Prompt:
Beauty Therapy— Task 3: Write about hiding something.
Word Count: 4662
This is a Soulmate!AU.
Thank you to Elizabeth and Jane for beta'ing!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All rights go to J.K. Rowling.
Molly Prewett.
Arthur traced the elegant calligraphy etched onto the back of his left wrist with a trembling finger, being careful to hide it under his desk so no one else would see it. He bit his lip, feeling shame and despair snake around his heart once again. He sighed. No one had ever told him that the whole soulmate thing would be this complicated.
Molly was...bright. She was fierce, vivacious, bold, and beautiful. Everywhere she went, gazes were drawn to her. She was as intimidating as she was kind, as demanding as she was generous, and Arthur was utterly in love with her.
The only problem was, she didn't know him. And she couldn't, not yet. He would never be able to approach her, to reveal he was her soulmate, when he was himself. Arthur Weasley, the failure, the eccentric, the weirdo, the untalented—
"Mr. Weasley, it would benefit you greatly to pay attention to this lecture."
Professor Slughorn's reprimand snapped Arthur out of his thoughts. Feeling his ears burn red in embarrassment and shame, Arthur murmured, "Sorry, Professor."
Slughorn stared at him for a moment, his gaze unimpressed and disinterested. Arthur was sure that he was going to take away house points from Gryffindor, and he sank slightly lower in his seat, unable to look the Potion's instructor in the eye. Finally, Slughorn turned his attention back to the potion he had been droning on about and said, "Be sure that it doesn't happen again."
Arthur nodded, even though he knew Slughorn couldn't see him. As Slughorn continued the lesson, Arthur sat back up and lifted his quill to his parchment to take notes. Merlin, he didn't even know what potion Slughorn was talking about; he'd have to ask someone later.
He risked a glance at Molly Prewett, who was sitting a few rows to his left. She wasn't looking at him, of course; she never did. Arthur snuck worried glances in her direction for the rest of the lesson, pondering what he could do to make himself worthy of being her soulmate.
The next morning, Arthur was nearly vibrating from excitement. There was an enthusiastic bounce in every step he took as he made his way from the Great Hall to the Muggle Studies classroom. If Arthur was being honest, he'd gladly give up every other class if it meant he could spend all of his time learning about Muggle culture and inventions. Magic was beautiful—really, it was, and he couldn't be happier to be a wizard—but the ways Muggles created things, without magic, to solve their problems, to make their lives easier? It was incredible.
Arthur was almost to his classroom when he felt a hand suddenly grip his shoulder and spin him around. The Gryffindor barely held in a groan when he found himself face-to-face with Lucius Malfoy, who was smirking at Arthur.
"Hello, Weasley," he said, tone dripping with faux sweetness. "Where are you going so happily?"
"Just to class, Malfoy," Arthur replied, irritated. He tried to wrench himself from Lucius' grip, but the Slytherin had a tight hold on him.
Lucius laughed, and his cronies, who Arthur had just noticed were standing behind him, joined in. The stouter one, Crabbe, asked, "What, to Muggle Studies?"
Insecurity—and even a little shame—caused Arthur's stomach to tighten. "Yes," he said, hoping that none of his peers heard the slight waver in his voice.
They laughed again. "If you want to be a Muggle so badly, Weasley, why don't you just drop out?" Lucius jeered. Arthur didn't respond, but he looked down at his feet, slightly embarrassed of his passion. Still laughing, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle moved past him to get to their own class, each of them purposefully bumping shoulders with Arthur on their way.
As they turned the corner, Arthur could hear Goyle say, "Merlin, do I feel bad for his soulmate."
Arthur stood still for another moment, not bothering to try and stop those words from sinking in; after all, it was nothing he didn't worry about daily. Arthur was obsessed with Muggles and everything about them. Everyone who knew him knew this. He had a passion for learning about them the same way some people had a passion for Herbology or Defense Against the Dark Arts. And, yes, Arthur liked learning about these subjects, too, but they didn't give him the same magical feeling, ironically enough.
Arthur shook his head; he needed to get to class. He walked through the corridors quickly, apologizing quietly to anyone he happened to bump into on the way. He made it to his desk in record time, and was already in the process of pulling out some parchment and a quill when he sat down.
As he set an inkwell on his desk, he heard Molly Prewett's voice coming from his right. She was talking with two of her friends, Freya Hart and Iris Byrne—and it sounded like they were discussing soulmates. Arthur stilled and listened.
"Do you have a soulmark, Molly? Or does your soulmate have it?" asked Freya.
"I don't have one," Molly answered. She sounded slightly frustrated. "I must be the younger one. I wish whoever it was would hurry up and tell me, though. It feels like I should have met them by now! I'm starting to think that they don't got to Hogwarts."
Iris piped in. "Maybe they're just shy."
Arthur could practically hear Molly's eyeroll. "We're soulmates; they're really isn't anything that they should be worried about."
That's easy for you to say, Arthur thought, but not everyone is as incredible as you.
"I suppose they could be a Muggle," Iris mused. "Do you think you'd mind that, Molly?"
"Um...I don't think so. But I really won't know for sure until I meet them and get to know them, you know?"
Freya sighed. "I think I'd want my soulmate to be a Quidditch player. There's just something so attractive about them…"
Arthur tuned the rest of the conversation out. His heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of his chest. Molly was getting impatient. Part of him wished that she was older than him because he was sure that she could handle the responsibility of introducing herself as someone's soulmate better than he could. But at the same time, there was a part of him that whispered that she'd never let him know she was his soulmate, not when he was Arthur Weasley.
Even after their lesson on Muggle transportation began, Arthur couldn't stop his thoughts from going in a downwards spiral, no matter how fascinating he found a-row-planes to be. His bottom lip was drawn between his teeth, and although he knew he would draw blood if he didn't stop soon, he couldn't help but continue to do it. How could he make himself brave enough to go up to Molly and show her his soulmark? How could he become someone she would want to bring into her life, not just someone fate made her drag along?
He was sorting through different ideas, but none of them seemed like a good plan until something Freya said came to the surface of his mind. Quidditch. Quidditch players had it all—they were popular, talented, and anyone would be glad to be their soulmate. Arthur didn't even have to be the best Quidditch player on the Pitch, just good enough to play in the first place. Besides, how hard could throwing and catching a few balls be?
As it turned out, it was very hard. Very, very hard.
Arthur was groaning on the ground. He had fallen off his broom for perhaps the fourth time, and he still hadn't managed to catch the Quaffle once.
Fabian leaned over him. "You all right, mate?"
Arthur winced as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Yeah, I'm all right. Let's go again."
Fabian exchanged a look with his twin, Gideon. He turned back to Arthur. Hesitantly, he asked, "Arthur, are you sure? I just think that maybe Quidditch isn't your...thing."
Arthur knew it was the truth, but he was stubborn. "Anyone can become good at anything if they try hard enough." This had been his mantra for the past two hours, and he really hoped that saying it out loud would somehow make it true.
"Okay," Gideon said, "but that doesn't mean you have to be good at everything. You don't even seem like you're enjoying it all that much."
Gideon was right; Arthur wasn't having any fun. How so many people enjoyed balancing on a thin broomstick while flying through the air, constantly dodging Bludgers and trying to get the Quaffle past the Keeper, was beyond him. Honestly, it kind of felt like torture. He'd watch it anytime, but playing it? Definitely not his cup of tea.
But he needed to be less Arthur and more...Well, more anyone else. More like Fabian and Gideon, maybe. He stood all the way up. "I'm fine," he repeated firmly. "Let's go again."
The Prewett brothers sighed, but they remounted their broomsticks and kicked off into the air. Arthur hurried to follow suit, his remount and kickoff both clumsy at best.
Arthur's hands gripped the broomhandle tightly. He squinted at Fabian, who was holding a Quaffle, ready to toss it to Arthur. Arthur inhaled and exhaled deeply. He could do this. All he had to do was catch the stupid ball without losing his balance. That was the first step. He locked his arms, but he only felt slightly less off balance than before. Regardless, he called out, "I'm ready!"
Fabian didn't look like he believed Arthur, but he gently threw the Quaffle at him anyway. Arthur quickly let go of the broomstick with one hand with the intention of catching and then trapping the ball against his chest. It didn't work. He released his hold on his broomstick too quickly, and then when he leaned forward to try to catch the Quaffle, he threw himself off balance. He fumbled with the Quaffle on his way down for the fifth time, and he was once again grateful for Gideon's insistence on staying only a couple meters in the air as he landed in a heap on the ground.
Frustration was building within him. Why couldn't he do this? Nearly every other witch or wizard played this game for fun all the time, so why was he so different?
He rubbed his shoulder, bruised but not dislocated or broken, which he counted as a win. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two seventh years come towards him. Gideon reached out a hand to pull him up, which Arthur greatly appreciated. He was turning back around to reach again for the broom he was using when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder and hold him in place.
"Stop, Arthur."
It was Fabian. He turned around to look at his housemate, confused. "What—"
"Why are you doing this?" Fabian interrupted, his tone not unkind.
Arthur felt his ears start to burn, and he prayed that the Prewett twins would think it was because of the sun, but he knew them better than that. "I just wanted to try Quidditch," he replied weakly.
They each raised a red eyebrow a him in disbelief. It was a little unnerving how they did it simultaneously like that, but he'd gotten used to it over the years. "Tell us the truth," Gideon requested.
Arthur bit his lip. He could feel his blush spreading across his face, and he wished, not for the first time, that he had some way of covering it up. He couldn't tell Fabian and Gideon that he was trying to become someone Molly would like, or that Molly was his soulmate. They were her brothers, and Arthur didn't even want to think about what they'd say if they found out that Arthur Weasley was their little sister's soulmate. Arthur considered the twins friends, and he didn't want to ruin that friendship on top of everything else.
But he had to tell the twins something. "There's...this girl?" That sounded way too uncertain for his liking.
The Prewett brothers blinked in surprise. "Your soulmate?" Gideon asked.
Arthur nodded and pulled at the glove he wore to cover his soulmark.
If Fabian or Gideon noticed the action, he didn't make it known. Instead, Fabian said offhandedly, "Sounds like a pretty awful soulmate if she's trying to make you change yourself."
"It's not like that," Arthur replied hurriedly. "I just...I don't want…" He struggled to find a good excuse. "I just...I know that we don't have a whole lot in common, but I heard her talking about how much she likes playing Quidditch, so I thought I'd try to play it so I'd have something to do with her after I tell her who I am." Please, Arthur thought, please let that work.
By some miracle, it did. Fabian and Gideon smiled at him. Gideon clapped him on the back. "You should have just said, mate," he said. "Still, though. You gave it your best shot, and I think it's pretty clear that you're better suited and would prefer to be in the stands, not on the Pitch."
Arthur laughed a little awkwardly. "Yeah, I would say so."
"She won't mind," Fabian reassured him, "if she's your soulmate. I'm sure you'll have plenty to discuss and do together without Quidditch."
Arthur smiled, but his heart was sinking. "Thanks, mates."
Each Prewett brother threw an arm over Arthur's shoulder, and together they started walking him back towards the castle. "Let's get something to eat," Fabian suggested. Gideon whooped, and that was the end of Arthur's Quidditch attempt.
Arthur couldn't believe this. She was sitting right there!
He was sitting in his usual seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, people watching, when Molly Prewett and her friends sat down across the table from him, just a few seats to his right. If he really wanted to, Arthur could say something to them, and they'd hear.
Of course, he was by no means ready for that. He checked to make sure that his sleeve was still covering his soulmark. It was. Arthur turned back to his toast, wishing he'd brought that book from the library about different Muggle expressions and their origins. He had left it behind on purpose, though, in fear of being accused of wanting to be a Muggle again.
Apparently, it was all for naught. Lucius seemed to have a gift for targeting Arthur when it would get him down the most, and this morning was no exception.
A hand slammed down on the table next to him. His plate rattled, but Arthur hardly flinched. He pushed his glasses further up his nose before turning around to face Lucius.
"Yes?" he asked quietly.
"I just wanted to see how Hogwarts' resident Muggle was doing. So, Weasley, how are you?" Malfoy sneered at him.
Arthur could feel the tips of his ears going red, and he was about to open his mouth to tell Malfoy to bugger off when Molly's voice interrupted.
"Why don't you just leave him alone, Malfoy? He hasn't done anything to you!"
Both Arthur and Lucius turned towards her in shock. No one, in all of his six years at school, had ever tried to stand up for him. It wasn't that he always let himself take what was thrown at him; he did know how to stand up for himself. But sometimes Lucius knew exactly what to say to get through his defenses. It was nice to have someone speak up, and now was one of those times. If Molly wasn't careful, Arthur would fall head over heels for her faster than he already was.
"He's a freak," Lucius replied, looking at Molly with distaste. "He'd rather spend all his time learning about Muggles than magic!"
She was quite lovely when she was angry, Arthur decided. Molly's brown eyes were full of rage and indignation, and there was a light pink flush to her cheeks. "So? If that's what he likes, that's what he likes." She narrowed her eyes at Lucius. "I will remind you, Malfoy, that you are currently at the Gryffindor table, and I am sure that there is no shortage of people here who would gladly hex you, given the chance. Now, leave."
Her voice was so authoritative, even Lucius Malfoy felt the need to obey her. He jeered one last time at Arthur, and then he was on his way.
Despite how grateful he was to Molly, the situation was still embarrassing. Arthur was sure that his blush had spread across his face by now, and he hurried to gather his bag and leave the Great Hall.
"Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry for interfering, but I—"
He cut Molly off. "No, no. Thank you. I mean it. You didn't have to do any of that." He risked a glance at Molly, which turned out to be a mistake because her brown eyes immediately trapped his blue. Arthur felt his face heat up even more. It wasn't that he was shy; just awkward. He swallowed. "Thank you," he said again.
Molly smiled warmly at him. "Of course."
They stared at each other for a moment, both apparently unsure of what to say to the other. Then Arthur's mouth quirked up in an almost-smile and he turned and left the Great Hall, head spinning.
The school year progressed and ended, and summer with it. Despite all of his efforts, Arthur still couldn't seem to do anything to make himself a little less odd and more...mainstream. Now he was in Diagon Alley to shop before his seventh year at Hogwarts began. He had one year, one, to make himself someone Molly would want to be soulmates with, someone who would never disappoint her in any way.
Arthur took a deep breath. If his mother found out, she might kill him. Even he was a little uneasy about his latest purchase. He'd bought a new set of robes with the money he'd been saving to help him along after he graduated. He was hoping that he would look more presentable, less raggedy, and wouldn't stand out as much with newer robes. Madam Malkin herself had looked at Arthur strangely when he had purchased them because she knew the type of robes he usually bought. She'd even emphasized that he could always return them as long as they were still in excellent condition. He felt a little guilty about getting something he didn't really need, but he did his best to push the guilt aside.
As he was walking out of Madam Malkin's, he saw a little girl clutching a doll to her chest. She seemed to be five or six years old, and she was hanging on tightly to her mother's hand as they walked alongside the father and eleven-year-old brother.
Arthur was excited. They were obviously a Muggle family; their clothing, the girl's doll, and the overwhelmed and lost looks on their faces told him as much. Always eager to learn about Muggles and enticed by the opportunity to help someone, Arthur made his way over to the family, forgetting for just a moment about his own troubles.
"Excuse me, do you need any help?" Arthur asked when he got close enough to them.
The parents looked at him in obvious relief. "Yes—are you a wizard?" the mother asked, slightly hesitantly.
Arthur smiled brightly. "Yeah, I am. Can I help you get anywhere?"
"Please," the mother said, looking relieved. "Do you know where we can find Ollivander's? It's our last stop."
"I'll take you there!" Arthur said. "It's right this way."
The family thanked him again and followed. As they were walking, the boy asked Arthur many questions about Hogwarts and what it was like to be a wizard, all of which Arthur replied to enthusiastically. It was only after the mother walked into Ollivander's with her son that Arthur's excitement really began, however.
The little girl, whose name turned out to be Lottie, somehow snagged her doll on the branch of a bush as she was walking to move to the other side of her father. When she tried to tug it free, her doll spoke.
"I love you!"
Arthur jumped. "Did your doll talk?" he asked Lottie.
Looking slightly embarrassed, Lottie nodded.
"That is wicked!" Arthur exclaimed. "She's not a magic doll, right?"
Lottie smiled at the question a little, like she thought it was funny, but Arthur was being completely serious. "No, she's not magical," Lottie told him.
Arthur crouched down so he was at Lottie's eye level. "Can you show me how it works?" he asked eagerly.
Lottie nodded happily. She let go of her father's hand and turned her doll around so Arthur could see its back. There was a ring attached to a string hanging from the doll's back. This must have been the part that caught on the bush. "Look," Lottie said. "You pull the ring—" she demonstrated, "—and then you let go, and she talks!"
"Will you play with me?" the doll said.
Arthur gasped. "Lottie," he said, "you have the most amazing doll in the whole world! Muggles are incredible. They've created so many bizarre things without any magic, at all!" Arthur cut himself off before he could begin ranting, but his smile still stretched across his face.
Lottie giggled. "Thank you, Arthur."
Arthur talked with Lottie and her father some more until Lottie's mother and brother exited the shop. The family thanked Arthur once again for helping them, and then they went their separate ways.
Before Arthur could take more than a couple steps, a voice called out to him.
"That was really sweet of you."
Arthur looked to his left and saw Molly Prewett. Her flaming red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight. She looked lovely.
He made his way over to her. "Thanks, Molly," he said. "It was really my pleasure, though."
She smiled at him. "I could tell. That little girl was very happy that you were taking such an interest in her doll."
Oh, Merlin, did she think he was weird? Probably. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. "Yeah, I just...I find Muggle things to be really fascinating, and her doll spoke when you pulled a string, so…" Arthur trailed off awkwardly.
"It was sweet," Molly repeated. She glanced downwards, and something seemed to catch her eye. "Oh," she said, sounding mildly surprised, "is that your soulmark?"
Arthur's eyes shot down to his left wrist, where the M of his soulmark was visible. "Y-yeah," he stuttered, tugging down his shirt sleeve.
Molly looked curious. "Have you told your soulmate yet?"
He shook his head slowly. "No, I haven't."
"Oh, I suppose you might not have met them yet."
Arthur's heart was running a marathon in his chest. "I've already met her," he whispered hoarsely.
Molly's eyes widened in surprise. "Then why haven't you told her? I bet she's dying to meet you! I know I'm dying to meet my soulmate."
Guilt gnawed at his insides. "I guess I'm not quite ready yet to let them know it's me."
Molly looked confused. "Why? Anyone would be lucky to have a guy like you!"
Arthur, who had been avoiding her gaze, snapped his head up to look at Molly in surprise. "What?" he asked dumbly.
There was a light pink blush staining her cheekbones. It seemed it was her turn to stutter. "Well, I-I just mean that you're a good person to have. You're nice, funny. You're very smart, too, and you always help people out. I'm sure that your soulmate, whoever she is, will count herself very lucky to be destined to be with you."
Arthur bit his lip. He couldn't stop staring at Molly, and he was sure that there was a hint of sadness in her brown eyes, hiding amidst all the honesty he saw there. In that moment, Arthur decided he would never get a better chance than this. Swallowing thickly, he blurted out, "Your soulmate thinks he's lucky to be with you, too."
Molly's jaw dropped. "You know him?!" she nearly screeched.
Arthur grinned sheepishly and continued. "Yes. I also know that he's really sorry it's taken him so long to tell you. I was afraid what your reaction was going to be." Before Molly could say anything, Arthur moved to stand on her left. He held out his left arm in front of them both and showed her what was written there in elegant calligraphy. Molly Prewett.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Arthur said nervously, "I wasn't sure how you'd react because, well, I'm not exactly what most people think of when they picture their perfect soulmate."
Molly was still looking at her name on his arm. "My soulmate is Arthur Weasley," she murmured softly. She reached out a finger to delicately run over the letters, and Arthur shivered.
He bit his lip again. "I'm so—"
Molly's hand slapped over his mouth. "Don't you dare apologize, Arthur," she ordered. "This is the best day of my life."
His heart started to thud again. "It is?" he asked, voice muffled.
Molly uncovered his mouth and beamed at him. "Of course it is! My soulmate is none other than Arthur Weasley."
Her smile was so bright, and she said his name with so much fondness and affection. "I'm glad you're so happy, Molly."
She placed a hand on his bicep. "Oh, Arthur. I could never be disappointed that it was you." Amusement sparked in her eyes as something seemed to occur to her. "Is that why you were trying to play Quidditch?" she asked. "Because you thought I wouldn't be happy with having you?"
Arthur groaned and felt his ears burn red again. "Fabian and Gideon told you, did they?"
She laughed loudly. Some people might say too loudly, but Arthur immediately fell in love with the sound. "I was so jealous," she told him, "that you were trying to impress some other girl. If I'd known it was me, I'd have marched down to the Quidditch Pitch and told you myself that you didn't need to play Quidditch in order to make me like you. I already like you, for you."
"That means a lot to me," Arthur confided.
Molly smiled, and he definitely saw just the smallest trace of sadness in it. "I know it does. I don't know all there is to know about you yet, but I know that much." Her hand traveled up to rest on his shoulder. "And, in a funny way, it means a lot to me that you care enough about what I think to try to do those things, even if I never want you to do anything like that ever again. Understood?"
Arthur laughed, happily, this time. "Understood."
"Good."
And then soft lips were pressed firmly against his, just for a moment. The kiss was short and sweet, only a peck, and it meant the world to Arthur. He was grinning like a fool by the time Molly pulled away. "I'll finish shopping with you," he said giddily, "right after I return these." He lifted up the bag he was holding that contained the new set of robes.
Molly laughed. She gave Arthur's shoulder a final squeeze before stepping away. "I'll be waiting right here."
Arthur didn't think his smile could grow any larger, but somehow it did. He practically raced to Madam Malkin's and back, and he gently grasped Molly's hand in his when he reached her again. Taking a chance, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "Are you ready, Molly Prewett?"
She leaned against his shoulder. Her gaze landed once again on Arthur's soulmark, which was still uncovered. "Most definitely, Arthur Weasley."