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Draco really didn’t like Valentine’s day.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like the day exactly. He thought a day based around love and loving people was sort of sweet, if overly commercialised and marketed to the point of being annoying. Since he was young, it had become tradition for him to get something for his mother. He liked the day itself, but at Hogwarts, it was just a pain.
He had been at the school six years, and every year the castle was enchanted to swap the dress ties of the ‘One True Partner’ or their ‘Soulmate’ of each person. He used the terms loosely though because there was no actual evidence that the person who received your tie was anything to you, let alone a destined partner.
Some years it even managed to mess that up, as some people ended up walking around with no ties and some people with several - the year Dumbledore had accidently made it so your tie was on the person you were currently crushing on. Potter was damn near strangled that day, and of course each of the ties couldn’t be taken off until midnight. Though technically the exception to that was if the original owner of the tie took it off for you. That didn’t happen much though so the technicality was all but forgotten.
The ties were also supposedly tied based off how the tie owner tied it (How many times can you say tie in a sentence and still make sense?). Sometimes this caused major panic when a Ravenclaw’s or Slytherin’s - as an example - was not absolutely perfect and pristine. Draco’s was one such example. Six years. Six years and his ‘Soulmate’ still didn’t know how to tie his own tie. In the first years, he had just wanted to strangle them with it, but after a few years he liked having it consistent, that and the fact that watching cheerily - though he would never show it - while everyone around him suffered and acted miserable at the hands of poorly tied ties, was just so much fun. It was kind of hobby of his. The most miserable person changed yearly, though there were one or two Slytherin’s that were always enjoyably infuriated, and it just made Draco’s day.
As far as he could tell, he received the same tie every year. Red wasn’t really his colour but there wasn’t much to be done about it. He had had a couple extras the ‘crush’ year, but the same one was still there. At least, he guessed it was the same one. He didn’t know where his own tie ended up, and honestly, he wasn’t too keen on finding out. What if they were in fact wrong for each other or the other person hated him? There were way too many ifs for Draco to consider it even close to a good plan.
***
The dining hall was abuzz with conversations and activities. The ties hadn’t changed much since the years before but people were acting like it was all new to them. Give it a week and it would all be old to them. Give it a year and they would be acting like they never expected it all over again. It was insufferable. Of course not everyone acted like that.
Potter was wearing the same green tie he always wore on Valentines. He was never shocked at the tie around his neck and he never looked upset. Frankly he just looked like he was wearing his own tie, and damn he looked good in green. Draco never got close enough to really look at it, or see if he could recognise the knot style, but it looked like an exceptional knot all the same, not that he was paying attention.
Granger and Weasley were both sporting Gryffindor ties, and if you asked Draco, they were each others’ and frankly that made it rather boring. The Weaslette was wearing a blue tie.
To be clear, about ten - give or take - students from the entire Gryffindor table didn’t act like absolute idiots, well about the ties at least. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were probably the most refined about the whole event. Though to be fair, on multiple occasions Draco had heard the Ravenclaws excitedly discussing it in private, pretending it was some romance novel they had read, and the Slytherin’s plotting to hex the tie currently on them - usually the poorly tied ones - so that when the ties returned to their owners, they would be hexed to and could then “feel their pain,”. They were all just as involved in the event as each other, just in different ways.
Despite the involvement, excitement and dread over the event, surprisingly few students found their partners. People didn’t stuff notes in their ties or sew initials in them or anything, and by tomorrow morning there would be a depressing lack of lovestruck couples, given the fact that it was Valentine’s day, the day before. It was like “Hey let’s give you this great opportunity to meet your Soulmate and have you turn it down and be really depressed about it in the morning. Yay!” and the whole school just went with it and rode the roller coaster. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.
It wasn’t until later when Draco was running his fingers through ‘his’ tie absently, trying to finish his essay for DADA that he felt it. There was something in there. Essay immediately and ultimately forgotten he found an opening in the tie, with a single piece of paper in it.
Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant. Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives.
I think we are meant to meet this year, and if you are willing, I will see you down at the lake tonight, at seven. I understand if you don’t want to meet, but I will leave it up to you.
Sincerely,
Your Tie Holder.
He blinked, and blinked again, but the note didn’t disappear.
That was perhaps the strangest thing Draco had ever read. Did he want to go? Wait. What time was it? A quarter past seven!?!? He guessed this got him out of an awkward situation… But, what if the person was still waiting for him? What if they did actually know him? What if this wasn’t some ridiculous Gryffindor rouse and they were still outside in the cold?
It was a shame he didn’t drink coffee. He really could have used one about then.
Draco was running out of ideas, and was only succeeding in spiralling down into a deeper abyss when the bell rung for eight o’clock, signalling the younger years’ curfew. An hour. He had made them wait an hour, potentially. The least he could do was say hi, or at maybe just hide in the bushes and see who it was.
Resolutely deciding that this was a terrible idea, he left the Slytherin common room - a blanket under one arm in case the other person was in fact still out there getting cold - and headed for the lake, all the while his brain chanted “This is a terrible idea, Draco!” or the like, as he walked.
There was a boy sitting at the edge of the lake. His hair was dark, and messy, and hard to make out given the fact that there was no longer a sun in the sky. Just when he thought the night couldn’t get any colder, the boy spoke as heart his stopped and the night turned colder, or hotter, he wasn’t really sure any more.
“Hi Draco,” the boy said without turning around. He didn’t need to. Draco would have known that voice anywhere. He really wanted to run inside and pretend this hadn’t happened but he was here now. He sat down beside the raven-haired boy without looking at him.
“Potter,” he returned. For the first time, he did actually look at him briefly and, Merlins above, the boy looked freezing. How long had he been out here? Without a word, he draped the blanket over the boy. He attempted to make it look nonchalant and uncaring, but based on the grin he received back, he wasn’t doing very well.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Neither was I,” he admitted.
“May I?” the mop-head asked, gesturing towards the tie around his neck. Not confident that he was breathing anymore, Draco just nodded.
The boy’s hands were careful and hesitant, but Merlin’s beard were they cold. He flinched once before the boy wandlessly cast a warming spell on them. It felt like an eternity between each breath, or each none-breath, before the tie slipped from his neck, as though it wasn’t enchanted. It was though, and that meant…
“Did you know?” Draco asked, returning his gaze to the lake.
“I guessed.”
“Since when?”
“Third year.” Draco’s head snapped up, his frustration easily outweighing his hesitancy.
“And you wanted until this year to tell me because why?”
“First of all, it was a guess, and can you imagine how ridiculous it would have been if I came up with the romantic idea that my school nemesis was also my Soulmate? If I was wrong, I never would have lived it down. Secondly, tell me honestly, if we hadn’t been through all the terrible stuff we have been through, that you would still be here sitting beside me? We don’t like each other Draco. Sure, I stalked you a bit, but that only serves my point.”
“Wait… you stalked me?” Draco asked Incredulously - quite probably focusing on the wrong point - and burst out laughing. Harry’s face turned beet red.
“I heard that you used to talk about me so much everyone in your dorm got sick of it and I became a banned a topic in Slytherin,” Harry returned, his voice cracking every so often as it recovered from his embarrassment.
“What… That’s… I… Who told you that?” the blond stuttered, blushing, as Harry just laughed. “So, help me Potter or I will obliviate you into thinking I never turned up.” The laughs were cut off.
“You know you can’t threaten to erase my memory every time you do something cute,” the boy returned, his tone oddly serious in comparison to what he was saying. The blond just blushed harder.
The two boys sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the night around them, both lost in their own thoughts. Mostly they were lost in their own thoughts about each other. Not that they would mention that little fact to each other.
“So, what now?” the raven-haired boy asked.
“Trust you to ruin a perfectly good moment, Potter,” the blond drawled.
“I’m serious Draco.”
“So am I,” he replied, then smirked as the other boy glared at him. Oh, if looks could kill. “I suppose, we will just have to see what happens.”
“That sounds very un-Malfoy like.”
“And what is that supposed the mean,” the boy half snarled, somewhat offended but mostly curious.
“It lacks structure.”
“Not everything in life can be planned for, Harry.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Do you want to start with friends, and see how we go?”
“Friends?” Harry said raising his eyebrows, making Draco more nervous than he was willing to admit. Then the boy grinned. “I think we can do friends. I bet we will be friends like no other. We will be the absolute greatest friends. No one will be as a good a friend as I will be.”
“Well maybe except for me, Scar-head.”
“What would you know about having friends? You have minions, not friends,” the raven-haired boy returned, eyebrows raised, a half-smirk present on his lips.
“Low blow Potter,” Draco drawled, “but I am fairly certain I know more than you seeing as you didn’t even know you were a wizard until you eleven.”
“Even before I realised I was a wizard I probably had more friends than you.”
“Excuse you. I had Crabbe and Goyl-”
“Minions don’t count, ferret.”
“I don’t keep ‘minions’-”…..
Yeah, they were going to get on just fine.
***
“You do realise that this is a crappy plan and we will probably all die?” the blond asked grimly. It had been a long day, long year really. Draco acting as a double double double dou- you know what, he’s just given up trying to figure it out. Long story short he is a spy for the good guys - without half of them knowing it - and agent of the dark lord, but not really. Draco had received word about Voldemort coming to the school, and, amongst everything else, the two boys had come up with a plan. A terrible, idiotic, ridiculous, mostly Potter’s idea, kind of plan.
“Yes, Draco, I do. I’ve come to realise that we are all going to die anyway so we may as well do it with a bit of dramatic flair.”
“You’ve been spending way too much time with me,” Draco sighed running a hand down one side of his face. He had done this to himself, he knew.
“But you love me,” the messy-haired boy replied simply. Instead of an answer the blond simply leaned down to kiss the other boy’s cheek before whispering in his ear.
“If this doesn’t work and you die, I will bring you back to life just to make you suffer for putting me through that. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
***
“Harry Potter is dead.” Merlin Draco hated those words, and he hoped beyond hope that Harry had somehow managed to pull off his ridiculous plan and they weren’t true. It didn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster out of fear. Regardless, he followed the plan, and when he saw the mop-head’s head move he almost couldn’t contain his smile. Everything happened so fast. His parents were calling him. Harry was on his feet then he had tossed him wand. Harry was battling Voldemort as the people around surged forward to fight. Things were happening so fast it was hard to keep up. Harry’s ‘death’ had been the one eerily peaceful moment in the centre of the hurricane.
Pained lanced through him, and he thought he heard someone scream as the world went black. It might not have been for him though. Then again, it might have been. The person might have known that they couldn’t scream his name for fear of Harry being distracted and losing their one shot at winning… Then again maybe it was Harry. He didn’t know anymore…
***
Everything was white. Why was everything white? There was no stone castle or floor. There was no blood and no screaming. It was silent, painfully so. Draco glanced around, or what he assumed was around, because nothing changed in his vision.
“Get out of here boy,” a voice ordered from… above him, beside him? Honestly, he had no clue. The entire place was more than he could take.
“What, who are you? What do mean ‘get out’?” he replied, sounding less certain than he would have liked.
“You’re dead,” the voice said simply, with more conviction than Draco would have liked.
“Wait, no. I can’t be here. I need to be on earth. Harry… He’s fighting Voldemort. I need to get back.”
“Did you hear literally nothing I just said? You are dead, and I don’t want you here, so scoot.”
“Wait, why? Depending on where I am going I’m not objecting, but why are you sending me off?” he asked, hoping the voice was less of a conniving Slytherin than he was.
“The Boy Who Lived, Twice, loves you, and we will not take that away from him, not yet. It would be cruelly ironic to have him save the world only for him to return having lost the only thing he found worthy of saving the world for, don’t you think?” the voice continued humourlessly, but seemingly, strangely, pleased with itself for its assessment. “So, scoot,” was the last thing he heard the voice say before he blacked out.
“Draco? Draco? Draco!” a voice cried, and a hard mass launched itself towards the boy and squeezed him. Harry. His head hurt so bad. He felt like someone had just scooped out his brain and sewn him back up. And… what had happened to his leg?
“Shhhhhh. Head. Pain. Quiet,” he murmured hands coming up to hold the sides of his still ringing skull.
“Oh, right. Madame Pomfrey said these were for you,” the boy whispered handing Draco three vials. He downed them, and then looked up to see the boy smiling at him.
“What?”
“We did it, you know that? We finally did it, my sweet darling valentine!”
“He never really stood a chance against us - the boys who couldn’t even get their love lives straight for six years,” Draco said smirking, and received a light punch to the shoulder for his comment.
“Come here you.”
“Glad-” was all he managed before he voice was silenced by the other boy’s lips. It had taken them roughly six years to find each other, but they weren’t giving up now. Not even death cou- would stop them (never dare death, it doesn’t end well).