A/N: Hey y'all! Have some soulmates!Drarry :) Also, Pansy and Ron cameos.

Media Studies Task 5: Write about someone having a crush and acting on it.

Word Count: 3250

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

WARNINGS: Language, some angsty feels… but it ends fluffy. I promise.

Note: Soulmate!au. Takes place post-war.

Written for Crissie, who has been fantastic about keeping me going with all the gift fics I owe. I'm horribly slow at the best of times, and she's been so patient with me. Thanks so much, love—you deserve it. :)

Thanks to Ray for beta-ing!

Enjoy!

There were days when Draco regretted staying in touch with Pansy after the war. This was one of them.

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face, his grey eyes squeezing shut. "Parkinson," he ground out, "you've had horrible ideas in the past, but this might be your worst one yet."

Pansy just rolled her dark eyes at him. "Really, Draco. This is getting childish—if Potter is your soulmate—as disgusting as the idea is—the odds are good that you're his as well."

A pang shot through Draco at the reminder of his situation. Ever since Pansy had discovered the name tattooed on the inside of his wrist, she'd been pestering him about approaching Potter and revealing the connection to him. But she couldn't understand how impossible such a proposition was, because she wasn't a Death Eater. How could he, with his past, walk up to the savior of the wizarding world and say that the universe thought they should love each other unconditionally?

To disguise his growing discomfort, he said, "Whatever. This whole thing is stupid, Parkinson."

Pansy looked down at her painted black nails. "I bet," she said slowly, "that he's as nervous to do this as you are."

Such an idea was laughable. In fact, Draco would be howling if it wasn't making him so miserable.

He told her as much.

"Oh, please. I know what's best." Pansy threw her legs over the side of the armchair she was currently occupying, ignoring Draco's protests that they were trying to keep the flat nice. "You're just too afraid to make the first step. Why would Potter care about what happened three years ago? He's the one who's been advocating for you—insisting you're misunderstood and all that shit."

"So he has a conscience," Draco shot back. "That doesn't prove that he—he hated me in school!"

"You were a prick," Pansy agreed. "We all were. But then you saved his life during the war, and he saw that you weren't just some two-dimensional bully."

"I didn't save his life," Draco grumbled, scowling, embarrassed still by the tale Harry had told the press. "I just… tried to protect his identity. If anything, it was Granger's hex that saved him… or almost did, considering my family wasn't fooled."

Pansy was silent for a moment, but looked decidedly unimpressed. Draco shifted uncomfortably as her dark eyes bore into his, her dark bob of hair brushing against a pale chin. "It meant something to him, Draco," she said finally, her voice much softer than it had been. "He hasn't given up on you, you know. He's still in your corner."

He knew she meant well, but her words only sent another flash of pain through him. He stood abruptly, carefully avoiding her gaze. "Wanting to keep me out of Azkaban and wanting to love me are two very different things," he whispered harshly. Without another look in her direction, Draco summoned his cloak and stalked out of the flat.

Harry frowned down at the little black name on his wrist, wondering why the universe had to be so cruel to him. First orphaned, then hunted by his parents' murderer, and now unrequited love? It didn't seem fair.

"Harry, Harry! I drawed you a picture."

Then again, Harry thought as he turned to his beaming godson, there were some bright spots. "Did you, now? I'd love to see it."

The little Metamorphmagus grinned happily and held up a piece of paper inches away from Harry's face. The twenty one-year-old chuckled and took the picture, leaning back a bit so he could see properly. Two figures—which looked more like potatoes with arms and legs than anything else—smiled up at him. The bigger one had a shock of black scribbles on the top; the smaller one had blue.

Harry reached out to ruffle Teddy's turquoise locks. "Is this you and me? I love it!"

Teddy grinned happily at his godfather, nodding enthusiastically. Harry felt his heart swell; there were few things in the world that he cherished as much as Teddy.

Just then, the door of Harry's flat swung open, and Ron entered loudly. "Mate, you're brilliant and all, but you've got to start on your paperwork. Hermione's been lecturing me about it, as though I have any control over what you do."

Harry laughed at his oldest friend, but felt a pang of jealousy when he thought about how Ron and Hermione had found their soulmates in each other. He immediately felt guilty for it. "Right, yeah, tell her I will soon…"

Ron eyed the Auror critically. "Teddy," he said suddenly, "why don't you go find the Exploding Snap? Fancy a game?"

Teddy eagerly ran off, and Ron took the opportunity to sit down. His blue eyes stared directly into Harry's green. "You're still upset about Malfoy," he guessed. "Harry, listen… I don't like the git, but if there's a chance he can stop you from being so miserable… shouldn't you just go for it?"

Ron seemed almost reluctant to be saying it—he did hate Draco, after all—but he was saying it nonetheless. To ignore the stirring in his chest, Harry said, "This is a weird change of heart, mate."

A smile flickered across Ron's face. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm weird." But then seriousness draped itself across his face once more. "Really though, mate, I think you should give him… at least half a chance. Give yourself half a chance."

Harry scoffed and ruffled his hair, unconsciously mirroring the behavior of his father's that he witnessed in the pensieve years ago. "He hates me. I've tried to show him that I want to put the past behind us and just look forwards, for once, but he keeps avoiding me."

Ron was silent for a long while, his brow furrowed as he thought. Eventually, he spoke. "When Ginny revealed that her soulmate was Pansy Parkinson, I just about lost my shit. We hated Parkinson in school, you know? But then Mum was inviting her to family functions in an effort to be supportive, and Percy actually got on with her… and suddenly she was always around.

"I really wanted to hate her. She'd always been horrible to us, and I didn't want anyone like that near my sister; Ginny deserved better than that. But Pansy… she smiled around Ginny. She makes Ginny laugh. They play Quidditch together on weekends, and Hermione keeps inviting them along to double-date with us." Ron scratched at the back of his neck. "My point is, mate, that Ginny took a chance… and this is the happiest I've ever seen her." He eyed Harry pointedly. "Pansy likes Malfoy, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I just… I want to see you happy."

Harry's emerald green gaze dropped to his lap. He wouldn't insult Ron by insisting that he was happy—they both knew it was a lie—and his mind was buzzing from the heartfelt confession. "I—" Harry swallowed, unable to find the right words to convey the intense emotion he was feeling. "Thanks," he finished lamely. "Thank you, Ron."

Ron rocked back and then forwards again, then awkwardly clapped Harry on the shoulder; neither were sure how to finish such a serious conversation. "Yeah, well. You've been a bit mad about this, mate."

A small smile tugged at the edge of Harry's mouth. "Everybody's mad here," he insisted. "Do you know a single person who isn't?"

"Hermione," Ron said immediately, then turned a dark shade of red.

Harry barked out a laugh, startled by the honesty. "Merlin, you've got it bad. But I suppose you're right."

Ron rolled his eyes, but he took the teasing in stride. "I'll go find Teddy; he seems to have gotten lost. You go and… I dunno, whatever you do to relax. Take a ride on your broom, maybe."

Harry smiled ruefully. "Too many Muggles," he said regretfully. Then he cocked his head to the side. "I could go for a run, though."

Ron nodded. "I'll watch Teddy," he promised. "And Harry?"

"Yeah, mate?"

A brief hesitation, then— "I worry because I care."

Stunned a little by the emotional honesty, Harry could do little more than smile his thanks. He knew Ron could detect the words he'd left unspoken, so Harry gathered up the rest of his composure and went to grab his coat before heading outside.

Only Potter, Draco thought, would be barmy enough to go for a jog in the middle of winter.

He was dressed appropriately for the weather, at least, in a thick, silver Muggle coat and warm pants. Draco, by contrast, was drawing some odd looks because of his cloak, but he didn't mind much what Muggles thought of him.

Suddenly, Pansy, unbidden, popped into his head. You're just too afraid to make the first step.

Draco stood in the snow, caught between turning and running and taking his friend's advice. Before he could come to a decision, however, Potter turned his head just so and spotted him.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. It was the first time they'd truly been alone together after the war, and the tension between them was obvious. Then Draco watched a look of determination settle over Potter's face, and he watched the Gryffindor start to jog towards him—before slipping on the icy pavement and landing in the snow.

Draco smothered a laugh as he walked briskly over, his feet much more sure on the slippery surface. He gazed down at Harry as soon as he reached him, noting the pink tinge to the other man's cheeks.

"Not very graceful, are you, Potter?"

"Well," Harry grunted as he tried to find some purchase, "you were the one who accused me of training for the ballet; it's not my fault it was an incorrect assumption."

Draco flushed as he remembered that second year Quidditch game, when he'd yelled rather obnoxiously as Harry was forced to do a twirl mid-air in order to elude a bludger. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the thought, and focused on the present. "Shame. It might have done you some good." Draco stuck out a pale hand. "Come on, then."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, but quickly accepted Draco's hand. Once the Gryffindor was safely on his feet, Draco retracted his hand. Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted with a nervous energy that Draco wouldn't have expected of the Auror.

The silence stretched on until it was overwhelming, and Draco knew that he had to speak. "I suppose I should thank you," he said quietly, "for… keeping me out of Azkaban."

Harry blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck. It was still incredible to Draco, even after ten years of knowing the other man, how modest he could be. "Yeah, well, I'm not… I don't agree with why you took the Mark, but I know—I know you never wanted to hurt anyone."

Draco flinched. He thought of Harry watching his failure to kill Albus Dumbledore, Harry listening as Draco refused to reveal his identity…

But he'd also been there in the Room of Requirement. He'd taken up the Dark Mark at sixteen, had maliciously cursed and poisoned multiple people in his attempt to kill the headmaster from afar. He was far from innocent.

And as much as Draco wanted to try and find the connection that the soulmate bond promised him, he didn't want Harry going into it blindly.

Harry seemed to guess what he was thinking. "I think you're innocent," he muttered. "Of what he wanted you to do, anyway."

"We're all guilty of something, Potter," Draco argued. He didn't want the other man to form some imaginary, heroic illusion of him. "I happen to be guilty of more things than most."

Harry nodded jerkily. "I know. Shit, Malfoy, I know. But… but I know what it was like, and I'd like to think that I understand you a little better, having been forced to make similar choices."

"I hurt many people, Potter," Draco said slowly, reluctantly. "And I didn't mind doing it."

Harry shook his head. "So did I, Malfoy. Some of the things I did are worthy of Azkaban, too." He turned his green-eyed gaze on Draco, staring intently into the blond's eyes. "I know a pub a little ways away—I'd, I dunno, feel better about talking there. More private."

For half a second, Draco hesitated. But then he shook himself, determined, for once, not to ruin things for himself. He nodded and let Harry lead him down the street, extremely aware of the soulmark hidden beneath his sleeve.

For the first time, he let himself hope that his own name sat on Harry's flesh.

Harry bought them a quick meal at the pub. Then, very discreetly and with the practiced ease of an Auror, he cast a Silencing Charm around them in order to maintain some privacy.

"So." Harry leaned a little closer, his elbows on the table and his messy black hair falling into his eyes. "I told you that I'd done things that deserve Azkaban." Harry fiddled with the cuff of his coat, but he didn't look away. "It's your turn to respond."

Draco lifted a brow, trying to disguise his panic at hearing the question. "I don't know what you want me to say, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Say whatever you want to say," he murmured.

Draco leaned forwards and lowered his voice. His heart was beating frantically in his chest, but he was overwhelmed with a sudden need to make Harry see him—really see him. "I wasn't raised to be a good person, Potter. I was raised to be a selfish one. I—I want to move forwards, like you've suggested, but you need to understand that I can never be truly good."

Black brows furrowed at Draco's words, and suddenly there was a fierceness in Harry's gaze that hadn't been present since the war had ended. "Do you know how I was raised? To be broken. My aunt and uncle… they didn't care if I was good or not, they just wanted to make me think that they were better than I was." He paused. "I like to think I'm good in spite of that."

It was such a startling thing to hear, but Draco pushed the information away for further inspection later. "You are. But I'm not." He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "People want to be good. They really do, deep down. But they just fuck up."

"The fact that you admit to that," Harry insisted firmly, "is proof that you're a better person than you think. I can see that person, Draco—even if you can't. You've proven to me that you're not inherently bad, you were just trying to do what you thought was right." Harry reached out as if to grasp Draco's hand, but then pulled it back and cleared his throat. "You think differently now."

"That doesn't change—" Draco stopped himself, trying to get a handle on his emotions. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm his breathing. "Listen, Potter, I'm glad that you're… grateful… that I didn't turn you over in the war. But that didn't do you much good, did it? Everything I tried to do… all of it… all of it was for nothing."

Silence followed his statement. For a moment, Draco thought he'd ruined everything. He thought he'd convinced Harry that pursuing any sort of relationship with him was a terrible idea, that he'd chased off the Boy Who Lived forever.

But, surprisingly enough, a hand reached out hesitantly and captured his trembling one. "It meant something to me," Harry murmured, and that was all he needed to say.

To his horror, tears choked Draco's throat. He reached up to rub at his jaw, trying to keep his emotions buried deep within. But this—this was something he'd been unconsciously waiting to hear, and for it to come from his soulmate, of all people… it was almost too much for him to bear. "Damn it, I… I'm sorry."

This time, Harry let himself grab Draco's hand. "Forget everything you think you know," he said cautiously, "and let me show you… show you this."

And he turned his hand until it was palm up, then pulled down his coat sleeve, revealing the name of his soulmate. Draco Malfoy.

Draco's breath caught in his throat. With shaky hands, he revealed his own secret.

Harry's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank Merlin. If it had been unrequited—"

He didn't need to finish the sentence, because Draco had held those same fears. "Do you want to try this, then?" he hated how his voice shook, but Harry seemed to barely notice.

"Does this look like a face that would lie to you?" Harry asked, a grin starting to form. "I wouldn't have shown you the mark if I didn't want this."

Draco bit his lip. "I've seen honest faces before," he reminded Harry quietly. "They usually come attached to liars."

That sobered the Gryffindor. "I'm not using you, Draco," he said quietly.

Draco wanted to believe him, but this wasn't a fairy tale. Trust would come with time. But he looked out the window at the dark night sky, amazed by how quickly time had passed, and nodded to Harry to let him know he'd been heard.

Their relationship started out rocky, as they'd known it would. They had a lot of history to overcome, after all.

But it wasn't all bad.

Harry was lying on his back, staring at the dark ceiling as Draco wandered about the bedroom, muttering about this and that. It was a nervous habit, Harry had learned. He found it endearing.

"Funny we ended up like this, isn't it?" he mused aloud. "You know, together."

He couldn't see Draco's face, but the sarcasm was obvious. "I don't know what you mean; we loved each other in school."

"Arse." Harry rolled over in bed and grinned at Draco. "I don't know why I put up with you."

Draco huffed out a laugh. It was a sound that Harry hadn't heard before they began dating: Draco's real laugh, not the cynical one he'd used during their school years. "You brought this upon yourself, you know that?"

Harry's eyes softened. "Yeah, I know."

Another minute passed in comfortable silence. Draco finally approached the bed, dressed in his underwear and a long-sleeved shirt a few sizes too large—to cover the Dark Mark, Harry knew. He didn't say anything about it though, having his own insecurities about how he went to sleep: he only ever did it fully dressed, right down to his socks.

Draco climbed onto the mattress and settled comfortably in Harry's waiting arms. "I know what you mean, though," he muttered, referring to Harry's initial statement. "I still can't quite believe it."

"Me either," Harry admitted. "But it's good, isn't it?"

Instead of agreeing verbally, Draco nodded against Harry chest sleepily. He was asleep within minutes. Harry smiled, staying awake a little longer to drag his fingers soothingly through Draco's blond hair. He couldn't remember a time before in his life when he'd felt so at peace.

He spotted his name on Draco's wrist, barely peeking out from his shirtsleeve. A lazy smile crossed Harry's face as he relished this feeling of contentment. It was better than anything he'd felt before.

He drifted off to sleep, his lover wrapped in his arms. At last, all was well.

A/N

WC: Assorted Appreciation: 6. "Whatever. This whole thing is stupid."

WC: Disney Challenge: T3. Write about someone seeking redemption

WC: Comics: 18. (emotion) sarcasm

WC: Book Club: Jake — (dialogue) "I know what's best.", (word) bully, (dialogue) "You brought this upon yourself, you know that?"

WC: Showtime: 13. (relationship) childhood friends

WC: Amber's Attic: 15. (genre) hurt/comfort

WC: Sophie's Shelf: 7. (dialogue) "In case you haven't noticed, I'm weird."

WC: Empire: 6. (dialogue) "I worry because I care."

WC: Liza's Loves: 29. Write about a Potter

WC: Bex's Basement: 1. "I think you're innocent." / "We're all guilty of something."

WC: Lizzy's Loft: 12. (word) imaginary

WC: Trope of the Month: 20. (genre) romance

WC: Scamander's Case: 2. (color) red

WC: Film Festival: 19. (word) friend

WC: Marvel Appreciation: 11. (color) silver

WC: Lyric Alley: 11. I'm yours

Seasonal: Days of the Year: Do a Grouch a Favor Day: Write about attempting to get and stay on someone's good side

Seasonal: Colors: 1. Emerald green

Seasonal: (color) silver

Seasonal: Religious Holidays: Watch Night: (plot point) reminiscing

Bingo: "All of it… all of it was for nothing." / "It meant something to me."

Wandmakers: 11. Chestnut: (relationship) friends, 5. Thestral hair: (setting) Muggle London

Fortnightly: Characters: 8. (sexuality) gay, (action) scowling

Fortnightly: Mario: 2. (color) silver

Supernatural: 28. (word) unimpressed

Cones: 8. (genre) romance