Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

Wigtown Wanderers, Chaser 1, Round 12

Main Prompt: The last words your soulmate will ever say to you are printed on your arm.

Optional Prompts: (word) helpless, (word) destined, (dialogue) "This isn't what I wanted."

A/N: This is a combination of two types of Soulmate AUs - red string of fate and the last words your soulmate will ever say to you. The canonical death scene at Godric's Hollow has been altered to reflect this.

Warning for implied character death/mentions of death.

Thank you for my wonderful teammates for betaing!


On her eleventh birthday, the red string shimmers into existence. Tied around her left pinky, it curls and knots and disappears off into the distance, invisible to the rest of the world.

At the end of July, she has a visitor. She sits Lily's family down in the living room and carefully explains Lily's strange and uncommon abilities — which are not so uncommon after all. She gives Lily a letter that day, and everything changes.

On September first, she boards the Hogwarts Express with her best mate by her side and enters a compartment filled with blokes. Rowdy blokes — Lily wrinkles her nose as they taunt Severus, anger bubbling in her. It's quickly replaced by astonishment as the red string appears, shimmering and —

Lily follows the string with her eyes, horror steadily growing inside of her as she finds the other end attached to one of the boys.

No. No.


On her seventeenth birthday, the words form on her arm, inked in shiny black and standing out against her pale skin. She can't look at it without welling up.

She doesn't tell James. She cries herself to sleep that night, curled up in a ball, tremors wracking her body. When her dorm-mates see her bloodshot eyes and swollen face the next morning, all she has to do is roll up her sleeve. The plain pity on their faces makes the nausea in her gut swell. She hadn't invited James up to her dorm for this reason — his face is the one she's dreading the most.

But James does know. It's written all over his face when she comes down — he, of all people, knows. He's her soulmate. Her red string of fate. And his last words are printed on her arm. She shows him the words, and his face darkens.

I'll hold him off!

But he doesn't say anything, just laces his fingers through hers and guides her out of the common room. He knows that in two months, it will be his turn.


James tries cheering Lily up throughout the day, but it's well-known in the Wizarding World that your seventeenth birthday is a somber affair. So are the days leading up to it, as you dread the fated words appearing on your arm. The ones you are destined to speak with your last breath.

His speak of sacrifice. They speak to his courage and his devotion to Lily's protection. He hopes, at least, she will be able to live longer.

But right here and now, the expression on her face makes him feel helpless. He doesn't like feeling helpless. He is James Potter. He should know what he has to do to cheer his soulmate up. He doesn't like this feeling of flailing about in the unknown as Lily is plagued by the thought of losing him.

Finally, he pulls her aside after Transfiguration as they're heading down for lunch. He walks with her outside, onto the sprawling stretch of grass before the lake. He sits her down in the shade of an overhanging willow.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks without any prelude. She shakes her head, turning away from him. James' first instinct is to pull her into his side but he resists, knowing from prior experience — and an unfortunate incident involving a Pumpkin Pasty being smashed in his face — that Lily will not react well to physical comfort. Not right now, anyway. "Lily, please, talk to me."

Lily's hair swings as she shakes her head again. She's uncharacteristically silent and there is no light in her brilliantly colored eyes — only a dull sheen.

When the silence has stretched out to the point where it's becoming uncomfortable, James lets some of his frustration leak into his voice. "Show me them again."

In response, Lily clutches her arm more tightly to her chest.

"Lily…" James exhales slowly. "If you want to be left alone, fine. Just tell me and I'll leave."

"No." Her voice comes out croaky. "Don't go."

"Then talk to me."

Lily hesitates and James wants to facepalm. He loves his girlfriend, but Merlin, she can be so stubborn. But after a few moments, she speaks, her voice shaking. "I'm...sc-scared, James. I'm scared out of my fucking mind. I've always known this was coming but I wasn't prepared. I never realized how...how real this is. You dying, it's always been a nightmare of mine, and now that I have these bloody words…" In a fit of anger, she rips back her sleeve, where those damning words glisten on her arm.

James swallows, his words drying up in his throat. Now that Lily has put words to her feelings, he's realizing that she unwittingly put words to his as well. He'd been suppressing his fears for so long, like a vice had clamped on them and he'd refused to release it. But now...he's not ready for the onslaught of fear.

He's going to die.

"Look," he says, trying to keep his voice steady, "I know. But...think about it. Those words could be said tomorrow or fifty years from now. I plan to stick around for a long time, mind you." He tries for a smile and is relieved to see Lily reciprocate it. "You're not losing me that easily."

"Yeah, you would stick around," Lily mutters, smirking. "I'm doomed to have you as my pain in the arse for the rest of my life."

James is buoyed to see her spirits lifting. Of course, the somberness of the situation isn't completely gone, just lurking beneath the surface. But at that moment, it's easier to swallow.

For now.

"I'm your soulmate, darling," he says teasingly, giving their red string a tug. "You're always going to be stuck to me."


The night of 26th March, Lily sneaks up to his dormitory and crawls into his bed, but there is nothing inherently amorous about it. As the 26th bleeds into the 27th, he wraps his arms around her. Neither of them moves and that's how he falls asleep, his body curled around hers. She's warm and solid and he buries his nose into her hair, the scent of strawberries soothing his restlessness.

When he wakes up, she hasn't peeled back his sleeve. She could have, but she hasn't. She doesn't want to see his words before he does. She wants to do this with him.

A motion as simple and thoughtful as that is enough to make his heart thud painfully in his chest.

Merlin, he loves her. He kisses her head, his arms shifting and tingling with numbness as he does so. She stirs, letting out a low, soft moan. "Not a bad way to wake up," she murmurs, voice thick with sleep. "Do this...more often, and I might come up here more."

James laughs into her hair. "I just might."

He uses the arm resting on top of her to reach and part the hangings around his bed. Buttery sunshine streams through the gap. James squints, trying to adjust to the sheer volume of light illuminating their cozy cocoon. Lily, meanwhile, mewls like a kitten and presses her face into his pillow. "Too early," she moans, muffled. "Turn the sun off, please."

James grins. "I would if I could, my sunshine, just for you."

She smacks his bicep without opening her eyes. Both of them don't mention the words — not yet. If James is being honest, he'd almost forgotten the words. He wishes he could permanently forget them, but everything always leads back to the words. He's not sure if he's ready to follow his own advice about not worrying too much. That the words could happen fifty years from now.

"Lily?"

Lily visibly recognizes the shift of his tone, her body tensing as her mind catches up. She knows what he's thinking about without looking at him. She wiggles around in his arms and he loosens his grip, letting her sit up. He sits up too and she rests her head on his shoulder. James feels a surge of warmth.

"Thank you," he murmurs and doesn't need to say anything else. She stretches her neck up and kisses his cheek in reply.

He pulls down his sleeve, uncovering the words he's been dreading all this time.


Looks like he likes it!

These words are foreign to Lily, less clear than her own — who is he? Is it James, or someone else? Maybe...maybe it's their child?

She doesn't want to think about dying when there is a child in the picture; it makes her heart ache.

She traces the inky words on James's arm with her index finger — ironically, it is the same color as his hair — and her lips turn down. Seeing James' last words had been jarring, but seeing the words she would say is far more frightening. Those are her last words. They would leave her mouth, and that would be the last she'd see of James.

James...she feels small tremors rippling throughout his body, but he's got a better handle on his emotions than her. He always has. And then she looks up at him and sees the tears pricking at his eyes.

"This isn't what I wanted," he says shakily, jerking down his sleeve so they don't have to look at the words anymore. "I don't want to think about you dying. I know this was inevitable, but...part of me hopes that destiny intervenes. But...it's become more and more real with each passing day, with a war on our doorstep. I know what I said to you when you got your words — it could happen tomorrow or fifty years from now. But I have this awful, awful feeling in my gut that it might be sooner than later." He runs a hand through his hair, his breath coming out in short gasps.

"James," Lily starts, then falters. What can she say to refute his claims? He's unknowingly voiced her very thoughts — the terrifying thoughts that had gripped her since January. There is no doubt that a war is on the horizon. War means death.

Every morning, as she looks at the papers, the bold headlines declaring yet another death, and her heart becomes heavier. It hasn't escaped her notice that it is Muggles and Muggleborns being targeted and brutally murdered. Every night, she goes to sleep, knowing that she is lucky. She is safe behind the iron walls of Hogwarts for now.

But it doesn't stop her from wondering about the future. From sleeping with a wand tucked under her pillow.

She'd known James was her soulmate since she'd stepped onto the Hogwarts Express; when she'd walked into his compartment and seen the red string connecting them. While developing a friendship had taken them time — almost seven years, due to James' harassment of her best mate and his gradual improvement of character — she couldn't imagine him...dead.

So why had the thought of it haunted her for months?

"James," she begins, her voice stronger than before. She's thinking on her toes — in all honesty, she had been puzzling over this for weeks and had not come up with a perfect way to handle it, but now, the words seem to flood her mind. "I'm not going to even try to be optimistic. This isn't what I wanted either — it's not easy for both of us to imagine the other person…" She trails off. The concluding word sticks in her throat and she swallows it back, unable to say it.

But James is still trembling, so Lily clears her throat before continuing.

"But we have to keep moving forward. We know it's going to happen, one way or another. And when it happens...we'll know. But the best we can do is to fight. We keep fighting until the end."

She draws a breath to continue but James forestalls her by lacing his fingers through hers and gently squeezing her hand.

"You're right," he says. "We'll keep fighting...as long as it's side by side."

"We're soulmates, darling," she says, mimicking his words from a couple of months ago. She even tugs on the string, just as he had. "You're always going to be stuck to me."

It earns her a laugh and a genuine smile. She commits it to memory.


Three years later

Harry lets out a bubbly, high-pitched giggle from James' lap as more puffs of colorful smoke burst out of James' wand. His small hands bat at the smoke, face alight with glee.

The door opens and Lily walks in, eyes immediately falling upon the pair sitting on the floor. "Looks like he likes it!" she says, grinning mirthfully, but the moment doesn't last long as both of them register the words and recognize them for what they are.

The temperature of the room plummets. James' hand goes slack, his wand clattering to the floor. Lily's eyes go wide. The lights flicker and she sways on her feet, looking unmistakably petrified. Even Harry quiets, subconsciously sensing the heaviness that has settled over the room. No one breathes.

Something is wrong.

James knows. His gut seems to burn with forewarning; he'd become all too acquainted with the feeling. He'd been on tenterhooks waiting for this day.

He's here. He's found us.

He's moving before he can even will himself to. He stands and thrusts Harry at Lily, mind whirling, adrenaline pumping.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" he shouts, a mixture of panic and adrenaline coursing through him. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Lily's fear is plain on her face but she nods quickly before sprinting for the stairs. She doesn't hesitate; both of them know there is nothing more important than protecting their child — even if they have to die in the process.

Even if it is inevitable.


2319 words

Also written for:

Assignment 3, Muggle Arts Task #6: Le Pigeon Aux Petit Pois (Pablo Picasso) - write a fic including more than one point of view.

Auction: (word) Shiny