Romance Awareness Month - You share the same talents as your soulmate.

Extra prompt: "Do you have something to say?"

"It was like shooting a sitting duck."

Copper Stone: Failure.

Extra prompts: (word) "Stranded", (song) "Roses and Violets", (dialogue) "you're breaking my heart"

Hogwarts Birthday Pinata: Angst.

'Enter,' Rowena Ravenclaw called.

Septimus stopped wringing his hands and straightened up. He had never spoken to the Ravenclaw Head, save the few times where he had a question in class, or was called to answer. To have her summon him as she was rumoured to be on her deathbed… he had no idea what to expect.

He walked through the door to find the middle-aged witch reclining in a chair. If he hadn't known better, he would say that she was the picture of health. As it was, he realised that her every move was calculated to cost the least amount of energy, from the way her elbow rested on the armrest, to the hand posed pensively under her chin.

'Thou knowst wherefore I called thee?' she presumed, the question a rhetorical one.

'Um… Actually, I do not,' Septimus admitted.

'What, Baron, doth thou thinketh we have in common?' she asked, her tone derisive. 'In every class thou matched my daughter eye for eye, tooth for tooth. In every O.W.L., in every N.E.W.T., there thee were, dogging her footsteps like a hyena stalks its prey. Even now, as my daughter walks thousands of leagues from here, I still feel her heart close by. It pains me to admit it, for I wished a trustworthy companion for my daughter, but thou art her soulmate.'

Septimus could easily have told Rowena that himself. He had realised it when he mentioned that he had some skill with the flute, and Helena had looked wide-eyed back at him, professing to have the exact same talent. It happened again, when they both failed to make a Polyjuice Potion, and again, when both discovered that they had a knack for translating Ancient Runes.

After that, Helena had avoided him, for fear of losing her sense of self. She had spent her childhood in her mother's shadow; she would not spend her adult life in the shadow of a wealthy man, no matter how her heart yearned for him.

And Septimus knew that she yearned for him. As sure as roses were red and violets were blue, he would forever be in love with Helena Ravenclaw. In her heart of hearts she must have known, but love wasn't enough for his soulmate. It had never been enough.

'Well?' Rowena demanded, impatient with his silence. 'Doth thou have something to say?'

'Forgive me, my lady,' Septimus gave a short bow. 'I was merely processing thy words. I fear that I still do not fully comprehend that which thou wisheth of me.'

'Simply put, I am dying, Baron,' Rowena looked away, towards the window. 'And I wish to see my only child one last time. I fear for her; that she may be isolated, stranded in the unknown with only her pride preventing her from returning to me. If thou were to retrieve her, to convince her, she would be able to return and keep her honour.'

'Thou wishest that I retrieve Helena?' Septimus couldn't help the words tumbling from his mouth. Three of his brothers had joined Morgana in practicing the Dark Arts, and Rowena Ravenclaw had never trusted his family, let alone given him permission to court her. 'Wherefore?'

'Because I fear that thou art the only one who can,' Rowena replied wearily. 'Thou know'st how the mind of my daughter works and hast her heart. Thou art the only one who would know where she went, and who she trusts enough to bring her back.'

The days were lengthening into summer when Septimus found the inn where Helena was staying, in a remote Albanian forest that would surprise anyone who knew her. She had always preferred the bustle of cities, all the better to observe human behaviour. No one would think twice about looking for her here.

Only Septimus could have known, for he held within his hand a letter from three years past, the parchment worn at the folds where he had opened and reopened it over the years. She had told him where she was going and warned him not to follow. Septimus had given her her space - he knew that they were someday meant to be together.

But Rowena was right. Septimus was sick of waiting, sick of not hearing her laugh, seeing her hair shine in the sun. It was time for her to come home. He believed that the distance apart had only reinforced his feelings, and if the intricacies of soulmate magic was true, then Helena would be feeling the same effects.

'How camest thou hither?' a melodic voice sounded from behind him.

Septimus turned, to be met with the sight of his love, her hair swaying in the wind, her cloak the same forest green as the trees. His heart leapt at the sight of her, but her face remained impassive, resolute.

'It was as shooting a sitting duck,' he quipped, holding up the letter. 'I know thee better than thou knowest thyself.'

'Be as that may,' Helena pursed her lips. 'I told thee never to come hither. I need more time, to think, to find how I may make a name of myself yet, and not hence be known as "Baron Septimus's wife".'

'Thy time be wearing thin,' Septimus took a step forwards. 'Thy mother hath fallen ill. Her heart is broken, and thou art breaking mine as well. Willst thou not permit me to help thee findeth a solution to this problem?'

'No,' Helena's face was set, making her look even more like her mother than before. 'I vowed never to return without first succeeding in a profession, and I will hold myself to that vow.'

'This is folly!' Septimus cried. 'Will thy ambition prevent thee from seeing thy mother one last time. It may be too late! And if thy ambitions never come to fruition, what becometh of us? Shall we remain separated for as long as we shall live?'

'If needs must,' Helena replied coldly, turning away. 'I thought thou of all minds wouldst understand. I fear that the Founders may have mis-Sorted thee.'

'Helena, do not walk away!' Septimus drew his sword. He did not know why exactly, only that there was the vague idea that he could intimidate her into returning.

'And now we see,' Helena smirked, turning back. 'It seems that my mother was correct about one thing. Thy temper will always have the better of thee. Thou art unpredictable, dangerous. A union between the two of us would never come to be.'

Septimus knew she was baiting him, angering him so that he would give up. Still, that did not stop her words from stinging.

'We are soulmates,' he replied in frustration. 'We are meant to be, one way or another. Thou must return, I beg of thee.'

She stared at him for a second, love and pain warring for dominance in her grey eyes. Eventually, she turned away; hastening back to the forest and whatever work she had planned.

She will not escape so easily, Septimus vowed to himself, leaping over the stone in his path to join her. As his momentum prompted him to run forwards to catch up, Helena abruptly stopped, turning around.

Her eyes widened, shock clearly visible. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but only a strangled sound escaped her lips. Septimus felt the tears running down his face. He had not meant for the sword to catch her robes, for his momentum to slide it between her ribs, but it seemed that fate had a plan in store.

Helena would never surpass her mother's name. Rowena would never see her daughter again. And Septimus would never spend his life with his true love.

That last thought was too much to bear. If Septimus could not be with Helena in life, then he would be her soulmate in death, following her wherever she might go. He barely felt the pain as the sword pierced his own heart, instead fixing his eyes on Helena's lifeless grey orbs. Somehow, he would find a way to be with her.