Submission for Round 12 of the Quidditch League FanFiction Competition
Seeker for the Chudley Cannons
Prompt: Your soulmate's name is printed on your wrist
Word Count: 2969
Harry slept in on his birthday. It wasn't intentional, but the flight from Privet Drive and loss of Moody had left his sleep somewhat disjointed the last few nights. He enjoyed the feeling of waking up slowly and well-rested, until Ron barged in.
"Happy birthday, Harry!"
Harry grumbled in response and flung one arm over his face.
"Don't be like that, mate!" Ron said, entirely too enthusiastically, in Harry's opinion. "You can do magic outside of school now, and —" he glanced towards the door furtively, "—have you checked your wrist yet?"
"No," Harry said, the word dragging itself out of his mouth slowly. He was abruptly grateful that his shirt sleeves were long.
Hermione and Ron had gotten each other's names months ago on their respective birthdays, and Harry knew that Ron was just eager for Harry to have someone like he had Hermione. But Harry had absolutely no idea whose name was going to be on his wrist, unlike Ron and Hermione, who had already been dating when Hermione had her birthday and got Ron's name, and then it was pretty much a sure thing that he would get hers when his birthday came around.
Harry's romance with Ginny had died as quickly as it had flamed into existence, and when he thought about the name that was going to appear on his wrist this morning, he almost dreaded it.
"Well, come on," Ron said, backing up and shutting the door, "have a look, then."
Harry sighed as he sat up, resigned to looking now and getting it over with. He'd had conflicting feelings about the entire concept of soulmarks ever since he'd first heard that witches and wizards got them. Sure, the idea of someone that was meant for you was nice, but it also felt like a lot of pressure. Harry had enough pressure in his life already.
But Ron was sitting across from him eagerly, waiting for him to read the name on his wrist, and Harry figured now was as good a time as any. He tugged his sleeve down.
"What's it say?" asked Ron, squinting at Harry's wrist. "Silver, that's a nice color."
Harry had never been more grateful that he and his soulmate would be the only ones able to read their wrists until they touched. Inside, he was panicking. Outwardly, he shrugged.
"Jamie," he said, thinking quickly. "Don't know anyone with that name."
"Oh," Ron said, looking a bit disappointed. "Me neither."
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"S'pose we should go down for breakfast?"
Harry jerked his eyes away from the incriminating silver letters on his wrist. "Yeah, let's."
He tugged his sleeve back down over his wrist as he went, although he knew it wouldn't make a difference. The same five letters — the same name — would still be there when he looked again later, unchanged.
Draco.
"Draco! Fetch Draco, he'll know."
Harry tried not to react to the name, but he couldn't help a shudder of fear. The Stinging Jinx wouldn't help him at all. Malfoy would know it was him, and all he needed to do to confirm it was touch him. Then his name would be fixed on Malfoy's wrist for all to see, and Harry had no doubts that Voldemort would be Summoned very quickly after that.
With his face all swollen, and his glasses sitting crookedly, Harry's vision was a bit blurry, but Malfoy's form was distinctive when he entered the room. Harry couldn't make out his expression until he got closer, obeying the eager and desperate orders coming from Lucius and Narcissa, but Malfoy looked a bit… scared?
Malfoy lifted his hand, as if he were going to touch Harry's scar, and Harry's breath caught in his chest. In a moment it would all be over — their names clear to everyone — and then abruptly Malfoy yanked his hand away, standing up straight again and putting his arms behind his back. Harry squinted at him in bewilderment.
"I can't really be sure," Malfoy said, and Harry was even more confused. There was absolutely no way Malfoy didn't know it was him. Despite having not touched him, Harry was sure he was still recognizable to his… to his soulmate.
"Draco, we will be in Voldemort's favor once more if we give him Potter!"
Malfoy just stared at Harry, his gaze totally inscrutable. "I don't know."
"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"
It was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry only listened to her screeching half-heartedly, his attention focused on Malfoy, who still had not looked away from him. Bellatrix's voice suddenly reached a horrifying note upon finding the Sword, and at that Malfoy startled a little, looked briefly over at the commotion on the other side of the parlor, and then glanced at Harry again and gave him a tiny nod before carefully backing out of the room.
Harry did not have time to think about whatever in Merlin's name was up with Malfoy after that, being a little preoccupied with getting everyone out of the Manor, but in the tumult as they made their escape, Malfoy appeared unexpectedly at his side and shoved something into his hand.
Startled, Harry looked down to see that Malfoy's hand was gloved, and in it he held several wands.
"Take them," Malfoy said, his mouth close to Harry's ear, sending a shiver down his spine, and causing his hand to close reflexively around the wands. Malfoy's mouth quirked, and then he shoved Harry away, pushing him into Dobby.
The last thing Harry saw as they Disapparated from the parlor was Malfoy's steady grey eyes.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Ron said hesitantly, as they sat on the beach in front of Shell Cottage together, "are you… alright?"
"Of course," Harry said automatically, looking out at the ocean. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ron.
"Just, y'know, I know you took losing Dobby the hardest out of all of us, but it seemed like… like, I dunno, something's bothering you?"
Harry could feel Ron's earnest gaze, but he still couldn't meet it. He looked down instead, and wiggled his toes in the sand anxiously. It was suddenly too much for Harry to hold to himself; his emotions had run the full spectrum, and he felt totally wrung out now.
"I lied to you," Harry said, and then he paused and glanced at Ron briefly. Ron's only reaction was a brief nod for him to continue, so Harry looked away again and kept talking.
"The name on my wrist isn't Jamie," he took a deep breath, "and I know hi — them."
Harry hoped Ron hadn't noticed his slip, but either way, Ron said nothing for several long seconds.
"I'm not mad at you," he finally said. Harry was surprised.
"You're… not?"
Ron scoffed. "Maybe I would've been before."
"Before?" Harry asked, confused.
"Well, it's Malfoy, isn't it?"
Harry found himself unable to speak, he was so shocked.
"Seemed kinda obvious to me," Ron continued, seemingly oblivious to Harry's temporary paralysis. "Like that ferret would ever not be able to recognize you."
Harry managed to find his voice again. "I don't understand. How can... are you okay with it?"
Ron looked at him consideringly for a moment. "I had to explain this to Hermione, too," he said, calmly. "The names we get on our wrists are decided by Magic." Something about the way he said it made Harry shiver a little. "That person is meant to be at your side — friend, brother, lover, doesn't matter. They're always meant to support you; to complete you. It's a gift from Magic; you can't brush it off."
Harry digested this for a minute. He still wasn't fully sure how he felt about Malfoy, specifically, being his soulmate, but Ron's explanation made him feel at least a little bit better about it.
"He gave me those wands," Harry said, eventually, knowing Ron would know who he meant. "I didn't take them off anyone."
"What'd I say," Ron said, with a bit of a smug smile. "Malfoy's a git, but he's too smart to ignore Magic."
"Hold it, Potter."
Harry turned slowly around. There, not ten paces behind him, stood Crabbe and Goyle, wands pointed at him, and through the narrow gap between their stout bodies Harry could see Malfoy in a similar stance. Harry recalled Ron's words about soulmates, and he wondered if Malfoy thought the same. He was still wearing those same gloves he'd put on at the Manor, Harry noticed.
"How's my wand working for you, Potter?"
"It's great," Harry said, still more confused. The politeness of Malfoy's question belied his combative pose. "Who's are you using?"
"My mother's," Malfoy said conversationally. "It's not particularly cooperative, but I'm making do."
If Harry was thrown off by Malfoy's behavior, then Crabbe and Goyle were even more so. They had both turned to the side, and looked back and forth between Harry and Malfoy as they spoke.
"What're you playing at, Malfoy?" Goyle asked.
"I'm not playing at anything," Malfoy said, still looking directly at Harry, and then made a brief flick of his wand in Goyle's direction. "Expelliarmus."
Goyle's mouth fell open as his wand catapulted out of his hand and went flying off into the stacks of junk with a distant clatter.
"Malfoy?" Crabbe asked warily, wand hand drooping.
"You've got two choices," Malfoy said. "Hand over your wand and the both of you can stay here out of the way, or Potter and I will Stun you."
Crabbe apparently needed a moment to digest this. "You're betraying the Dark Lord!"
"Well, now I wouldn't put it quite like that," Malfoy started to say, but Goyle at that moment decided to lunge at Harry with a wild yell.
Harry promptly shot a Stunner at him and he went down like so many sacks of potatoes, but the distraction had been enough that in the meantime Crabbe had pointed his wand at a pile of unwanted items and roared, "Flamma Malignare!"
Malfoy's Expelliarmus came too late; before the wand left Crabbe's hand vicious, unnatural flames had already leapt out of it, and as his wand went arcing upwards it continued spewing them. It was definitely not normal fire, Harry thought, watching with horror as it grew abnormally quickly.
"Like it hot, scum?" Crabbe cackled.
Malfoy's face had gone pale. "Potter, run!"
Harry hesitated for a second, but he was worried about Ron and Hermione, wandering around somewhere in the Room and not knowing about the fire, which was spreading incredibly quickly. He turned to the stone bust and snatched the diadem off of its head, and then ran off down the twisted path between the piles, shouting for Ron and Hermione. Luckily it didn't take long before he heard them shouting his name, too, and then he practically bowled them over as he rounded another corner.
"Who set off Fiendfyre, Harry?" Hermione panted as all three of them headed off together down another aisle. Harry wasn't sure it went back to the entrance, but it at least went away from the fire, which was still leaping up the mountains of objects as it pursued them, and formed disturbing shapes of snakes, dragons, and chimaeras as it devoured everything it touched.
"Crabbe," Harry answered Hermione. Although he could only see the side of her face while they were running, he could tell she was surprised, but before she could ask any questions of him, Ron abruptly changed direction and shouted, "This way!"
Harry didn't see what Ron was after until they were right up on them — two old broomsticks halfway up the side of a junk pile. Ron scaled it quickly, and tossed one broom down to Harry, mounting the other right there and flying it down beside Hermione. Harry put the diadem on his arm and hopped on his own quickly, and although it was no Firebolt he was relieved that it still seemed to be responding pretty well.
As they rose up above the stacks, Harry yelled over at Ron and Hermione, "Look for Malfoy!"
Hermione was obviously confused, but Ron nodded firmly in understanding.
The Fiendfyre was growing rapidly, but luckily they didn't have to look for long — Malfoy and Goyle were standing together atop a rapidly-disappearing pile. Ron and Hermione made their pass first and managed to grab Goyle, their broom dipping dangerously close to the flames as the broom adjusted to the excessive weight.
Harry swooped down closely behind them and reached down for Malfoy, managing to grab him by the hand, and taking the broom up higher before he helped Malfoy up behind him.
"Crabbe?"
"Just go!" Malfoy shouted. Maybe if there hadn't been Fiendfyre licking at the end of the broomstick Harry might've tried to look for Crabbe, too, but as it was there wasn't any time to waste.
From their height, nearly at the ceiling of the Room, Harry could finally see the door, and he urged the broom as fast as it would go in that direction, with Malfoy gripping the sides of Harry's jumper tightly as they wove around the leaping Fiendfyre. The creatures within it even wailed and shrieked at one point when he dodged a flame that got close to one arm.
Ron and Hermione's broom was a bit slower, and Harry came up behind them as they got to the door. Hermione raised her wand arm and shouted something, and the door shot open just in time for them to not fly straight into it.
There wasn't enough room out in the hall to come to a graceful stop; he and Malfoy went tumbling to the ground next to Ron and Hermione and Goyle.
Ron and Hermione were both panting heavily, and Goyle was staring at the wall where the door had vanished, and trembling like a leaf. When Harry turned to check on Malfoy, he was just pushing himself up into a sitting position, and met Harry's gaze steadily.
Everything seemed to fade around Harry as he looked at Malfoy — the distant sounds of battle grew quiet, and he forgot about Ron and Hermione. All he wanted to do was touch his bare skin to Malfoy's and let everyone finally see the name on his wrist, and it seemed like perhaps Malfoy felt the same way. Harry was about to lift his arm to reach out when something clamped down on his shoulder and brought the rest of the world back into focus.
"Harry, where's the diadem?" Hermione was shaking his shoulder. Harry looked down at his arm and realized with a jolt that it was gone.
"I must have dropped it!" Harry cried in horror. It was probably while he was distracted by Malfoy's hands in his jumper, he decided, not that he was going to tell Hermione that, but Hermione was smiling.
"That's alright — Fiendfyre's one of the things that can destroy —" She cut herself off, glancing over at Malfoy. "Anyway, we have places to be, Harry."
Harry hesitated for a second, and couldn't help looking at Malfoy himself.
"Go," Malfoy said, one side of his mouth twitching up into something like a smile.
It still didn't feel right to leave him there like that, but Harry knew Hermione was right.
He had a Dark Lord to vanquish.
The trial was not going well. Harry didn't need to be a lawyer to tell that; although a few witnesses had been relatively favorable — Luna, Ollivander, and Dean — the rest seemed all too happy to spew their vitriol on the stand.
At last, Kingsley rapped the gavel. "There is one final witness to call. Harry James Potter, please take the stand."
Malfoy's head, which had been hanging down and seemingly getting lower with every previous witness, abruptly jerked up. His eyes met Harry's almost feverishly as he stepped up to the witness booth and took the Oath promising to speak only the truth.
Harry had thought that his testimony would sway the Wizengamot, but as he answered Kingsley's questions and told of everything Malfoy had eventually done to help him, he didn't see a single sympathetic face among them. With a horrible, sinking feeling Harry realized that in the Wizengamot's eyes, nothing would erase the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm.
Except… except, perhaps —
"Mr. Potter, have you anything further to add?"
Harry looked at Kingsley, whose gavel was raised in anticipation of a negative answer.
"Yes," Harry said. It came out rather weakly, but the charms on the witness stand meant they all heard him anyway. Harry cleared his throat. "Permission to approach the accused?"
If the muttering that arose at his question were anything to go by, he'd requested something unusual. Kingsley slowly lowered the gavel and raised his hand to quell the chatter.
"We will allow it," Kingsley finally said after a long moment, during which Harry had almost lost hope.
An Auror was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs when Harry came down from the box, and escorted him out onto the floor of the chamber where Malfoy sat, chains wrapping him snugly to his chair. Harry stopped at the side of the chair and began unbuttoning one of his sleeves.
Malfoy looked up at Harry with wide eyes when he held out his arm, wrist up, and behind him, Harry could hear the Wizengamot start whispering again. The chains on the chair rattled in annoyance as Malfoy carefully lifted his arm. Harry reached out, and after a nod from Malfoy, pulled off the glove that had been on Malfoy's hand ever since that day in the Manor.
With wrists free, Harry took his soulmate's hand and grinned as their silver and gold names became clear for all to see.