Genderbent soulmates AU? Possibly Draco and Harry please and thanks. â¤
Thank you for the ask! Iâm not comfortable writing genderbent, itâs really not my thing. I took the rest of the request tho! Hope you like it! And all the thanks to the amazing @dapperdrarry for the quick beta!!
They called him a freak for a lot of reasons: his skin, his scar, his lack of a red string, the strange happenings that followed him. Harry agreed with them. He was strange.
When he had been young heâd hated being strange. Many a night were spent sitting up in the dark, wishing and wishing with all his heart that he could be white and unblemished and normal. The idea that there was no one in the world tied to him, guaranteed to love him, was terrifying and heartbreaking.
The pain of lacking a soulmate never lessened, but Harry came to cherish the other bits of his oddness. His body was his, and him, and he loved it, even if no one else would. Strange happenings and magic were rather synonymous, and even as he uncovered the horrors magic could create, he held it close to his heart.
Harry had himself, and he had magic. Most of the time, he had friends who stood by him and cared about him as well. Maybe heâd never stop wanting a soulmateâby the time he was fourteen, though, heâd stopped seeing an image of himself in a mirror with a red string tied to his pinky every time he slept.
On the second of May, nineteen ninety-seven, he walked to meet his death and felt glad, for the first time in his life, that there was no red string tying him to someone else. His death wouldnât cause a soulmate pain. Untied, unattached, he could leave this world with an unburdened conscience.
The first sensation he was aware of was breath filling his lungs. The cool air stung his insides as it was pulled in and pushed out. Slowly, his hands and arms and legs and aching head and ribs prickled into his awareness, and Harry realized that he was alive.
Had he made the right decision? By the time Hagrid had picked him up Harry came to the decision that he had. He would finish Voldemort, and he would live a life worth coming back for.
Voldemort laid dead a few meters away. The distance was at once short, and an endless abyss. It was over. Harry had prevailed. Hope had won.
This was the moment that he looked down to marvel at the Elder Wand in his hand and saw a splash of red as well. Blood, his mind supplied, but noâ
A string was neatly tied to Harryâs pinky finger.
âHarry?â He spun around and stared at Hermione for a moment before dropping his gaze back to his finger. When he looked back to her a moment later he saw the realization on her face.
âTheyâre here,â he said. His voice was rough but passionate. The tug on the string was sharp, seeming to pull at his magic, begging him to follow it.
âGo,â she whispered. âYouâve earned this. Merlin, HarryâŚâ
He took off running, letting both wands fall to the ground. Harry only had eyes for the string, leading ahead of him and guiding his way.
People would begin to call out to him as he passed them, but then stop and gasp when they saw the string. The marvellous string, famously missing from the Boy Who Livedâbut present, now, on the Boy Who Lived Twice.
Cheers broke out, and the exhausted survivors crowded after him in excitement. Theyâd won, and this seemed a symbol of it. Happiness had been won.
Harry wound his way through the rubble up into the castle. Mrs. Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Seamus and Dean, Kingsley Shacklebolt, a hundred others made way for him as they understood what was happening.
The string suddenly rose off the ground, pulled perfectly taught, and Harry looked up. His gaze met wide, shocked silver eyes. Draco Malfoy was looking back at him, sitting on the base of a destroyed statue, sandwiched between his parents.
Malfoy glanced down at the string tied to his own finger, and then down the length of it to Harryâs, and back. He stood up hesitantly, taking slow, tentative steps forward.
For several long moments that stretched into eternity, Harry despaired. How could he be tied to Malfoy? They were supposed to stand by each other when no one else would? To care and love and cherish?
But then, he knew, as surely as he knew his name, that that was exactly what they were going to do.
Something new, and different, and fresh as hope sparkled in Dracoâs eyes. He reached Harry and stood just before him, moving his untied hand to lay it flat against Harryâs chest.
âHarry,â he whispered. It sounded like a promise.