Hi. Im sorry you are hurting. Im feeling a similar way myself currently and it sucks. If you're up to it im really in the mood for a drarry soulmate AU. Maybe a red string of fate? No pressure tho. Hope you feel better.
Thank you for your wishes <3333 I’m better, thank you: writing fun drarry ficlets helped. It gave me a lot of joy to write this one, and I hope you like it!
Eighth year, 1.3k, Mature, unbeated.
When Blaise offered Draco a potion that would make him discover his soulmate, Draco only drank it to humour him.
‘There’s no such thing as soulmates,’ he said, twirling the blue vial. The potion inside gave off a strong smell of iodine. He wondered if it was a harmless Muggle medicine or an illegal hallucinogenic drug—both real possibilities where Blaise was concerned.
Blaise was leaning against the frame of his bed. ‘There is. That’s how I learned that Padma is the love of my life.’
Draco scoffed. ‘It’s all right to say you’re smitten, you know. You don’t have to justify it with metaphysical mumbo-jumbo.’
Blaise’s eyes flashed. ‘Just drink it and you’ll see it.’
Draco couldn’t be arsed to argue; he drank it. ‘And now what?’ He deposited the vial on his bedside table.
‘Now fate will contrive that you meet them, and when you see your soulmate, they’ll glow.’
‘You mean my soulmate is at Hogwarts? Out of the entire world? How ridiculous! What if my soulmate is a Brazilian underwear model?’
‘Well then your Brazilian underwear model will somehow, through mysterious circumstances, find himself at Hogwarts tonight.’
‘What a load of bull,’ Draco said and gathered his school bag. ‘Come on. We have Intelligent Plants at Greenhouse Six. Hey, maybe a plant is my soulmate? I could swear my ficus winked at me the other day.’
Blaise didn’t look impressed or amused. ‘You’re mocking now, but you’ll eat your words.’
He followed Blaise out of their dorm, his chest heavy. He didn’t want to tell Blaise the real reason he didn’t want to know about soulmates. It’d be so disheartening to be in love, desperately yearning for a person, and then to get confirmation that he wasn’t the One. That someone else was, someone that perhaps you hadn’t met yet. Even if it was better in the long run, Draco didn’t want the pain of disillusionment. He didn’t want to know the right bloke for him when his heart ached for the wrong one.
Because there was no way that Potter was his soulmate. They’d barely had a conversation these days that wasn’t fraught with tension, weird looks and awkwardness. Potter—who, in former years, had been capable of returning Draco’s jibes with sharp wit—was tongue-tied around him. Avoided looking at Draco even.
It hurt. Potter’s distance hurt, and Draco had no idea how to bridge it. He distracted himself by thinking about their next class when he froze a few metres from the greenhouses. He’d forgotten to bring the ingredients Professor Sprout had asked them to for this lesson. Curse Blaise and his stupid potions!
‘I need to go back,’ he told Blaise and strode back to the castle without another word. He crossed the Entrance, silent and empty now, and was about to head to the dungeons when he saw the school’s psych-healer walk his way. Oh no.
Luckily, she hadn’t seen him, her attention on her folder, and Draco glanced around him in panic and dashed inside a broom cupboard. He shut the door firmly and leaned his forehead on it, trying to listen to her footsteps fading away.
‘What are you doing here?’ said a voice behind him.
Draco froze. Honestly, this day couldn’t get any worse.
He turned around. A weird glow hovered in a corner, which illuminated the silhouette of Potter’s head. Draco’s heart—the traitor—thumped giddily. He swallowed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I…er…. was looking for something.’
‘So am I,’ Draco hurried to say.
Murmurs came from outside. Draco pressed his ear to the door and groaned. Dr Bells had stopped right outside their door and was talking to someone—McGonagall probably.
‘You look like you’re hiding,’ Potter said.
‘So do you,’ Draco replied.
Draco’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could see Potter a little more clearly, shrouded in that golden haze. ‘What’s that around your head?’
Potter glanced above him. ‘What thing?’
‘That— oh dear Merlin!’ Blaise’s words shot through Draco’s brain like a lance: your soulmate will glow.
‘Yes, yes,’ Draco answered quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. Was Potter…? Was it possible? Draco’s breath came shallow, his lungs straining for air. They strained harder when Potter left his corner and leaned on the door beside Draco. He put his ear on the door, then glanced at Draco with a half-smile.
In his confusion it didn’t occur to Draco to lie. ‘Yes. She keeps asking me to go see her and talk to her.’ He mimicked the counsellor’s voice. ‘ “How about a chat, Draco? I haven’t seen you in my office yet. How about you tell me about your worst nightmares and biggest shames and—”.’ Draco bit his lip. He hadn’t intended to say all of that and waited for mockery or laughter.
But Potter looked serious. He still leaned beside him, his face turned towards Draco. ‘I’m hiding from McGonagall. Same—well, similar reason. She wants me to make plans about the future, decide on my next few steps, and—’
He didn’t finish his sentence and Draco didn’t hurry to fill the silence. They stared at each other in the dim golden glow. ‘I can’t stand people being understanding,’ Draco confessed. ‘Helpful. Kind.’
‘It’s pity,’ Potter said. ‘It infuriates me. People checking in on me all the time.’
Draco was distantly aware that, outside, the conversation had ended, and he could leave. He remained where he was, breathing quietly, side by side with Potter. ‘All you want is to be left alone,’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ Potter said, voice equally low. Then, he lowered his face but glanced up at Draco through his lashes. ‘Well, maybe not all alone.’
Draco swallowed. He kept his eyes on Potter’s, desperately trying to keep his knees from collapsing. His voice rasped only a little. ‘You want someone by your side.’ Potter nodded. Draco continued, ‘Someone who’s not kind, though.’
‘No,’ Potter said, coming closer. ‘Not kind, not understanding, not helpful.’ He’d stopped an inch from Draco’s lips, his breath hot. ‘I want someone who’s fierce. And clever. And a bit rude. And—’ he stroked Draco’s cheek. ‘Resilient.’
The word loosened something inside Draco’s chest, and he propelled himself forward. His mouth fell on Potter’s, his hands pulling him close. Potter kissed him back enthusiastically, making small, painful sounds, as if it hurt. And perhaps it did hurt: to be granted this joy. Draco found himself pressed against the door, Potter’s thigh between his legs and Potter’s hot hands under Draco’s shirt. He kissed him breathlessly, relentlessly, savagely, while a voice inside his head rang with joy: soulmates!
Late that evening, Draco lounged on his bed, his skin flushing at the memory of Potter—Harry, sweet Harry—kissing him and stroking him and gasping in his ear. He looked up to see a disgruntled Blaise enter the room.
‘Daphne’s sister, that annoying Sixth-Year, got a hold of the potion, tested it and said it was a tiny strain of Felix Felicis with some other shit which would make someone’s pupils dilate when they saw the person they had a crush on? I didn’t understand it, but—’
‘You wanted it to be soulmates.’
Blaise sat heavily on his bed and held his head with his hands. Almost inaudibly, he said, ‘If we’re not soulmates, Padma might fall out of love with me.’
Draco sat up. ‘Well, then you’ve got to treat her right, don’t you? But if it helps, I did meet someone today. Under unexpected circumstances. Perhaps there is something in that potion; something that hints at fated love.’
Blaise cast a sideways glance. ‘Your Brazilian underwear model?’
Draco leaned back on his pillow with a smile and a half-hard cock. ‘Someone better.’
Please note that it’s my fervent belief that therapy is a godsend and that finding the right therapist can be life-changing for everyone. I’d urge everyone who can afford it to seek some therapy, esp during difficult times. The attitude of these two idiots in the fic isn’t an example to emulate. (although it’s, unfortunately, quite realistic.)
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