrible feeling took root in his stomach and he hoped it was just nausea and not years’ worth of delayed guilt.

“And what lesson is that?” Draco asked, tone harsh in a way that had them nervously trading looks. The Gryffindor wiped at her eyes as she peered at Draco curiously through her fingers.

The Slytherins traded a look before the tallest of them puffed out his chest. “She thinks she’s so high and mighty because of her parents but her parents should be ashamed to have a blood traitor spit on their good name.”

Draco didn’t have the foggiest clue who she was or who her parents were, but it didn’t matter.

“I fail to see the lesson. No, really, what is it you aim to achieve here? Are you hoping that you’re going to bully her into compliance? That she’s going to wake up tomorrow a changed person who suddenly sees the benefit of your cause?”

“W—well—”

“All you are doing is alienating her. Who the hell wants to join the very people that are cruel to them?”

Oh no. It wasn’t nausea. Layers of guilt that he had happily kept buried were beginning to unravel and he hated it.

“You’re a traitor too!” One of them yelled and the juvenile anger was honestly amusing. Had his insults been that tame back then too? How had anyone taken him seriously?

“Oh, I am, am I?” Draco asked crossing his arms as he let his wand dangle from his fingers, watching as they glanced at it nervously. “What are you going to do about it? Are you going to teach me a lesson too?”

Silence.

“If you want more people to think like you then actions speak louder than words. If you truly have pride in what you believe in then be a good representation of it. Currently, you make Purebloods look atrocious. You aren’t convincing anyone of anything with behavior like that. It’s not her parents that should be ashamed, it’s yours.”

It was an uncomfortable truth that he didn’t want to think about. Hypocrisy was a fact of life, one that was glaring at him through a mirror of his own creation. Draco could see his past as he stared at their snarling expressions and angry eyes and in a way, it saddened him.

The only silver lining was that he had his father to thank for that. The fact that it would only appall his father and make him clutch his chest made it that much better. When his father turned traitor, it forced Draco to reevaluate everything. There was a huge difference in the Dark Arts—the true Dark Arts, not whatever the Dark Lord was doing—and blood supremacy. The two weren’t related, not really. The combination had stemmed from two groups that had found common ground in being slighted from society and eventually merged into whatever it was now.

Draco was a Dark Wizard, but that didn’t mean he had to believe in blood supremacy, that didn’t mean he had to believe in his father’s teachings. There was a lot to unpack and unlearn in both aspects, but he took pride in the Dark Arts—the true Dark Arts. There were a lot of different opinions on The Dark Arts and what it meant to be a Dark Wizard, but he didn’t give a damn what anyone else said. He was going to follow his own version of the Dark Arts. He didn’t need anyone’s approval nor was he asking for it.

“You better watch your back,” one of them stammered as they began to pull at some of the other Slytherins shoving them forward in an attempt to leave.

“Pipsqueak, you’re fighting a losing battle, don’t embarrass yourself further.”

“I’ll tell my mother about this!”

Fuck.

Draco placed a hand on his forehead as he realized how much of a tool he must have sounded like at that age.

“Good, tell her she can go fuck herself.”

“Do you know who I am?”

It was like fighting a younger version of himself.

“Does it look like I give a fuck who you are? You’re eleven and barely reach my stomach. The only thing you are frightening is your reflection in the mirror. Get lost kid, and if I catch you bullying this girl again, I’ll go to Snape.”

It wasn’t an empty threat either. Snape was rather strict when it came to bullying, the detentions were notoriously awful. Draco only ever got away with it because Snape didn’t like Potter.

“Come on Parker, let’s go.”

The leader of the group was pulled out of the alcove, glaring one last time before all that was left was Draco and the Gryffindor who was staring at him with rather large eyes.

“Thank you!”

“Don’t do that,” Draco said wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You saved—”

“Don’t use swear words, I did no such thing.”

A small giggle had him melting a tiny bit, not that he’d ever admit it. He knelt down in front of her so that they were eye level, taking note of her wet eyes and miserable expression. He wasn’t very good at making others feel better, but he knew that he’d at least have to make an attempt.  

“Their words mean nothing,” Draco told her softly.

“But they hurt.”

“That’s why they say it. Nothing I say is going to make it hurt less, and it will probably always sting to think about, but I do mean it when I say that their words mean nothing. They are focused on you because there is something about themselves that they don’t like. Normal people don’t care about things that don’t affect them. You being in Gryffindor and believing in whatever you believe does not affect them at all, and yet, they care.”

“But why?” She stomped her foot angrily, cheeks getting redder as her dark hair fell in her face. “Why do they care who I am or what I do? Why?”

“Because you don’t care,” Draco whispered, wiping away her angry tears. “You are the polar opposite of everything that they have been told is acceptable and you don’t care. You are a brave Gryffindor surrounded by a family of Slytherins.”

It was the only thing that made sense. For those Slytherins to be that offended by her and bring up her parents meant that she was probably the first Gryffindor in a long line of Slytherins.

“I don’t feel brave,” she cried, more tears falling as she openly sobbed. Draco pulled her into a hug, hating that his eyes stung. “I just let them treat me like that. I clam up and I don’t know what to do. No one likes me. The Slytherins hate me because I’m a Gryffindor and the Gryffindors don’t trust me because of my parents. Ravenclaws mostly ignore me and even the Hufflepuffs keep their distance. I can’t win. I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home.”

“One versus four isn’t a fair fight so the outcome can’t be held against you. I might not know you very well, but I like you, okay? I won’t let them treat you like that again. I meant it. I’ll go to Professor Snape right now if I have to.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Draco bit his lip as he considered his options as he wiped her eyes again. He smiled softly when she did the same to him. She probably feared retaliation if he went to Snape, but doing nothing was only going to accomplish nothing. No, his mind was already made up. He’d talk to Snape about it, and he knew that his head of house would ensure that it didn’t happen again.

That didn’t mean that students in other houses wouldn’t do something though.

“How about I walk you to your morning classes?”

It was the best solution he could come up with. It would give a message at the very least to everyone else. That she was under his protection. He might not be in anyone’s good books, but he was still feared to a certain degree. Draco knew how to defend himself and he was exceptionally good at the Dark Arts, and he knew damn well that the rest of the Slytherin house knew that.

Warm brown eyes peered at him in awe. “You’d do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Won’t you be late?”

“I don’t care.”

And he didn’t. The only one that would truly get upset would be McGonagall, but he didn’t care.

“Thank you!”

There was no time to prepare as she threw herself at him, arms tight around his neck. He hugged her back, wishing he wasn’t so awkward. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged by someone else. His parents weren’t exactly touchy people.

“Do you need me to walk you to your next class?”

She shook her head as she stepped back. “It’s just down the hall. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Draco promised, listening to the sound of her feet walking away. He barely had time to try to get his rapidly changing emotions under control before he heard her offer a quiet greeting to someone.

Draco whipped around the best he could while still on his knees and groaned when three very familiar faces peered back at him with varying expressions.

Karma and him were in a battle to the death so it would seem.

“The Ministry left my father’s wealth alone,” Draco began in what he hoped sounded conversational and not as shaky as he felt. “What would it cost for you to pretend that you hadn’t seen any of that?”

Granger looked at him as if she wasn’t sure he was actually there or a figment of her imagination. Weasley looked like he contemplating taking him up on his offer. But it was Potter’s expression that had him swallowing heavily.

Warmth.

There was so much warmth to Potter’s eyes that it had Draco flushing a bit.

Merlin get a grip.

“Well,” Draco cleared his throat. “I’m just going to go.”

“Blimey, Harry,” Weasley began, running a hand to through his hair as he turned to Potter. “I reckon I owe you an apology.”

Potter’s face scrunched up in a playful mockery. “I fucking told you.”

“Saying it and seeing it are two different things.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, not liking the sound of their conversation at all. They clearly had been talking about him for quite some time. Whatever image that Potter had of him had to be inaccurate.

“As entertaining as this is, we’re going to be late for Transfiguration,” Granger said, tone off in a way that Draco was content to ignore. There was too much history there to unpack nor was he wanting to. He might talk to Potter from time to time, but he had to draw a line somewhere.

That line was Granger and Weasley.

“We’re already late,” Weasley pointed out, causing Granger to glare at him. For someone who already knew their textbooks in their entirety what did it matter if she was a few minutes late? It wasn’t as if McGonagall was going to talk about something that wasn’t in the syllabus.

“You go on ahead,” Potter said, giving them a strange look that seemed to communicate something because Granger opened her mouth only to shut it with a click before she glanced at Draco with narrowed eyes as they walked away— as if it was his fault rather than Potter making his own damn decision.

Draco stood up, wincing at the numbness in his left foot. He had wanted to make a snide comment before making a dramatic exit but now he was going to have to stand there and wait the for the feeling to come back to his foot.

“Look—”

“Thank you.”

Draco blinked rapidly, the words dying on his lips as he tilted his head. “For what?”

“For helping Felicity.”

It was only then that it dawned on Draco that he never got her name.

Felicity.

“Felicity Selwyn.”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath. “Merlin, it was no wonder they had felt slighted. The Selwyns are—”

“Part of the Sacred 28.”

Draco squinted at Potter, realizing belatedly that his foot was no longer numb, only now he didn’t feel like leaving.

“And you know what the sacred 28 are?” Had Weasley been giving Potter Wizarding genealogy lessons in their spare time? He had always assumed that Weasley never cared about that, what with their family being branded as blood traitors and all.

“The Sacred 28 are considered to be the last remaining 28 families that are ‘true’ Purebloods. That there isn’t a single part of their lineage that has ever introduced new blood. Like the Malfoys. Pureblood through and through.”

Draco’s arms fell to his side as he stared at Potter, refusing to admit that he was speechless.

“How do you know that?”

A sense of Deja Vu settled over him when Potter opened his mouth. Draco cut him off, “And don’t say you picked up a hobby.”

There was a sparkle to Potter’s eyes, and he wished that it wasn’t so distracting.

“What I don’t understand,” Potter said, pointedly ignoring Draco. “Is why they still call it the Sacred 28 when that number has dwindled.”

“Oh?” Draco said, testing Potter’s knowledge, trying to determine if all he knew was surface information or if Potter was telling the truth and it really was a hobby.

“Take the Blacks for example. Your aunt married a Muggle-born and had a child. The Black family can no longer claim to be part of the Sacred 28.”

Draco winced. His mother never mentioned his aunt, pretended that she only had one sister. There was a long debate among some that believe that since Sirius was the heir of the Black family that it was only his lineage that mattered, but that wasn’t how the Sacred 28 worked.

“Then there’s the Ollivanders, they have several Half-bloods in their lineage. Now so do the MacMillan’s.”

“Alright, I get it. You have a new hobby.”

Potter continued right along as if he hadn’t heard Draco at all.

“Pretty sure there was an Abbott that married a Muggle. There’s the Weasleys, but we all know that they won’t remain on there for much longer. Not to mention the rumors surrounding the Gaunts having a Half-blood in their—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Draco said, head shaking. “Now I know you’re taking the Mickey. The Gaunt line goes all the way back to Salazar Slytherin. There’s no way they ever had a Half-blood.”

“They did,” Potter insisted, all humor gone.

It would have sent ripples throughout their community if that had been true. Just where had Potter received his information from?

“Who—”

“Went on a tangent, didn’t I?” Potter said, a hand coming up to ruffle the back of his head. “I did mean it though, that I am grateful you helped Felicity.”

The blatant subject change was so strange that Draco didn’t know what to say.

“She doesn’t really like me.”

Draco snorted. “I can think of a dozen reasons why.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “I’ve tried to help her before, but it doesn’t seem to help much in the end.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Why did you think it would?”

“I thought that maybe if it was me—”

“The ego on you is astounding.”

“—that it would send a message that I would stand up for her.”

“There’s a glaring flaw in your plan.” 

“I’m listening oh wise one. Just what did I do wrong?”

“I kind of like that, say it again.”

Potter’s expression was annoyed, but there was that blasted sparkle in his eyes that never failed to draw Draco in.

“A Gryffindor standing up against a Slytherin is typical, expected even. No Slytherin worth a damn fears a Gryffindor. However, a Slytherin standing up to other Slytherins is unheard of, and that is where the fear begins to sink in.”

“But why? Why would a Slytherin only care if it was one of their own?”

Draco pursed his lips, debating on whether it was worth it. If he still gave a damn about his house he wouldn’t have said as much as he had already, but with the treatment he’d faced so far, he wasn’t inclined to remain silent. 

“Slytherins have rules, spoken or not, guidelines if you will. Rarely are you going to find Slytherins who betray each other, and I don’t just mean in school. Three quarters of this school will leave Hogwarts and leave behind their house status. It might be a conversation starter later on, at least until they have their own children and then suddenly it matters again.

“Slytherins aren’t like that. Part of it is because most Slytherins are Dark Wizards. Weasley has always been right about that. Dark Wizards are feared, but they are also alienated. I understand why it’s like that, I understand how their views when tied to blood supremacy leaves behind a damning reputation—I get why it’s like that, but all it does is unite them in their common anger. Gives them a place to be themselves, where they are with like-minded individuals who have also been alienated, who have also been judged and shunned for what they believe in. Where—”

“—where they have each other’s backs,” Potter finished, understanding briefly flittered across his face before a palm covered it. “Being a Slytherin isn’t just a Hogwarts house, it’s like your Dark Magic, a way of life.”

“Yes,” Draco hissed, finally someone else understood. “And just like the Dark Arts there are a million different ways to be a Slytherin and it’s open to interpretation.”

“Except there only seems to be one type as of late.”

Draco frowned, hating that Potter was right. The Dark Lord had twisted the Dark Arts into a cult of like-minded individuals, but that wasn’t what it was supposed to be. The beauty of the Dark Arts was lost to the current generation, and he knew that it would remain lost for the next several generations as well. He wondered if the Dark Arts would ever truly recover. Would anyone even remember the way it was supposed to be? Would anyone even care? Or would the Dark Arts, the true Dark Arts be nothing more than a lost art, history in a text that the future generations would mourn.

“Until something changes.” Not that Draco really believed that either. Not with the Dark Lord alive, and when his bastardized version of everything was still believed in.

“So, you walking Felicity to her classes will send a bigger message than if I did?”

“Obviously. I thought we already established that.”

“Do you always have to be such an arse?”

“Are you insulting my personality?”

Potter laughed. “That’s not a personality trait.”

“Says you. I take it in pride, I’ll have you know.”

When Potter’s laugh faded to a smile and his eyes lightened, Draco cleared his throat as he looked away.

“I think I’ll skip Transfiguration today,” Draco said in what he hoped was a hint to Potter that he would be leaving. As nice as their conversation had been, too much time around Potter wasn’t good for his health. 

“Let’s skip it together.”

“And do what?” Draco asked, hating that it came out a little breathless. Merlin, Potter really was bad for his health.

“Trouble tends to find me regardless, so why not go looking for it this time?”

Draco got the impression that Potter was talking to himself and about something that he couldn’t fully understand.

“Trouble and I have long been acquaintances, and that’s rather boring. I think mischief sounds better.”

When Potter’s forehead creased, Draco added, “Let’s find some mischief together.”

There was a peculiar look in Potter’s eyes before he looked around the hall as if to make sure that no one else was there with them before pulling out what looked to be a spare bit of parchment.

“You ever heard of the Marauders? They liked mischief too.”

The name wasn’t familiar to him, said as much to Potter too.

“Tell me about them.”

So he did.

Turned out, Draco rather liked the Marauders.

‘Did you hear what Robinson said about soulmates?’

Draco slammed his fist against the bench as he tried to tune out what those near him were saying. He had thought that no one would sit near him since everyone tended to give him a wide berth wherever he went. And that had happened at first until the stands started to fill rapidly and people were left with no other choice.

He had hoped that the soulmate talk would lessen, but it seemed to be the biggest topic of the year. Well, beside Potter.

Blasted Potter that persistently harassed him with his never-ending presence.

‘He said that it boils down to acknowledgment. You could know your soulmate your whole life, but it means nothing if you don’t realize the soul bond is there. If you don’t recognize the shared abilities, the shared traits.’

The Quidditch game had already started, and even as his eyes tracked the Gryffindor team, he couldn’t help but hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

Acknowledgment? How could you know your soulmate that long and not know? If they were soulmates, wouldn’t you feel it? Wouldn’t there be a bond that was obvious? Not to mention the attributes and abilities. Wouldn’t you realize that you could do things that you hadn’t before? Soulmates made less and less sense the more he considered it.

A blurry blob was headed right at him before Draco leaned away in time to avoid hitting his head on the tail end of a broom.

“Wotcher.”

“Are you mad?” Draco snarled, shoving Potter’s broom away from him. “You nearly hit me.”

“I’d never.”

The sparkle to his eyes said otherwise.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, trying not to notice how entire stands of students were turning in their seats to look at them. “In case it escaped your notice, you are supposed to be playing a match right now.”

“I’ve come to take your bet,” Potter said, head turned slightly to keep an eye on the rest of the players. “I want to see if you favour Ravenclaw today.”

He should, he really should. If Ravenclaw won, then the final match would be Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. He might not be on the team this year, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to see the Gryffindors win. The horror.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

There was a quirk of Potter’s lips as he said, “What if I catch the snitch for you?”

He flushed. Actually bloody flushed and Potter’s lips stretched into a smile. Draco hated it. 

“Oi! Quit flirting and catch the fucking snitch!”

Vulgarity aside, Weasley had a point—wait. Flirting? Draco blinked rapidly before he shook his head. Potter hadn’t—maybe, no, it wasn’t—couldn’t—was it?

As quickly as Potter had arrived, he was gone, and it had him a little winded. Draco tuned out everything that wasn’t Potter as his eyes tracked the match. There was a point when the snitch looked like it had flown by the goal post, and it had looked like Potter saw it too, but Gryffindor was down too many points for them to win if the snitch was caught. Risky, but that summed up Potter perfectly.

For a Quidditch match it certainly was boring. There were no underhanded tricks, no plays that boarded on cheating, no injuries, no name calling. A shame really. Where was the fun in following the rules?

There were several times when Draco saw plenty of opportunities that the Gryffindors missed out on, and he had to wonder why Potter was named captain. While Potter was undeniably their best player, and the biggest asset to the team, he didn’t understand the rest of the positions in the same manner that he did when being a Seeker. A captain knew every position inside and out to the point that they could fill in if needed. He doubted Potter would make a very good Beater, maybe a Chaser, but not to the point that he’d be passably decent. Although, the alternative choices for captain weren’t any better. Perhaps McGonagall was banking on the star player rather than finding someone better suited for the position.

It didn’t matter in the end, because Potter caught the snitch and Gryffindor won by ten points.

The stands cheered loudly as the Gryffindor team landed on the ground in the center of the field. Well, the team minus one. Draco moved to the side as Potter flew toward him, just in case.

“I told you,” Potter said, cheeks kissed pink by the wind and eyes so bright it hurt to look at. “I caught the Snitch for you.”

A little pink himself, Draco held out slightly shaking hands as Potter deposited a struggling Snitch in them. The moment he made skin contact with the Snitch, it shivered before settling down, wings curling around itself.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered, lips curving as he ran a finger along the Snitch. No one had ever done anything like that for him before, and he wasn’t sure what it meant let alone why.

When he glanced up, his breath caught at the expression on Potter’s face and it had him blurting out,

“Were you flirting with me?”

Potter looked to sky as if gathering the will to not sigh. “Only since the beginning of the year. I’m glad you realized.”

Draco blinked rapidly.

Huh?

The beginning of the year? But that would mean—

“You are undeniably one of the smartest people I have ever met, but you are also the most clueless idiot I have ever had the fortune to come across.”

“Your flirting needs a lot of work,” Draco scowled, debating about leaving entirely, only if to give himself time to think. Had Potter really been flirting with him the entire time?

“Why?” Draco asked, before Potter could say anything. “The only thing that’s changed is my father.”

A horrible sinking feeling began to take root in his stomach as he considered it. His father had turned his entire life upside down and he’d never forgive him if it brought Potter to him too. That didn’t feel right. He didn’t want Potter paying attention to him just because his Father turned on the Dark Lord.

Potter groaned, hands in the air as he shook his head.

“Clueless. Unobservant. Obtuse. An absolute lost cause.”

Draco gasped, one hand on his chest as Potter continued to insult him. “I’ll have you know that—”

Potter closed his eyes, shoulders slumping as he appeared a bit distraught. It had Draco feeling guilty, which was entirely unfair as he had no idea what he had done wrong to begin with.

“One day,” Potter whispered, more to himself than Draco. “One day you’ll figure it out.”

“Or you could just tell me.”

Another head shake. “Not with this. It’s too important.”

What did that mean? What was with the secrecy?

“Clarification never hurt anyone.”

There was a small twitch of Potter’s lips, but Draco felt like it was a pity smile, one that Potter didn’t mean.

“I’m sorry,” Draco mumbled, looking away. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

A hand to his cheek had his lips parting on a silent gasp as he looked to see a sad smile on Potter’s face.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting.”

Waiting for what? He wanted to ask but he knew that there would be no answer, that Potter wasn’t going to tell him. At least not now.

But when?

When?

‘Did you hear? There’s finally a release date for Loveworth’s new guide on finding your soulmate. I preordered it from Flourish and Blotts.’

They were supposed to be practicing the incantation for turning a bowling ball into a balloon, but Draco didn’t feel like it. It was far too early to be caring about transformation spells. Especially now that he had to get up earlier to take Felicity to class every morning.

“I think you’re doing it wrong.”

Draco rolled his head to the side, eyes drooping a little as he struggled to remain awake. “When did you get here?”

“At least ten minutes ago,” Potter said with a huff. “Did you sleep alright?”

‘I heard that her guides helped Bates and Jefferies.’

Draco shook his head in the hopes to clear it as he tuned out Brown and Patil, who had long ago trampled over every last nerve that he had and yet they continued to annoy him with their obsession over soulmates.

“For the most part, kept having weird dreams.”

There was a pause in both conversations, and it was kind of nice. If only he could figure out how to keep everyone quiet, his day might even improve.

“What were they about?”

There was a strange inflection to Potter’s tone that had him looking into equally serious eyes.

“Not really sure,” Draco answered honestly, surprised at his willingness to answer. He wouldn’t quite say they were friends. Sure, they talked in every shared class that they had, sat next to each other in the library during studies, ate together regularly and—wait a minute.

“Are we friends?”

“Yes,” Potter said impatiently, eyes rolling. “Have been for quite some time, nice of you to notice.”

But—

“You don’t remember your dreams at all?”

“Flashes of things mostly,” Draco frowned, unsure why Potter cared so much about his dreams. It’s not like they had anything to do with him. “A strange corridor sometimes. Emotions other times, like anger and excitement, usually anger. I saw a snake once, but it was only for a second—”

The bowling ball in Potter’s hands cracked before falling in pieces across the desk.

Draco looked from the bowling ball to the stricken look on Potter’s face and it had him reluctantly concerned.

“Are you alright?”

Green eyes slipped closed as Potter bit his lip. “Does anything help?”

A bit bemused, Draco could only assume they were still talking about his dreams. “I take a mild sleep potion on nights they get too bad, but it doesn’t happen often.”

A flash of relief had Draco narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “What do my dreams have to do with you? And don’t you dare deflect Potter. Or I’ll—”

“What happened here?”

They both jumped as McGonagall came to a stop in front of their desk. Her lips were already pursed, and he could smell a detention in the air.

“Sorry Professor,” Potter began, a sheepish expression on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I got a little too carried away and I’m not sure where I went wrong.”

McGonagall arched a brown as she looked between them and down at the bowling ball. “See to it that it doesn’t happen again. You’ll have to share Malfoy’s bowling ball as I gave my last spare to Longbottom.”

When she moved on to a different table, the only sounds that could be heard were—

‘I heard that soulmates—’

“Enough,” Draco snarled as he turned around slammed a hand on Brown and Patil’s desk. They both jumped, but he ignored that right along with their angry expressions. “Is soulmates all you can talk about? Give it a fucking rest and talk about something else for a change.”

“Ten points from Slytherin,” McGonagall called over her shoulder, not bothering to give them any of her attention. “However, he has a point ladies. I only want to hear you discuss the lesson at hand in my classroom from now on.”

Draco grumbled at the loss of points. If McGonagall agreed with him then the least she could have done was not—

“Do you have a problem with soulmates?”

Again, Potter’s tone was strange. He didn’t bother looking up as he rolled his bowling ball back and forth.

“Soulmates are rare,” Draco shrugged. “Why concern myself with something that won’t ever happen?”

“Rare doesn’t mean never.”

“With my Karma it does,” Draco drawled, huffing slightly. “In case you haven’t noticed, but nice things don’t happen to me, Potter.”

“Me either.”

Another thing they had in common. It was getting harder and harder to ignore all of their similarities, the very same similarities that he told himself years ago didn’t exist. He had tried so hard to tell himself that Potter was just too different to understand. As if that made it easier to pick on him.

“What if you did find your soulmate?”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I think it would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

A slight inhale had him peering at Potter who wouldn’t meet his eyes, just stared at the desk unseeingly.

“Why?”

Frowning, Draco said, “Just because I might have a soulmate doesn’t mean they like what they see. Who is to say they would even want me. Hell, I don’t want me. That’s asking a lot of someone—”

“I want you.”

Silence.

A pause.

Several more pauses.

“I—”

Potter’s face shuttered as he stood up harshly, chair scraping across the floor. “Sorry, I—I shouldn’t have—pretend I didn’t—”

He was gone.

Potter walked out the room, ignoring the sound of McGonagall attempting to stop him.

“What the fuck?” Draco whispered to himself, pushing his hair back just to give his hands something to do as he tried to rationalize what happened.

I want you.

Potter wanted him.

He had known after the Quidditch match that Potter had been flirting with him, and now that it had been pointed out, it was easier to catch when it was done again. It was flattering, really. He liked when Potter flirted with him, but he had thought it was mostly harmless.

Their sort of friend status had been enough for him, and he hadn’t really expected that Potter would want more.

But now, now he couldn’t let the thought go and it had him analyzing some of their past interactions and he felt as stupid as Weasley.

Potter did want him.

“He’s a bloody coward,” Draco growled, hands clenching on the lawn as he tried not to pull out the grass. “Runs away the moment we make eye contact.”

Not that Draco knew what he would have said regardless, but still. For a Gryffindor, Potter’s bravery was nonexistent. Perhaps all of it had been used up on the Dark Lord.

“Well, he is a boy,” Felicity said as if that explained everything, and maybe it did. Boys were stupid.

“Still,” Draco said with a touch of petulance. “He randomly blurts out that he wants me and then runs away.”

Bloody coward.

“Randomly?” Felicity said, head turning toward him as she wrinkled her nose. “The whole school has seen this coming a mile away.”

The urge to pull on the grass increased as his stomach clenched uneasily.

“What makes you say that?”

“Stupid doesn’t suit you.”

Draco lazily shot a stinging hex at her, smirking when she jumped.

“You’re such an arse. Don’t know why I spend time with you.”

“Because no one else wants you.”

“Right back at you, old man.”

“Sixteen is not old.”

“Maybe not, but you look old.”

“Take that back right now.”

Despite the words, they both grinned at each other. Draco had never felt more at ease with a—dare he say it—friend before Felicity. It was hard to imagine that he had to wait six years to find the perfect match for him.

“I think you are the coward,” Felicity said after a comfortable silence. “Slytherins know what they want, and they always go for it.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Gryffindors,” Draco scoffed. “Slytherins know what they want, and yes, they always go for it, but not directly. Besides, I never said that I wanted Potter.”

He didn’t have to look to know that her brows were arched.

“You wouldn’t put up with him for so long if you didn’t want him back.”

Draco wanted to deny it, wanted to tell her that she was wrong or that she didn’t know what she was talking about, but part of him knew that she had a point. With the way his year had gone, he didn’t need the distraction that was Potter, he didn’t need the headache or the extra attention. He didn’t need any of it.

But…

He liked spending time with Potter. He liked the conversations that they had, whether it was simple or philosophical. He liked that Potter always seemed interested in what he had to say. They shared similar opinions on so many things, and when it came to their differences it always fascinated him to see another side to something.

Potter was different than what he was used to. Potter wasn’t a Slytherin but Merlin, that was almost a plus. Their differences were just as good as their similarities, and he hated that he liked that. Hated that he liked Potter.

Bloody hell.

“I like Potter.”

Felicity snorted.

‘Hungry.’

Draco tilted his head the best he could when he heard another voice, but the clearing they were in was rather large.

“And unicorns have horns, what else is new?”

“You know your attitude is—”

‘Where’s the mice?’

“Charming, I’m sure,” Felicity said, smile fading when Draco turned his head several different directions. “What are you doing?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard someone.”

Felicity shrugged. “It’s a pretty common clearing.”

She wasn’t wrong. With how close it was to the school it was considered not inside the Forbidden Forest and the teachers had long ago given up trying to keep the students out of it.

“Did you hear them?”

When she shook her head he muttered, “Weird.”

“Speaking of weird,” Felicity said, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her butt. “Did you ever figure out your vision?”

“No,” Draco frowned, squinting a bit at some logs in the distance that kind of resembled a humanoid shape, but he knew that it was just branches and moss. “Sometimes it’s fuzzy in the mornings, and I thought maybe it was the potion I use to wash my face, but even when I quit using it there are times my eyes still act up.”

“Do you think you were cursed?”

Draco laughed. “To what, occasionally have bad vision? I doubt it. Maybe I just need glasses.”

He shuddered just thinking about it. Then he’d really look like—

“Hmm,” Felicity hummed, eyes narrowed as she looked at him, really looked at him. “That’s not the only weird thing about you.”

“For an insult that wasn’t your best.”

She waved that away impatiently. “Have you considered soulmates?”

Draco looked at her with furrowed brows. “We’ve already had this conversation. I know your great great grandparents were soulmates but it’s honestly rare. I don’t think—”

“I don’t mean soulmates in general. I mean have you considered that your problem is soulmates?”

‘Mmm tasty, must find more.’

“I—”

He blinked rapidly as his mind blanked. Why would she think—soulmates? But he wasn’t experiencing a soul bond. Soul bonds were sacred and special. Surely, he’d know if he had one. Besides, soulmates shared attributes and abilities. He wasn’t experiencing—

‘Humans near.’

A snake in the grass had him sitting up rapidly as he stared wide eyed into sharp eyes that were regarding him in interest.

‘Smells different.’

“Hello?”

The snake rose higher until they were eye level.

‘A speaker? Never met a speaker before.’

“Oh fuck.”

Felicity gasped; eyes wide as she covered her mouth. “Draco.”

“I know.”

“Draco.”

“I know.”

“Potter is your—”

“I know.”

Draco closed his eyes as everything hit him at once. His hair, the dreams, his eyes, the strange urge to be nice, saving troublesome first years, the increase in power. It would probably explain the odd desire to eat a treacle tart he had last night too, not to mention the cravings he had been having for butterbeer as well. Now Parseltongue? There was no other explanation.

They were soulmates.

And Potter knew.

Every conversation they had replayed in his mind. Every interaction and every expression mocked his memories. Potter knew. Potter had known the entire year.

Potter fucking knew.

There was no other explanation.

Why hadn’t he said anything? Draco clutched his knees to his chest. Soulmates. A childlike awe had him breathless. A soulmate. Draco had a soulmate. Someone who was created to be his other half. Someone who was tied to him, who had a bond with him that no one else would ever be able to.

So why hadn’t Potter said anything?

Unless, he didn’t want to be soulmates. But that didn’t make sense because Potter had said that he wanted him. If he was wanted, then why—

“Draco!”

Pain, undeniable pain was all that he registered before he was hit full force with the realization that he had just been bitten.

The blasted snake bit him.

Before he could move, Felicity had not only managed to get the snake off of him, but had it contained in a spell.

‘Unhand me!’

The blurry vision was back but he didn’t think it had anything to do with his soulmate this time.

“—raco can you hear me?”

Draco knew he was bleeding, could feel the searing pain in his neck but his lips wouldn’t form the words that he wanted to say. He managed to turn to Felicity in time to see her open her mouth, and his ears began to ring with what he thought might have been a scream, but that confused him. Was she okay? Why was she screaming?

Time was just as blurred as his vision. He wasn’t sure how long he swayed on the ground as he tried to form the energy to stand up, but every time he tried, he felt like throwing up.

Maybe he should stay on the ground.

Strange sounds had him lifting his head a few inches to see people rushing toward him. He didn’t have time to hope that they were friendly before he was being lifted in the air magically and a familiar black robe had him relaxing.

Snape.

“Malfoy, can you hear me?”

Draco managed to lift his chin, but that was all he could do, but Snape seemed to understand.

“Can you blink for me?”

That Draco could do. That didn’t require him to move at all.

“Good, blink once for yes and twice for no. Miss Selwyn said you were bit by a snake. Is that correct?”

Draco blinked once. What a silly question. The snake was still suspended in the air by Felicity’s spell.

“Do you know why it attacked?”

He blinked twice. In the end what did it matter? They had been in the clearing, where the snake hunted for food. It wasn’t the snake’s fault. For all he knew that clearing was the snake’s home, and they had invaded their territory.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what kind of snake this is, I’ll have to do some research. Hopefully Madam Pomfrey has some remedies that will help in the meantime. If we are lucky, it’s a common snake If we are unlucky, I will be brewing you some potions.”

Lucky.

Since when had Draco ever been lucky?

There was a crowd of people near the entrance hall, and he assumed that dinner had either just started or was getting over. Several people gasped, but he did his best to ignore them.

“Malfoy!”

He jolted when he realized who it was, and it had him groaning as his muscles spasmed.

“Out of the way,” Snape barked at those who gathered to gawk. “Or it will be detention until the rest of the year.”

“Malfoy!”

He tried to turn toward Potter, but it had his mind blanking with pain, causing him to miss a chunk of conversation around him.

“—xpect me to believe that?”

“Respectfully sir, I don’t give a damn what you think.”

“Fifty points from Gryffindor.”

“Take them all, I don’t care!”

“Harry!”

“No, Hermione, I’m not going to sit here and argue over opinions when it’s my soulmate that’s injured. I will be in the hospital wing until Malfoy says otherwise.”

“Can we argue somewhere else? Draco needs medical attention.”

“Selwyn is correct. We will be having this discussion after Madam Pomfrey sees to Mister Malfoy.”

It was a rush of movement after that, and he had a hard time keeping track of where in the castle they were. He thought he recognized some of the paintings, but they were moving too quickly for him to pinpoint them.

The antiseptic smell of the hospital wing had his head spinning even more than it was before, but he was relieved.

“Place him right here,” Madam Pomfrey ordered. “Can you tell me what happened Mister Malfoy?”

Draco blinked twice.

“Nonverbal,” Snape explained. “He blinks once for yes and twice for no.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Me, ma’am.”

“What did you see?”

“Draco was behaving weirder than normal—” If he was able to move, he’d have cursed her. “And he kept thinking that he could hear someone, but I couldn’t see anyone.”

There was a harsh intake of breath, and it had Draco’s heart racing as he turned his head enough that he could stare into Potter’s wide eyes.

“Was there someone? Is this not a snake bite?” Madam Pomfrey asked impatiently, the edge of her hand was in his peripheral vision as she gestured toward the still suspended snake.

“That’s the thing,” Felicity said hesitantly.

The impatience in the room mounted as Madam Pomfrey ordered Felicity to tell her more.

“I’m sure Mister Malfoy won’t mind,” she pressed when Felicity stayed silent.

“Draco?”

Draco blinked once. That was the only confirmation that he could give her. Did he want everyone who was in there to know? No. He didn’t even know if the other beds were occupied or if they had the hospital wing to themselves.

“We were alone in the clearing except for the snake,” Felicity said slowly, voice still hesitant. “Draco could hear the snake.”

Snape exhaled heavily as Madam Pomfrey covered her mouth, and they looked at Potter along with everyone else.

“I told you,” Potter sneered at Snape, and despite everything Draco thought it was both hot and stupid of him to go toe to toe with Snape. His soulmate was an idiot.

Soulmate.

Draco made a strangled sound, still looking at Potter who looked wary and nervous. He struggled to lift his hand, but it was okay, Potter understood. A warm hand engulfed his and he tried to convey with his eyes what his mouth wouldn’t.

“Soulmate or not, I have a job to do,” Madam Pomfrey said before she began pulling out several vials and shot several different spells at him that had his whole body feel like it was on fire.

“You’re hurting him!” Potter growled, standing closer to the bed as if he’d be a human shield instead.

“Unfortunate reality of healing, Mister Potter. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better.”

“But—”

“Let me work in peace or do you want him to die?”

Potter narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth shut for what had to be the first time in his life.

It took far too long before the spells stopped. “Good news, Mister Malfoy, you will live. Bad news, you will be here for the rest of the week. You need an extensive amount of healing potions as I draw the venom out of you.”

Draco closed his eyes, groaning as loudly as he was able to. He didn’t want to be there at all. The hospital wing wasn’t secure. There were too many students that could go in and out while he was asleep and that went against the agreement the Ministry made with Dumbledore for his protection.

“He will need a private room,” Snape said, as if reading his mind.

Madam Pomfrey raised her brows, but Snape shook his head. “Can’t be helped. Malfoy is to have his own private quarters; it is a demand of the Ministry while he remains under their protection.”

It took a while for Snape and Madam Pomfrey to come up with the necessary space as they transfigured things and created a secure room that hadn’t been there before. While they worked, Draco did the only thing he could do, stare at Potter.

“I’m sorry,” Potter softly said as he knelt until they were eye level. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Draco arched a brow at the same time that Felicity said, “He didn’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Draco realized when the snake began talking to him.”

Part of him wished she hadn’t said anything, he’d have liked to pretend that he had realized long before that, but even Potter wouldn’t have believed that.

“Took you that long?” Potter teased; eyes bright even if there was a small frown marring his features. “I knew last year.”

“Did you?” Felicity asked curiously. “What made you realize?”

“I—” Potter flushed, eyes looking at the bed. “That’s a conversation I would like to have with him—alone.”

“Is it because I’m a first year?” Felicity stomped her foot. “I’m not a kid you know. I know things.”

“That’s exactly what a kid would say.”

“I’ll have you know—”

“It’s private,” Potter said sharply. “This isn’t a simple crush or gossip. Malfoy is my soulmate, and I think he deserves the chance to have something in private for once.”

It was actually rather touching. Everything related to him lately was embarrassingly public and he despised it. As much as he liked Felicity, he didn’t want the first conversations regarding them being soulmates to be with an audience.

“Alright Mister Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey said, halting the conversation as Snape gently levitated him to his new bed. “Your private room is prepared.”

Her tone had him narrowing his eyes as he took offense. It wasn’t his fault that his father was a traitor. It wasn’t his fault that he was under Ministry protection. Draco hadn’t asked for any kind of special treatment, nor would he if given the choice. He hadn’t even wanted to come back to Hogwarts. It wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t appreciate the insinuation otherwise.

He wasn’t the only one either, for Potter said in a cutting tone,

“If Malfoy was to be harmed in the hospital wing due to your negligence, I’m sure his mother would waste a fortune making sure you were held responsible.”

Madam Pomfrey placed a hand on her chest as she spluttered.

“He’s under Ministry protection,” Potter said slowly and in a tone that had Snape’s brows arching. “For things out of his control.”

“The Ministry shouldn’t be allowed to dictate what happens in Hogwarts.”

Potter opened his mouth, but Snape held up a hand.

“Some opinions are best kept to ourselves.”

“Severus—”

“We can discuss treatment plans in your office,” Snape said curtly, and a warmth filled Draco that Snape was still willing to defend him. His father had always been torn on Snape’s loyalty, and so was Draco, but he knew that despite everything else, Snape was a teacher. Whether he was a good one or not was irrelevant. Snape would always put the safety of the students above everything else, whether he liked them or not.

“Miss Selwyn you best be getting to your common room.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t asking,” Madam Pomfrey said, voice stern. “The only reason Mister Potter is still here is due to their soulmate status. I can’t legally separate them.”

Draco blinked rapidly at that. The legalities of soulmates had never been something he had looked into. With how rare they were he had always been focused on the stories of them rather than what happened after they were found.

The door to the room slammed behind them and it had him jerking slightly and he groaned miserably when he felt his muscles ache.

“You’d think the adults would be more mature than us,” Potter said bitterly, scowling at the door. “I used to think that she was nice, and maybe she is, but she’s also a judgmental old—”

Draco raised his wand and silently shot a silencing spell at the wall. If Potter was going to insult the very person that was supposed to heal him, then he was going to make sure that she couldn’t hear them.

A vial appeared beside the bed with a note to drink it for his first round of medicine.

“She couldn’t even bring it in here,” Potter huffed, arms crossed. “Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t think I could stay silent.”

Draco arched his brows as he downed the nasty tasting potion. He slumped backward in relief when he could feel his mind focusing and his muscles relaxing.

“Silent?” Draco croaked, voice coming out hoarse as he gingerly touched the closed snake bite. It was a bit tender but at least it wasn’t still bleeding. “You don’t know how to be silent.”

Silence.

Draco angled his head enough to still be comfortable and see Potter at the same time. There was a strange expression on his face that Draco couldn’t quite place.

“Were you disappointed?”

Hm?

Draco blinked rapidly as he tried to understand.

“Were you disappointed when you realized we were soulmates, that I was your soulmate?”

Oh.

There hadn’t been much time to think about it. Everything had happened so quickly, but he could remember feeling stunned, could remember his mind shutting down because no way he had found his soulmate. There hadn’t been many emotions, but what he could remember was a tiny seed of—

“Hope.”

Potter’s brows furrowed.

“Hope,” Draco repeated. “Disappointment never crossed my mind. Only hope.”

Potter licked his lips as he took a stepped toward the bed and sat on a chair. “What kind of hope?”

Part of him thought that was a silly question but the rest of him knew that there were a dozen types of hope, and it all depended on how desperate you were at any given moment.

“The nostalgic kind. The kind that reminds me of being five and obsessed with finding my soulmate. I used to marvel at the concept of someone being made for me, of someone who was my other half. Someone who wanted me. Would spend their life with me.”

“The idea of a soulmate is different than the outcome,” Potter said softly, eyes a little sad and Draco held out his hand in what he hoped was an offer of comfort.

“The outcome is still what I imagined,” Draco argued. “I’m not disappointed that’s it you, quite the opposite.”

“Obviously it’s my good looks.”

“That,” Draco agreed with a slight curve of his lips as Potter finally placed his palm on top of Draco’s. “And because it’s you.”

“Me?” Potter asked breathlessly.

“Not the chosen one you, not the famous one you, not the savior you or whatever else the papers are saying these days. I mean the far too naive you, the far too kind you, the Potter that pays attention to those around you and cares about people in a selfless way that is unheard of. The you that laughs with everything that you have and smiles in the face of the cruel hand that you were dealt with.

“My soulmate is beautiful,” Draco whispered, thumb caressing the back of Potter’s hand. “My soulmate is strong and courageous. My soulmate is kind and forgiving. My soulmate is what the plays and books were made out of. My soulmate is what people dream of when they wish for their other half. You are my soulmate, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He meant it too. He might not have had much time to think everything over, but he knew deep down that he would change nothing. Potter had been a huge part of his life from the moment they met. They had been tied together in strong emotions from the beginning, they just hadn’t understood it at the time.

“Malfoy.”

Never had Potter’s voice been so reverent before and it had Draco flushing what he knew had to be an ugly bright red that did nothing for his complexion. There was awe on Potter’s face and that much he could understand, Draco was pretty awed too.

Soulmate.

He had a soulmate, and it was Harry fucking Potter.

“It’s always been you,” Potter whispered, a hand moving to cup Draco’s cheek. “I just didn’t realize it.”

Draco leaned into the hand on his cheek, refusing to believe that it was a nuzzle. “What now?”

What were soulmates supposed to do when they found each other? When was their soul bond supposed to activate? That was how it went, right? He was pretty sure they didn’t have a soul bond yet, or he’d have known. He would be able to feel it, feel Potter in a way that he hadn’t before.

Potter shrugged. “I wasn’t sure we’d get this far. I’ve been waiting over a year for you to realize.”

“Why?” Draco whispered. “If you wanted me like you said, then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate finding out that way. I didn’t want you to resent it. I wanted you to find out on your own.”

Would Draco have resented it? He didn’t think so, but he thought back to last year and wondered how he would have felt if Potter had told him they were soulmates. As stupid as it sounded, he was a different person then. So much had changed in a year, especially to his personal life, that he was confident the response would have been drastically different.

Maybe Potter was right.

“How did you know that we were soulmates?”

The flush was back, and he was horribly endeared by it.

“I kept dreaming of you,” Potter admitted, the flush darkening. “I didn’t understand it initially, thought it was hormones honestly. But then I had these urges that didn’t make sense. I wanted to eat dark chocolate, couldn’t bring myself to eat a treacle tart. I hate pumpkin juice, but I was ordering it over butterbeer. I started to understand potions in a way that I hadn’t before, there was a love of it that took me by surprise. I had the desire to look into my heritage and find out more about the Potters and then that snowballed into Wizard genealogy entirely.

“My responses to things became less reactive and more thought out. I considered what I was going to say before I actually acted. My words grew sharper and so did my mind. Malfoy, I know you don’t realize this, but you helped me in ways I don’t think you even understand.”

He didn’t understand. Said as much too.

“Last year I almost lost my godfather,” Potter said, free hand clenching as the one that had been on his cheek moved to hold Draco’s hand, their fingers entwining. “There was a moment, a single moment where I almost made a mistake that I believe full heartedly would have ended terribly. But there was a drawling voice inside my head that told me I was being stupid, that I was being brash and not thinking clearly. So I stopped, and I listened to it. I reevaluated everything and realized that I was wrong. Hermione and Ron don’t think it’s related to you, but I know it is. That part of me wasn’t me, that part of me was you. It was the attributes of you that I carry inside of me. The parts of you that I cherish.”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath as he tightened his hold on Potter’s hand. Potters story was vague, and it was obvious that it was meant to be, and that was probably because it related back to the Dark Lord. They would have to have a conversation regarding that, the Dark Lord and even his father. But that would be later, much later when they were more stable and secure in whatever journey they would go on.

And it would be a journey, one that Draco would happily walk down.

Because he had a soulmate. One that wanted him back.

“Once I put the pieces together it wasn’t hard to trace them back to you. Although there were a few days where Ron panicked and thought my soulmate was Snape.”

Draco snorted, but couldn’t help but ask, “Would you have been disappointed if it was?”

“I would have been disappointed that it wasn’t you,” Potter said, bringing their joined hands up to press a kiss to the back of Draco’s hand. “When I realized it was you, everything began to click. There was a sense of understanding that washed over me, and I knew it was true. I knew you were my soulmate, and I was going to prove it. To Ron, to Hermione, to Sirius and Remus. But also to you.

“Especially to you.”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath. Potter certainly had a way with words.

“A charmer you are.”

A small but pleased smile quirked his lips as a gentle whisper of, “Only if it works. Are you as charmed as I was by you? Are you charmed Malfoy?”

Yes. Horribly and endearingly yes.

“I think I need to see more evidence to make a decision.”

Potter smiled, eyes crinkling in a way that took his breath away. A horrible sensation that seemed to be a constant when it came to his soulmate.

Soulmate.

Draco shook his head. Still not used to the prospect of having a soulmate.

“I can’t believe it,” Draco whispered to himself first before glancing up at Potter. There was a reverent look on his face and it had him flushing. Potter’s smile grew and Draco wanted to hex it off his face.

“We’re soulmates.”

Potter’s stupid smile morphed into a grin, one that he had only ever seen across the Great Hall directed at the other remaining members of the idiot trio.

“We really are.”

There was a warmth inside of him that Draco wanted to bottle and keep forever. Was that what it was supposed to feel like when you find your soulmate? Would he always feel warm next to Potter?

He hoped so.

He really hoped so.

‘Look. There he is.’

‘Did you hear? They say he got attacked by Death Eaters.’

‘What? No. That would have been in the papers. I heard he got attacked by other Slytherins.’

Draco ignored the whispers and pointed stares as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was hoping to make it on time, but Madam Pomfrey had dragged her feet in releasing him. Her frosty attitude hadn’t melted at all. He imagined her issue with him was related to his father more so than himself.

The whispers increased the closer he got to the entrance of the Great Hall only for all conversations to cease as he stepped inside.

“Draco!”

His head turned sharply to see Potter moving toward him. The use of his first name was as new to him as it was to those shamelessly listening in.

“I didn’t know you were getting released today.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” Draco drawled, lips twitching at the annoyed deadpan stare he got in return.

“You’d think you’d have told your­­—”

Draco covered Potter’s mouth. He didn’t mind other people knowing that they were soulmates, but it seemed a bit too soon, didn’t it? Potter jerked back, freeing his mouth to say his name softly.

It was Draco’s turn to jerk as the repeated use of his name had a strange sensation rush through him. The familiar warmth that he felt near Potter was still there but now it was warmer.

“Yes, that is my name,” Draco said just as softly as Potter’s whispers of his name that were still falling from pretty lips. “Why do you keep saying it?”

Potter’s eyes were bright but clouded in a way that had Draco frowning.

“Are you—”

“Draco.”

He gasped when what felt like liquid fire filled his entire body and it had him arching slightly as his mouth remained open. Someone yelled but he couldn’t decipher who.

“Say my name. Draco, say my name.”

Unable to deny Potter anything he said it.

“Harry.”

A blinding bright light filled the room as Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and Draco had to hold onto Harry to keep him upright. When the light dimmed, they were a breath away from each other and neither denied the urge to move closer.

When their lips touched the blinding white light returned, only it came with a buzzing sound that drowned out the yells of dozens of people. Draco tuned out everything that wasn’t soft lips pressed together as they gently moved. Draco kissed Harry with everything that he had, trying to convey every emotion that he couldn’t voice.

“Mine,” Harry whispered as they kissed over and over. “Soulmate. My soulmate.”

“Mine,” Draco agreed, returning the same possessive urge that he couldn’t shake. “My soulmate.”

With one last lingering kiss Draco tilted his head back to see Harry’s eyes. They were no longer clouded, only pleased and it matched the smug curve of a smirk.

Yes, Harry got what he wanted. Everyone knew.

Draco looked around the room to see shock reflected back at him before it was chaos.

Absolute chaos ensued.

Draco had stopped by the hospital wing for a follow up, but Madam Pomfrey wasn’t there, which was unusual. He was about to leave when the doors burst back open and in came the idiot trio.

“Harry?” Head tilted, he watched them rush toward him and the panicked expressions on their faces had him wary.

A vial was pushed into his hand, but his focus was on Harry who was looking him over, as if expecting him to have been harmed.

“Harry?” Draco asked again, not understanding what was going on.

“Take this.”

“Harry—” Granger was cut off by Harry lifting a hand, expression souring as he glanced over his shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hermione.”

“She has a point, mate.”

“Not you too Ron.”

Weasley lifted his hands in surrender, shooting Draco an apologetic look that only confused him further.

“I’m not saying I agree with her, because I don’t—”

“Ronald!”

Granger and Weasley began to bicker with each other and Draco failed to keep up as his head moved back and forth as they argued.

Giving up, Draco peered at the vial in his hands and frowned when he recognized it.

“Hey!” Draco complained, smacking Harry on the shoulder. “We won this together. You weren’t supposed to take it yet. Some soulmate you are.”

Slughorn had awarded them a vial of Felix Felicis during their last potions exam. Draco had wanted to save it for something special, something he had hoped would involve the two of them with nothing on and would result in a scandalous night that would horrify his father. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s why I’m here. I knew you’d never hear the end of it if I took the whole thing.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but still. The least he could—

“Harry.”

“No, Hermione.”

Draco looked between them, noticing Grangers frustrated expression, but what concerned him the most was the fury on Harry’s face.

“What’s going on?”

“Death Eaters are in the school!” Weasley blurted, hands thrown in the air again when the other two rounded on him. “What? No one else was saying anything!”

“What?” Draco gasped, drawing the attention of all three of them. Death Eaters? How did they get inside the school? Were they there for him? But that didn’t make much sense, especially considering Granger’s distrustful glare. If they had wanted to get to him, they would just target the Manor. Why target a school just for him? It made more sense to target—

“Harry.”

There was a sad smile on Harry’s lips as he pulled Draco in for a hug.

“I’ve got to go.”

“No you don’t!”

Why did Harry always have to be an idiot? It made more sense to stay away considering how obsessed the Dark Lord was with killing him. Why would Harry willingly go towards danger? Again, it had to be a fetish.

“I do. I have to find Dumbledore. We went somewhere tonight and he’s not well. I have to make sure that Snape and Madam Pomfrey got to him and that they both know what’s going on.”

Draco bit his lip, unsure what to say. He was still torn on Snape’s position. Both sides believed so strongly that Snape was on their side, and yet one of them had to be wrong. Was it Dumbledore or the Dark Lord?

“I’ll go with you.”

Harry smiled softly, a thumb rubbing across his bottom lip. “You’re safer here.”

“Do I look like someone who needs to be saved? Use that hero complex on your friends, they need it more than I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Granger asked, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips. The suspicion was full force, but he didn’t have time to deal with it. Part of him understood where her mindset was at considering who his father was and then again when it came to him.

But at the end of the day, who the fuck was Granger? Who gave a damn what she thought of him. All that mattered was what he thought of himself. All year he had to put up with the opinions of those around him. The judgmental glares, the harsh whispers and the distrust of everyone.

He was done caring. Done listening to it and done humoring it.

Regardless of what his father had done, he was Draco fucking Malfoy, and he was going to make a name for himself. One that wouldn’t be in the shadow of his family. One that wouldn’t be a byproduct of his surname. Draco was going to be somebody and live by only his own approval.

And by Merlin that was enough for him.

“It means that I know how to fight fire with Fiendfyre. I’ll be just fine.”

He didn’t have to look at her to know that she was confused, that she wouldn’t truly get what he meant outside of the general metaphor, but it wasn’t meant for her. No, it was meant for Harry, who understood. Who always seemed to understand him.

“Draco.”

There was a pleading aspect to his name that under any other circumstance might have swayed him, but not this time.

“I’m not going to sit back while everyone fights around me. Don’t expect me to do something that you’d never do. It’s not fair.”

When Harry’s shoulders slumped, he knew he had won. He tried not to be too smug about it, but as with everything else, Harry could tell.

“Ron and Hermione, will you go to the tower where they were last seen? I’m going to find Dumbledore.”

He had expected an argument, especially with how hostile Granger looked, but instead they both nodded before they were gone.

“I really wish you’d stay.”

“Get bent Potter.”

Another smile, still sad, but still beautiful. Draco pushed his forehead against Harry’s none too gently as he whispered, “I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.”

They were together after all.

What could go wrong?

Everything went to shit.

The closer they got to the Astronomy tower the more duels they ran into. A mixture of students from all houses except for Slytherin were fighting against the Death Eaters. He caught sight of what he could only assume were members of the Order, but there wasn’t enough time to recognize who was who as Harry dragged them up the tower.

“Sirius!”

Sirius Black.

Draco turned to see his cousin face off against Greyback. It was a fight with an obvious winner. Greyback didn’t have many magical abilities as he was denied the use of a wand for most of his life by the Ministry. All he had going for him was brute strength and the abilities of a Werewolf, but it wasn’t a full moon. What Greyback didn’t have, he made up for in dirty handed tricks—

Draco shot a spark of magic toward Greyback’s robes where the combustive potions he used to fight dirty exploded on impact and he went up in flames. Ear piercing screams filled the hallway as Greyback began to burn alive.

“What the—”

Sirius turned around to see Draco with his wand still out. There was an arched brow and a hint of a smirk before,

“Well, aren’t you just an interesting little thing.”

“You’re welcome.”

The smirk grew, but Draco didn’t get a chance to hear what would have been said as Harry pulled him closer to the tower.

Loud voices drew their attention as they made it to a little observation area that wasn’t quite the top of the tower. There was a strange standoff where several people were pointing wands at Dumbledore.

One of them was Snape.

“To what end, Bellatrix?”

Bellatrix cackled manically and not for the first time Draco wished he wasn’t related to her. How his mother came out normal with a sister like that was beyond him.

“Why your end, dear Dumbles,” Bellatrix jeered as he gestured with her free hand toward the Death Eaters with her. “We managed to get inside right under your watchful eyes. Losing your touch in your old age, are we?”

Dumbledore said nothing, but his eyes glanced briefly toward Harry and Draco, and it had his breath catching.

“Strange,” Bellatrix said, voice carrying despite her low volume. “Such power gone to waste. How is it that you stand before us pitiful and weak and yet you are the only one able to defend against the Dark Lord.”

“You never were able to see to your full potential,” Dumbledor said calmly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bellatrix yelled; voice shrill in the air as several Death Eaters he had never seen before shifted nervously. Had the Dark Lord sent newbies to Hogwarts? Had he expected there not to be a fight at all? Or was it the opposite and the Dark Lord didn’t want to lose any prominent Death Eaters?

“Answer me!”

Draco could spot a tantrum a mile away, especially one of hers.

“We have to move,” Draco whispered. “She’s going to lose it.”

That was all it took before Harry yelled, “Expelliarmus!”  

Everyone turned as one, including Bellatrix who spun around angrily as her wand was blasted over the edge of the tower.

“It’s wee little Potter.” A pause as her eyes moved to Draco. “And the traitor’s son.”

“There are worse things to be,” Draco sneered. “I could be in a delusional cult, but no, I’ll leave that for you. How is your master these days? All of his inner circle has been sold to the papers. Is that why you’re surrounded by new recruits? No one left to accompany you?”

The sound of running footsteps reached them and it was enough of a distraction that Bellatrix was able to snatch a wand out of a Death Eater’s hands and before she could aim it at him, a hand pushed Draco out of the way.

“No,” Harry said, head shaking. That was the only warning before he pointed his wand at her, and she erupted in screams as she took a cutting curse straight to the face. Blood splattered everywhere, bits landing on Dumbledore’s glasses and even on Snape’s robes.

There were yells as they were surrounded by members of the Order, and some students who were staring at Harry in shock. If they weren’t soulmates, Draco would have been surprised.

Harry Potter performed Dark Magic.

“What was it you told me last year?” Harry asked her, voice dark in a way that had Draco closing his eyes and relishing the power that slowly began to seep out.

“Oh, that’s right. You said I would have to mean it. Well, guess what? I fucking mean it.”

A slash of a wand and Bellatrix was tossed into the air, body suspended before she began to convulse in a recognizable way.

The Cruciatus Curse.

“Harry!”

It came from too many people to recognize, but he could hear the horror in their voices, and it had him sneering. This was war. If the Death Eaters weren’t going to abide by morals and not use Light Magic, then why not match it? Why not match it spell by spell? Bring it to an even playing ground.

Fight fire with Fiendfyre.  

It was only when Bellatrix’s screams grew to an ear piecing level that the spell ceased. Her body jerked in shock, and he almost felt bad for her.

“I would tell you to send your master a message, but you won’t live long enough for that.”

“Harry—”

Not even Dumbledore’s voice could distract him.

Harry still had a wand pointed at Bellatrix as she was slowly lowered to the ground, but it was his free hand that drew Draco’s attention. Magic swirled around an open palm in a familiar tingling way that had several people gasping, Draco included.

The tingles had him salivating, and Draco didn’t care what anyone said, the magic was comforting. It was like coming home.

Black liquid dripped onto the floor as whatever Harry created came to a stopping point. It looked like a blob of some kind, but before he could analyze it further Harry threw it directly at Bellatrix who shrieked. The liquid spread across her neck, face and even chest before she was thrown backward—right over the edge of the tower.

The screams only stopped after a sickening crunch echoed across the stillness of the night.

Harry turned to the remaining Death Eaters who had wide eyes and a few shaky hands that jerked their wands back and forth.

“I suggest you run.”

They might have been new, but they weren’t stupid. They all turned to run but were quickly rounded up by members of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Draco.”

Draco turned to Harry who was holding out his still black hand. He didn’t hesitate to entwine their fingers, watching as the black liquid seeped into his skin and all that was left was a tingling warmth that he wished would never fade.

“Will you help me?”

“Always.”

Harry pointed up and for the first time Draco realized that there was a Dark Mark above the astronomy tower. The only death had been Bellatrix, and the irony to that was amusing.

“What are we creating?” Draco whispered against the corner of Harry’s lips as he pressed a gentle kiss there.

He had never imagined that he’d get a chance to create with Harry. That was a thought that he had kept to himself. One that only flared when alone.  

“A new message.”

They raised their wands, keeping their entwined hands lowered as they stared into each other’s eyes. The welcoming rush of Dark Magic filled Draco, only it was amplified by the sheer power of Harry’s magic as it crashed into him over and over and over.

He knew it was successful when several people made shocked noises and exaggerated gasps.

When they glanced to the sky the Dark Mark wasn’t there anymore. No, in its place was a lightning bolt through the head of a dead snake.

A message indeed.

A new era instead.

The Dark Lord’s reign would end. There might be Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, but they were nothing but a means to an end—a distraction.

No.

The Dark Lord would be defeated. By the very thing he couldn’t understand, couldn’t fathom.

Love.

The power of love, the power of two.

Soulmates.

A bond worth burning the entire world for.

And they would. They were going to fight fire with Fiendfyre and watch the world burn.

Together.