Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.
Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please practice understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.
Author's Note(s): This piece was a part of a larger collection and is now being published individually.
Competition/Challenge Block:
House: Gryffindor
Category: Romance Awareness Challenge (Soulmates)
Day [Challenge]: Day 02 [Soulmate Name Written on Body]
Prompt[s]: Rare
Word Count: 735
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Anything
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"In order to be happy oneself, it is necessary to make at least one other person happy." – Theodor Reik
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Harry hated the band Aunt Petunia insisted that he wear around his wrist ever since his soul-mark came in on his sixth birthday right on schedule. The band was itchy and always ended up smelling funny, no matter how careful he was. He knew why she insisted that he hide his soul-mark while Dudley could show everyone who asked (and many who didn't) the pretty curls of his soulmate's name. It was just another freakish thing about Harry that instead on a single name, there was two. To make it worse, one of them was a boy. Harry didn't mind that, but every time it was brought up, most adults put on their mad faces. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge were particularly vocal about how disgusting it was and how they always knew there was something funny about Harry.
As Harry watched the various kids in his school chase after each other to steal kisses from each other, he thought that maybe funny could also mean not wanting to steal any kisses from anyone. While the other boys had giggled over the puberty film they had to watch, Harry could barely understand what the narrator was talking about by special feelings. When Harry approached him afterwards, Mr. McKinney had just patted him on the head and told that he was just a late bloomer, that he would understand when he was older. The words felt like a lie, but Harry couldn't disprove them.
His favorite time of day was when he was alone in his cupboard and he could slip off that awful band to see the names beneath. The light was too dim for him to see the colors of those letters but he could trace the old-fashioned but crisp script of Neville and the delicate swirls of Luna. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel them. He knew it was freakish to do that. No one was supposed to be able to feel their soulmate before they met. Like picking at a scab, Harry lived for that impossible touch. Neville was steady and warm, like resting on a sunny rock; Luna was cool and cleansing, like swimming in a pond or stream. On the days when things were really bad, just the brush against the marks would keep Harry going.
When his family reminded him how useless a burden he was, Harry would hold tight to the knowledge that somewhere out there he had not one soulmate but two waiting for him and that was a rare and wonderful thing. He held fast to that promise. His family may not like him but somewhere out there were two people who would no matter what. All he had to do was find them and he could have a family who cared. He would spend every moment of his life making sure they had everything they ever needed so that they'd never have reason to think Harry was a burden. He would protect from every danger or scary thing so that they'd never think he was useless.
It was a pie-crust promise, easily made and easily broken. Harry read a lot when he was hiding in the library from Dudley. He knew it wouldn't be simple to keep that promise. The world was a horrible place. But for them, Harry would do anything.
Meeting his Neville ripped out Harry's heart. Going to Hogwarts had seemed so magical, so hopeful. When Hermione Granger had dragged the nervous-looking blond into the compartment that Ron and Harry had been sharing, Harry had felt the electrical tingle in the corresponding mark. When Neville had looked at his wrist confusedly, Harry hadn't worried, not then. The possibility of anything going wrong had never occurred to him, despite knowing how rare multiple soulmates were.
"Are either of you secretly a girl?" Neville had asked, making Harry's gut freeze and Ron sputter a denial. The new boy held up his exposed wrist and the delicate pale-blue swirls of the name there. Every twist of each letter was achingly familiar to Harry and each was a twist to the dagger that now resided in his heart. Only years of training under the Dursleys' care kept the tears at bay.
Harry steeled his resolve. For them, he would do anything.
Including let them go.
Years later, the word echoed through his mind as Voldemort fired that ugly green spell at him.
Anything.
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The End
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