Chapter Text
From somewhere across the room, Hermione’s phone buzzed. She chose to ignore it, too engrossed in the chapter of her book to put it down. Harry had increasingly wanted her to meet his new friend - a Hufflepuff boy named Ron who he’d met during their final term last year. Despite Harry’s reassurances, Hermione was still unconvinced Ron was as nice as Harry made him out to be. On the few lessons they’d shared together, he had acted rude and obnoxious towards Hermione, completely disregarding her input. She wouldn’t stop Harry being his friend but she was currently uninterested in joining him.
Harry and Hermione had been close to inseparable, Hermione’s condescending attitude and Harry’s social anxieties during their first year casting them both as outcasts. Since then, however, they had matured and became more approachable.
They’d met on the train on the first day. Harry had found an empty compartment to escape the overwhelming crowds gathered in both the carriages and aisles, Hermione had wanted peace and quiet to read her book. A perfect pair.
It was over an hour after Harry had stumbled into her cart that Hermione had even noticed him, both silently enjoying the calm of the carriage.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“It’s fine.” Harry had said, waving her off slightly. “You can go back to your book, I’ll be quiet.”
Instead of reading as he prompted, she closed the book and tentatively reached out an arm. “I’m Hermione,” she was careful not to get her hopes up when she met new people. They always ended up leaving her.
“Harry.” The boy reached forward, taking her hand. As he reached out, his sleeve pulled up to reveal a dark design on his wrist. Hermione only saw the smudge of colour from such a quick glance but she was confident she knew what it was; a soul mark. He retracted his hand quickly, pulling his sleeve down.
She smiled hesitantly at him before turning to her book.
During the journey, an intrusive ruckus was heard as a set of twins ran down the hall. They were shouting and screaming while a shorter boy followed behind them, laughing.
“Madness here,” Hermione noted.
“Yeah, it’s all so strange.”
So he was a muggle-born too. Hermione felt reassured she would not be the only one who was new to all of this.
“You wanna hear some of the weirdest stuff I’ve read about the school?” She asked, raising her half-closed book; Hogwarts: a History , an interesting book indeed.
“Sure,” Harry replied, his tension eased by her question.
On their way into the sorting ceremony, they stayed close together. Hermione pulled the timid Harry by his wrist so that they would not get separated in the crowds. When they entered the main hall, all of the students awed and Hermione was struck by the beauty of the illusion on the ceiling. It wasn’t until they were waiting to be called up that she realised her grasp was still on Harry’s wrist. She looked down at her hand before raising her worried gaze to the boy. He gave her a small encouraging smile and mouthed ‘go’ to her before slightly pushing her forward. Her name had been called.
“Gryffindor!”
She was smiling, slipping from the seat as she quickly rushed over to the roaring table. She sat little ways down from the boys who had been running on the train but didn’t get a good look at any of them as she was surrounded by smiling students all reaching out to shake her hand and introduce themselves. When Harry’s turn came, Hermione anxiously watched the only person she’d made a friendship with so far.
“Gryffindor!”
They smiled and he quickly sat down beside her, clearly overwhelmed by all the people cheering for him. While he ate, she again got a glimpse at his mark and, worrying about his privacy, quietly informed him that his sleeve was slipping. He flushed a deep red and yanked it down, remaining mindful of how much he raised his hand for the rest of the meal. Hermione was secretly glad she was not the only one with a soul mark.
She’d always known she had it for it was hard not to. Her parents had freaked, understandably, when they had first noticed the black/grey tattoo on their infant daughter. Above her right hip bone was a ‘W’ written in brilliant, sparkling fireworks about four inches in width. The term tattoo was used very loosely as it endlessly moved and erupted along her skin - more explosively as her temper grew and softer when she calmed.
It was a mystery that would not be explained for eleven years. In that time, her parents were constantly worried, knowing people would panic when confronted with a moving tattoo on a child. She never wore a bikini or a cropped shirt and she always tucked in any tops she wore. People thought she was a prude and, paired with her haughty manner, she didn’t make many friends.
The answers they had searched for came in the June before Hermione’s 12th birthday when an old woman knocked on the Granger’s door. She had sat for hours telling them about a previously unknown ‘wizarding world’ before Hermione collected the courage to ask about her mark.
“Professor, I have something rather important to ask.”
“Yes, Miss Granger?”
“I have a mark on my stomach, it looks like a tattoo but it moves.”
“Ahh, why yes, that is what we call a ‘soul mark,’ all witches and wizards are born with them. They can appear in any area of your body a few months after birth and they act as a representation of one’s soulmate.”
“A- a soulmate?”
“Yes, every magical creature has a destined soulmate which manifests in some way. For instance, unicorns remain a light brown until they join with their soulmates, at which time their bodies turn a brilliant white. Dragons are able to draw heat from the other and so, when they meet, they can blow fire that is grander and hotter than before. For witches and wizards, they have a magical imprint of the other’s personality.”
“Wow, how remarkable.”
“The majority of people find their partners and are extremely happy. Others do not conform to their mark. They see it as a self-fulfilling prophecy and so instead of blindly trusting the marks they choose to ignore them.”
“I see, and what about my soulmate? How will I know it’s them?”
“Well, depending on the mark, it could be glaringly obvious or subtle. Though the mark itself may represent them on a basic level or an act that is significant in their life, the activation of marks is different for everyone due to the individuality of a person’s soul.”
“Our baby has a soulmate?” Mrs Granger said, who had been sitting in shock silently all this time. “I can’t believe it! Oh, honey, you might meet them this year! I’m so excited!”
“On the contrary, Mrs Granger, it is exceedingly rare that one finds their soulmate within the first year of school, especially muggleborns who have yet to be properly introduced to magic. The wizarding world is a VAST one and on average it takes ten to fifteen years for someone to find their partner. This varies, of course, but we find most meet their mates in their early 20’s.”
They sat for a while longer, discussing the various aspects of wizarding society but eventually, Professor McGonagall took her leave and left them to think over all they had been told.
After this meeting, Hermione had delved into researching soul marks and people’s encounters with them. There were countless fairy-tale stories of random meetings with strangers in public a few in schools and even some at an elderly age. The ones that stayed with her were the tales of wizards or witches unfortunate enough to not find their mate. Their tragic tales were the most magnetising, drawing her in and drowning her in the unfulfilled potential. She knew that these cases were rare but she worried over her own fate. It wasn’t until she’d spied Harry’s that she allowed herself to believe that people, students of her own age, had marks and were potential mates. Until that point, she had stupidly convinced herself that it couldn’t be possible, couldn’t be that simple.
Over the years at Hogwarts, a few people found their mates. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas who shared her house had found each other within the first term, seeming to effortlessly complement each other and encourage the best in the other.
Later, Neville, an unspoken boy, met Luna, a quirky girl in the year below and the two quietly bonded. No one even knew they were mates until Luna’s third year.
Hermione avoided the topic with people, unwilling to trade such personal information. Harry had shown her his back in the second year when he was convinced he wouldn’t find his mate. The mark hadn’t been huge, a small black outlined dragon flying calmly around his wrist in lazy circles and up half of his forearm. It wasn’t anything like hers, it was tranquil and calm whereas hers was fiery and energetic. She hadn’t shown him hers but he’d understood, knowing she preferred to keep it private.
Lavender Brown, a girl in Hermione’s dorm room, displayed hers whenever possible, rolling up her sleeves eagerly to reveal a crown that would shine from an unseen light. Hermione envied her confidence and self-assuredness.
All this led to now, Hermione lounging in her bedroom re-reading Hogwarts: A History for possibly the two hundredth time on the Monday before her fifth year, waiting for her phone to stop ringing. After bookmarking the next chapter, Hermione got up to search for her abandoned phone.
‘Harry’ The phone read as she knew it would.
Hey ‘Mione, I’m going to Diagon Alley today to get my supplies. Wondered if you’d want to join? I know it’s last-minute but Aunt Petunia is finally agreed to give me a lift.
She checked the clock and quickly typed her reply.
Yeah sure. Meet you outside of F&Bs in an hour?
Okay, I’ll be there.
She was just putting down her phone as it buzzed again.
Great, Ron said he and his family are going today so we might meet them as well.
Damn. There she was thinking her day would be peaceful.
Come half eleven, Hermione was ready to give up and head home. Harry was yet to arrive and she had been waiting for forty-five minutes. Just as she was turning out of the store – monotonously circling its shelves was no longer interesting her – Harry bustled in, Ron and a few others Hermione had not met trailing after. These must be Ron’s siblings. She spied a girl perhaps a year or two younger than her standing in the doorway watching a pair of redheaded boys laugh in front of the store.
“I’m so sorry we’re late but we were at Quality Quidditch Supplies and just lost track of time.” He had the decency to at least look guilty.
“It’s fine, you’re here now. Do you have your list?”
“Right here,” he said, brandishing the extensive draft sent to all upcoming fifth-year students.
“Me too,” Ron piped up as he fumbled to search for the parchment. Eventually, he found it half falling out of his back pocket. “Fred and George are getting theirs later in the week so it’s just us and Ginny today.”
“That’s cool. I got your core books while I was waiting, Harry, but I didn’t know the rest.”
“Thanks, ‘Mione.” Harry beamed at her as he took the books from Hermione’s outstretched hands.
She turned to Ron, unsure how he would act. “Sorry, I didn’t know to get yours or I would have.”
“It’s no problem, I’ll find it eventually”, Ron shrugged and passed her to the O.W.L. level books, leaving her with Ginny.
“Hi, I’m Hermione. You must be Ginny, Ron’s sister?”
The girl grinned at her, holding out her hand.
“Yes, great to finally meet you. Harry talks about you non-stop.”
She smiled back, shaking her hand. “Thank you. Shall we go find your books? I don’t think those two will be done anytime soon,” Hermione chucked, pointing over to the two boys standing dumbfounded in front of a ridiculous tower of books.
“Sure!” The girl’s bubbly attitude eased Hermione’s nerves as they walked around the shop together. “So you’re in Gryffindor, too? I don’t think I’ve seen you around much.”
“Oh, I’m usually studying in the library till late. Still, your face is familiar, don’t you play on the quidditch team?”
“Yeah, with Harry and my brothers Fred and George.” She had turned, pointing out the window to the vacant area in front of the store where the two boys had previously been playing. “Well, that’s no good. They're probably off causing trouble for some unsuspecting idiot.”
“Fred and George? The pranksters?”
“You know them?”
“Only by reputation, I avoid that sort of crowd.”
“That’s a shame, they’re always good fun. You should sit with us sometime, let your hair down.”
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.” Hermione couldn’t say exactly what it was about the girl but her warm aura had drawn her in and she genuinely wished to spend more time with her.
The day passed without a hitch and Hermione was beginning to see what Harry meant about Ron. Outside of school and away from its academic pressure he could be more himself and proved to be quite comical, cracking jokes and retorts to Harry’s lively remarks. It was at this time that she also saw how far her friend had come from the boy too shy to talk to a friendly and open young man that was kind and who many wanted to be around.
“It’s getting pretty late,” Ron observed as they left the shop.
“Yeah, I think we should head off,” Harry answered, looking slightly nervous. Who knew what Petunia would do if he was out past his curfew.
“Do you guys fancy coming over sometime this week before we go back?” Ron’s invitation caught Hermione off guard, not being used to such casual plans with near-strangers.
“You should, we could play quidditch in the garden and maybe this time I could actually beat Harry and Ron,” Ginny gushed excitedly. “I swear if you were both in the same house, you’d reign undefeated.”
“Sure,” Harry replied for them both.
“Okay, how about this Thursday?” Ron asked. This was clearly directed more at Hermione, hoping to gain some confirmation that she wanted to attend.
She smiled at him and nodded her head.
“Alright, see you then.” He waved, walking off in the other direction to the floo stations with Ginny.
“I told you he was fun.”
“Yeah, yeah. I never said he wasn’t.”
Harry just chuckled at this, walking with her back to muggle London.
Come Thursday morning, the horn from a car sounded outside right on time. Looking out the window, Hermione saw a faded blue Ford Anglia. “Mum! I’m off.”
“Okay darling, are you home for dinner?” Mrs Granger emerged from the kitchen to see her daughter off.
“Umm, I honestly have no idea,” Hermione replied as she tugged on her dull navy converse.
“Alright, well, just call me later when you know.” She smiled down at her daughter, secretly happy she had come more out of her shell and was making more friends.
“Hey, ‘Mione! You’re not going to believe this car!” Harry had half-climbed out the passenger window like a dog and was calling her over.
She laughed at the excitement of her friend and asked him to get out so she could climb in the back.
“Hey, Hermione,” Ron called from the driver’s seat.
“Aren’t you a little young to be driving?”
Both boys burst into laughter.
“What? You need to be seventeen to even learn to drive.”
“You’ll see.” Harry chuckled as he climbed back into his repositioned seat, still grinning.
When the car raised from the ground she saw what they were talking about. She also went into a panic for the first few minutes.
“Harry, you know I hate flying. Put us down. Ron put us down!”
“It’s much faster this way and we both know it. Besides, Ron is more than capable of flying this car.”
After this and many more reassurances, her nerves were finally eased enough for them all to finish the ride in peace. The landing did ignite Hermione’s already jittery nerves, though, and she was pleased to finally be on solid ground.
“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Ron smiled as he removed the keys from the ignition. “It’s about eleven now so Mum should be starting lunch soon.”
The Burrow – fondly named and inhabited by the Weasleys – was a comfortable and welcoming space. Mrs Weasley was by a lovely and welcoming woman, offering a hug to Harry immediately and a warm introduction to Hermione. “Good to see you Harry dear. You must be Hermione. Please call me Molly.”
Ginny came bursting in a few minutes later, “Harry, Ron, come on. Fred and George have already started a game.” Stealing Harry away through one of the doors which presumably led to the garden and left Hermione with the two Weasleys.
“Are you two hungry? I was just about to start lunch.”
“That’d be great thanks Mum, we’re just gonna go join the game.”
Mrs Weasley departed through the same door as Ginny and Harry to the kitchen. Hermione was about to follow when she felt Ron catch her shoulder.
“Listen, Hermione. I know you and I haven’t really got along so far in school but I would like to try to be friends.” His level of maturity struck Hermione, leaving her with a growing respect for the boy.
“That would be nice.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Now, lead the way. I have a game to ref.” She raised her hand, gesturing to Ron to proceed.
Once they reached the garden, Hermione saw that everyone had wasted no time beginning the game. Harry was playing as a team with Ginny and one of the two other boys against the remaining person.
“Come on, George! The point of being a beater is to actually hit a bludger!” Ron called as he climbed onto his broom and flew over to the game.
“Oi sod off Ron! Just because you know we’re going to kick your ass for the house cup again this year!” A voice cried from the hurtling bodies.
Hermione was left to watch, knowing the rules from when she helped Harry train. They cheated far too frequently for her to call every time they did but they were having fun. It was during one of the illegal shoves that a body came falling from its broom. Being so far up, Hermione was unable to distinguish its identity while jumping into action to cast a fast ‘arresto momentum’.
She didn’t see the figures above her head freeze, she didn’t see the trees as they themselves seemed to resist the pull of the wind and stand still, nor did she see herself as she ran to the fallen body. She only saw the crumpled figure sprawled on the grass and knew deep within herself that she needed to get to them. Adrenaline burnt through her, driving her forward faster as she grew closer and closer. She knelt beside the sprawl of ginger hair, too worried about possible injuries to turn them over. Her stomach burned with panic so immensely that all she could do was sit paralysed as the wounded person began to moan and shift. An eye and then a nose was revealed by the turning face and Hermione was confronted with the face of a handsome stranger. This was obviously one of Ron’s brothers whom she was yet to meet. She hadn’t anticipated him being so striking.
His face, still in the shocked expression it contorted to prior to the fall, began to twist in pain as the adrenaline wore off. “Ah bollocks, my ankle. I think I twisted it.”
The spell previously set on the world seemed to break as time began again.
Relief washed over Hermione as she realised he was not fatally injured, the twists in her stomach released but the burning sensation stayed. She assumed it was guilt over not saving him in time to protect his ankle.
“Don’t be so silly Fred. ‘Mione had you covered before you were fifty feet from the ground.” The boy’s doppelgänger called, landing his broom and dismounting.
Fred had begun to sit up but was thrown back in pain and clutched at his ankle, staring down at it in anger. “Well if I’m fine then why the hell does it sting so much when I move it?”
Hermione continued to sit silently as the two conversed.
“I don’t know, maybe you’re just being a baby! You didn’t even thank her for saving your arse!”
“Ahh leave off it George, I’m in serious pain here.”
“Yeah yeah, if you’re okay then we’re going to keep playing. Feel free to jump back in when you’re finished complaining.” George jumped smoothly onto his broom and flew away to meet the huddled group floating over their heads.
“Are- are you alright? Your ankle’s not too sore is it?” Hermione inquired, reaching down to inspect the ankle but he jerked it away before she could.
“Uhh, I don’t know. I didn’t think I landed on it funny but it stings like a son of a bitch,” The boy responded, finally releasing his pained look and ankle. As his eyes swept up to her face, her heart stopped. Her abdomen, which had previously been simmering, fired up to make her cry out in pain, folding over. Simultaneously, the boy yelled again, grabbing at his ankle.
“Weird.” He managed to spit through gritted teeth.
Hermione nodded as the pain again subsided.
“You must be Hermione. I’m Fred, Ron’s brother. Nice to meet you, though it’d be nicer to do so in different circumstances.”
“You too. Do you need to go inside to see to your ankle?” She stood, dusting herself off.
“That’d probably be wise. Help me up?” He reached out a slender hand to her in a request.
“Sure.” She grabbed his hand, ignoring the pain again as their hands connected and helped him back to the burrow to seek Molly’s aid.
She rushed to Fred and Hermione as they passed through the door after seeing their matching expressions of discomfort.
“Oh dear, what’s happened?”
“I think I sprained my ankle.”
“How did you- no bother. You boys have never been careful when you mess around on those brooms. Come over to the sofa, I’ll give it a look.”
Fred limped over to the couch, flopping down across it and leaving Hermione to try to stand while fighting against the still burning heat in her centre.
“Alrighty, let’s see the damage,” Molly announced far too cheerfully for either to appreciate. She slowly rolled up his trouser leg but was stopped before she could make even two folds.
“No, mum, it’s the other one.” Fred looked at his mother and cringed.
“Oh.” All expression dropped from her face. “Well, in that case, Hermione do you mind stepping out for a minute? This is a bit private, I hope you understand.”
“Uh- oh!” Realisation dawned on Hermione and she looked away, embarrassed. Fred’s mark must be on his ankle. “Oh yes, sorry. I’ll go to the kitchen, take all the time you need.” She turned and fled the room, wanting to be out of their hair as quickly as possible but somewhere deep in her urged her to stay, to make sure he was alright.
When in the safety of the kitchen with the door shut, she rested against the counter. Her stomach pain was yet to subside and she was growing more concerned. Nothing had happened to her so it couldn’t have been an injury yet the burning was ever-present. She tentatively raised the hem of her shirt and gasped. Her mark, which had once been black with grey tones, was exploding furiously in shades of orange, pink and yellow. It produced a dull glow from beneath her skin which appeared to be the source of the burning.
If both their marks had done the same thing when they had first met, that would mean.. No, it couldn’t be. She quickly dropped her shirt and rushed outside as she heard a surprised cry come from the front room.
“Harry, I need to go home right now.”
Harry had sped down the moment she had marched outside.
“What? Why? Did something happen? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine but I’d rather I left right now.”
“Alright, well, the burrow has a floo system in the front room if you want to –“
“No,” Her pain had begun the moment she had rushed to Fred, leaving a troublingly short list of reasons for this reaction that she didn’t want to face right now “Can’t we just fly home?”
“But you hate flying.” His tone was that of perplexity, she had sworn back in the first year to never again get on a broom.
“I really don’t care at the moment, I just need to leave.” She seemed near tears now and his confusion softened to an acceptance that was not without concern.
“Okay, hop on.”
She scrambled on, clutching desperately at Harry’s shirt as they took off.
“Ron, I’ll be back in about an hour!”
“What?” they heard Ron call back but they were already too far away to respond. They had been up and gone within a minute of Hermione rushing outside, an instant after Mrs Weasley rushed outside to retrieve the fleeing girl.
“You mind explaining what just happened?” Though his words were those of annoyance, his tone was soft, questioning. They had flown silently for almost the whole way before Harry spoke up.
“Nothing, I just needed to get home.” Hermione, exhausted from the adrenaline of the afternoon, was slumped onto his back, gripping his shirt uneasily.
“Alright then, don’t tell me. But don’t keep this bottled up, okay Hermione? Talk to someone.”