The Houses Competition - Round 9 Standard

Slytherin, Charms

Prompt/Theme: Romance

Main Prompt: [colour] Mauve

Additional Prompt: [word] Happiness

Word Count: 2,977 on Scrivener, 2,981 on MS Word

Betas: Aya Diefair, Fires of Eden Red Rose Aurora, Butterflies765, NeonDomino

A/N: Soulmate!AU. What if the Malfoys let the trio escape… (I'm liking the 'what ifs' at the moment)

Warning: Mentions of torture, no descriptions.

You Deserve a Choice

Present Day

Greek mythology originated the idea of soulmates when Zeus feared the humans' power, with their eight limbs and two faces sharing a head. So he tore them apart, condemning them to spend the rest of their lives searching for their other half.

That was exactly where the idea of soulmates belonged—according to Hermione—in myths and fairytales about gods that never existed. It was a ridiculous notion that there was someone out there who was your perfect other half.

Soulmates were something for fools and idiots to believe in, making them hope and believe something better would come along when there was someone perfectly acceptable in front of you. Someone who was kind, protective and loving.

And yet, Hermione found herself sitting across from an Unspeakable, begging for answers about her birthmark of mauve colour.

Eight Years Earlier - Malfoy Manor Drawing Room

Narcissa heard her husband breathe in sharply, his eyes stuck on the Mudblood girl. Lucius turned his back to Bellatrix as she continued pulling up the sleeve of Hermione Granger's jumper.

Lucius moved closer to his wife, his side pressed into hers as he leant in. "You see it? On the inside of her left wrist?" he whispered into Narcissa's ear, his breath hot and smelling of alcohol.

Narcissa's eyes immediately went to the girl's wrist; an odd spot of a birthmark, almost star shaped with dull points—as if a large drop of red wine had dried there. Even though the room was lacking light, Narcissa knew the colour to be a strange purple, almost pink—mauve her mother had called it.

Then her eyes sought Draco; her son stood frozen in horror, watching Bellatrix torture his schoolmate. "We have to stop her," Narcissa whispered back to her husband, grabbing Lucius' sleeve. "If Bella kills her, she'll…"

Lucius nodded.

Bellatrix, too busy screaming into the girl's face, couldn't hear them whispering. Lucius gripped his wife's hand, knowing the implications of their actions if they stepped in… The consequences. But their son's life was not a cost they were prepared to pay. Without them even knowing it, Draco had already been trying to save her life by pretending to not know who she or her friends were.

It was the five of them in the room. They moved quickly. Narcissa knocked out Bellatrix with a stupefy. Lucius went to the dungeons. Draco, still immobilised, watched his parents with wide-eyes. "What's happening?" he asked hoarsely.

"Quick, help me with the girl." Narcissa pulled Hermione into a sitting position, pulling her sleeve down past her hand; she cried out trying to push away. "Listen to me!" Narcissa instructed, gripping her biceps tightly.

The girl listened carefully, tears falling down her cheeks, fear coming off her in waves … but she was strong, Narcissa could see it in her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" the Potter boy asked of the Malfoys, holding onto Dobby's hand. The house-elf was always eager to help the boy.

"Win. Just win. That's all you need to know," Lucius told him firmly.

"You need to attack us before you go." Narcissa handed over their wands, leaving them with nothing. "Do it."

Half an hour later they were facing the Dark Lord's punishment for not being vigilant and allowing them to escape, ignoring Draco's begging questions about why they had changed their minds so drastically once their punishment was over.

Bellatrix never did remember torturing the Granger girl.

As The Magical World Recovered…

Thanks to Harry Potter's testimony, none of the Malfoys went to Azkaban, but they were under a firm, watchful eye from the Ministry, agreeing to regular checks on their home and wands. Draco, wanting to change the cycle, to be different from the Malfoys that came before him, asked for help. He came to rely on Harry, Hermione and Ron for help finding his way in the adult Wizarding World. It was a debt the trio felt obliged to pay after the Malfoys had let them escape.

The dust settled after the war and one year turned into another and another, and with it came a settled routine for Draco. Twice a week he would visit the Ministry, have his meetings or shake hands with the departments the Malfoys had promised donations to, and visit the Leaky Cauldron for a firewhisky before going home. These visits were rarely made to Hermione Granger or her department, but he would see her with Ron from time to time.

The odd thing was, Draco always seemed to know when she was in the vicinity. His eyes would unknowingly seek something… someone and he wouldn't know what it was until he found Hermione. He always put it down to guilt; he never had truly apologised for all he'd done to her in school. That was an act of bravery he wasn't sure he would ever possess, even after all her friends had done for him in recent years.

On a particularly restless Saturday—if he was being honest, Draco had been restless all week and didn't know why—he went to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. It wasn't somewhere he purposely went if he wasn't in the area, but there was a strong urge to be there, to be around people and sit in a corner alone.

When Draco pushed the door open, the familiar smell of stale alcohol hitting him with the warmth of the room, his eyes immediately sought her out. This time he knew he was looking for Hermione, and she was actually there, in a corner by herself. She had a closed book on the table, an untouched white wine by it, and her eyes landed on him within seconds. He froze, not sure what to do, until she gave him a small wave. Draco gave her a sharp nod as a greeting and went to the bar.

Draco stared at his drink for a moment, cupping his hand around the glass tumbler, then he took a deep breath and carried it over to Hermione. "Would you like some company?" he asked, his voice stronger than his nerves felt.

Having watched him walk over to her with questions in her eyes, Hermione gave him a quick nod, moving her coat and bag off the chair by her. Draco took the seat, suppressing the urge to let out a sigh, and glanced at her book; it was on the history of house-elves and their magic.

"Still fighting for their cause?" he asked, sinking back into his chair.

She gave him a frown, sweeping the book off the table and into her bag. "Someone has to," she muttered, returning her hands to holding the base of her wine glass, the sleeves of her thin jumper pulled past her knuckles.

"I—" He shook his head. "I wasn't having a dig, Granger."

"You wouldn't be the only one if you were," she said with a heavy sigh at the end of her words. Her frown deepened. "I don't want to talk about it," she added quickly when she spotted him opening his mouth.

Draco shrugged. "We don't have to talk."

Hermione sank down in her seat, her shoulders rounding with an air of defeat surrounding her. "I'm being rude."

"No less than I deserve, I'm sure," Draco said. She laughed quietly. "No bodyguards to keep you company tonight?"

"They're working," she answered. He didn't miss the hard blink as she sat up straight, eyes firmly on her drink. She suddenly looked him in the eye and he clenched his jaw at the unexpected fizzle of excitement that went through him. "It's Saturday night, I thought someone like you would be on a date."

Draco automatically took a sip of his drink, which wasn't the best idea for his dry throat. The burning sensation intensified and he coughed, like it was the first time he'd had firewhisky.

"Sorry. Was I being rude again?" She patted at his back as he tried to swallow against the burn, another cough escaping him. "I've seen you on dates, that's all."

"You have?" he said with a mild wheeze.

She nodded, smiling. "Never the same one twice, though."

Draco felt himself pull a face at the statement before he could stop himself. "Dates but nothing more." He finally felt safe to take another sip of his drink without acting like an inexperienced drinker. "What about you and Weasley—how are things?"

Draco spotted Hermione's grimace out of the corner of his eye. It was obviously a night for 'wrong' questions.

"We broke up a couple of weeks ago," she said like the words were a struggle to say.

"I don't do shoulder-crying, Granger," Draco warned, leaning away as if she was about to do that very action.

She rolled her eyes, giving him a withering look. "I'm—we're not upset. We both felt it was right, but…" She kept rubbing her thumb on the stem of the glass, watching the action as she did. "It's hard to explain."

"I don't do relationship talk, either." He sniggered when that got him an exasperated look.

"You asked the question," she muttered.

They both laughed unexpectedly. A tension surrounding them dissipated immediately, leaving a door open for them to have their first proper conversation they'd ever had in the years they'd known each other. Hermione explained how her and Ron had ended up staying in their relationship six months longer than they should have. Draco told her his fears of being alone because no one would truly want to be with him; he was damaged beyond repair as far as he was concerned.

At the end of the night, as Hermione put her coat on, Draco found some courage in his depths and put a hand on her left wrist. An odd shock went through his hand, making him pull it back immediately at the same time as Hermione jumped from the contact.

Hermione laughed with a shrug. "Must be static electricity off my coat."

Draco shook his head with a small laugh, staring at his palm for a moment. As she stood, he looked up and quickly said, "I'm sorry for everything I did to you."

Hermione held his gaze firmly, making Draco feel like he was fighting for his innocence somehow.

"Why did your parents let us go?" she asked.

He frowned at the unexpected question. All these years and she was asking now? "I—I don't know," he stuttered, having asked the question himself numerous times but was constantly ignored by his parents.

Hermione sighed, picking her bag up off the floor. "You did a lot, and while I'm not one to hold grudges, I'd rather you did something that was meaningful instead of using words and hope that's enough."

"Like what?" He got up to follow her out of the pub to Diagon Alley.

She didn't say anything until they were outside. "You're not stupid. You'll think of something." She paused, turning back to look at him as he remained at the entrance to Diagon Alley. "Do something that will give you peace and happiness."

"Do I deserve it?"

She smiled sadly at him, the light above her not hiding the sympathy in her eyes. "We all deserve it, Draco."

Draco watched her walk away into the small crowd still lingering around the closed shops. He wasn't sure he'd ever know peace with the guilt that lingered around his thoughts every day. But happiness might not be far behind with how thrilled he felt in the pit of his stomach at hearing his name on her lips.

Like a Moth to a Flame

Draco heeded Hermione's words and the following Monday he turned up at her office offering the weight of the Malfoy name to help with her cause in giving house-elves better rights. If a Malfoy could listen to her and change their views and treatment of the creatures, then people might follow his example.

It might have been the guilt, it might have been the continuing learning curve he was on, but Draco needed to do this for Hermione. When she smiled happily at him with his offer of help, he knew he was lost. It made no sense, it had no logic, but he didn't care. Like she had suggested; he was doing something meaningful.

It was going well, until one afternoon, as they sat in her office, she took her cardigan off and he saw it; a birthmark. A buzzing filled Draco's ears while Hermione walked around the office, pulling various folders off her shelves and putting them on the desk.

"Are you listening?" she asked, her words finally cutting through the buzz.

Draco, without thinking, reached out and pulled at her left hand, turning it palm up. The contact with her, holding her hand this way made a calm settle over him like a blanket, something he hadn't felt in years. Hermione said his name, but he ignored it as he traced the familiar pattern of the purple-pink birthmark. What was it his grandmother called the colour… mauve?

"Are you going to make fun of that, too?" She pulled her hand away, forcing him to fall towards the desk. She kept her right hand over her wrist, fear in her eyes.

"No," he answered earnestly. "No." He moved quickly—manically—taking off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve. "I have one exactly the same."

Hermione stared at it with wide-eyes, reaching out to touch it but not quite. "What a coincidence."

Draco shook his head. It all suddenly made sense, like he was no longer looking through a fog. His parents letting her go, the way they kept looking at her during the battle, the way he kept searching for her in a crowd, and the unexpected calm he felt at touching her.

"It's a soulmate mark, Granger." He used her surname, trying anything to keep his mind focused on what this meant.

"Oh, very funny!" She tutted, reaching for her cardigan.

"Granger." He grabbed her wrist quickly. "Hermione." She stopped pulling, looking at his fingers wrapped around her wrist. "You feel it, don't you? That—"

"Calm," she said quietly. She snatched her hand away. "That's—it's a myth—no, it's…"

"Come on. We'll talk to someone who knows this better than me." Draco didn't wait for her answer, already pulling her out of her office.

Soulmates…?

"No, no, no." Hermione kept shaking her head after she'd finished the words. "What about choice? You're effectively saying we don't have a choice!"

"Miss Granger, I know it may seem illogical, and it's certainly very rare, but soulmates exist," the Unspeakable told her gently.

These were not the words she wanted to hear. She looked to Draco, who seemed to be in some kind of anguish at her behaviour. "This is a joke the universe is playing on us. It has to be," she said quietly, willing Draco to say something—anything.

"My parents knew," he whispered to her. "Why else would they have let you go?"

Hermione sank back in her chair as she took that piece of information in.

"When one soulmate dies, the other doesn't survive much longer," Draco explained. "It was something my grandmother said. I thought she was telling me a bedtime story."

"He's not wrong, Miss Granger." He got up, searching his shelves before pulling at a thin book. He handed it to her. "There isn't much we know, but it's all in there."

Hermione stared at the book, opening her mouth to talk but nothing came out except little croaks as she thought she found her words. She was vaguely aware of Draco asking for them to have a moment alone.

She watched as he pulled his chair towards her, turning hers to face him, tucking her knees between his so she couldn't leave quickly. He smiled apologetically at her. "I'm sorry that it's me. You deserve better than me."

"You deserve a choice as well, Draco," Hermione said, looking at the book once more.

"What if I want you to be my choice?" Her head snapped up as he pulled the book from her grasp, putting it on the desk nearby, before taking her left hand, rubbing his thumb over the birthmark. "Would you be willing to try?"

"Try?" She couldn't think straight, her thoughts frazzled while her skin felt on fire at his touch.

"Why don't we start with a date?" he asked, uncertainty in his eyes. "I was trying to build up the courage before I saw… this." Hermione watched in fascination as he bent forward, placing the whisper of a kiss on her mauve birthmark.

"A date?" she asked the question like she was testing the idea out. And then she nodded before she could stop herself. "Okay. A date."

"Really?"

Hermione smiled at the happiness in his eyes at her agreement. It might have been the soulmate thing, which she wasn't saying she believed in yet, despite the evidence, but there was a knowledge in her already that she liked the feeling she got at being the reason he looked so happy.

She pointed at Draco's birthmark. "But this doesn't mean we make it work because of a silly myth. We take it slow."

"I can do that," he agreed, nodding emphatically.

"And you still have a lot of apologising to do… for everything," she told him firmly, trying to stop her face from giving away how his smile was currently making her feel.

"Every day," he promised.

Soulmates were illogical. Nonsense even. But here was her school bully, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, having spent the last eight years trying to make up for his mistakes—mistakes he'd made as a boy—and none of it made sense.

If Draco could try, Hermione would give him one date.