Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2021: DarylDixon'sGirl1985

Prompt:

Dorcas Meadowes/Peter Pettigrew

Soulmate AU

WC: 1932

"It's okay, Pete," Remus said, patting Peter's shoulder. "You'll find your soulmate soon. I'm sure of it. After all, everyone meets their soulmate before they turn eighteen. It's a given."

"Yes, but why haven't I met my soulmate yet? I'm turning eighteen tomorrow, and I still haven't met my soulmate. What if...I don't have one?"

"Nonsense," James said, smacking Peter's head. They were at The Three Broomsticks for their weekly get-together. Unfortunately, they were surrounded by paired-up couples, who gazed at their partners with heart eyes. Even from a distance, the swirling colours in the space between their thumbs and forefingers were visible.

Peter lowered his head, not wanting to see the swirls of colour. It was nauseating, but it was the unpleasant jealousy that ran rampant through his veins that made him bitter. When would he touch his soulmate for the first time? When would the black stripe under his thumb change colours?

James brought him back to the present. "Everyone has a soulmate. Even Muggles have them."

"I agree. You'll find your soulmate soon, Wormy," Sirius said, leaning against Remus's shoulder. The little black marks on their hands burst into a kaleidoscope of colours, and Peter winced, reminded of his loneliness.

When would he find someone, though? He would be eighteen in exactly two hours. Time was running out.

"I don't know," Peter muttered, playing with the straw in his drink. He kicked his feet under the table and shrugged. "Maybe I don't have a soulmate...Maybe I'm destined to be alone. Like Filch."

"Filch definitely has a soul mate, it is either that bloody cat o' his or Pince," James said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Or maybe both?" Sirius suggested, and James gagged.

"Why did you have to put that image in my head?"

"If I have to suffer, so do you," Sirius said, and James began arguing about how sometimes it was better not to share in each other's suffering. Peter sighed. It seemed like tonight would be like any other night out with the Marauders.

Peter swirled his drink around before chugging it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed his chair back. It skidded against the hardwood floor, and his friends turned to look at him.

"Where are you going, Pete?" James waved his hand at the table. "It's not midnight yet. What about your birthday cake? And your presents? And the drinks?"

"Sorry, Prongs, but...I'm not in the mood. Maybe some other day," Peter mumbled, slinking away from the table, his shoulders hunched.

"Oh, okay," Remus called out. "Feel better, Pete."

"Yeah, but if you need anything, owl us!" James yelled, and Sirius waved at him. Peter muttered a quiet goodbye before leaving the pub.

It was cold outside so Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his woollen coat. A couple giggled and tittered as they walked past him into the pub, their arms wrapped around each other. Peter sighed and lowered his gaze, his heart aching at the sight.

He ambled down the street, staring at the ground and wondering what sins did he have to atone for in his past life for him to suffer in this. Why couldn't he have a soulmate of his own? What was wrong with him? Didn't he deserve someone to love? To cuddle with? To call his own? James had Lily, and Sirius had Remus; even Snape had Mary MacDonald. So why was he alone?

Peter imagined himself as the shy uncle visiting his best friends' children in the not-so-distant future. His vision went fuzzy, and tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped the tears away just before he tripped over his feet.

He went flying into a soft body, and they tumbled to the ground in a heap of limbs.

"Oof, watch where you're going, you sodding—Peter?" The young woman blinked, and Peter's heart almost gave out on him.

Out of anyone he could have bumped into—literally—it just had to be Dorcas Meadowes, didn't it?

Dorcas was the most beautiful girl Peter had ever seen. Her large brown eyes reminded Peter of the Italian chocolate his uncle Jack bought for him every year from Italy. Dorcas's brown hair curled like the smoke of burning incense; back at Hogwarts, Peter had often had to tame his urge to run his fingers through her hair—he didn't want her to think he was a maniac.

"Peter? Peter!" Dorcas waved her hand in front of his face, bringing him out of his reverie. She was crouched in front of him.

He blinked once and then twice. His mouth went dry at the pointed look on her face. He raised his hand and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something to say. He wasn't like James or Sirius; they would have said something witty by now.

"You seemed lost in your thoughts," Dorcas said and stood up. She extended her hand towards him, her palm up.

Peter swallowed, trying to mask his nervousness. She wanted him to take her hand. Dorcas Meadowes wanted him to take her hand. His heart was steadily thumping in his throat, his stomach queasy. He tried to keep his face straight as he extended his hand towards her.

The moment their palms touched, a tingle ran up Peter's arm, and bright colours began to spiral in his mark. The stars seemed to align at that moment, and suddenly, Peter's whole world shifted.

What the…

Somewhere in the distance, the clock struck twelve, signalling the beginning of a new day. Peter's eyes were on his soul-mark. Beautiful shades of colours—red and blue and green and yellow and purple—formed a brilliant rainbow on his skin.

Peter's heart pulsed in sync with the rippling colours, and in the back of his mind, he knew this was the hand he was meant to hold.

Dorcas gasped but didn't let go, for which Peter was grateful. He didn't think he could have let go of her hand even if she'd flinched away from him. He gazed up at her and whispered, "Are you—do you—your mark..."

He held his breath as Dorcas slowly turned their hands over. The colours swirled in her mark, lighting the night sky with their brilliance, and Peter's blood pounded in his skull at the sight.

She was his. Dorcas was the one he was meant to find.

Their eyes met, and everything fell into place. Dorcas's lips turned up in a slow smile, and Peter released the breath he had been holding.

His happiness knew no bounds. He'd had a crush on her since his first year at Hogwarts, but he'd never dared to ask her out. After all, he was just Peter; he didn't deserve her. He knew he was too shy, too timid, too simple.

So, how was he supposed to react now that he had confirmation that she was his?

Peter's mind was blank, but Dorcas licked her lips and said, "Wow, we've never touched each other before, have we? If we had, we would have been married by now."

Peter let out a squeak, and his face warmed at her words. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Dorcas grinned, her bright teeth contrasted wonderfully with her beautiful dark skin. "Well, now that I'm free to say this, I have to admit I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you."

"K-kiss me? Why?" Peter croaked out, his hands beginning to sweat. He couldn't believe his ears! Dorcas wondered what it was like to kiss him? What was the world coming to?

"Mm-hmm," Dorcas said, biting her lower lip. Her gaze flitted to his mouth, and Peter's body shuddered.

This was a dream. This could be nothing but a dream. Girls like Dorcas Meadowes didn't go for boys like him. They went for men like James or Sirius—even if the latter was the most flamboyant man Peter had ever met.

"Why me?" Peter whispered, and Dorcas took a small step closer to him. Peter's heart almost leapt out of his body at the minuscule distance between them. If she took just one more step closer, she would be pressed up against him.

"You're sweet and kind and funny. You're also really shy...I love and hate that about you," Dorcas admitted, gazing up at him through her thick lashes.

Was she flirting with him? Or was it just a general observation? Peter had no idea what to do or think. Did she want him to kiss her? Did she want to kiss him? What if he kissed her and realised she was just teasing? What if he kissed her and his breath smelt bad? What if—

"Because you're so shy, you're never going to kiss me unless I specifically tell you to," Dorcas said. She took another step closer, her chest pressed against his, and Peter's mind blanked.

Okay, time to be a Gryffindor.

His hands trembled as he raised them to cup her face, her smooth skin soft under his palms. Peter took the small upturn of Dorcas's lips as an encouragement. He leaned over and pressed his forehead against hers. The tension between them was palpable—or was it only in his head?

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" Dorcas demanded, a smile still playing on her lips.

Okay, she felt the tension too.

Peter didn't close his eyes until his lips were on hers. The kiss was a little messy since it was only his second attempt at romance (the first being an awkward tryst with Mary in the Astronomy Tower the day before she found her soulmate was Snape).

Dorcas's lips moved over his, and all thoughts of Mary left his mind. Peter's muscles relaxed, though his mind still wandered. Was he doing things right? Was he supposed to hold her face the entire time? Could he touch her waist or would it be too inappropriate for a first kiss?

She wound her arms around his neck, and he trailed his hands down her back and under her jacket to hold her. A moan escaped Dorcas's mouth, and the sound broke the dam in Peter. He finally let his instincts take over.

To hell with propriety.

She was his, and he was hers. They belonged together. Nothing would separate them now. He wouldn't let it.

For once in his life, Peter took the initiative. He gripped her hips and pulled her flush against his body, swallowing her soft gasp. He reached up and fisted her curls in one hand, tugging her head back. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, his lungs aching for air.

He was kissing Dorcas Meadowes. With reckless abandon. Oh, if only his past self could see him now!

When Peter's lungs forced him to part, he didn't let Dorcas go. Delight washed over him when she clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, her chest heaving as she panted.

"Wow," she stammered, her pupils blown and her lips bruised. Her nails buried themselves deeper into his shoulders, and Peter's mind shot image after filthy image at him.

"Go out with me tonight?" Peter stammered, and his face warmed once again. He lowered his gaze, not because he was shy, but because he had heard rumours of soulmates being able to read each other's minds. He didn't know if it was true, but he didn't want to scare her off either way.

"Yes, please," Dorcas panted out, her eyes shining brighter than the stars. To his absolute joy, she yanked him closer and shoved her mouth against his.

This was heaven.