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The idea of a soulmate was romantic, touching and filled Draco with an aching desire. He yearned for them. The concept of there being someone out there that was his ideal match, made with him in mind, and was someone that was supposed to understand him was nice in theory. The reality of soulmates wasn’t as romantic as the books or plays depicted.
Soulmates lie.
Marks. The lies were called marks, and Draco had dozens of them. The lies were inked across his skin; some, fleeting as white lies were readily forgotten and disappeared. The ones that lingered for days, weeks, and even years were the ones that truly gave an insight into who his soulmate was supposed to be. Some cultures revered the truth, didn’t want a single lie to appear on their soulmate, but Draco was different.
He liked the lies. He liked to see what his soulmate was saying, wondered if the lies were believed and whether they were punished for it. Draco didn’t like punishments. Which was why he knew he was in for a world of pain when a new lie appeared on his forehead.
Magic isn’t real.
He had been five when that one appeared. The mark was bold, dramatic and wrong. At first glance he had frozen—as did his mother—before he quickly tried to hide it. The panic he felt at that age should have been a warning, but it was all he knew. The desperation as he begged his mother to apply makeup or a concealing charm to it, but there was only so long that he could hide it.
The mark didn’t fade. As time went on, it only grew darker, and it had him shuddering every time he looked in the mirror. A dark mark such as that meant that it was a lie his soulmate clung to desperately, hoping it was real, wishing it was the truth, and it could only mean one thing.
His soulmate was a fucking Muggle.
Or perhaps a Muggleborn.
Either way, there was no hiding it in the end. Not only did his father see the lie, but so did his guests at the time. Word had spread quickly. The Malfoy line was soon to be tarnished. His parents had tried desperately to secure a marriage contract, but none would take him. Those that aligned themselves with the same beliefs of his parents wanted nothing to do with someone whose soulmate was so clearly a Muggle.
Draco was a social pariah. All of the play-dates and excursions his father set up to further their connections and social standing fell through. No one wanted him.
Not even his parents.
“No son of mine will marry a Muggle.”
“There has to be something we can do,” his mother had begged, pleaded even. “It can’t end like this.”
It took years for that mark to disappear, and while he could now show his face in public without concealing charms, it didn’t matter. Everyone knew. No one had forgotten.
So what if his soulmate was a Muggle. Draco didn’t understand why that was a problem. If his father hated Muggles, acted as if they were the enemy or a despicable monster, then there must have been a mistake. Because the universe would not have given Draco a soulmate that was his enemy. They could not be a monster. For they were Draco’s, and he was theirs.
That meant his father was wrong. His mother was wrong. Their beliefs were wrong. The Dark Lord was wrong. Everything was wrong.
One day he’d prove it. One day he’d show them how wrong they were, and he wouldn’t forgive them.
One day.
Magic wasn’t real.
Uncle Vernon said so. It was screamed at him repeatedly, over and over, until Harry began to recite it himself. Every time something unexplainable happened, he whispered it, breathed it, and desperately tried to believe it. Because if he believed it, then there wouldn’t be any punishments. Maybe they’d let him eat dinner. Maybe he’d be allowed to leave his cupboard. Maybe they wouldn’t hit—
Deep down, he knew that it was a lie, but he couldn’t allow himself to think on it for long, didn’t want to let that grow into defiance. Uncle Vernon punished defiance.
They punished him for his soulmate too.
Aunt Petunia said it wasn’t proper for him to have so many marks. That if he was truly cared about, his soulmate wouldn’t lie so much. So they covered him. Forced him to wear long-sleeve shirts, scarves and even Benny hats that covered his forehead regardless of the weather or season.
My soulmate is a Muggle.
Harry didn’t know what a Muggle was, but it was inked into the space between his arm and bicep. It had appeared years ago, and never faded. Part of him wondered if it was an insult, but he didn’t think so. Refused to believe it. The world wouldn’t give him a soulmate that was mean to him like the Dursleys. There had to be a silver lining to life. There had to be something good at the end of the tunnel. There just had to be.
Harry liked looking at the marks. He didn’t understand why it was a bad thing to lie. They were messages from his soulmate, proof that they existed and were out there just waiting for him to find them. One day he would. When he was older, stronger, and away from the Dursleys. One day he’d meet them. One day he’d love them.
One day.
I didn’t do it.
No.
I didn’t sneak food.
It wasn’t me! It was Dudley.
Her hair turned blue on its own!
The marks came frequently, and Draco cherished each and every one of them. They were pieces of a larger riddle that made up his soulmate, and he enjoyed every single lie. He welcomed the searing pain each new mark brought and secretly wished that his soulmate would never tell the truth.
Sometimes, when the marks hurt his heart, did he wish that things were different. That he could help somehow.
I have my own bedroom.
No, they never hit me.
Yes, they take care of me.
His soulmate didn’t have a good life. Draco had known that from the start. There were far too many telling lies. He had a notebook of lies, had dedicated hours making sure to document everything his soulmate had ever lied about. There was a common theme.
Abuse.
His heart ached for his soulmate. Wanted to help, wanted to escape the manor and find them. Wanted to save them from their family. They could run away together, and in turn that would save Draco too. It would allow him the chance to be himself, to truly allow him to make his own choices and discover his own beliefs.
You’re mistaken, sir. I’m not a Wizard.
Magic isn’t real.
You must be thinking of someone else.
Draco had been giddy then. Someone had approached his soulmate. School was to start soon. That had to mean his soulmate was a Muggleborn. He had been right. Someone from Hogwarts had approached his soulmate.
Finally.
That meant that they were going to meet. Draco would see them at school, and everything would change for the better.
It had to.
The outrageously tall man called him a Wizard. Said that he was one of them, that he could perform magic. Despite the small part of him that ached to go with him, to leave, to flee, he knew that he couldn’t.
The dark look in his uncle’s eyes said everything.
If Harry went with them, he’d still have to come back for every holiday, and everything would be worse. Uncle Vernon didn’t have to threaten him; he knew it was true. Every broken bone he ever had was the proof of that.
If magic was real, then it could wait. He could wait until he was completely free of the Dursleys to explore it.
“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken, sir. I’m not a Wizard.”
Hagrid had tried to laugh it off and explained that his parents had magic, that his mother had been hesitant too. While it sounded nice and the previous ache turned into longing, he still knew that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go through with it.
“Magic isn’t real,” Harry insisted, pretending that he couldn’t see the sparks emitting from the pink umbrella in Hagrid’s hands. “You must be thinking of someone else.”
It took several hours, many lies, and far too much frustration before Hagrid finally seemed to listen to him.
Squib.
That’s what Hagrid had called him. Someone who was born into a magical family but didn’t have magic themselves. Harry allowed it, knowing that if he were to agree to it, there would be another mark inked into his soulmate’s skin.
Hagrid had promised to return, only with someone who could accurately confirm his Squib status. That had been enough for the Dursleys to panic. The moment Hagrid left, it was a frenzy to pack.
The Dursleys moved constantly after that. They didn’t stay at one location for more than a few weeks. Dudley didn’t like it, but Harry didn’t really mind. It meant he no longer had to stay in the cupboard, and he got to experience more and more of the world that the Dursleys tried to take from him. What Dudley did, so did Harry. What Dudley got, so did Harry.
There were still punishments.
Pain wasn’t a new concept to Draco, not with who his parents were, but heartbreak was. As Draco looked at the new students and saw blank skin, no lies in sight, he knew that his soulmate hadn’t shown up to Hogwarts.
They weren’t coming.
I am a Slytherin, please, I have to be.
I believe in the Dark Lord’s teachings.
I am one of you.
Harry didn’t know what a Slytherin was, but the dark color was so engraved into his skin he wondered if it would ever fade. Being a Slytherin meant something; he just didn’t know what. The idea of a Dark Lord was a little silly, but then again, who knew what Wizards and Witches had to face.
Perhaps it was a good thing he never left with Hagrid.
Sometimes, he’d still get a pang of yearning when he thought of a magical world that he had turned down, but he knew that he had made the right decision. Could feel it in his bones every time he thought about it.
If he repeated it enough, maybe he’d start to believe it.
Talking to snakes is normal.
I am not a wizard.
Magic isn’t real.
I don’t find men attractive. I’m not gay.
Draco had sucked in a sharp breath when he realized that his soulmate was a Parselmouth. It was a well documented ability, and there had never been a Muggleborn Parselmouth before. The doubt in his mind had him uneasy, but he knew that his soulmate was a Muggleborn, someone that was shamed into believing that he wasn’t magical, wasn’t special, wasn’t part of their world. He wished he could change that, wished that he could go to them. Wanted a hug, wanted his hand held. Wanted a kiss, wanted to see them, face them, adore them.
He wanted.
My father loves me.
My mother has my best interests in mind.
I will bring honor to the Malfoy name.
The fact that his soulmate had a rough family comforted Harry. They were so similar, and he knew without a doubt that he would have struggled to understand someone who didn’t have a childhood like his own. He didn’t want to pretend to be normal. Didn’t want to be surrounded by a happy family when he knew he couldn’t relate, couldn’t fit in. He would always be the little boy who slept in a cupboard under the stairs. It didn’t matter how long ago that was; it had shaped him. It had hardened him, twisted him into someone that was jaded and didn’t like to view the world through rose-tinted glasses.
Harry was a Wizard, he knew that with every breath he took and every spark his fingers released when he got too nervous. But he was also hesitant to announce it, knew that it wasn’t safe. The world wasn’t kind to those that weren’t normal, to those that didn’t fit in with how society was supposed to be. Blending in was safe; blending in was his only option.
Blending in was boring.
“Mister Malfoy, can you stay after class for a moment?”
Draco groaned, not bothering to hide it. Why did Professor Lupin always pay attention to him? It was pity, he knew that. All of the teachers looked at him the same way. The students mocked and belittled him, the Malfoy prestige be damned. It wasn’t unusual for new marks to appear throughout the day, every day, and people didn’t understand it. They expected him to be upset that his soulmate was such a liar, but they never stopped to consider that it went both ways.
The truth rarely came out of Draco’s mouth. He was proud of that.
Whispers broke out as the other students tried to settle by the door, as if Lupin didn’t have his emotional support dog in the room who growled at them when they got mouthy or didn’t listen to Lupin. The dog bared his teeth, and the students fled in a rush.
Draco thought the dog was all bark and no bite. It would sometimes sleep at his feet during class and let Draco pet him. The dog liked belly rubs too.
“Yes?”
Lupin stared at him for far too long, it grew increasingly uncomfortable, even if Lupin’s dog came to sit by him, licking his hand.
“I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me about anything.”
Draco grimaced. “All adults say that, but they don’t really mean it.”
The dog huffed a bit before licking him again. Draco scratched behind his ears just to give him something to focus on that wasn’t the concern emanating from Lupin. The man should have been in Hufflepuff.
“You have a new mark.”
“I know.”
Draco had felt it during class. It was on his jaw, but there hadn’t been enough time to excuse himself to the bathroom to inspect it.
“It says magic isn’t real.”
Draco shrugged. “It’ll fade.”
There wasn’t a single week that went by where that sentence didn’t show up on his skin somewhere. It wasn’t dark like before, and it always faded the same day. Proof that his soulmate was coming to grips with being a Wizard.
“Does it bother you?”
He stood straighter, face closing off. “That he’s a Muggleborn? No. Considering you’re a half-blood sir, I would have thought that you’d understand. I don’t care if he was a damn squib or a bloody werewolf. My soulmate is mine.”
Lupin let out a strange sound, but he was distracted by the way the dog sagged into him. Surely, it wasn’t normal for a dog to weigh so much.
“I meant, does it bother you that they lie?”
Oh.
Draco deflated a bit, feeling silly for his outburst. He was always on the defense as of late.
“How could it ever bother me when it’s proof they exist?” Draco whispered, lifting up his sleeve to show Lupin his mark that appeared earlier in the day.
I love my family.
“They are pieces of my soulmate, and I cherish them,” Draco said, shoving the dog’s head out of the way when he came closer—nosy sod—so that Lupin could see the dozens more as he lifted his other sleeve.
Both Lupin and the dog made a similar sound, only Draco wasn’t sure what it was. The lies weren’t graphic or too telling. Just bits about their family life or silly lies about cleaning.
“I’ll take a lie over the truth any day,” Draco said, moving toward the door, putting the odd conversation out of his mind. Lupin was strange, and so was his damn dog.
It wasn’t me.
Someone else stole it.
Sorry sir, I didn’t see who did it.
Draco didn’t have any proof, but he was pretty sure that his soulmate was a petty criminal. He wasn’t opposed to the idea as long as it was out of desire and not desperation. Desperation was dangerous. Desperation meant that there was no other choice. He wanted to help, wanted to be a choice too.
If it was a choice, well, Draco had seen his father do far more terrible things and get away with it. He might even be able to offer advise, or participate himself if given the chance. Just because the hat was torn on putting him in Slytherin didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to be a Slytherin.
“I’ll find you,” Draco promised, over and over, willing it to not become a mark on his soulmate’s skin.
I want to be a Death Eater.
I don’t want to join the Order.
Wizards were strange. Harry wondered what a Death Eater was. Clearly, something his soulmate’s parents wanted from him. Which meant that the Order was the opposite. Were they teams of some kind? A sport? Political parties?
Harry kicked a rock on the pavement, ignoring the way people moved out of his way when he walked down the street. For some reason, no one liked to be near him. Dudley used to joke that it was his aura, that there was something off about him and that others could tell.
It was probably true.
No one liked to be near him for long. Perhaps it was the lies that were inked across his skin, a new one popping up daily. Sometimes, he left them uncovered, just to see what people would say. There were stares, scoffs, looks of disgust, but no one said anything. Some showed signs of pity, offering the idea of love outside of a soulmate, but he didn’t want that. Couldn’t bring himself to be with someone that wasn’t his soulmate. Not when he’d just have to pretend to be normal. Pretend that he didn’t have magic. Pretend that he wasn’t a Wizard. Pretend to have had a happy childhood.
Harry didn’t want to pretend. He wanted his soulmate. Lies were easy. Lies were always on the tip of his tongue, and they came out with every exhale. The truth was hard. The truth wasn’t what he did. He didn’t know how to be honest, shuddered at the thought, but he knew that without a doubt he’d give his soulmate the one thing he refused to give anyone else.
Honesty.
Harry would be honest with them. Oh, he’d still cherish every mark, and commit each one to memory, but he’d tell the truth too. His soulmate deserved that much.
His soulmate deserved everything.
Draco was being followed.
Oh, they thought they were slick, thought that he wouldn’t notice, but it wasn’t as if Gryffindors knew how to be subtle—blending in was a foreign concept to them.
“He went that way.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I saw him!”
“That was Goyle.”
“Goyle looks nothing like Malfoy. Merlin, you need glasses.”
“If you don’t need them, then how could I need them?”
“Identical doesn’t include vision, idiot.”
“Idiot? Who was it that saved your pasty arse that one time in Potions?”
“Pasty? Our arses are the same color, Fred. Honestly, you’re a bloody moron. And which time? During first year? Like that counts. I knew the answer.”
“Please, you’d have received a Troll.”
“Snape doesn’t grade in OWL standards until at least fourth year.”
“It’s like you purposefully misunderstand me just to get under my skin.”
“Took you seventeen years to figure it out.”
Draco cleared his throat, stepping closer to a statue that the Weasley twins were poorly hiding behind. They were too tall and their bright hair stood out against the marble.
One of them screamed, and he hated that he was amused. Of all of the Weasleys, the twins were his favorite. They were smarter than they appeared, but they were amusing. In a world of people that mocked him, he’d take amusing any day.
“Why are you following me?”
“You don’t own the hallway.”
Draco arched a brow. “And what of the stairs? The hidden passages? The library? Or even the bathroom? It’s been days of this.”
They shared a look, and one of them went a bit red in the face.
“You followed him to the bathroom?”
“Don’t give me that look. I didn’t know what else to do. You had lost him in the stands at the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff match. I had to do something!”
“But the bathroom, George?”
George was rather embarrassed, face flushing redder and redder by the minute. He was far too amused to interrupt them. It was the most fun he’d had in years.
“Alright,” Fred began, taking a deep breath and shaking his head at George. “We have been following you.”
“Don’t just say that—”
“He already knows. It’s not like we can—”
“Still—”
Draco cleared his throat. As amusing as they were, he still had class in ten minutes and McGonagall was not forgiving to those that were tardy.
Another shared look before they gave him blinding grins that had him taking several steps backward. It was far more threatening than they realized.
“We are here to recruit you.”
Silence.
Draco blinked a few times as he tried to understand what they could possibly want to recruit him for. He was not interested in becoming a third wheel to their pranks, nor was he interested in being part of their friend group. Curiosity was to blame for him opening his mouth and asking,
“Recruit me for what?”
If possible, their grins grew wider and when they moved toward him, there was nowhere else to go for his back hit the wall. He was trapped.
“The Order of the Phoenix of course.”
Draco was in Potions when he felt the familiar burn. He managed to excuse himself to the bathroom without causing a scene, and the only suspicious one had been Snape, but when wasn’t the man suspicious?
He fumbled with his robes, nearly going starkers to be able to see his hip. It took a bit of effort, and his eyes hurt from going cross-eyed for so long, but when he finally made out the words, he gasped.
I didn’t kill him.
Draco’s morality was questionable at best. A byproduct of his parents and their beliefs. The idea of his soulmate killing someone was startling, but it wasn’t fear or disgust that filled him.
It was worry.
He might not know everything about his soulmate, but he did know that it wasn’t like him. Something had happened; his soulmate was in danger.
I didn’t see who did. I was passing by.
The watch is mine.
Had it been a robbery gone wrong? He had known that his soulmate sold all kinds of illegal things. Weird names that he assumed were drugs and Muggle merchandise. It had been close to a year since the last mention of a family member. There used to be daily mentions of an Aunt Petunia, an Uncle Vernon, or a Dudley. Now, they were never mentioned.
Had they run away?
Were they a step ahead of Draco in that regard? Had they figured out how to leave his abusive family? Too many questions and no answers at all. He placed his head against the cold bathroom stall and tried to think of something that he could do. Someway to let his soulmate know that he was there for them.
The answer was quite simple and he was frustrated that he had never considered it before.
Draco lied.
Harry had been interrogated for hours. He knew that the truth would only incriminate him. It had been an accident. Sort of. There had been a group of strange people in his spot. Sure, it was just an alley, but it was his gross and piss-filled alley. It was where his clients knew to find him.
Leaving the Dursleys had been the best thing he ever did. They didn’t look for him, never reported him missing, and that suited him just fine. He managed to still graduate, but he didn’t have the money for university. Not yet, at least. Normal jobs didn’t pay as well as dealing, but he had tried them. Only, he made people uncomfortable. Customers grew nervous around him at the cafe. People shook when he tried to be a teller at the bank. A week or two max was all he could stomach before he realized that he wasn’t cut out for it.
Normality didn’t suit him.
“If there is no evidence, why am I here?” Harry asked for the third time.
One of the strange people had threatened him, called him all sorts of names that didn’t make any sense. At least until they pulled out a stick. The stick shot out little bursts of light, and that’s when Harry knew.
Wizards.
Not good ones either.
They tried to attack him when he realized that they had seen them doing magic. Felt a spidery web of something enter his mind and try to force him into doing their bidding. Harry had done the Dursleys bidding for far too long to allow someone else to command him.
“No.”
The group had been surprised, scared even.
Harry didn’t have much practice with magic, only ever allowing it to come out to play in the middle of the night and from the comfort of his bed. But then? There had been no holding back, and the freeing part was that he hadn’t wanted to.
It had been chaos after that. His magic reacted violently, attacking them all. Some managed to flee; others tried to fight. Their sticks were pointed at him, and they threatened to call Aurors on him, but for all he knew, that meant backup. He didn’t know what an Auror was, but he wasn’t going to allow them the chance to call for one.
All of them were easily knocked out, except for one.
It had been a brutal fight. His magic was wild, vast, and dangerous. All he had to do was think, and it reacted. If he wanted the man to choke, it reacted. If he wanted the guy on his knees, it reacted. If he wanted the guy to quit fighting, well, it reacted.
A flash of green and the man quit moving.
Harry bent down before poking the man in the face several times. No movement. He tried for a pulse, but there wasn’t one.
He was dead.
And Harry had killed him.
Guilt was to be expected, but it never came. They had attacked him first, but it would serve him nothing if he admitted that. The officers questioning him didn’t believe him when he said he was innocent, that he had been walking by when he saw the man. He had been searched, and he knew if they found the drugs he had been on his way to sell, that they’d say it was a drug deal gone bad.
With his magic still swirling inside him, agitated and angry, it was easy to wish for it to disappear, to go away. His magic reacted.
They found nothing.
Relief had filled him before pain replaced it. He locked his hands together as the pain grew in intensity. His soulmate had terrible timing. As the officers continued to ask him questions, he subtly inspected his palm, and his breath caught.
I would not hide a body for my soulmate.
He wanted to grin, was unable to fully hide one. In the moment, he hadn’t even considered what his lies would look like on his soulmate’s skin. If he had been given a chance to agonize over what his soulmate would think of him, he’d have spent months doing so.
Aunt Petunia had been wrong.
His soulmate was a liar, but so was Harry.
They were well matched.
They communicated frequently after that. Sometimes it didn’t work out, things got lost without proper context, but it was enough for Draco. It chased away the loneliness and brought him comfort. His soulmate had always been out there, and he had hoped that one day he’d be accepted.
Only now he was.
His soulmate was funny, smart, and so charming. Draco wished they were face to face, wished that they could meet, and if he wasn’t in a fucking tent in the middle of a forest surrounded by members of the Order he would have fled months ago.
Another war. Too many battles to count and far too many deaths.
His parents were on the wrong side. Draco wondered if they realized it. If they ever regretted aligning themselves with the Dark Lord. Perhaps they knew, but were in too deep to ever leave. Whatever their reasons, their choices were not his choices. He wasn’t a child any longer, there was nothing they could do to him. Nothing they could take, nothing they could punish.
He was free.
And when the war ended, he would be even freer. He’d find his soulmate, wouldn’t rest until they were face to face, chest to chest and cheek to cheek.
I don’t want to kiss my soulmate.
Draco had hissed, nearly dropping his bowl when the sting came. He ignored the curious looks from those around him, their opinion didn’t matter.
He smiled at the words inked across his knuckles. Part of him wondered if his soulmate wold kiss the words, lips pressed to his skin. Maybe a tongue would come out to play too. He sighed, lost in his thoughts.
“Oh, how sweet.”
Draco startled, moving to hide his hand as he tried to push away from Lovegood. Personal space was not a concept she understood.
“I rather like the sentiment,” Lovegood continued, unaware that everyone was now watching them. “Lies as truth but a message nonetheless.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent.
“What do you mean?”
Draco glared at Sirius. He liked it better when the man was a dog and couldn’t speak. He regretted every single tummy rub or ear scratch. He could lie and say it was nothing, try to evade the conversation, but Sirius was like a leech. Refused to let go until forced to.
Wordlessly, Draco held out his hand and rolled his eyes when several people leaned forward to inspect it.
There were far too many reactions for him to settle on just one, but at least it wasn’t negative. At least it wasn’t pity.
“That’s so sweet,” Granger said, voice a little breathless.
“But it’s a lie,” Weasley frowned. “Why bother?”
George smacked the back of Weasley’s head. “It’s no wonder you’re still single.”
The two began to scuffle. Draco had five galleons on George.
Sirius touched his knuckles softly. “Do you communicate like this often?”
“Yes,” Draco said, ignoring the urge to pull his hand back. Talking about his soulmate wasn’t something he did often. For far too long, he was ridiculed and made to feel ashamed. He refused to be ashamed. Refused to see the lies as anything but beautiful.
The stinging pain began again, and this time Draco wished he had been elsewhere. On the back of the same hand was a new mark.
I don’t want to fuck my soulmate.
Sirius laughed loudly as Draco flushed, wishing for a moment that the Death Eaters were outside in another attack.
Merlin.
“My soulmate is so embarrassing.”
“Someone has been attacking Death Eaters in Muggle London.”
Draco froze, foot partially in the air as he paused mid-step. If he made his presence known, then Snape would stop talking. He didn’t have the clearance, nor was he too high in the Order. No one trusted him. It didn’t matter that he had given up everything to be on the Light side. It didn’t matter that he had denounced his parents. It didn’t matter that he was at every damn battle or skirmish. It didn’t matter that he was giving up his life to do the right thing. None of it mattered.
He’d never be trusted.
Maybe that was why Sirius liked him so much. His cousin wasn’t trusted either.
“What are Death Eaters doing in Muggle London?”
“The Dark Lord has given them a task of finding something. Whatever it is, he deems it worthy enough to keep sending them.”
“How many have died?”
“Twelve.”
Someone whistled as whispers broke out.
“Do we know who it is?”
“No. I fear the Dark Lord will send reinforcements the next time.”
Whoever they were, they were powerful enough to take out squadrons of Death Eaters. Perhaps the war would be over sooner than he had thought. Draco hoped that was true.
He had a soulmate to find after all.
My soulmate is so embarrassing.
Harry grinned, softly rubbing the words inked onto his arm. It was still there days later, but he loved looking at it, loved the way his soulmate made him feel. He wasn’t sure if he loved them yet, but it was damn near close. It had been a risk to say what he had, but he had hoped, and it just proved how well matched they were. What he wouldn’t give to be with them.
He opened his mouth to say something back, but a strange sensation had his head snapping up as he scanned his surroundings. It was a tingling of awareness, something familiar and dangerous.
A rush of wind was all it took before he lunged forward, narrowly missing an outstretched hand. There was no time to feel horror at the lack of skin on the hand or the fact that he knew that he had seen bones.
Cloaks, dozens of them were surrounding him. People were screaming, or maybe it was all in his head. They didn’t say anything, there were no threats, and he didn’t see any magic, but he felt it. Whoever they were, they were magical.
The screaming intensified until he realized that it was him.
“No, not Harry! No!”
A hand grabbed him by the throat and lifted him in the air, and that was when all thoughts left him as he focused on trying to breathe. They were going to kill him.
He was going to die.
Harry was going to die without ever having met his soulmate.
No.
No.
“No!” Harry screamed, hands grappling to grab onto the head of whatever creature was holding him. He didn’t know how magic worked, didn’t know if spells were real, or the proper way to perform one. All he had was intent and the desire to live.
The desire to destroy them.
His magic exploded outward in a bright light that blinded him. His eyes closed tightly as he kept screaming, pouring his magic into the being until he was dropped. He fell on the pavement with a harsh thud, and he knew that his ankle was sprained.
Harry panted as he stood, careful to not put too much weight on his foot. His mouth parted as he looked at the pure destruction around him. Cars were flipped over, the lamp posts were bent, pavement was cracked and crumbling. And the creatures?
They were a mess of bones and cloaks. There wasn’t a single one left alive.
“Oh my god.”
Harry was hyperventilating as cracks filled the air and he was once again surrounded. He wasted no time, recognizing the dark green cloaks. It was them.
Again.
“Stand down.”
A scoff as he faced off against two of them at once. Cowards, all of them. They hid their faces behind masks.
“If you thought your pet creatures would kill me, you were mistaken,” Harry snarled, taking out one of his attackers with a strong blow to the head. He had realized early on that if he combined physical attacks with his magic, that it packed a deadly punch.
There was no guilt as the bodies started to fall. They were there to kill them, and he wasn’t going to let them. There was no way he had lived through the hell the Dursleys put him through to fall victim to some damn Wizards. There were shady suppliers in Liverpool that were more dangerous than them—he had a scar to prove it.
There were more cracks, and the street was filled with more Wizards and Witches. Only they didn’t have the same cloaks on. He didn’t know if they were friend or foe, but he didn’t have the time to let it distract him.
The sound of fighting behind him almost had him turning around, but he couldn’t, not until—
Harry slammed his attacker against a brick wall, taking inspiration from the creature, and lifted the person by the throat. The mask had long ago slipped off, and he was faced with a pale face and blood-stained blond hair.
“If I let you live, will you tell your leader a message?” Harry asked, not giving the man a chance to speak as he tightened his hold on their throat. There were lightning shaped marks emitting from his fingers that seared into the skin of his opponent, permanently scarring them.
A nod was all the man was able to manage as he gasped, trying to breathe.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” Harry snarled. “I don’t know who you people are, or what you are looking for, but leave me out of it.”
The man’s eyes widened before closing as his body went limp. Harry dropped him instantly, not able to carry the man’s dead weight. It didn’t take but a few moments to confirm that the man wasn’t dead, just passed out.
Harry leaned against the wall for a minute to allow himself the chance to breathe. He was so sick and tired of the fights. They kept coming. Always when he was trying to make an honest living. He had drugs to sell and people to swindle.
When he turned around, ready to leave, he was face to face with a strange group of people. The masked ones were gone, a few of their bodies on the ground, and there was definitely a lot of blood.
“Wotcher.”
Harry stared at a woman with bright pink hair whose facial features kept changing. Was that normal? Could all Wizards and Witches do that?
“Hello,” Harry said slowly as he inched further away, knowing that if he made it just half a block, he could jump a fence and be close to his dingy apartment.
“We’re not here to harm you,” a man with scars on his face said. He seemed kind, and his eyes were warm, but Harry didn’t trust them. Nothing good came from seeing Wizards.
“Maybe I am,” Harry said, not knowing if he meant it or not. “Maybe I’m here to harm you.”
Someone gasped, but he couldn’t see who it was. People were being shoved aside as someone forced their way to the front. They were blond, definitely familiar as he glanced down at the man that was still unconscious just a few inches from him.
Their eyes were wide, their mouth was parted, but they were so bright.
He was about to ask what they wanted, but their hands were held in surrender, and that’s when he saw it on one of their palms.
Maybe I’m here to harm you.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, eyes watering.
“My name is Draco Malfoy, and you are not my soulmate.”
The last name alone was proof enough for Harry—had seen it inked on his skin enough over the years—but it was the searing pain in his neck that had him scrambling to find the compact mirror he carried around just for situations like this.
You are not my soulmate.
“My name is Harry Potter, and you are not my soulmate.”
Gasps all around, but none of them mattered, not when he could see his words reflected on Draco’s chin. That was all it took. Draco rushed forward at a run, and all Harry could do was brace himself for the impact.
Legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck as he stared into such startlingly beautiful eyes that he knew it wasn’t enough. He wanted more of Draco, wanted everything. Every whisper, word, whimper, sentence, breath, and inhale. He was going to spend the rest of his life discovering who his soulmate was.
“Harry,” Draco whispered over and over, trembling fingers running along his face. “I’ve spent so long wondering what you’d look like.”
“Do I measure up?”
“Not at all.”
Harry grinned, feeling the lie being etched somewhere on his thigh.
“You’re everything,” Draco breathed, pressing kisses to Harry’s face before rubbing their noses together. “Everything I’ve ever wanted.”
No mark. No lie.
The truth.
Harry tightened his hold on Draco as his eyes stung. He felt like he could finally breathe. His entire life he felt as if something was missing. He found it. Draco. He found Draco.
Draco was his other half, and he finally felt complete. Felt like he could take on the world. Or at the very least wipe out more of the masked people.
“Who are they?” Harry asked, gently lowering Draco to the ground as he gestured to the man on the floor.
“Death Eaters,” Draco said, staring down at the man with a curled lip. “This one is my father.”
Death Eaters. Order. The words had meant nothing years ago, but now they made sense.
“Your father,” Harry mumbled, kicking the man in the stomach for good measure. “No wonder I didn’t like him.”
A breathless laugh. It was beautiful and so warm. Harry wished he could play it on repeat forever. Maybe he could.
“You escaped?” Draco whispered as the group slowly moved closer to them. Harry had the urge to run away and disappear. Take Draco away, but something told him that wasn’t an option.
Yet.
“Yes,” Harry said, exploring Draco’s face with his fingers. It was his turn. Every feature was committed to memory, just in case this was a dream. Just in case he woke up in his bed with the best dream of his life. “Did you?”
Draco bit his lip, eyes closing as he nuzzled into Harry’s hand. “Yes and no.”
Harry glared at the approaching group. “Are they forcing you to stay?”
“No,” Draco promised, holding onto the hand that was still pressed to his cheek. “It’s a war. A magical one.”
A war.
Harry didn’t know the logistics, who was right, or who was wrong. He didn’t have the foggiest clue what it was even about, but all he knew was that his soulmate was fighting a war, and he wasn’t going to sit idly by and not help if he could.
When Draco’s lips tentatively met his, Harry knew that he’d do everything in his power to keep Draco whole, complete, and more importantly, with him.
“Are you looking for a new member?” Harry asked in-between kisses, savoring the way Draco felt in his arms. He was never going to let go. Not now, not ever.
The kiss became harder as Draco grinned, and he couldn’t help but smile in return.
“You, my love, are going to be the star of the show.”
That was foreboding all on its own, but the fact that there was no new mark made him think that perhaps he should have reconsidered.
“We got Potter!”
Harry jerked back, peering over Draco’s shoulder to see two identical twins doing a strange mockery of a dance.
“Voldemort is so fucked.”
He didn’t know who or what Voldemort was, but their easy confidence had him readily agreeing.
Voldemort was indeed fucked.
“Beautiful.”
It was whispered into his skin, and he knew it was the truth. No mark appeared.
“Harry,” Draco gasped when that mouth turned to his thigh and began to suck. He knew they needed to hurry, that there was no time for this. Another battle was approaching, and this time the Dark Lord was supposed to show.
Not that it mattered.
Harry had singlehandedly wiped out half of his Death Eaters.
“I love you,” Harry promised, eyes locked onto his. “I love every inch of you.”
Draco inhaled sharply, fingers reaching for Harry’s face.
“I love you too.”
The soft expression was so unlike Harry’s normal resting bitch face. His soulmate was not someone to cross, and had repeatedly shown the Order that they could not nor would they ever order him around. ‘I’m here for Draco, not you.’
When Harry leaned down and wrapped his mouth around Draco’s cock, all thought left him in a breathy moan. His mind was filled with Harry as they explored each other. Harry was on his mind when a tongue dipped into the slit of his cock. Harry was on his mind when fingers slowly entered him. Harry was on his mind when a thick cock replaced those fingers, and when he pushed in, Draco knew nothing but pleasure.
Words were whispered into his skin, but Draco couldn’t focus long enough to make them out. All he could grasp was the way the pace increased and Harry’s cock slammed into him with enough force to move his body.
“Yes, oh, yes. Just like that. Oh, Harry.”
There were sounds around them, and he knew that the rest of the Order was preparing for the upcoming fight, and maybe they should be a little ashamed, but it only made him harder.
Harry grunted when a particularly rough thrust had Draco’s back arching as he clenched around the thick dick inside him. Just because he could, Draco did it again, over and over.
“Fuck,” Harry whimpered, fingers clenched into Draco’s skin.
“Are you going to come?” Draco smirked, albeit a bit breathlessly as he panted.
It was a game of theirs. To see who could make the other one come first. So far, Draco was in the lead.
Harry’s eyes narrowed before he wrapped a hand around Draco’s cock and squeezed.
“Oh, Merlin.” Draco’s eyes slipped closed, unable to look at Harry and not want to come instantly. “That’s not fair.”
“No one said you had a respectable soulmate.”
Draco scoffed, but it came out as a choked whine when Harry played with the tip of his cock.
“I did.”
The pace slowed. Draco blinked a few times to see the way Harry watched him with so much love that it had him looking away. It didn’t matter that it had been months, that he had plenty of time to get used to it, but didn’t. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it.
When they did come, it was together. Draco with his fingers twisted in the blanket and Harry with Draco’s name on his lips.
“Now if we die, at least we had sex first.”
Draco rolled his eyes as he ran his fingers through Harry’s hair after he collapsed on top of him.
“And should we live?”
“We could fuck again, but you’ll have to do all the work.”
“Lazy sod.”
A grin was pressed to his chest, and he knew that his heart skipped a beat, and that Harry had to have heard it.
“I love you too.”
Sirens went off, and the surrounding sounds increased. He knew that they had minutes, maybe just one, before they’d have to leave their tent and face reality.
“This is the last one,” Harry promised, pressing a kiss to Draco’s skin. “I’m going to end it here.”
Draco didn’t doubt him.
“No mark?”
“No mark.”
When Harry lifted his head, there was a dangerous smile on his face. One that spoke of darkness and violence.
It was beautiful. Harry was beautiful. They were beautiful.
Together.
“Let’s destroy a Dark Lord,” Harry said, moving to find his clothes. “Thirty minutes tops.”
“Thirty minutes?” Draco asked, one brow arched as he put on his own clothes. “What’s the rush?”
“I have a hot date tonight.”
Draco was still grinning by the time they reached the others, hand in hand. He could see the Death Eaters in the distance, slowly approaching. They believed that they had caught them unaware and on the run. They believed that they had the battle in the bag.
They were wrong.
Draco nodded to Snape who had been one of the main reasons they had done as well as they had so far. In a world full of soulmates who lie, people often believed what they were being told at face value.
The Dark Lord made a fatal mistake in thinking that Snape was his to command.
“On my mark,” Harry yelled as the wards fell and in came a slew of Death Eaters, Werewolves, and many more Magical Creatures.
Magic enveloped the clearing they were in, blanketing everyone and everything. It was warm, heady, and so Harry that Draco knew they would win.
The Dark Lord would beg for death by the end. He would regret his very existence.
“One, two, three, die.”