I just had this idea randomly one day, and now I've decided to act upon it and write the story. I hope you enjoy! I rather like the topic of soulmates, it's interesting.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Draco Malfoy never believed in soulmates.

He never accepted the fact that exactly one person was right for exactly one other person. It was ludicrous, too, to think that even if soulmates were real, there was a chance that the two meant to be together would meet – that they'd be in the same region at the same time, be relatively the same age, be alive at the same time, hell, even be the same gender.

That'd be just too convenient.

Lavender Brown, however, itched for convenience.

"I just haven't found my soulmate yet," she said snippily, apparently still sour about her most recent breakup with Ron Weasley. "He's out there."

Draco, usually one to keep silent during class, snorted aloud, causing the majority of the class to swivel their gazes and stare him down. Lavender glared, her mouth twisting down unpleasantly.

"Oh please," he sneered, deciding it was better to speak up than awkwardly sit there while the others gawked at him silently. "Don't be ridiculous. Soulmates aren't real." You stupid twat.

Lavender looked faintly annoyed, but she replied with an insistent, "Yes they are, Malfoy."

"So," Draco drawled, turning around in his seat completely to stare at Lavender, who was sitting a good three seats away, "you're saying that there is one person – one single person – for every other person."

"Yes," Lavender said irritatedly, undoubtedly wondering where Draco was going with it. He was just wondering why he fucking cared so much. "Why am I even talking to you?"

Because I'm a delightful conversationalist. Draco pressed on. "So, if you met your 'soulmate', who fittingly would be in the same generation and coincidentally be in the same place and somehow meet you in the expanse of the entire world, Muggle and Wizarding... you would marry him?" He said this all in one breath, and Lavender looked slightly stunned.

By now, the entire class was staring at the argument in shock, and Binns droned away at the chalkboard, not even noticing a disturbance. Ron Weasley, from his seat all the way in the back next to Granger, looked disgusted. Hermione merely narrowed her eyes. Potter, sitting next to Longbottom, slowly wiped his glasses in his shirt, as if it was the most interesting and fabulous thing on the planet.

"Of course!" Lavender snapped, crossing her arms and leaning back slightly in her chair. "Soulmates connect the two halves of the soul together, binding it to make one and creating a passion and relationship that is too powerful to break."

That was rather deep, Draco thought with amusement. He smiled idly. "So, if I told you that your soulmate was a homeless Muggle man, sixty-five years old and addicted to" – damn, what's a Muggle drug? – "meth" – that better be what it's called – "and was just currently released from his half-life sentence in jail. And he murdered his family. And his cat," he added with relish, remembering Lavender's fondness for the felines. "Oh. And I've seen the Dementor's Kiss, souls look pretty whole to me. Perfectly round and everything... all there... no scoops taken out, waiting patiently in another body..."

The look on Lavender's face was entirely too pleasing for Draco to look away. He pinned his eyes on hers, thoroughly enjoying the way she looked helpless. "That wouldn't be my soulmate," she said feebly. A great sense of smugness rose up within Draco.

"That's hopeful wishing then. You're just wishing for some prince to come and save you from Weasel. From what you're saying, you can't pick your soulmate, but that's exactly what you're doing. Picking. Picking someone who's rich and smart and good-looking and perfect."

Lavender blushed a deep red. "Fine," she hissed. "If he's my soulmate then I'll love him despite all of his faults!"

Draco stared at Lavender for a long time, a smirk playing on his lips. Yeah, right. "Shallow bitch," he said finally, with venom, turning around to face the front again. Lavender shrieked something at him, and a gentle wave of laughter rolled through the class.

Blaise nudged him in the ribs, silently rocking with laughter. "I've wanted to call her a shallow bitch my entire life," he breathed in Draco's ear, and the blond quirked a smile as he resumed his game of hangman on Blaise's notes.

Soulmates were positively and utterly absurd, but as Draco neatly drew in legs, he couldn't help but desperately wish they were real.

Blaise Zabini and Ginny Weasley were the power couple of the school. They first broke the rules of absolutely no Slytherin/Gryffindor dating, and they were both attractive and popular enough to gain respect. They just looked good together. Mini Weasley was fiery and sarcastic, with wit and a right hand that would throw away her wand to punch Draco full-on in the eye. Blaise was cool and sophisticated, but playful and lively at the same time.

Draco so secretly hopelessly wished that soulmates were real because he wished Blaise and Ginny were soulmates. That way, Blaise couldn't be soulmates with Hermione. But at the same time, if soulmates were real, Hermione and Blaise could be meant for each other. It was a disaster, really.

Ginny and Blaise looked good together, but Blaise and Hermione looked better. They were both sophisticated, playful and lively. And intellectual, and collected, and kind, and dependable and honest and organized and Blaise didn't have an Azkaban cell with his name on it.

In comparison, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger just looked like a mess.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Draco asked Hermione, propping her feet up on his lap as she scribbled away at her notes later that evening. Hermione didn't even bat an eye.

"No. I know your opinion, though," she laughed lightly, flipping a page. Draco stared at her. "I think that people meet, fall in love, and work hard."

Yes, but sometimes it doesn't work, and the best friend of Harry Potter leaves the Death Eater for his best friend.

"If soulmates were real," he asked, pausing a little and considering his next words carefully, "do you think you'd be with Blaise instead?"

Her feet tensed up. "What."

It wasn't even a fucking question, and Draco slouched down in the couch. "Yesterday, you and Blaise were talking about Muggle things."

"...So?"

"So, Blaise's mother marries Muggle men sometimes. My father kills them sometimes," he added somberly, and Hermione's foot connected with his jaw.

"Stop," she said sharply, slamming her book shut and tossing it along with her notes to the floor. Draco rubbed his face, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You stop, Granger," he muttered. "My point is, you two have a lot in common."

Hermione looked at him with an expression that Draco deemed unnecessarily exasperated. "Don't you think that would be boring?"

"What would?"

"Sure, Blaise and I have a lot in common. We always know what the other is talking about. I think," she said, "that would be dull. With you, I have to explain what a microwave is. I have to help you with your History of Magic homework, and I have to wait for you to get out of detention practically every week. But I like it."

"I think you'd like talking about microwaves with Blaise better," Draco accused, pointing a finger at her. Hermione's toes twitched on his lap. She seemed almost... amused.

"That's bloody stupid, and you know it. Why would I talk about something with someone would already knows the topic?" Draco opened his mouth, ready to argue that bloody stupid point. Who wouldn't want to talk about a common interest? Hermione paused, brow furrowing. "Okay, think of this. Would you enjoy having a conversation about Blaise about his mother's fancy balls every year?"

"No."

"Did you like telling me all about his mother's ugly dresses?"

"No," Draco lied. Hermione laughed.

"It's like you're trying to make this difficult on purpose."

"It's annoying," Draco mumbled, "to think that Blaise would be better for you."

Annoying wasn't exactly the right word (more like terrifying and nauseating) but Draco didn't want to seem more vulnerable than he already disgustingly allowed himself to be. He had been mulling over this for weeks, and now was the time to release his thoughts.

Hermione was silent. "Would it help if I said that I never, ever felt attracted to Blaise Zabini ever? And that I honestly wish that he and Ginny would get married sometime in the future?"

Draco thought about it. "Somewhat." He still felt like Blaise could just waltz in with a microwave and grab Granger right out of his hands.

"What if they broke up," Draco challenged, "and Blaise decided he was in love with you?"

"Then of course," Hermione said immediately, "I'll leave you and love him instead."

For one heart-wrenching moment, Draco felt bile rise up, but he swiftly realized Hermione was joking. Lunging forward, he pressed his cheek to her neck and said quietly, "I hate you."

"I hate you too," she replied cheerfully, running her fingers through his hair. It was their way of saying how they felt, and it worked. "If I told Blaise that I hated him," Hermione said, "what do you think he would say?"

Draco laughed. "'What? Why!'" he mimicked the slow drawl perfectly.

"Exactly."

The contentedness was in the air was broken by Hermione's snort of laughter. "You know, even though you're not Muggle, you're technically homeless, since your father disowned you, you act sixty-five years old with your bloody cane-" "- fuck you -" "- you have spent time in Azkaban, you practically did kill your parents when you sent them a Christmas card of us, and you're addicted to Pepsi."

"That isn't a drug."

"Actually, caffeine, which is in it, is a drug."

Draco scowled.

"I'll still love you, though."

Maybe his one moment of vulnerability wasn't as bad as he had feared.

Ginny Weasley and Blaise Zabini looked good together.

Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger looked better.

But Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger looked the best.

"Just so you know," Hermione said suddenly, "I bet a scoop of my soul is waiting patiently in your body." Draco blushed, laughing a tiny bit.

"I don't even know where that came from. I'm surprised nobody commented on that outrageous line."

"Actually, I saw Harry draw a man scooping a bit of ice cream out of an ice cream maker and giving it to another person. There was a speech bubble: 'Here, have some of my soul'."

Draco smiled and snuggled closer, tangling his fingers in her hair and smelling the scent of soft vanilla and roses.

"What's an ice cream maker?"

There's one part, where Draco wants soulmates to be real even thought there's no way he'll ever believe in them. I was going to put, "It was like magic, the way everyone wants magic to be real, but knows it's not."

Uh.

I'm glad I caught that one before I published it.

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed! And I hope I haven't offended anyone, hah. :D

Cheers,
Glalie773