Chapter Text
'I've heard it said
That people come into our lives
For a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them
And we help them in return'
- Wicked Musical, Song For Good
Harry was thirteen years old and on his way to Hagrid's when he found out that Draco Bloody Malfoy was his soulmate.
They had been going down to stand by Hagrid on the day of Buckbeak's execution and had run into Malfoy and his cronies trying to gawk. A fight had followed, as it was bound to. Harry had reached out to shove Malfoy away and Malfoy had grabbed his wrist to stop him - and that was when Harry had felt it.
His soul mark had been burning, a sharp pain on his skin, and when he looked down, the lines on his wrist were glowing in a bright red colour.
He'd looked up at Malfoy in shock, only to find the other boy staring back at him in horror.
Malfoy had dropped his hand as if hit by a stinging hex and had retreated back to the castle in hasty steps without another word, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to stumble after him and Harry to stare in a trance, his wrist still stinging.
Harry had always been fascinated by the lines on his wrist, even before he knew that they meant anything. They were shaped like a Y, but the straight line reached a little too far to the top, splitting through the v-shape. He'd often traced the mark as a child, wondering what it meant. Aunt Petunia, of course, had just told him it was a scar from his accident, like the one on his forehead.
When he'd started at Hogwarts, he'd wondered if the mark meant something more - if it, too, might be connected to Voldemort.
And that's how he'd learned about soul marks.
"Your mark means 'protection'" Hermione had smiled, showing him the exact copy of his mark in a book. "So it means you and your soulmate are both protectors. These marks tell you about something you share, that connects you. My mark translates to 'growth'." Hermione had shown him a crooked 'B' on her left ring finger with a sheepish smile.
"So we need to find the person with the same mark?" Harry had asked. "That's how we'll know our soulmate?"
"It's a bit more complex than that," she'd sighed. "More than one person can have the same mark, but it's possible you'll never form a soul bond with any of them. Your mark will let you know when you found the right person. Sometimes, you might have even known them for a while and the bond only forms later in life, when you are ready for it."
Harry had thought that it sounded very nebulous. He'd always imagined he'd just know when he met his soulmate but then, he'd seen Hermione's crooked 'B' on Ron's shoulder and started to wonder.
And now, his soulmate turned out to be his arch-nemesis, and Harry didn't know what to do with that. It had to be a mistake, right? Draco Malfoy couldn't be his soulmate. He knew fate hadn't always been kind to him, but it couldn't be that cruel.
But the longer he sat on the knowledge, the more unsure he felt.
He'd once thought Sirius had been capable of betraying Harry's parents, after all. And once he'd opened his mind to the truth, he'd gained a godfather.
If he opened his mind up to Malfoy, would he gain a partner for life? Would he miss out on something if he shot this down without trying?
After all, Malfoy had once wanted to be his friend. Maybe, in the light of this new situation, they could try to start over.
Harry was almost shocked when Malfoy agreed to meet him alone a week before they had to return home for the holidays. He looked different when he arrived at their designated meeting spot in a usually deserted courtyard at sunset; less bravado, more caution. All he offered as a greeting was a nod.
Harry sighed and without much ado, he presented his wrist to Malfoy, bearing his soul mark. He heard Malfoy draw in a sharp breath.
"I know you felt it," Harry said. "Don't lie to me."
"There has to be some sort of mistake, Potter," Malfoy shook his head. "I mean, it's us!"
Harry couldn't help but laugh. Malfoy just gaped at him, clearly thinking he had lost it.
"You know," Harry wheezed, at last. "In a way, it's funny. Someone somewhere's got a lot of humour."
"Well, I'm glad you're so entertained!" Malfoy snapped.
"I guess I can count myself lucky," Harry mused. "I could have gotten Voldemort."
"Great," Malfoy said, staring at him with raised eyebrows. "My soulmate is officially mental. Bloody brilliant."
Finally, Harry met Malfoy's grey eyes. "So," he asked, his humour fading a bit. "How are we going to make this work?"
"'Make this work'?" Malfoy repeated, incredulous. "Have you met us, Potter?"
"Yes, so I know it's going to take a lot of work," Harry rolled his eyes. "And I'm going to assume you're willing to put in the effort."
"Why would I?" Malfoy challenged.
"You're here," Harry pointed out. "If you wanted to just ignore it, you would have stayed away."
Malfoy seemed to have no ready answer for that. After a moment of awkward silence, he snapped: " How would this ever work, Potter?! We hate each other. We live in different worlds. Just imagine my father's face when he learns about this!" Malfoy's laugh was slightly hysterical and Harry wondered if he was nearing a panic attack.
"I don't know about your father," Harry said slowly, carefully, like he was trying to calm a wild animal, "maybe we can tackle that at a later date. For now, I think if we focus on ourselves, see if there's a chance we can get to know each other. See each other in a different light."
"We've known each other for three years, Potter," Malfoy pointed out sceptically. "You really think things are going to magically change now?"
"Well, we didn't really try before, did we?" Harry pointed out. "Maybe, if we made an effort, things could be different."
Malfoy stared at him long and hard. "What would making an effort entail?" He asked slowly, carefully.
"Well," Harry said, drawing out the word. "First, you'd have to be okay with me being a half-blood. If you can't get over that, it's a non-starter."
Malfoy chewed his lip. Finally, he said through clenched teeth: "I might be able to adjust my world view accordingly… but I'd require patience from your side."
"I can give you patience if you really try," Harry agreed. "And that includes making an effort with Ron and Hermione."
Malfoy looked like he'd bitten on something sour but to his credit, he didn't fight Harry on his demand. "Alright," he nodded. "I'll try. But you have to give me some time to come up with a credible apology for my behaviour in the past three years or else they’ll never buy it. If they don't think I'm sincere about my words -"
"They won't even listen," Harry agreed, unable to believe that Malfoy was really going along with any of this. "Sounds reasonable. How long do you think you will need?"
"Why don't we take the summer holidays to get comfortable with this new situation?" Malfoy suggested. "We don't tell anyone else about it until the start of the next school year. We write to each other to get better … acquainted. And when we come back to Hogwarts we get serious about it." After a moment, he added: “But this is not a one-way street, Potter. If I try to get along with Granger and Weasley, you’ll try to make nice with my Slytherin friends, too. I won’t become your Slytherin pet. This will be mutual.”
Harry tried imagining himself having tea in the Slytherin common room and wondered if it was too late to run. Then again, if Malfoy could try, so could he.
“Alright,” Harry said haltingly. “And what about your parents? Are you going to tell them?"
Malfoy shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "You said so yourself, we can tackle this later," he muttered eventually. "Maybe that's something we can do together once we figure out how we're going to handle the whole situation?"
Harry nodded. "We can do that," he promised. Malfoy looked relieved.
And so Harry and Malfoy left for their respective homes for the summer holidays and started writing to each other. At first, their letters were stiff and formal, but then they slowly started opening up to each other. Harry mentioned his disconnect to his Muggle relatives in passing and it opened a can of Flobberworms that ended with Harry talking about his childhood with the Dursleys, while Malfoy revealed that his relationship with his father wasn't as easy and loving as Harry had always assumed.
They also discussed the pure blood elitism Malfoy's parents had drilled into him and which he was now forced to question, due to Harry relentlessly bugging him about it, and Harry was pleased to find that Malfoy was slowly but surely mellowing down. He had a feeling that he was always going to stay a bit of a traditionalist, especially when it became to protecting Wizarding History - Malfoy could go on and on about parts of their heritage that Harry had never even heard a whisper of, and Harry had to admit that he didn’t find it uninteresting at all, not the way when Hermione started a sentence with “I read in ‘Hogwarts, A History’ ...”.
A few weeks into the holidays, Potter became Harry and Malfoy became Draco.
When the Weasleys picked Harry up for the Quidditch world cup, Harry had Draco's explicit permission to tell both Ron and Hermione about their soul bond. And Merlin, did Harry dread that conversation.
It wasn't that he was still cursing his fate. He was beginning to see that he had always had a connection with Draco and that their soul bond had finally forced them to channel all the emotions they had towards each other positively. He believed that they could make it work, he truly did it.
He just didn't know how to make his friends see that.
Ron, quite predictably, reacted with a lot of screaming. Hermione's reaction was much quieter but her expression was equally as disapproving.
"Mate, it's Malfoy!" Ron called, as if Harry might have somehow missed that fact.
"I know very well who he is, Ron," Harry replied calmly. "I've been exchanging letters with him for the past couple of weeks."
"Hermione!" Ron spluttered. "Say something!"
Hermione sighed. "Just be careful, Harry," she pleaded. "I know he is your soulmate but he is still the same Draco Malfoy he was for the past three years. A zebra can't change its stripes."
"But if the zebra is trying we should give him some credit," Harry argued before grimacing. "Also, please don't call him a zebra to his face. He might be trying but please don't provoke him."
"So we have to play nice with him now?" Ron demanded angrily. "After everything he did or said to us we have to be bigger people now? How is that fair?"
"Actually he is working on an apology as we speak," Harry informed them. "All I ask of you is to give him a chance. For me. "
Ron groaned. "That's not fair!'' he whined.
"You know we'd do anything for you, Harry," Hermione sighed. "We just want you to be careful."
"Why Malfoy ?!" Ron grumbled. "Why not a nice bloke like Neville or Dean or -"
"Ron," Harry chuckled. "I got over it. You will, too."
"But why Malfoy ?!" He repeated. Harry just rolled his eyes.
The first confrontation between his best friends and his soulmate happened at the Quidditch World Cup. Draco had lied to his parents about going ahead to spend time with Crabbe and Goyle at the arena when in reality, they had carefully decided upon a time and place where they hoped to disappear amongst the masses: the merchandise vending stands near the stadium.
It wasn't that they were worried about others seeing them together. At least, Harry wasn't. Everyone would soon see them hanging out at Hogwarts anyway. But Harry still wanted this meeting between Draco and his friends to go as smoothly as possible, and interruptions because other people asking questions would be distracting. Not to mention that there was the danger of news getting back to Draco's parents before the school year had started.
To say that they were all tense upon their arrival would be an understatement. Draco was wrapped up in a robe to shield him from curious eyes, though Harry privately thought his pale skin still gave him away. When his tentative greeting was only returned by Harry and a silent nod by Hermione, Harry felt ready to scream.
But Draco was nothing if not composure. He got through his apology - and Harry had to admit, it was a good one, but Draco had always been articulate - and he didn't even seem ruffled when all Ron did was huff.
"I don't expect you to forgive me from one day to the other," Draco added, "but I wanted my intentions out in the open. I want to build a relationship with Harry and I know that both of you, and your family, Weasley, are an important part of his life, and I intend to make an effort with all of you."
"We… appreciate that," Hermione said haltingly. "Thank you, Malfoy."
Ron, though, just glared at him. "Why?" he asked.
Draco stared. "I just told you -"
"Why make such a production? You hate Harry. You hate us."
Draco's lips tightened. He took a beat before answering. "I want a relationship with my soulmate, Weasley. Wouldn't you?"
"If my soulmate were you, I'd think about it," he shrugged.
Draco sighed. "Well maybe you'd miss out on an immense opportunity, then," Draco said. "Not only for a connection but for growth and self-reflection. I know I learned more about myself and the world I live in throughout the past month than I have in the first fourteen years of my life."
His words made Harry smile. Ron, though, turned an interesting shade of red. It made Harry remember his soul mark.
"We're just worried about Harry," Hermione said eventually. "He always manages to get in trouble, and we don't want him to get hurt."
Draco's eyes caught on Harry's before he opened his robe, much to Harry’s surprise. He reached down to lift his T-shirt, revealing his own soul mark for the first time, just above his right hip bone. It made Harry's breath catch.
"You haven't seen that side of me, Granger," Draco said, looking at her as he spoke, "but I protect the people I care about. I won't hurt Harry. We belong together now."
He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it made Harry's heart flutter.
He hadn't often felt a sense of belonging in his life. The Weasleys liked to claim him, but he didn't really belong. He'd never belonged with the Dursleys, either. Sirius was one of the few true connections he'd felt, but even that one was so fleeting because he was always absent.
That he would be so deeply connected to Draco Malfoy, of all people, and that Draco would embrace it with such ease, hit him like the Knight Bus at full speed.
"You'll have your hands full," Ron rolled his eyes. "You know Harry attracts chaos, right? Are you really prepared for that? Don't you run every time it gets a bit spooky?"
Draco's eyelid twitched, but he stood his ground. "I've had the whole summer to come to terms with it," he said. "I can't promise I won't freak, but I won't run."
And Draco proved his statement correct a few hours later, when he suddenly appeared at the Weasleys tent after the game, eyes wide with terror.
“I’m sorry to turn up like this,” he told them, addressing Mr Weasley. “But a group of former Death Eaters are going to attack the camping ground soon, and I needed to warn you.”
Everyone stared at Draco for a long moment, speechless. Arthur was the first one to react. He approached Draco, placing his hands on his shoulders.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “How do you know?”
“My father is with them,” Draco whispered, his voice trembling. His eyes travelled to Harry. “He told me to hide, but I couldn’t just not say anything.”
“You did well, Draco,” Arthur said kindly. “We’ll say it was an anonymous tip-off, don’t worry. Thank you so much.”
Draco nodded, looking grateful.
And then, Arthur was shouting commands. The older Weasley brothers were going with him to warn and gather Ministry employees to stop the attack. Fred and George were in charge of evacuating the rest of them.
They hid out deep in the forest, listening for any sound from the camping ground. But nothing seemed to be happening.
"I knew it!" Weasley whispered furiously, after a while. "I knew he would bring nothing but trouble!" He nodded in Draco’s direction, who sat next to Harry on the ground, hugging his knees close to his chest.
"His father may be out there," Harry hissed, his tone low and dangerous. "But Draco is here, helping us!"
Ron just scoffed. Harry reached for Draco's hand. It was sweaty and slippery, but he held on anyway. Draco squeezed back in silent gratitude.
“Yeah,” Fred said, watching them with a frown. “Why did you help, Malfoy? And why are you and Harry all cosy over there?”
“Yeah, usually, you’re more likely to punch each other in the face,” George commented.
“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged. “Finding out you're soulmates changes your perspective quite a bit, it turns out.”
“Soulmates?!” Ginny repeated, eyes wide.
“Blimey,” Fred chuckled. “When did that happen?”
“Before the summer holidays,” Harry shrugged.
“So you’re on our side now?” George asked Malfoy.
“I just sold my own father over to the Ministry,” Draco huffed, though he did look even paler than usual. “I’d say you have your answer.”
“Wicked,” Fred smiled. “Always wondered what it would be like to join ranks with a Slytherin. Imagine, all this evil scheming for good!”
Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry could see the corners of his lips twitch.
The attack on the camping grounds was stopped in time, thanks to Draco’s warning. The Ministry wasn’t able to catch all the attackers since a lot of them apparated in the face of the Ministry force that had gathered to greet them, but Lucius Malfoy was one of the individuals who was brought in under the charges of endangerment of public order and endangerment of Wizarding-Muggle relations.
As promised, Arthur never revealed his source of information, and Lucius never found out his son had given him away, but Draco figured it would only be a matter of time till he put two and two together. Eventually, the news of Draco’s soulbond to Harry would reach him.
“I’ll have hell to pay once he realises,” he told Harry in one of his letters, “Father is not a forgiving person, and family loyalty goes above all else for him.”
“Shit,” Harry answered. “Will you be in danger? Would it be better for us to keep it a secret for longer?”
“How long do you want to keep it a secret, Harry? For life? No, I think I have a plan. Just let me handle it,” was his answer.
And when Harry reunited with Draco at King’s Cross Station, he was accompanied only by his mother. Narcissa Malfoy gave Harry a piercing look as their eyes met, and Harry knew immediately that Draco had told her.
Draco waved him over, and Harry untangled himself from the Weasley clan to meet them.
“Harry,” Draco said. “I’d like you to meet my mother. Mother, I’d like you to meet Harry, properly this time.”
“Mr Potter,” Narcissa nodded, reaching out her hand. “As I understand, our families have become intimately entwined.”
Harry tried not to react to that statement. It was one thing to think of himself as attached to Draco, but quite another to think of himself as attached to the whole Malfoy family.
“Yes,” Harry agreed, unsure what else to say.
Her blue eyes bore into him for a little longer before she sighed and looked back at her son. Her expression softened immediately.
“As - complicated as this situation might be for our family, please be assured that, as long as you treat my son with the respect he deserves, I will do what I can from my side to make your situation a bit easier.”
Draco caught his eyes, and Harry suddenly understood; in Narcissa, Draco had brought in an ally against Lucius.
“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “I was worried for Draco, should news of our soulbond reach you and your husband.”
Narcissa gave him a tight smile. “You have nothing to worry about, Mr Potter,” she assured him. “Draco will always be safe in my house. As will his soulmate, for that matter.”
And this, Harry knew, was as much of an olive branch as he’d ever get.
Their trip to Hogwarts was an unusual one. Never before had he shared a train compartment with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. But this year was all about new experiences, Harry reminded himself as he sat between Ron and Hermione, smiling uncomfortably at the Slytherins across from him. It was all about the effort.
Draco, bless him, tried to act as if there was nothing unusual at all about the situation. He talked about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament and how he was grateful anyone under seventeen was banned from participating because Harry would have somehow found himself a champion and Draco really didn't have the nerves for that.
"I wouldn't have signed up," Harry protested with a chuckle.
"I thought we had established that you attract trouble," Draco reminded him. "It's better to cut off all possible catastrophes at the route, Harry. Maybe that's why you needed a Slytherin soulmate."
"So he could worry his head off before anything even happened?" Harry asked, amused.
"No! It's called risk assessment! Goyle, back me up here!" But when Goyle just looked at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure what he was talking about or why they were even there to begin with, Draco sighed and shook his head. "Nevermind."
"I think you'll need to become a lot calmer if you want to be my soulmate," Harry advised. "You'll turn prematurely grey."
"Shush," Draco frowned disapprovingly. "Not my hair, Potter."
Harry could feel Ron roll his eyes but Harry couldn't help but smile.
The first weeks of their fourth year were unexpectedly nice. It turned out that Harry had a lot less stress in his life when he wasn’t fighting with Draco. Now, he could put his energy to much better use, like his grades or social interactions.
Draco quickly became a constant in Harry’s life. They’d meet up after classes in the library or on the grounds to study, sometimes alone, sometimes in increasingly bigger groups including Ron, Hermione, Crabbe, Goyle, and on some days Seamus, Dean, Neville, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. It was bizarre and Harry wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but it turned out that Gryffindors and Slytherins were actually an unexpectedly good match if they really tried. Draco and Hermione, once they got over their inhibitions, could fall into intellectual debates that could go on for hours. Neville actually had the patience to interact with Crabbe and Goyle, once he realised they weren’t scary at all. Ron and Pansy were, quite surprisingly, mirror images of each other, both highly impatient and easily running out of focus, which worked well since they kept each other occupied while the others were still focused. Harry found he could actually keep his concentration up longer if he didn’t have Ron yapping in his ear constantly.
Of course, it wasn’t all smooth going. Harry and Draco were still subject to incredulous stares whenever they turned up anywhere together. The first time they voluntarily paired up for Potions, Snape took twenty points off both their houses because he thought they were pranking him. Draco told him he had to regularly field through nasty comments in the Slytherin common room.
“Honestly, most of them are probably just jealous,” Blaise had rolled his eyes. “They’re Slytherins. If they had the opportunity to sleep their way up the social ladder -”
“Excuse you!” Draco had called out, cheeks flushed. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Well, maybe not yet, sweetheart,” Blaise grinned. “But eventually.”
The Gryffindors were most suspicious of Draco, but it helped that Fred and George were openly affectionate with him, to a point that made even Draco uncomfortable.
“They know I’m not their friendly Slytherin pet, right?” he asked Harry a week into the semester. “They can’t just mob me in a corridor, pet my hair and rope me into their mad joke shop plans.”
“Well, try telling them,” Harry grinned.
Draco huffed, but his complaints fell on deaf ears, naturally. Also, Harry suspected that he secretly enjoyed the joke shop talk. It was right up Draco’s alley.
One person outside of Hogwarts who was very happy about this development, was, quite interestingly, Sirius.
“Another wayward cousin!” he wrote to Harry cheerfully. “Oh, how wonderful! That makes three now! We can form a club!”
Harry had to yet tell Draco about Sirius, but he would soon. They were slowly but surely working on catching each other up on each others' lives, which in Harry’s case meant informing Draco about all the crazy adventures and near-death experiences Harry had been through. They had just covered the Chamber of Secrets on a lazy Saturday afternoon by the lake and Harry had watched Draco’s face turn grey as he began to grasp the full context of his father’s participation in the situation. He wanted to let Draco process after that.
All in all, things were going surprisingly well, though, better than he would have ever anticipated when he first found out who his designated soulmate was. Harry actually felt almost peaceful.
And that was, of course, when the Triwizard Tournament started, and everything went to hell.
At first, Harry thought the tournament would be fun. Pansy kept teasing Ron about Fleur Delacour. Fred and George drove Draco spare by haunting him down for hours at end and asking him how, hypothetically, a Slytherin would cheat an age line.
Everything was fun and games until that bloody goblet spewed out Harry’s name.
Oh, Draco put up a tantrum, bless him. While the whole Great Hall, including Harry, stared, petrified, at Dumbledore, he was already on his feet, yelling about why this was an outrage - “He is too young! He did not sign up! Someone messed with that goblet and I demand a review and a redrawing or I will write to the Minister myself -” - until Snape forcefully removed him and landed him in detention for the rest of the month.
And so, Harry became a Triwizard Champion. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. His life had always been fucked up like this.
After Harry was named Champion, Draco was angry with the world. He was angry at Dumbledore and at the Ministry for letting it happen. He was angry at Ron for believing Harry had signed up himself - and well, Harry was quite angry about that himself, so he was grateful Draco was angry with him, unlike Hermione, who tried to be diplomatic about it. He was angry at the Headmasters of the other schools for thinking Harry was a cheater. He was angry at every student of Hogwarts who thought Harry was a cheater, too.
“I know I’m new to this,” Draco ranted, “but I heard enough to know that every year, someone is trying to off you. So why do they all think you’re trying to off yourself.”
“Draco, you would have thought the same if you weren’t his soulmate,” Nott snorted.
“Hush, you,” Draco glared. “We don’t talk about that.”
He was also, quite to Harry’s surprise, angry at Moody when their DADA teacher tried to help Harry before the first task. But maybe, Draco just hated Moody because Moody hated him.
“ Why is he so eager on helping you?” he asked Harry when he told the other boy about their talk in Moody’s office, resulting in Harry setting up a strategy for facing his dragon. “What’s his motive? Why does he want you to win?”
“Maybe he thinks it’s unfair I have to participate?” Harry tried. “I thought he was being nice.”
“Nah,” Draco dismissed. “Moody isn’t nice. Everybody wants something, Harry.”
“Well, maybe he wants to do Dumbledore a favour by keeping me safe,” Harry rolled his eyes.
Draco rolled his eyes. “No wonder you always end up in trouble,” he scoffed. “Gryffindors. Too naive.”
But he did help Harry execute Moody’s strategy, so that was a start.
When Harry had survived his encounter with his dragon, he could barely get back to the tent to get himself healed before he had his arms full of human dragon.
“You bloody shit,” Draco ranted under his breath. “I fucking hate you. My poor nerves, Harry. I swear you are going to be the death of me. I’m not built for this Gryffindor shit.”
Harry couldn’t help but smile. Draco could complain all he wanted, but the way he clung to him spoke volumes in and of itself.
Watching Harry risk his neck facing a dragon also caused Ron to grovel, much to Harry’s relief and Draco’s displeasure. Draco refused to interact with him at all following their reconciliation, and only communicated through Pansy, who delivered insults with a sunny smile.
Draco didn’t focus long on his wrath, though. Instead, he stole Harry’s dragon egg the day after the task, obsessively trying to solve the mystery of the next task.
“You know, it’s Harry’s task,” Hermione told him disapprovingly. “He should work on it. This is cheating.”
“Kindly shut up, Hermione,” Draco snapped. “Ever since Harry became my soulmate, I’ve been in a constant state of anxiety, and solving his problems and subsequently keeping him alive calms me down. So let me do it.”
“Draco is a bit of a control freak,” Blaise told her fondly. “When he was nervous about our exams in third year, he cleaned up the whole dormitory, throwing everything he deemed ‘junk’ out into the corridor.”
“And half of the ‘junk’ was mine,” Theo muttered darkly, glaring at Draco.
“It was all over the floor!” Draco called. “Even the house elves wouldn’t pick it up anymore, Theo! That’s supposed to tell you something!”
Two weeks later, Draco returned the egg, complete with solution.
“It’s merpeople,” he told Harry. “They’ll take something of yours, something that’s irreplaceably important to you, and put it in the lake for the merpeople to guard. You have an hour to get it back.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, staring at him.
“Yes,” Draco rolled his eyes. “I have merpeople staring at me down in the dungeons all day, Potter. I was bound to figure it out eventually.”
“Okay,” Harry blinked. “So how do I breathe underwater for an hour?”
“Are you a wizard or what?” Draco scoffed. “There are charms and plants, Scarhead. We can scout them out and see which one is the best.”
And so, Harry was prepared for his next task more than a month before it even started, without the help of a teacher, all thanks to his overeager soulmate.
When McGonagall first mentioned that there would be a Yule Ball and that Harry would have to open it with the other champions and his date, Harry’s brain short-circuited.
“Date?” he asked weakly.
“Date,” Professor McGonagall nodded with a small smile.
Right. Harry felt slightly faint at the thought of inviting a girl to the Yule Ball. He’d never been all that good with girls that weren’t Hermione.
“Maybe I’ll ask Cho Chang,” Harry thought out loud during one of their Gryffindor-Slytherin study sessions. “I mean, she’s kind of cool, and she plays Quidditch.”
Draco looked at him incredulously. Hermione kicked his shin. Blaise snorted. “Mate, I think she’s out of your league,” he grinned.
“Right,” Draco muttered, his face stormy as he got to his feet. “I’ll go, then.”
“Where are you going?” Harry asked, blinking, but Draco didn’t answer, just packing his things and taking off without another word.
“Woosh,” Pansy muttered. “That was harsh.”
“What?” Harry asked, an edge to his voice.
“Harry, if you want to be platonic soulmates only, at least tell him,” Seamus pointed out. “But just springing a date at him like that is cruel.”
“Wait, wha -” Harry asked, his mind whirring with the new information. “You mean I’d be allowed to take Draco ? I thought it would have to be a girl!”
They all looked at him like he was especially slow, even Crabbe and Goyle, which made Harry feel about five inches tall.
“Same-sex soulmates have existed since the beginning of time,” Goyle muttered, looking confused. “Why would it be boys-girls only? That makes no sense.”
“Is that a Muggle thing?” Crabbe asked.
“To be fair, it is,” Dean sighed.
“Harry, I think you should go after Draco,” Hermione suggested. “He looked very upset.”
Harry was out of his seat faster than he could say ‘Quidditch’.
He found Draco in his dormitory. The Slytherins had long surrendered the Slytherin password to Harry so that he could seek Draco out whenever he wanted - it was easier than Harry waiting for ages in front of their common room entrance, trying to sneak his way inside.
“What is it?” Draco asked Harry flatly when he entered the room. “Already asked Chang? Came here to rub it in?”
“No,” Harry bit his lip. “I came to ask you to the Yule Ball.”
Draco glowered at him. “What, did she already reject you?” he snapped.
“No,” he sighed, sitting down on Blaise’s bed, which was located across from Draco’s. “I just… I wasn’t aware I was allowed to go with you, Draco. I thought it had to be a girl.”
“Right,” Draco scoffed.
“I’m serious,” Harry insisted. “The Muggle world isn’t as open about same-sex relationships as the Wizarding World. It didn’t even occur to me, at first, that this would be okay.”
Draco gave him a long, hard stare. “Are you just trying to talk yourself out of this?” he asked. “Because I can confirm with Hermione and Dean and if you’re lying -”
“I’m not!” he promised. “If I’d known I could take you, I would have asked you immediately. Why would I want to go with some girl I have never much spoken to when I could go with my soulmate?!”
“You tell me,” Draco challenged. “Apparently she’s kind of cool and plays Quidditch -”
“Well, you’re very cool and play Quidditch,” Harry interrupted, sending him a soft smile. “You’re also smart and funny and loyal and protective and just a tiny bit insane, but I like it. Also, you can actually dance, so you can help me not look like a bloody idiot.”
“Oh, that’s how it is?” Draco muttered, but his lips were twitching, fighting a smile.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said sincerely, getting up and sitting on the bed next to him. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Of course, I want to go with you.”
“I wasn’t sure,” Draco admitted. “Some soulmates only ever stay platonic. I couldn’t have complained if you wanted to -”
“You’re too possessive to ever do that,” Harry smiled. “And so am I, I think. I don’t think we’d be able to do that.”
“Oh,” Draco said, smiling, at last. “Okay. Good to know.”
“So,” Harry asked. “Yule Ball?”
“Only if you get a proper dress robe, Potter,” Draco wrinkled his nose. “No hand-me-downs!”
“Already have one,” Harry chuckled. “You can inspect it if you want.”
“Fine,” Draco rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “I guess I can go with you, then.”
The run-up phase to the Yule Ball was a bit bizarre. Not that it wasn’t nice to just sit back and watch the matchmaking unfold now that his own drama was done and over with, but he was very glad that he hadn’t entered the Weasley twins’ betting pool, as Draco had, or his money would habe been hopelessly lost because he’d have never guessed on the results.
When Blaise casually asked Seamus to go to the ball with him, Harry was already so stomped that he spilt ink all over his Potions essay and Draco had to fix it for him.
When Pansy had had enough of Ron nagging Hermione about revealing her date for the ball and asked him out herself, he almost choked on his own spit.
But no one, not even Draco with his scarily high ranking in the betting pool, could have predicted Hermione and Viktor Krum.
“I have to hand it to her,” Draco whispered in his ear, his arm through Harry’s as they followed after Hermione and Krum, getting into position with the other champion. “She’s the winner of the night.”
“Hey,” Harry hissed, slightly offended.
“Oh, hush,” Draco rolled his eyes, but he was smiling indulgently. “We’re old news. She’s going to get all the attention.”
“I don’t think she wants that,” Harry pointed out.
“Why wouldn’t you want that?” Draco frowned. Harry gave him a pointed look and Draco sighed. “Well, you don’t count,” he muttered. “You always get the wrong kind of attention.”
Harry shook his head, smiling.
Harry had been silently horrified for weeks at the prospect of dancing in front of the whole school and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegation, but Draco made the whole experience surprisingly nice.
He had known that Draco could dance. Of course, he had known. Draco had painted him a picture of a childhood full of etiquette and boring parties he was forced to attend. Draco was also a surprisingly patient and gentle teacher for someone with a mouth the size of his bloody Manor, and he never made Harry feel bad for misstepping or losing his rhythm. Soon, Harry let himself fall into it, Draco easily taking the lead, and he found that he was actually enjoying it.
“See?” Draco smiled at him. “You’re not doing half-bad.”
Harry rolled his eyes but leaned further into Draco’s space. Draco was taller than him, he’d known that, but this close, the height difference was very noticeable. He had to look up at Draco. He felt engulfed in his arms and he decided he sort of liked it. It made him feel safe.
The song ended, and Draco slowly drifted to a stop.
“You want to go find the others?” he offered. “Get a drink and -”
“No,” Harry interrupted. “Let’s… let’s dance some more.”
Draco smiled, looking pleased.
“As you wish.”
When they finally left the dancefloor many songs later, it was because their thirst won over their desire to dance. Draco offered to get them drinks as Harry looked for a table with familiar faces.
He eventually found Hermione and Krum sitting with Seamus, Blaise, Dean and Pavarti.
“Harry,” Hermione beamed at him. “You know Viktor, of course?”
“Hi,” Harry smiled at him, and Krum smiled back.
“She was just telling us how Krum asked her out,” Blaise said. “Before you so rudely interrupted. So sit down and listen.”
Harry laughed as he fell into a chair next to Dean and followed the story. Eventually, Draco joined him, handing him a butterbeer.
“I just saw Pansy and Weasley on the dance floor,” he whispered into his ear. “I will have nightmares for a week.”
Harry elbowed him and took a drink.
“Did you ever happen to see Weasley’s soul mark?” he asked. “Just out of curiosity.”
“It’s ‘growth’,” he said. “Why?”
“Interesting,” he smiled. “So is Pansy’s.”
“And Hermione’s,” Harry added.
“The plot thickens,” Draco wriggled his eyebrows.
“We’re not betting over this,” Harry deadpanned.
“But whyyy?” Draco groaned.
“Because it’s the happiness of our friends,” Harry rolled his eyes.
“You and your morals,” Draco huffed. “Fine, I’ll ask Fred and George.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Try and stop me.”
They eventually made their way outside onto the snowy grounds; the Great Hall had become too stuffy and loud the longer the night lasted. They strolled around the magically lit paths, chatting quietly, hands brushing ever so slightly. Harry was tempted to reach out for Draco’s hand but he didn’t quite dare.
“You know, as soon as Skeeter gets wind of Krum and Hermione she’s gonna spin this into a love triangle,” Draco snorted, referring to all the articles the reporter had published about Harry and Hermione, which had amused Draco endlessly.
“Please don’t,” Harry groaned. “Just be happy she hasn’t found out about you yet. That would be her story of the year.”
“Oh, she’s going to eventually,” Draco shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind much, it’s just that it’s definitely going to reach my father once she writes about it. Mind you, I’m surprised he’s still oblivious. Bless the Slytherins for keeping their mouths shut.”
Harry finally summoned all his Gryffindor courage and reached for Draco’s hand.
“Narcissa has it under control, right?” he checked.
“Of course she does,” Draco assured him, squeezing his hand. “Even if he finds out, she’ll handle him. I’m just not quite ready to deal with his nonsense yet. I have enough on my plate with people crawling out of every corner trying to kill you.”
Harry smiled briefly and then, before he could talk himself out of it, he came to a halt and tucked on Draco’s hand. Draco stopped, frowning, but when Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, smashing his face against his chest, he embraced him readily.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Just… I know you’ve been under a lot of stress since you’re, you know, always worrying about me, but my life has actually been better since you’ve become my soulmate. So I wanted to thank you.”
Draco was silent for a long moment. Then his arms tightened around him and he muttered: “That’s nice to know.” His nose brushed against Harry’s curls and temple before he breathed: “And also, yes, I’m worrying a lot, probably too much, but that’s only because you mean a lot to me, and I don’t want people to hurt you. Don’t go thinking it’s your fault, okay?”
Harry smiled. “Am I that obvious?”
“You’re anything but subtle, Potter.”
Harry looked up to meet Draco’s gentle grey eyes. It was amazing what a difference half a year could make, he thought. Back when their soulbond had flared up, he could have never imagined how far they could come in just a couple of months.
He could have never imagined how loving and kind Draco could be if he decided you were worthy of it. He could have never imagined that he would feel so secure with someone. That his former arch-nemesis would work himself into fits of anxiety over how to protect him.
“I’m glad it was you,” Harry said, at last.
Draco smiled. “So am I,” he replied. “Even though it’s brought me nothing but trouble.”
When Harry leaned up to press their lips together, Draco met him halfway. It was clumsy and chaste, but Draco’s lips were warm and soft in the cold night air and each gentle brush made Harry’s heart pound.
They were separated by Snape, of all people.
“Potter, Malfoy,” he said, his voice pained, making them jump apart and look at him with wide, horrified eyes. “No snogging on the grounds. Do untangle yourselves and get back into the castle, before I hex you apart.”
“Yes, Sir,” Draco muttered, clearly humiliated. “Sorry, Sir.”
Harry couldn’t help but dissolve into hysterical laughter as they fled the scene.
“Stop laughing, you delinquent!” he hissed. “This is not funny! I can never look him in the eyes again!”
“What a loss,” Harry gasped and Draco elbowed him.
The night before the second task, they were studying in the library - or rather, sitting together in the library while the others distracted Harry from his nerves - when Ernie Macmillan came in to inform Hermione and Draco that they were wanted by each McGonagall and Snape.
“He’s always had perfect timing,” Draco rolled his eyes, packing his things and leaning in to kiss Harry’s forehead. “Try to get some sleep tonight, okay? It’s going to be fine. You’re well prepared. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Harry nodded, watching him go.
“You two are disgusting,” Pansy sighed. “Stop being so cute.”
“Shut up,” Harry huffed.
“She’s right,” Ron agreed. “It’s sickening.”
“I don’t like you being friends,” he pointed out. “Where do I veto?”
“Too late,” Ron smirked. “We didn’t get to veto you two snogging, either. Now deal with the consequences.”
Harry sighed, but privately thought that it could have gone much worse.
Draco was not at breakfast. Neither was Hermione, but Harry was currently more concerned about his soulmate.
Draco wouldn’t just not turn up to be his comfort person on such a day. That was not like him.
“It obviously means he’s part of the task,” Theo rolled his eyes. “I mean, how daft are you?”
Harry blinked at him. “What?” he asked, stunned.
“I mean, both Granger and Draco are missing,” he shrugged. “They were called to their Heads of Houses last night, before the second task, in which both their boyfriends participate. It’s super obvious.”
Harry remembered the most essential part of the task, then. Retrieve something irreplaceably important from the lake within an hour.
“Shit,” he said, out loud. Theo just snorted.
Finding Draco bound and lifeless at the bottom of the lake was like a nightmare. His pale skin looked almost grey in the dim light of the lake and his hair swirled wildly around his head.
He tried to clear his head, but an undercurrent of panic fueled him. He knew there were others. Hermione was there. But his focus was only on Draco.
After he’d freed him from his bindings he checked his pulse, relieved when he found it under cold, wet skin.
He turned, making out Hermione and lifting his wand to free her, too, but the merpeople intervened.
“Only one!” they hissed.
Cursing inwardly, Harry made a split-second decision, holding onto Draco tightly and swimming upward.
He could come back for the others. He had to get Draco somewhere safe first.
When they came up for air, Draco opened his eyes, gasping for breaths.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, reaching out to touch his face.
“I’m fine,” Draco said, his voice rough but managing a smile. “You did it, Harry! I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks, I -” he blinked, withdrawing his hand, “I need to go back. The others, Hermione -”
“Hey, shhh,” Draco said, taking his hand and shaking his head. “You don’t need to worry. None of us were ever in any danger. They will be fine.”
“How do you know?!” Harry asked, an edge to his voice.
“Because they told us when they sent us down there, you dummy,” he rolled his eyes.
“... Oh,” Harry said softly, and Draco snorted, squeezing his hand before letting him go.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get dry and warm, I’m freezing.”
After winning the second task, Harry was noticeably more relaxed. After all, he wouldn’t have to worry about the third task until the end of May and he was exempt from end-of-year exams, so he could actually enjoy himself from March through May.
Draco, though, became increasingly more nervous.
“You realise that whoever put your name in the Goblet of Fire put it in there for a reason,” he told Harry. “And whatever plan they have, they’ll most likely want to complete it in the third task. So excuse me for freaking the fuck out.”
“Yeah, but we have no idea who is behind all of it,” Harry tried to reason with him. “So unless you have some miraculous insights you aren’t sharing -”
Draco just glowered at him, making Harry fall silent.
Harry had to admit, strange things kept happening, though, enough to (almost) disturb his groove. He kept having visions of Voldemort. (“Why do you have visions of him?” Draco asked when he told him. “Does this work both ways? Why has no one taught you Occlumency? I’m putting this on my to-do-list.”) Snape cornered him and accused him of brewing Polyjuice Potion. (“That means someone else is brewing Polyjuice Potion,” Draco said, his eyes narrowing. “Another thing for my to-do-list.”) And then, Barty Crouch was found on the castle grounds, dead.
Harry didn’t have time to worry about any of it once his preparation for the last task started, though. Anyway, he had a soulmate who did a well-enough job of it. He would just leave the worrying to him.
And indeed, about a week before the third task, Draco burst into their practice room - Harry had already wondered why he was late - and announced, quite breathless: “I found a cauldron of Polyjuice Potion in Moody’s private quarters. I think he is not actually Moody and we have to go to Dumbledore.”
They all stared at him.
“You really don’t like Moody, do you?” Ron said eventually. Malfoy and Moody’s mutual dislike was by now well-known within their group.
“I’m serious!” Draco snapped. “I had about enough when he tried to help Harry again last week, so I went snooping -”
“You broke into a teacher’s office?” Hermione asked, looking scandalised.
“So what? What else did you expect of me?” Draco shrugged, sounding annoyed. “Anyway, I found his Polyjuice, and we have to go to Dumbledore because I’m like 200% sure he’s the one who put your name into the Goblet of Fire.”
Hermione and Ron still looked unconvinced. Exasperated, he searched Harry’s gaze.
“You believe me, right?” he asked desperately.
All his doubts melted away at the urgency in Draco’s tone. “I trust you,” Harry nodded, reaching out for his hand. “Let’s go find Dumbledore.”
It turned out Draco was spot-on, and Harry vowed to never, ever doubt him again.
Dumbledore and the other teachers caught the person who’d pretended to be Mad-Eye Moody the same day. It turned out to be Barty Crouch’s son, a convicted Death Eater, who confessed under veritaserum that his plan had been to exchange the Goblet of Fire in the third task with a portkey, which would take Harry to Voldemort and make him participate in a procedure to help him regain a body.
They alarmed the Ministry, who sent out Aurors trying to catch Voldemort and Pettigrew, who was travelling with him, but both had already fled. Somehow, they must have gotten wind of Crouch’s capture.
The third task was cancelled out of security concerns. Harry was declared the winner of the tournament, but he refused the money, instead giving it to Fred and George so they could use it for their joke shop business.
“So,” Ron commented as they returned to London via the Hogwarts Express. “That was a pretty anticlimactic finale to the school year. I’m not used to this.”
“Are you complaining?” Draco glowered.
“No,” Ron said quickly. “It’s just - usually it’s all danger and near-death experiences.”
“Well, maybe you just needed a Slytherin to pick up your slack,” Draco rolled his eyes.
Harry smiled, squeezing Draco’s hand. Draco squeezed back.
At King’s Cross, both Narcissa and Lucius were waiting for Draco, making Harry’s soulmate freeze in his tracks as he left the train after Harry. Lucius' cold gaze landed on Harry and Harry knew there was no way he didn’t know.
Harry turned to Draco and took his hand. Draco looked at him with wide eyes.
“Let’s do this,” Harry nodded.
“Stupid bloody Gryffindors,” he muttered, but he clung to Harry’s hand as they approached his parents.
“Hello, Father,” he said when they reached them. “Hello, Mother.”
“Hello, darling,” Narcissa smiled.
“Draco,” Lucius said stiffly. He looked at Harry, then back at him. “I had a chat with the Minister a couple of days ago,” he drawled. “He said I must be so proud of how you protected your school and your soulmate this year. Imagine my surprise.”
Draco didn’t answer. He just squeezed Harry’s hand a bit tighter.
“Mr Potter,” Lucius said, turning to Harry. “I guess I must welcome you to our family, then.” His eyes were icy and Harry knew that he wouldn’t be able to trust Lucius Malfoy farther than he could throw him, but turning down this superficial offering of peace which had clearly been motivated by Narcissa would get him nowhere, he knew that much.
So he nodded. “Yes,” he said, his smile full of promise. “I guess you must.”