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“None of us noticed?” Hermione touched the crook of her arm lightly, “Seriously? That’s unbelievable.”
“I mean, I definitely didn’t,” Ron replied through a mouthful of chocolate.
Hermione grimaced.
It was their ‘eighth year’ at Hogwarts, the three of them, among others, had returned to properly complete their studies. It was a good thing too, even with them there, the castle was quieter. At meal times there were fewer people at the tables, and more space between them. What used to be a time of loud and unceasing chatter was instead full of small and nervous murmurs. The first years were more eager, happier, but even they couldn’t account for the silence left by those who hadn’t returned. Not everyone had been willing to return to Hogwarts after the war. Many weren’t given the opportunity.
The Gryffindor common room, which once would have been bustling with activity at this time of the day, was nearly empty except for a few hushed groups scattered among the cushy chairs and hidden in the flickering shadows. They’d gotten used to it though.
“It was our first day here, I was so excited I didn’t think to check all day, and then it was run out,” Ron continued obliviously, his mouth still full. It was disgusting, Harry thought as he tried not to look, catching Hermione doing the same.
“It was the same for me,” Hermione sighed, “it’s not a very reliable system is it?”
“It seems to work fine for everyone else,” Harry grouched, glancing bitterly at Dean and Seamus, who were tucked into a corner, whispering conspiratorially. They’d been paying attention, they’d known they were soulmates as soon as their marks had stopped moving. At least he wasn’t alone though, Ron and Hermione were in the dark too, and that was comforting to some degree.
“When did yours stop?” Hermione asked, because he’d never told them. The subject hadn’t really come up when they were younger, once they’d missed it…oh well, that was it. No need to ponder on it all the time, Harry did anyway of course, but it could only make it worse.
Harry sighed and rolled up his left sleeve to look at the swirly mark, shaped roughly like an hourglass, still and stationary since he was eleven, the ink settled in a spiral at the bottom. “I don’t really know,” he paused sullenly, thinking back to the moment he’d noticed.
Harry sat on his bed, back at Privet drive, watching Hedwig in her cage to convince himself that it wasn’t a dream. It had been such a long and wonderful day, everything felt flat now that it was over. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s anger had simmered down, and now they were just frustratedly resigned. That fact was probably thanks to the fact that they were preoccupied by trying to explain to various doctors why their son had a pig tail, and figuring out how to get it removed.
“How much will it cost?…anything of course…what do you mean?...you can’t–...you just said!…DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN.”
He turned his wand over in his hands with admiration, that’s when he realised; the mark on his arm was still. He stopped breathing for a moment.
“What…” he whispered under his breath, touching the mark reverently before… “Who?”
He tried to think through every person he’d spoken to, but there were too many. Tons of other people had been in Diagon Alley while he was there. There were those students at Flourish and Blotts, buying the same books as him, and then the kids who were gathered in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. None of them had stood out to him. None of them had taken his breath away or anything like that, were they supposed to? Shouldn’t he have noticed?
There was nothing he could do anymore…oh, there was nothing he could do. He’d missed his soulmate.
“Harry?” Hermione’s voice cut through his reverie.
He shook away his thoughts, “It must have been when I first visited Diagon Alley, but I didn’t notice it until the next day. I was so wrapped up in the revelation that I was a wizard, looking for my soulmate slipped my mind.”
Hermione nodded, she understood, her and Ron had done nearly the same exact thing, “do you think we’ll ever know?”
“How could we?”
“Maybe our soulmates noticed…” she stared into the fire wistfully.
“Sure would be nice to know.” Ron mused, his eyes on Hermione.
“Some people say you’re supposed to notice it, to feel something,” she seemed to be searching her memories for any sort of moment where she might have known.
Harry did the same.
Malfoy sank into a seat beside Harry. Ever since the war he’d been a part of their group, when someone defies the Dark Lord for you, it’s not like you can keep hating them. He knew all the passwords to Gryffindor tower, a lot of people did. There was a lot less divide between the houses now after all they’d been through together.
“Why the long faces?” Malfoy asked, his tone was still vaguely arrogant, but he didn’t act like it anymore, and that was a plus.
“Soulmates,” Hermione said, her mind clearly elsewhere.
“Oh?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow, almost like he didn’t notice the tremor in his voice.
Harry leaned closer, following a habit of hushed voices, almost like the air was fragile after the war, especially with Malfoy, “We all missed our timers.”
Malfoy stiffened, “oh,” his face was blank, staring at the wall like it might break him to look anywhere else. None of them noticed though.
“What about yours?” Ron asked, finally looking away from Hermione, “how much d’ya think is left?”
It wasn’t an exact science, just like an hourglass, since you didn’t know how long it would be, you couldn’t tell exactly how much time was left.
“It…” Malfoy cleared his throat, “it already ran out,” his voice was timid, dragging out of him regretfully.
Hermione’s gaze snapped to him, “really? Who is it?” She leaned in, “do you know?”
He slumped slightly, “no,” he replied, but he didn’t make eye contact with any of them.
Hermione huffed, “does anybody catch it?”
“Loads of people do,” Ron flicked the corner of his wizard card, “I’m just a fool I s’pose.”
“Don’t say that!” She put a hand on his arm, “it’s so easy to miss.”
Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Malfoy, “when did yours run out?”
Malfoy looked at him like he’d just been betrayed, like it was the cruelest thing that anybody had ever said to him, because, well, in his mind it was.
Then he stood up abruptly, and left.
“Bloody–” Ron stared after him, “what was that about?”
Harry stared quizzically at the portrait hole. What had he said wrong? “Should I…?”
“Give him space,” Hermione assured him.
---
Harry soon regretted listening to Hermione, “Malfoy!” He shouted, racing after him for the hundredth time, just after transfiguration, but when he turned the corner Malfoy’s blond head was nowhere to be seen.
“Still avoiding us, is he?” Ron appeared at Harry’s side as he caught his breath.
“Clearly,” Harry gestured to the hallway, which was completely devoid of Malfoy.
It had only been a day, but Harry already missed him. He coughed at the thought. No, he just missed…he missed his sarcastic contributions to the conversation, not Malfoy, that would be ridiculous.
“I don’t know what I did,” he sighed resignedly. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Harry always knew what had set Malfoy off, and he could usually apologize for it, but now he had no clue.
Ron scoffed, “you breathed, he’s touchy, he’ll cool off.”
“It’s not the first time,” Hermione added.
She was right, but this time was different. Usually he’d just ignore them, not run away from them at every turn. The memory of his expression when he’d rushed away flashed in Harry’s mind, he’d looked hurt. Harry knew he’d done something wrong, but not what it was.
---
The next morning Malfoy showed up at breakfast. He didn’t sit by Harry.
“Welcome back,” Ron muttered.
“Shut it Weasley.”
Harry stared at Malfoy, considering in his mind. He shouldn’t ask him what he’d done wrong, that would make it worse, but should he apologize? Could he? He didn’t even know…Malfoy’s hair flopped over his eyes as he stared at the table. He’d stopped using copious amounts of hair gel since the war, Harry’s lips tugged into a smile.
Then he caught himself. What was wrong with him? There were more serious things to do than admire Malfoy’s hair. Wait–had he been admiring Malfoy’s hair?
He shouldn’t say anything, that would make it worse. Malfoy was warming up, he should just let him. Right?
---
Later, after History of Magic, Harry made the mistake of speaking to him.
“Did you catch whatever he said about Julius Caesar?” Harry asked Malfoy as they left the class.
“I’m not talking to you, Potter,” Malfoy snapped, and stormed away.
Harry stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before he had the sense to chase after him.
“Malfoy, stop!” He finally caught him, grabbing his arm, Malfoy flinched, “what did I do?”
That same expression crossed his face, betrayal, that’s what it was. Was he–was Malfoy crying?
“Leave me alone, I can’t–” his words sounded strangled, “I can’t do this right now,” he pulled his arm out of Harry’s grasp, and walked away.
---
“He really cried?” Ron was incredulous.
“Yes Ron,” Harry snapped, “dammit I knew something was off, why didn’t I–” Harry cut himself off sharply, not knowing what he should have done.
Hermione stayed silent for a few seconds, “maybe he’s upset with himself?”
Harry thought about it, that was sometimes the case, but no, “he looked like I’d just told him I hated him, or something,” Harry shook his head, “I’ve upset him.”
“I don’t think it’s nearly this complicated,” Ron piped in unhelpfully, “he does this all the time, he gets upset, he ignores us, and then he goes back to normal,”
Hermione ignored him, “what was it you asked him the other day? When this started?”
“I asked when his timer had run out,” Harry said, not understanding how that was important.
Hermione thought about it for a few seconds, then Harry saw it, the moment she figured it out, “well I’ll be,” she muttered.
“What?” Harry asked, but Hermione hesitated, “Hermione,” Harry said warningly, if she didn’t just tell him already–
She gave in, “when did you first meet Malfoy again?”
It wasn’t an outright answer but– “shit.” Harry muttered, his eyes widening, “I have to, where’s the map?” he rummaged around in his bag.
“What?” Ron asked, finally interested in the conversation again, “why d’ya need the map?”
Harry whipped around to face him, “do you have it? Where is it?”
“I don’t have it!” Ron put his hands up defensively.
Hermione pulled it out of Harry’s bag, “it’s right here Harry,” she held it out to him.
“Oh,” he glanced at Ron sheepishly, “sorry Ron–”
“Go!” Hermione interrupted, shoving him towards the portrait hole.
---
Malfoy was on the bridge, it was bitingly cold, but he didn’t seem to care. When Harry found him, he hesitated. Did Malfoy know? He had to, why hadn’t he said anything?
It made sense though, Malfoy. He’d always been on Harry’s mind, even when he hated him. Had he ever really hated him? And then there was the little things, awkward eye contact across the quidditch pitch, moments when they ran into each other for seemingly no reason.
Then when Malfoy had thrown Harry his wand, even when they were enemies, even though he should have killed him instead. He had known, and even if he hadn’t, you couldn’t ever kill your soulmate, something in you would protest, you’d know it was wrong. Or that’s what Harry thought anyway.
Harry’s heart was thundering in his ears and he could hardly hear the crunch of the Autumn leaves beneath his feet.
He finally walked up to him, “Malfoy–”
“Potter, just leave me alone.” Malfoy flinched away, “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Harry felt like crying–it was so obvious, how had he not noticed it? “Malfoy just listen to me. Please.”
He must have heard the tremor in his voice, because he didn’t walk away, didn’t respond, just…waited.
Harry scrubbed at his eyes. He would not cry. He refused to cry.
“I didn’t know,” he finally choked out, “I didn’t, I swear I didn’t–”
It really did, it made so much sense, even if he used to hate him, fuck–he used to hate his soulmate, how oblivious was he?
Malfoy let out a shocked noise, “You…didn’t?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry shoved him in the chest, “this whole time, I thought–” he made a sort of strangled sobbing noise.
Malfoy stumbled back from the force, his face crumpling slightly. "I didn’t know at first,” he mumbled, “not for a while,”
“Then why didn’t you tell me!” Harry shoved him again, sending Malfoy stumbling back once more.
“I thought you knew, I thought–" Malfoy was crying too.
“Thought what? Thought that I knew who my fucking soulmate was and what? I hated him? I’d rather be alone?” Harry almost laughed from the ridiculousness of it, but he was already crying, and he was angry too, all this time…
“Yes…” a single tear dripped off of his chin and fell to the ground.
Harry’s anger dissipated, his shoulders going slack, “you thought I–” he stopped midsentence, and the silence stretched out.
Malfoy nodded.
“Draco–”
He finally looked at Harry.
“I didn’t know.” Harry whispered.
Then he was hugging him and they were both sobbing. Harry wrapped his arms around him and Draco melted into the hug. There was definitely snot on Harry’s robe. But then again, there might have been some on Draco’s too.
They finally pulled away, both taking deep shuddering breaths, and then beginning to laugh.
“We’re pathetic,” Harry said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robes.
“That’s disgusting," Draco gestured at Harry’s sleeve.
“Well just because your nose is perfectly clean after you wiped it all over my robes–”
“I did no such thing!”
Harry was laughing too hard to reply, until he grew more serious, “Draco I never would have asked…y’know, if I’d known,” he paused, “If I’d known, well–”
“Harry,” Draco interrupted, “I know.”
“Good,” Harry replied, his ears pink from a blush, he didn’t think Draco had ever called him by his first name before. He took Draco’s hand, interlacing their fingers. His hand was freezing, and Harry wondered how long Draco had been out there. “Can we go inside? It’s cold.”
“Mhm,” Draco smiled at their intertwined hands, “but first–”
He kissed Harry softly. Harry froze for a moment, too shocked to react, until he kissed him back, his free hand finding Draco’s waist, while Draco’s tangled in his hair.
Everything was perfect, for a moment.
Then they pulled away, “you’re cute and all but I’m really cold,” Harry announced.
Draco turned scarlet.
“You’re not embarrassed that your own soulmate called you cute?” Harry nudged him with his shoulder as they began to walk towards the castle.
Draco spluttered “I–I just didn’t–”
And then they were both laughing again, their intertwined hands swinging between them. Finally.