WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER: slight mention of handjob, mention of cock ring, mention of orgasm denial, blood withdrawal for a blood test (medical procedure), slight angst.

The idea in a certain section of this chapter was taken from the book 'Divergent' by Veronica Roth, but there's no intention of copying it. No plagiarism is intended. No copyright infringement is intended.

Harry blanched, aghast. "No!" he stuttered. "I-I'll behave! Promise! Just, please, don't kick me out!" He was close to spilling tears.

"We can compromise," Liam soothed, "and we're not kicking you out, Curls. We love you too much to do that."

Harry sniffled. "What compromise?" he whispered.

"There's something called a 'Foster Dom'," Zayn said, expression unreadable. "It's like a temporary Dom. You'll get matched, and you and your match will have a contract of Dom/sub for every two months. Both the Dom and the sub can end the contract whenever they want, as long as it's for a valid reason. The Dom will take care of you for as much time Louis is gone, and in return, you'll give your Foster Dom the gift of your submission."

Harry's bottom lip trembled. "W-What if the Dom isn't nice?" he whispered, voice cracking.

"He will be," Liam promised grimly. "You'll get only the best; I'll make sure of it."

Harry frowned, unsure, but he gave a small nod. It wasn't like he'd been expecting anything else, either way. He had known that this would happen eventually — Niall's jealousy issues got too bad, and he didn't know how long he would've lasted either without hating on the other sub.

He made a move to get up and head up to his room, defeated, when Zayn placed a hand on his knee, preventing him from doing so. "You're going through a lot of hard times right now," the Dom said gently, voice genuinely apologetic. "We tried to help, but we've made it worse."

"No, it's okay," Harry answered dully — what else could he say?

"No, it's really not," Liam replied, exchanging a sad look with the dark-haired Dom. "We tried to make you happy, but we failed."

"It's really alright," Harry assured, seeing the genuine pain in the two Doms' eyes. "I understand. Sometimes you try out things but they don't always work out the way you wanted them to." When he saw how unsure the two Doms looked, he said, "Really, I'm fine. It'll just be like a new start for me."

And that was that.

So that was how the next day, Harry was taken to the ADS building to take a matching test. Niall had not been allowed to come along, after Liam and Zayn had found out what had happened in between the two subs.

"You're to not speak until we give you permission," Zayn had said, steadily stroking Niall's cock, ignoring the fact that Niall was making pitiful noises when he was denied release because of the cock ring around the base of his cock. "You also won't come for a week. What do you think? Do you think it'll be fitting for your crimes?"

There was only been one answer to that question.

Harry was nervous, really. He had been nervous as well before being matched to Louis.

"You'll be fine," Liam promised him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll only have you matched with the best Foster Dom, I promise."

The two Doms had explained what would happen in depth during the car ride and Harry had listened intently, wanting to do things right. They had explained what exactly a Foster Dom was — a Dom who was willing to care for submissives for an undecided amount of time. Then they had explained how the matching would work. It would work a little differently than the regular matching system, because, after all, that had been for permanent Doms, not Fosters.

They were currently in a waiting room. Zayn was flipping through a magazine while Liam was on his phone, typing out an email. Harry was just sitting there, wiping his sweaty palms nervously on his pants every once awhile. They were getting a few odd looks, because, after all, it wasn't every day that people could see the two CEO's of the ADS sitting in the waiting room.

"Harry Styles?"

Harry stood up, giving an unsure look to Liam. The brown-eyed Dom and gave him a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," he soothed.

Harry swallowed and nodded before heading into the doctor's room. It was a law that he had to get tested before going to get a new Dom, although he knew that there would be no problems since he and Louis had never done anything together.

The doctor was very kind to him, smiling and polite. He seemed to be a sub, which did help Harry relax as well. He knew it was offensive and rude to be scared of having a Dom as a doctor, but you never knew what could happen when a submissive was alone with a Dom.

"You're very healthy," the doctor, Dr. Beggings, stated with a smile. "That's very good. Average height and weight, everything's excellent. We're just going to have to do the STI exam now. Nothing to worry about, yeah?"

Harry grimaced as his blood was drawn, wincing. He had never been too good with seeing blood, especially his own.

The doctor took the withdrawn blood, and then said, not unkindly, "I need a urine sample as well, just to be sure. Also, I would usually take a swab of your anus as well, but you are a virgin, so I don't think that's necessary."

Harry blushed at the blunt words. "I thought I didn't really need a STI check, then, if I'm a virgin?" he asked, unable to stop his curiosity.

"No, it's not necessary if your virginity hasn't been taken yet. However, Mr. Payne and Mr. Malik stated before that it's necessary for proof to your partner."

"Oh." Harry watched as the doctor stood up and fumbled with a few papers after handing the samples to a nurse.

"We're going to take a test now, to attempt to find your new match." Dr. Beggings picked up a small package of papers. "Try to be honest, even if the questions are embarrassing. It's to help find your Foster Dom, and you don't want to be mismatched."

Harry nodded and licked his dry lips, nervously waiting. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he desperately wished that Louis was here with him. He missed the blue-eyed Dom so much, no matter how problematic their relationship had been. He could only hope that Louis would be strong enough to pull through quickly.

"What do you look for most in a Dominant?"

Dr. Beggings' question made Harry jerk out of his thoughts. He started, blinking rapidly as he tried to come up with an answer.

"Remember, there's no wrong answer," the doctor reminded him.

"I guess anyone who can care for me and provide me with proper structure," Harry answered dubiously, watching as Dr. Beggings scribbled something down.

"On a scale of one to ten, one being lowest and ten being highest, how strict would you want your Foster Dom to be?"

"Er …" Harry frowned, finding the question difficult to answer. "I dunno, like a 6 or 7? I'm not really sure," he confessed.

The doctor gave a small nod and jotted something down once more. "How submissive are you?"

"Pretty submissive, if the person can make me feel that way," Harry admitted, biting his lip nervously.

Louis had always managed to put him in that safe, happy place, he thought, heart aching at the thought. He did genuinely miss the Dom, even though he knew that it hadn't been working out. No matter, the Dom would come back … right? He couldn't help but have his uncertainties. What if Louis decided that he didn't want Harry anymore?

"…ry? Harry!"

Harry jumped, then bit his lip. "Sorry," he said quietly when he realized that he had zoned out mid-conversation with the doctor.

"It's no worry," Dr. Beggings assured. "Everyone gets lost in their thoughts at one point in their lives."

Harry gave a small smile.

"Were you thinking about anything in particular?" he questioned. "Anything related to … Louis? Your former Dom?"

Harry inhaled sharply. "Uh, actually, yes," he admitted again. "Couldn't help myself."

Dr. Beggings wrote something down on his clipboard. "Do you think about him often?"

"I do," Harry replied. "Can't really help it, I suppose."

"And do you think that having a Foster Dom will help you relax and heal more?"

Harry paused, thinking hard about the question. Did he really think so? Of course, it was by law that he had to have a Dom, but would it really help him? "I … I think so, yes, to some extent," he said finally, though he was still a little hesitant about his answer. "It might definitely distract me from my thoughts, but I'm not sure if it'll ever make me forget about him." He winced at the word — he knew for sure that he wouldn't forget about Louis. Who could?

Dr. Beggings gave a nod and said, "Alright, Harry. We just need you to step into a different room now so we can do the main testing procedure."

"This last part was never my favourite," Harry commented wryly, and Dr. Beggings smiled sympathetically.

"I know, most people don't enjoy it — especially subs, since they have to make big decisions. However, it's necessary."

Harry wondered if that really was supposed to make him feel better about this whole situation, but he didn't comment on it. Louis wouldn't have been happy with him for being rude with others.

And there, it had happened again! His thoughts always led to Louis, although … he couldn't really help it.

He sat down in the chair when indicated to do so, remembering the first time he'd had to do this. It had been nerve-wracking; he had been drenched in sweat the entire time.

"I presume you know what exactly is going to happen?" the lady in front of the machine inquired, typing a few things into the keyboard attached to it.

"Yes, I do," Harry responded.

"By procedure, we have to explain what's going to happen anyway," Dr. Beggings explained to him. "We're going to attach these to you. You'll fall into a headspace, kind of like falling asleep, and you'll be forced to make a series of decisions. This test is to determine whether you're a sub or a Dom, and to help increase the chances of meeting your match."

"I understand," Harry assured. "I know how this goes." He allowed the doctor to connect the wires to the sides of his neck, his arms, and his face. He was pretty sure he looked ridiculous, but oh well. It wasn't like he had a choice anyway.

"You'll feel a little dizzy, but not majorly. Just close your eyes and try to go to sleep," the lady told his kindly as she started up the machine.

Harry obediently shuffled in his seat, getting comfortable, and sure enough, he felt a little more light-headed as seconds passed by. No use in making myself suffer, he thought dryly. Might as well close my eyes. His head throbbed a little, but it wasn't too bad so he didn't complain.

"Good."

Dr. Beggings' voice scared him a little. Harry stiffened, startled.

"It's alright," the doctor soothed. "Relax. I need you to start counting down from ten to one, Harry. Can you do that for me?"

Harry nodded, his movements slowing down a bit. "Ten," he croaked. "Nine. Eight. Seven …" He made it all the way to three before his vision went black.

He was floating — well, it felt like he was. His thought was contradicted when he looked down to find that his feet were still firmly rooted to the ground. He frowned, not sure if he should be disappointed or not. Floating would have been fun.

He lifted his head and looked around, taking in his surroundings. What was he even supposed to do? When he had first taken this test, it had been pretty straightforward, much different from this time.

This time, he could only see blank white walls surrounding him. He squinted, trying to see if he had missed anything, and was delighted to find that a small, square-framed glass table was in the middle of the … room?

He stepped forward, then stumbled a little. Harry looked back with a frown. What was pulling him back? His frown grew when he saw that it was a rope, a thick rope, that was encircled around his ankle and holding him back. He tugged, but winced at the cutting pain that occurred as a result of his actions.

"Harry," he heard, the voice echoing, and he jumped.

"Yes?" he said, voice shrilled in slight apprehension.

"It's Dr. Beggings. You don't need to be worried. Something is mentally blocking you from heading towards the table. Break through it. Fight it."

Harry licked his dry lips, and glared down at the rope around his ankle. He had to get to the table. He growled and yanked, but the rope was held tight. He struggled for a while, until he paused with a huff, exhausted. He knew he needed to get to that table, or he would never be able to move forward from the past. So, one last time, he straightened up, and with all his might and heart, he took a step forward.

He was delighted when he was successful, the rope falling back, unwrapping from around his ankle. He darted forward, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

He felt free.

He arrived at the glass table shortly, but was puzzled by what he found.

A kitchen knife, a stick, and two rubber duckies were placed in the middle, all arranged neatly. He reached out for the knife, then hesitated and went for the rubber ducky, wondering if he was making a bad choice.

The moment his fingers brushed one of the rubber ducks, the other two items disappeared, out of sight. Great, Harry thought. Now he was only left with rubber duck — a squeaky toy. How was this supposed to help him?

He heard a low, deep growl, filled with a dangerous timbre. Heart beating rapidly in fear, he turned around … face to face with a big, snarling dog. Harry gaped before slowly backing up. "Good puppy?" he said hesitantly.

The dog snarled.

Harry grimaced. Then he realized that he was still holding the two rubber ducks, and was about to toss them away when he realized … he was supposed to use it to help him! "Hey, puppy," he said soothingly, wincing again when the large dog still snarled at him. "Want this? Go fetch!" He tossed the toy, far away from him, and watched in satisfaction when the dog chased after it.

The dog shortly faded into the distance after that, leaving Harry standing there with only one rubber ducky. He frowned, not exactly sure of what he was supposed to do next, when he heard a loud yell.

"Freeze right there!" a voice boomed, and Harry jumped, dropping the rubber ducky.

He heard it emit a small squeak when it fell to the ground, but he didn't look at it. Instead, he was too busy trying to figure out what to do next.

"Harry," a voice came again — Dr. Beggings'. "Stop trying to calculate everything. Just let things happen. Trust your instincts."

Harry rolled his eyes. Easier said than done, he thought, but didn't comment on it.

He had been too lost in his thoughts, so it was a shock to him when he felt strong, cold hands grab his wrists. "What the—" He struggled to get out, and surprisingly, succeeded. He stumbled forward but managed to catch himself. "What the hell?" he huffed angrily, and spun around.

"Hands up in the air!" the cop barked, one hand on his gun, the other hand pointed threateningly at Harry.

"I … what?" Harry spluttered, though he did slowly raise his hands. "I didn't do anything!" he said defensively when the cop approached him slowly.

"Oh ho, you didn't do anything?" he let out a bark of laughter. "Why don't you look at what you've dropped, ye little rascal?"

Harry, still confused, he looked down at his feet and was astonished to find that there was a not-too-small pile of what seemed to be gold. "I didn't do anything!" he said again, taken aback with what was going on.

"You stole," the cop growled. "You stole gold. I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you now; that kind of behaviour is not acceptable. Please hold out your arms."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "No!"

The cop lunged forward, and without even thinking, Harry swung a fist forward.

His fist went straight through the cop's nose, and the cop disappeared into a cloud of mist. Harry stumbled forward, his balance lost, and fell forward, face-planting in a not-so-dignified way.

He groaned, rubbing his face, and opened his eyes to find that emerald green eyes were staring back at him. He yelped, surprised at first, but then let out a wry laugh when he realized it was his own face. He was facing a mirror, that's what he was doing.

He stood up, grimacing, and cracked his knuckles with a sigh of satisfaction. He looked around, trying to take in his surroundings for what seemed like the hundredth time. Mirrors were surrounding him, enclosing him, almost.

They all had different intentions, too, it seemed. Some of the mirrors made his middle — his stomach — wide and wavy, while another mirror made him tall and extremely skinny in a stick shape. He laughed, finding it funny, especially when he peered into a mirror which made his nose giant.

He reached out to touch it, and found that his hand went right through it. Grinning at the fact that his nose was still the size of an apple, he shoved both arms through the mirror, giving him a tingling sensation in his limbs. Then he stepped right through it, and he fell.

Falling, falling, falling …

Harry's eyes snapped open with a gasp. His face was beaded with sweat, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He was breathing heavily, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

"You did very well, you know."

Harry turned to see Dr. Beggings, who was now detaching the wires stuck to his body. "Did I?" he said doubtfully.

The doctor nodded. "Better than most people do."

"That's good, then, I guess," Harry said. He stretched and winced when he heard several cracks in his back.

Dr. Beggings smiled sympathetically. "You were wound up pretty tight. Not surprising, though."

Harry watched the doctor head back to the laptop after detaching all the wires. "What was the rope?" he questioned, wiping sweat off of his forehead.

"Something that prevents you from getting somewhere — the rope that was holding you back, in your situation — represents how well you can overcome mental blockades," Dr. Beggings answered, squinting as he typed something into the laptop. "I'd say the rope was thoughts of Louis, maybe? They're contradicting your subconscious need for a Dom while Louis is gone, after all."

"The dog, then?" Harry asked again, unable to tame his curiosity.

"Just a method of seeing how fast and good you are at making decisions," the doctor responded. "The mirrors were to see how playful you are, and the police to see how obedient you can be."

"Oh." Harry frowned. He hadn't exactly obeyed the cops' orders. Did that mean he was a bad sub?

As if sensing the uncertain look on Harry's face, the doctor gave him a small smile and said, "Don't worry about it, Harry. It's just to see what kind of a Dom you need. Not following orders doesn't mean that you're a bad or inexperienced submissive, it just tells us what kind of a Dom you really need — very strict or lenient."

Harry made a small sound, unsure of what to say, but thankfully he didn't need to, for the doctor stood up and said, "I'll be back with your results in a few minutes."

Harry sighed and watched the doctor leave. He got himself a glass of water, his mouth dry from being so nervous. The cold water felt amazing on his tongue. He tossed the plastic cup away and seated himself again, tapping his fingers on his knee as he waited.

When about fifteen minutes or so had passed by, the doctor returned with several papers in his hand.

Harry nibbled on his bottom lip, anxious for his results.

"So, I've got your results from the test," Dr. Beggings said, sitting down in front of him. He tapped the first section on the paper. "Your results say that you're capable of making decisions yourself, but you tend to overthink things, which leads you to the thought that what you've decided is wrong. You're not disobedient, but you're not completely obedient either. If you think something is wrong or unfair, then you'll stick with it."

"So basically, I'm stubborn?" Harry asked jokingly with a smile.

Dr. Beggings laughed. "I suppose so, if you want to put it that way," he teased. "You're also quite playful, so you wouldn't mind if your Foster Dom is just as playful. Little banters here and there with your Foster Dom would probably help you relax. And finally, the rope, like I explained before, was a mental blockade. You overcame it well, but it might come back, so having a Dom who can help you with that will definitely help you fare as a sub."

"So then you know what kind of a Dom is right for me?" Harry asked.

The doctor gave a nod, flipping to another page. "You'd feel the happiest if you have a Dom who isn't too strict, but they aren't exactly gentle or lenient either. I think in between strict and lenient, really — strict if they need to be, but not 24/7. Your submissive instincts want you to have a firm presence of a Dom around you."

"Okay." Harry nodded, becoming more and more worried. What if there was no match for him? Then what would happen?

"You need proper structure more than anything, really. That's what you're subconsciously craving the most."

"So, my match?" Harry asked, heart racing even faster as Dr. Beggings flipped the page once more.

"Right," the doctor said. "Your match."

Harry's blood ran cold.