Hi! I know I have an on-going story already but this one was just craving to come out. The premise is one I saw on a tumblr post, same as the story's summary. Is a Soulmate AU where you can see when people is going to die but you cannot see when you are going to, or you figure it when people starts treating you nice that is.
This is set to be a Oneshot but –painfully–, I am still thinking on giving it a conclusive ending rather that the current one.
I guess I'll wait for some reviews and if you guys want a conclusive ending, then I'll make another chapter, but as of now, I will leave it as a oneshot. Enjoy!
I knew something was off the minute he started bringing treacle tart home every afternoon. I did not get preoccupied until he started taking time off work, or leaving earlier than normal just to come home and he would innocently say "I didn't feel like working any longer today" or "You know, I need some rest", sometimes he would get past sickly sweet and say "Oh, but you know I love spending time with you!"
There were too many signs… But with hints like that you will start a denial phase regardless how nice people is to you. So I started pushing the fact back and back into my mind. It was a good thing I did not know my own date, because I would just end up being mortified and anxious as the days went by.
Usually, you get to decide minor things in life. Like your N.E.W.T.S, or your career in magic and your job, and who you are going to marry, such trivial things.
You decide the place you'll live, you get to choose your favourite color, and even if you use a Glamour to change your hair color, length, or other things; and who you want to spend the rest of your life with. You are in control of these little things and it makes you feel alive and human. That's good.
Other things, are not so trivial, and you don't get to choose them. Your family name, the house you are placed at Hogwarts (Well, the majority except me), your magical status, the number of your vault at Gringotts… and when you are going to die.
These things cannot be chosen, cannot be controlled, and only indirectly affected by some factors… But there's not such thing as deciding if you are pureblood or muggleborn, if you get Vault 27 or 178, or if you die tomorrow.
In today's wizarding society everyone has already accepted those facts as day-go-by events. Even the bizarre fact that everyone around you can see when you are going to die, clearly as a label, but you. When I first was told this, by Professor Binns in a class of history, saying I was shocked was an understatement. Flabbergasted is the politically correct term.
Take some lame excerpt on that class: some weird idiot in the 15th century who liked to torture muggles, was studying unforgivable curses, and came up with the idea of seeing when the subject could or would die. With the poor excuse to scientifically test if any stress induction or other exposure to "casualties", as he called them, would shorten the lifespan of the subject, and thus show it on the "Death Imprint" –as he called this sadistic clock thing– he conducted experiment after experiment for decades before anyone would tell him to bring the murders and tortures down by a notch.
In summary, Sir Thaddeus Philius Humbard, with a presumable count of 1,700 plus muggle deaths on its toll, got a little bit more creative and decided he would like to see everyone's Death Imprint.
And true to his word, he unleashed an enormous amount of his magic with the spell. Almost dying, he saw as a fellow warlock approached to assist him after hearing the blast of the curse and feeling a "Gentle breeze through me whole body and shivering like a snitch was up me ass" –quote–, Sir Humbard just smiled tenderly-slash-manically when he saw briefly the Death Imprint hovering like smoke on the warlocks crown.
Centuries after that, wizards and witches stopped freaking out and accepting the truth of what was going to be in for them. Sir Humbard didn't die after the curse, which surprisingly frighteningly spread through the whole world affecting all muggles and magic folks, but only magic bearing people would see the Death Imprint successfully.
Sir Humbard later posted a memorandum on the on-going news post of that era, of his experiments –not in detail, thank Merlin– and discoveries, explaining what was the Death Imprint and what little he knew about how it would affect wizards and witches since he had only used it on muggles, and just to see their death dates, and yes, he did not know how to turn everyone back, not that he could any way…
After the spell was released, Sir Humbard never performed any more experiments or more than basic charms and jinxes. since his magic was weakening by the day. He died tranquil, at home. He was the only and last person not affected by the Death Imprint after it was released, as no one ever saw any date on top of his head or on his forearm (where presumably powerful wizards and witches showed the Imprint). Until me…
So that bring us to the present.
Here and now, where I am told I'm a wizard, and then schooled and groomed to be "The chosen One", a "Saviour" and a "Legend", hell… "The boy who lived"!
Speeding past all that known story, here we are. After all that time, all the eventualities and enemies defeated. Here I am.
Simple silly me, Harry Potter.
Not a famous celebrity anymore –well, just the name is still famous– but me, a normal D.A.D.A professor at Hogwarts. And yes, I lived, and everyone was thrilled.
But me.
So here is a funny little story: Once I was told I was a wizard, introduced to the customs and world, I saw everyone's Death Imprint clearer, as before it was faint smoke-halo type of thing on everyones head and I just ignored it so as not to give more reasons to my aunt and uncle to believe I was a nut job.
Then thrown in this new world, seeing this dates on every person, I was not really sure how to ask about it. So I continued to ignore it. Until that History class where Professor Binns told us about Sir Humbard, everyone apparently knew this except for me, Hermione and other muggleborns. But then in that class, everyone was turning to read the others imprint, they would not tell as when you are young it just shows day and month, then later on the year is revealed –nobody knows why– and it was apparently a magical custom rudeness to tell others what their Death Imprint said, but then they were children so some of them did it anyway to mock.
And then I heard someone gasp behind me, and Ron's look of confusion at me… And that's when suddenly everyone remembered I was a human being and needed to have a Death Imprint by default.
But I didn't.
Everyone freaked out. Except me.
People started to tell this ridiculous stories that I was supposed to be dead then, or that I was not really alive, or that I was part magical creature (as magical creatures and its derivate immediate generation result did not bore the Imprint), but all of those were wearing off by third year.
Then after the battle of Hogwarts, once Voldemort was killed, everyone looked at me wide-eyed.
My Imprint showed. Day and Month. June 4th.
So I know because Ron blurted it out once, and I couldn't get the date off my mind ever since, as apparently all the other people successfully do. But you are not suppose to see your Imprint even if you look on a mirror, magical or not.
But History lesson and life background aside, this –finally– is the story of how I die.
It all started on a pretty summer Sunday, like one of those days that would make you go on a picnic, to the beach, or some other cliché thing people do in movies on Sundays. But for me was a pretty summer Sunday grading Fourth graders.
And yeah, being home was a blessing, but when you have a Healer for a husband, it kinda gets the emotion away. All in all, it was a really smooth and beautiful day. So I decided to make the most of it.
Setting the tests away, I took off to the cupboard, got my broom and stared at it lovingly. It was a Sidereus VI, kind of an old model by today's standards but among all the brooms I've ridden over the years, this one was my favourite, even when Draco's StarVelox model was faster than mine by some mileage, I still managed to game him with style.
So I shouldered the piece and started to head towards our backyard, my hand was above the doorknob when the front door opened, and as the house was kind of all open spaced, I was caught mid-action between getting the knob and looking to the door.
My husband entered and his smile turned to that godshaped smirk I hated so much –yeah, sure– as he started to take off his coat. "Going somewhere, love?" was his welcoming remark. The answer was obvious though.
"Apparently not". I said, slumping my shoulders down. "Here I was thinking I could get one quiet Sunday to fly by myself and just be free" I said snidely, leaning longingly to my broom.
Draco just chuckled and approached the place I was in a couple long and elegant strides, put his arms around me and held me there. "You know I hate when you have fun", he whispered in my ear, one hand already going down to the one I had on my broom. "This is a distraction from the wicked games I have in store for you".
"Oh, but you love the things I do while flying…" no jokes there. He just huffed and pulled apart from me just a few inches.
"Well, here goes the old Potter". He pulled completely apart from me but left a quick kiss on my lips before stretching the distance between us. "Go fly for Merlin's sake, I'm not always monopolising your time, you know? Oh, and work was fine, I know that is going to be your next question."
As he talked, Draco started to roam the kitchen, presumably looking for some afternoon snack or ingredients for an early supper. I just smiled shyly.
"Oh, but you know I won't leave you alone now you're home" using the same tone of voice as before, I moved to put my beloved broom away –yet painfully again– and approached the counter that divided our kitchen from the dining area. "But it's good having you home early on a Sunday, we could catch up on that awfully long list of things we have pending".
"I know, right? I thought it was a blessing when Macmillan told me he was going to take care of my patients for the rest of the day today… I don't know what came over him, but I really appreciate it". By this time I saw as he arranged a variety of things across the tabletop and rolled up his sleeves, full hungry beast mode activated.
"We can start with flying together…" I said tentatively. Draco had a sore spot when flying was involved, since a nasty accident he got prior to our marriage, which broke one of his legs, and some shithead on St. Mungo told him his Imprint had one day less, and since then he was awfully careful with everything and everyone surrounding him. That is, yeah, me.
Whenever I exposed myself to too much stress about a class, or called home about a curse that went awry on class or some other uncharted event on our normal and dull lives, Draco fussed over me worse than how a mother fussed with a child.
Draco had seen many people's imprint go off suddenly on his place of work a Healer, and that increased his weariness tenfold when disastrous events or uncommon things happened to his loved ones. And well, he was not to blame. Knowing when your companion, parent, friend or acquaintance will die is not a fun matter anymore as it was long ago on our school days.
But he just stared at me heavily while slowing down his motions of preparing a french toast, until his body wasn't moving at all, and his grey eyes were just fixed, and in pain.
"Maybe next time, Harry" was what he always said, and today it was not the exception. I was used to it, and I kept asking all the more.
"You know you will need to face that phobia, right?"
"But right now, I don't feel like having another day taken away" and his tone was that of someone intending to end the subject right there.
But I was having none of it. "I can and will protect you, Draco. You are safe flying with me, safer than with anyone, and I know you trust me on that, you've told me, love I know… But I need you to trust yourself to me. Trust that you are going to be fine, not because I say it, but because you are an exceptional flyer, you… Draco you have to let that go…"
"Harry, is hard, okay? I don't know the year of my Imprint but I know the month, and much to my comfort, our months are pretty near. But your year hasn't appeared yet… do you think I'll be prepared to know that? Everyone's married know the date of its lover's death even before saying 'I do' and they embrace that reality… but me, I… I don't know that. And it scares me that I get just a handful of moments with you before that number appears on your arm and tells me I have 10, 50… or 2 years left for loving the shit out of you. That is not fair. You get to know how much you have to tolerate silly ol' me, but I feel the need to enjoy most of what I can of you every day. And shortening my own death? Or rather, knowing I am shortening it, is not my ideal of being a perfect husband to you…"
With that, he continued dipping bread on the egg wash as if he hadn't just told me his darkest biggest fear. I just sighed and got up to him. Hugging him from his back as he was within reach.
"I love you, Draco Malfoy, for the excellent man you turned out to be, and the excellent choices you made once you were in full control of your life. But this, I don't consent. You not living the most out of your life because you fear death, or fear you will leave me sooner than later? That is, by far, the stupidest thing I've heard someone I love say… and believe me Ron says a lot of stupid things" I heard him chuckle.
"But believe me when I say, even if you knew my Imprint's year, it should change nothing on the way you live. And I think I've told you countless of times I would hate if you start being different because you know you don't have much time left with me but I will never treat you any different, I will love you as hard now, as I will love you the day before the day you die, so why would you do that to me instead? Let's just live Draco, yes?"
He started moving a little, since hearing me rendered motionless as I hugged him. So feeling him move to continue the making of his supper was kind of comforting. Knowing this man I would not get an answer. He agreed with me, I was sure, but he just wouldn't put it into words yet.
But I was patient.
Once the french toasts were done, we were eating while sharing trivialities of that weekend when Draco kept staring at me and then his eye would drop drastically to his now empty, honey-smeared plate.
After a consecutive five times of this, I got tired and raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, what is it? You are not trying to hide it that well either"
"Uh, what are you talking about?" The nerve of him!
"Uh, what are you talking about? I'm saying that you keep looking at me, then just cutting it mid stare. are you still feeling guilty for not letting me fly?"
There was a gross pregnant pause as he just stared confusedly, then resignedly, and then lovingly longingly at me.
My husband reached for my wand arm and stroke it gently. "The year…" he whispered.
"It… It showed."
"Oh… Well that is uncomfortable" was the only think I could get into my mind. What was going to happen now? I was afraid Draco had a similar breakdown with the Death Imprint thing again so I wrapped my other hand on top of his. "It's okay, I think you finally accepted you needed to see it and it showed".
Draco breathed heavily in, still looking at my forearm with a little frown on his forehead. After another paused he finally talked. "Its… soothingly better than I expected"
"Gee… thanks, I'm sure that calms me" I said a little off, but right afterwards I smiled lovingly at him. And he understood me like he always did.
"It's okay, I guess" he said kissing me yet again. "We can go flying now"