Warnings: AU after Harry and company meet Pettigrew.

It was after Peter Pettigrew had been captured, and Harry had started to live with Sirius and Remus, that he first noticed the red thread twined around his pinkie finger. Not something he had ever seen before, his first reaction was to try and pull it off his finger.

'What are you doing, Harry?' a voice questioned from somewhere above him.

Remus was looking down at him, brows furrowed in worry and confusion. Harry supposed he must look like an idiot, tugging at his finger as though he wanted to break it free from his hand.

'Look at this!' he exclaimed, extending his hand towards Remus. 'I have no clue where this came from!'

'What am I supposed to looking at?' Remus asked, sounding more concerned than ever.

'You can't see it?' Harry asked, panicking immediately. He started tugging at the string once again, trying to get it off him. Was he going insane, seeing invisible pieces of red string wrapped around his fingers?

'What is the "it," Harry?' Remus asked, somehow managing to sound calm even as the lines and frown on his face belied his worry.

'A red string, tied around my pinkie finger,' Harry replied, certain of his insanity now.

At the words "red string," Remus burst out laughing. Harry looked at him, completely confused and slightly indignant that Remus was laughing when he evidently had a serious medical condition.

'I'm sorry,' Remus wheezed out once he had managed to stop his laughter. 'It's just relief. Don't worry, you're not going crazy.'

'But then what –'

'Let's go see Sirius,' Remus interrupted him, his eyes twinkling in happiness as he spoke. 'He'll want to be present for this.'

Before Harry could voice his many questions, or say anything at all, Remus grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him towards the master bedroom of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He barged into the room, nearly knocking over poor Sirius, who just managed to jump away from the violently opened door.

'Moony, what in Mer –' Sirius began, sounding as confused as Harry felt by their invasion into his room.

'Harry can see his thread,' Remus cut him off, breathless from the run to the room.

At hearing that, Sirius' demeanour changed completely and suddenly. He clapped his hands like an excited child. 'But that's brilliant!' he exclaimed. 'Do we have any idea who the other one might be?'

Harry looked from one to the other, still bewildered. The two of them were talking about him as though he was not present in the room, and it was irritating him. 'What are you two talking about?' he finally exclaimed, utterly annoyed and clueless.

Remus finally turned his attention towards him. 'It's a very old wizarding legend, Harry. It's believed that Hecate, who is thought to have been the one to gift humans with magic, tied a red string around the finger of each wizard or witch she created. She loved these creations of hers deeply, so, with the help of Aphrodite and Eras, she created the string. It is red because that is the colour of the heart, of love, and the string always leads its bearer to the one person who is perfect for them. Their soul mate, if you want to use that term. Muggles stumble through the world, looking for their perfect match, but Hecate's love for his wizards spared them that fate. That is why no couple you see in the Wizarding World has the extreme problems you see in the Muggle world – there is no divorce, for one. The red string of fate forms even Wizard-Muggle partnerships you see. That is why the idea of Pureblood superiority and banning wizards from marrying Muggles that Voldemort had was shocking for the world at large. The true pureblood families left today are called so because they disown any of their members whose string does not lead to another pureblood, not because all of their members marry purebloods. No witch or wizard will marry after they lose their bond-mate – they are well aware that there will never be another so perfect for them. The strings appear simultaneously on each member of a pair's finger at any time following their eleventh birthdays.'

'But then –'

'That means the same string appeared on your bond-mate's finger somewhere, yes.'

Harry looked at the men in front of him hesitantly. 'Umm…'

'Yes Harry?' Sirius asked encouragingly.

'I'm sorry if this is something that is supposed to be private, but…have you two found your matches yet?'

At this, it was Sirius who burst into laughter, while Remus looked like he would like nothing better than to join him. But he restrained himself, turning kind eyes towards Harry. 'Yes we have, Harry. Have you never wondered why we share the same room? This place has enough rooms that we can each have our own – removing the dark influence from another room would not be an impossible task. Indeed, removing the darkness from this home is what we're going to doing once you're at Hogwarts.'

Harry gaped at Remus, unable to believe what he was hearing. He had even imagines – 'So it isn't a sin? Liking other men, I mean,' he asked hesitantly.

'Why wo – sometimes I forget that you were raised by Muggles. No harry, it is not a sin. It is not wrong, and it is definitely not something freakish. No wizard or witch would prevent someone from being with their bond-mate due to something like gender. Blasting them out of family trees is one thing, preventing them from being together? That would be condemning them both to a miserable, loveless existence. The strings hold greater power than anything else – many a war has been halted because the leaders found that their strings led to each other. There's nothing wrong with you loving a man. And the main Muggle argument against it, that two men cannot bear children? You're in the wizarding world Harry. It may take time, and a lot of potions and other medical treatments, but anything is possible here.'

As the summer passed, Harry found himself more and more fascinated – and a little wary of – the red string tied around his finger. He had no doubt that his other half was male – he had discovered his preference for men sometime after his fourteenth birthday last summer. Apart from that, however, he knew nothing about the man he was fated to love.

He wondered if his match was someone in his year and house, who he would know something about, or someone who was utterly foreign to him. Would it be Seamus, or Dean, or Neville – or god forbid, Ron? Was he even attending Hogwarts at all? He could be much older than Harry – or maybe even from another country altogether.

It was during the annual outing for school supplies in Diagon Alley that his questions were finally answered. While looking for the books on his booklist, the string around Harry's finger seemed to jerk, before tugging insistently at the finger, almost as though it were sentient. Harry nearly let out an alarmed shout before realizing that it was trying to lead him somewhere, probably towards his match. Sirius and Remus were busy arguing over a set of pranking guides Sirius wanted to buy Harry, so he slipped away without interrupting them.

The string led him on a confusing pathway through the Alley, passing nearly all the shops, before stopping at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Harry looked around, confused. There was no one here, in this grimy part of Diagon Alley.

Pop!

The unmistakable sound of apparition quickly caught his attention. Two blond-haired figures stood before him. Their backs turned to him; they didn't notice Harry, who was staring at the string around his finger with growing horror. The red string led straight to – Malfoy.

He saw Malfoy's hand jerk, and knew that his string was acting on Harry's nearness. As Malfoy started to turn, Harry fled towards the crowded section of the Alley, Malfoy's faint scream of 'Potter!' ringing in his ears.

Harry refused to talk to anyone once he returned to Grimmauld Place, unable to believe that Malfoy, of all people, was the one destined for him. He truly had terrible luck.

After a few days of Harry's forced isolation, Sirius knocked on his door. 'Harry?' he called, 'I'm coming in here.'

Harry opened the door with an Alohomora, not willing to move from his spot on the bed.

Sirius approached him carefully, and sat on the bed next to Harry. 'You need to talk about this,' he said gently. 'Keeping it all in like this is not good for you.'

Harry stared at him blankly. Sirius sat by his side patiently, waiting for his godson to speak.

'It's Malfoy,' he finally whispered. 'My match, it's Malfoy.'

Sirius stroked his hair gently, choosing his words with care before he spoke. 'The string never lies, Harry. I know he's been horrid to you, but you need to give him a chance.'

Harry looked at him incredulously, but before he could speak, Sirius continued, anticipating his shock. 'Your parents used to fight just like you and Malfoy do, you know. James fell in love with Lily at first sight, but she hated him for years, six to be exact. When their threads appeared in seventh year, she fought it. She fought against it tooth and nail. But when she finally gave in, and agreed to get to know James – I've never seen a couple more in love with each other in my life. Fighting against fate is impossible, Harry.' He suddenly grinned. 'By the way, does Malfoy know about this?'

'That we're matched? Yeah he does,' Harry replied, confused at the sudden change of topic. 'He caught sight of me when I was running away. Why?'

'Well,' Sirius replied mischievously, 'unless I'm very much mistake, that's a Malfoy eagle owl with a letter addressed to you at the window.'

Harry stared at the letter, which had a neatly printed Harry Potter on its cover, turning it around in his hands for some time before he finally opened it.

Dear Potter, it read,

I know it's you. The one with the string matching my own is you, and you have undoubtedly figured that out as well. There is no other reason that you would have fled like that.

I am not happy about this either, you know, but I'm not about to condemn myself to a life of loneliness just because of a childish rivalry. And I'm not about to let you do anything that stupid either.

We need to talk about this, but I doubt you'd like to meet me in person at the moment. Write back to me, we can discuss it this way. We need to come to know each other if we're destined to fall in love.

Draco A. Malfoy

Harry traced the letters with his fingertips, knowing he had to reply to it. He couldn't see how he would fall in love with his childhood enemy, but Draco was right. It wouldn't be fair to them if they didn't at least try. Besides, he trusted Sirius and Remus when they said that the strings never lied.

He pulled out a sheet of parchment, quill and a bottle of ink from his desk and started writing.

Dear Malfoy,

You're right; I did figure it out. And I'm definitely not thrilled about this, but you have a point – we need to talk.

To be perfectly honest, I can't see myself falling in love with you. You're a spoiled brat – a prejudiced bully. Maybe that will change, but I'm not holding out too much hope for that. The best I can wish for in our situation is that we somehow mange to be cordial to each other.

Harry Potter

Potter,

What do you want me to say, exactly? Of course we're better than Muggles. They have absolutely no clue about the real world – all they can do is blunder about like a bunch of apes, hoping to get lucky. Lucky in love, lucky in life, lucky in everything really.

And if we're going by that equation – which we are – then purebloods are far superior to half-bloods and muggle borns. They possess muggle blood and have experienced life in that infernal world.

So yes, maybe I am prejudiced by your standards. But I have a good reason for it.

Draco Malfoy

Malfoy,

To put it bluntly, you're a moron. You know practically nothing about Muggles – just like most wizards – and you're making judgments.

Wizards have the bad habit of dividing Muggles into one of two groups – fanatical witch hunters or harmless nutters. You wouldn't like it if they treated you that way, so why do you do that to them?

They're people, Malfoy, just like us, apart from the lack of magic, of course. Hell, they're probably smarter than the lot of us – they've been able of achieve a number of things without magic that we haven't, and probably never will be able to do.

When was the last time a wizard walked on the moon? The Muggles have been able to do it since 1969. You know the radio you probably listen to every night? Thought of by Muggles, transformed to fit the wizarding world by a muggle born.

I could go on about this topic forever, but the point remains, you're woefully uneducated about a people – and a world – that is far greater than you can imagine. You need to learn about it before making another one of your stupid statements.

Harry

P.S. May I remind you that Hermione, a muggle born witch, is the greatest witch of our age? Considering her brilliance, I think your "purebloods are better than Muggleborns" argument is a moot point.

Potter,

My father has, in the interest of keeping the peace with my bond-mate (that's you, just in case you forgot), begrudgingly allowed me to receive an education in all things Muggle.

While I am willing to concede that you may have been right about my stance on purebloods, I still believe that wizards are far superior to Muggles. Why else would Hecate have gifted us magic if we were not inherently better?

But I don't hate them anymore.

Draco

Draco,

I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear that.

When we started this whole thing, I doubted that we could ever be cordial, let alone become friends. Falling in love with you was an impossible task.

But the person you've become – I'm proud to call you a friend. And I may not be in love with you, but it doesn't seem to be so impossible anymore.

Yours,

Harry

Harry,

My parents can sometime be batshit crazy! My mother's gotten it into her head that she needs a new wardrobe, and my father's practically falling over himself to provide it for her.

This wouldn't be problem – hell, she does this every year, at least once a year – if it weren't for one small little fact. MY MOTHER FREAKING PLANS ON DRAGGING ME ALONG! SHE WANTS MY BLOODY OPINION ON CLOTHES – AND WANTS TO GET A WHOLE. NEW. FREAKING, WARDROBE AS A CELEBRATION FOR FINDING MY BOND-MATE! And my father, of course, isn't about to deny her such a harmless wish!

Just because I'm gay DOES NOT mean I'm obsessed with clothes! Bloody stereotypes! I blame you for this, Potter. She wouldn't insist on getting me new clothes if you had just waited to find me at Hogwarts, when I'd be far away from her.

Draco.

Draco,

We've never really discussed our friends, have we? Strange, considering how important they are…

I know you despise Ron and Hermione, and that the feeling is mutual. But they've agreed not to antagonize you – if not be cordial to you – out of respect for our bond, and I need you to act the same towards them. No more Weasel and the Mudblood remarks, please.

I don't want to spend my life feeling torn between you and my friends, Draco. I've known them for a long time, and we've been through a lot together. And during this summer, you've managed to become someone I care a great deal about, someone extremely important to me.

I'll give your friends the same consideration if you can manage to make sure that they don't insult my friends, family, or me, I promise you.

I know our respective circles of friends may never be friends with each other. Hell, we may never progress past the level of acquaintance with the other's friends. But we need to avoid going after the other group if we want to avoid a house war – or if we want to live our lives in relative peace.

Love,

Harry

Dear Harry,

Probably shouldn't be writing this – am very drunk right now.

I'm in love with you. Funny that I fell in love with through your letters, isn't it? Have never actually spoken to you – at least, not without it being a fight.

Maybe I've loved you all along. Don't know about that, but what I do know is that I never really hated you, you know. Was just anger that you didn't want to be friends, was jealous of Weasley cause he was you friend, not me. Always wished we were friends. Probably even knew that you had the other part of my red string unconsciously.

Anyways, point is, I love you.

Love you,

Draco

Harry stared at the letter in his hands, utterly shell-shocked. Draco was undoubtedly drunk – if the contents of the letter didn't prove it, the messy handwriting and ink drops staining the parchment definitely did. Which meant that Harry could not doubt the truth of Draco's confession – even drunk, Draco would not have written such a fluffy letter of confession unless he meant it.

He just didn't know how to reply.

A knock on the door, followed by the sound of wood creaking, brought him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Remus standing at the door, a tray of food in his hands.

'Sirius and I wondered if anything was wrong, since you didn't come down for dinner. I thought I'd bring you something to eat while I was coming to check up on you.'

Harry silently handed him Remus the letter he was gripping tightly in his hand. He accepted, putting down the tray on the bedside table.

Remus read the letter with furrowed brows before looking back at Harry, eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise. 'I'm not sure what you want me to say, Harry. This is a good thing, not something I should be concerned about.'

'I suppose,' Harry said doubtfully, 'but I have absolutely no clue how to reply to this.'

'Do you feel the same way?'

'I'm…pretty sure I do,' Harry replied, still slightly hesitant. He seemed completely shocked by his confession. He'd not realized when he'd fallen in love with the boy who had once been his bitterest enemy, but as Draco changed, Harry fell in love. And fallen deep – now that he's admitted it to himself, the depth of his feelings for Draco shocked Harry.

'Don't sound so doubtful Harry,' Remus chided him laughingly. 'Falling in love with your bond-mate is a good thing. Tell him about it. He's bared his heart to you, even if he was drunk while writing this. You need to give him the same consideration.'

'Thanks Remus.'

'I'll leave you to it, then,' he said, closing the door behind him as he backed out of the room.

Draco,

There's a lot I could say in reply to your last letter. I know you're probably embarrassed at having sent that while drunk right now, but don't be. Because my answer could go on for pages, but I doubt you'd appreciate the sickly sweetness of it.

So I'll keep it short.

I'm in love with you too, you idiot. How could I not be? I didn't notice when the feelings crept up one me, but they did. I can't wait to meet you at the Platform tomorrow.

I love you.

Yours, always,

Harry

The first thing Harry saw upon reaching Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, before any of his friends, was Draco.

He walked up to him, completely ignoring the elder Malfoys at Draco's side. Raising his hand, he gently stroked Draco's cheek before pulling the boy into his arms for a tight hug.

As he clung to Draco, and Draco clung to him, Harry leaned up to whisper 'I love you' in Draco's ear.

A/N: Pettigrew never escaped, so he was unable to help Voldemort rise again, thus the lack of Tom Riddle in this story. Each section break indicates the passage of time, so if you think Harry and Draco are moving too fast in their letters, keep in mind that a number of unseen letters are also exchanged between the ones I've written.

Written for:

Musical Terms challenge, Lusingando

Key Signature Competition, G Major

Shakespeare Competition, Much Ado About Nothing, Option 2

The If you dare challenge, Prompt 554. Soulmates

OTP Bootcamp, Prompt 7. Drawn

The Colours of the Rainbow Challenge, Red