A/N
O-M-G I never thought that this story would get this reaction. You all make me cry happy tears! Thank you for following and favorite this thing. Because you all are amazing, here is the update two days earlier than planned.

I hope that you will like it and you continue to follow and to review

He was finally free from the dream-like fog that was becoming a new thing for him, Harry settled himself to the next problem on the what-the-hell- was-happening-to-him list. It was becoming quite a long list. Harry took a deep breath and then turned his attention back to the current irritation source on the sofa.

"Long hair suits you"

" Sod off, " Harry glared at him and pulled his hand through his hair to get it out of his face. The whole thing was started to get ridiculous, and it frankly freaked him out. But at the same time, it was like something blocked his panic that tried to bubble up to the surface like there was something like a lid on his emotions.

It was frustrating.

"It highlights your beautiful eyes." He could hear Ron's voice was rough with laughter even if he refused to look at him and started to pace again.

"Glad it seems to amuse you, Ron, can we take this a little more seriously now?" Harry growled. He was incredibly close to hex Ron to the next millennium if he did not start taking this seriously.

Harry pulled back his annoying hair once again and tried with a hard jerk to get the tassel to sit in place, but he was unsuccessful.

His hair had suddenly decided to grow, even though he had taken the scissors and tried to cut them back, so the next day it had grown since. And not only that, whatever he did, it was as if his hair had been given a life of its own; it refused to remain in the place that would serve as a prison for the thick hair.

His hair was precise so long that he could make it stick together in a short ponytail in the neck, but his newly formed bangs did not seem to understand what he wanted it to do. He had even tried to use spells and charms, but no matter what he did, the horrible hair seemed to have a life of its own. He had always had messy and wild hair before, but this took the prize.

After the war was over, Harry had claimed his titles, both the Potters and the Black families. It was only Hermione that had decided to return to Hogwarts and finish her studies. He and Ron had been accepted into the Auror program without any fuss; instead, they had been happy to have them on the force. And with their already familiarity with field words, none of them had any problems passing the exams.

After much deliberation, they had concluded that all three would move into the Potter mansion, which Harry was happy about as it was too big just for him. Sure he still had the Grimmauld place, but there were too many memories of Sirius. And Harry didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to be alone because he would be alone with his mind and thoughts, which was not a pretty picture. Harry suspected that both Ron and Hermione had the same problems, and with the three of them under the same roof, they felt safer. He could start and relax and not look over his shoulder all the time.

As Hermione was back in Hogwarts and Ron worked his way up in the Ministerial with much vigor. On the other hand, Harry had no idea what he wanted anymore; after an extra difficult task to gather Death eaters, he had been stunned and scared that he felt so empty and indifferent when the man had died in front of him. He had stared down at the vacant eyes and felt nothing.

It no longer felt right, and it scared him. It was as if something inside him did not want to listen; he wanted to see them burn and die before his feet. He felt a little bit satisfied that he had shown them that he was not powerless. It was as if his heart and brain were no longer in harmony with each other.

So after that incident, he decided he needed an extended vacation, starting immediately. Harry had enough fortune now to never work again in his life, so he decided to restore the Potter mansion on his own. It was more like a therapeutic refuge than anything else, which made him feel close to his parents.

"Okay, okay, sorry " Ron's voice brought him back, and Harry looked over at him as he raised his hands in a rewarding gesture. He did not sound sorry. Rather the opposite, as if this had been a joke made by his brothers. Bloody annoying Weasleys.

Ron got up and held out his hand to him. Which made Harry stop in his path and stare down at his hand and then look up at him a little questioningly, no idea what he wanted him to do.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Hand it over; I'll help you."

"What?"

"Which of us has a sister?" he asked, grinning. "I always helped Ginny when she was younger with her hair. However, it did not have its own life as yours probably have, but then again, what is new with you being different? "he commented, and Harry sighed resignedly and tore off the offended band, and the half-long black hair fell in a mess around his face.

"Just do it," he muttered, this could not get any worse than it was. Ron grinned as he went behind Harry and collected his hair by hand and then only soaked down the tassel before attaching it hard, "there you go, mate."

It felt weird, but the hair had suddenly decided to stay in place. Harry fingered on the bun in his neck and grinned. It stayed where it was. " This is bloody brilliant! How did you do that? " Harry turned and walked over to the full-length mirror and looked at his head and the tuft that now held it together correctly.

"Magic," Ron said teasingly and waved his fingers but ducked for a pillow that suddenly came flying towards him.

"Oh, bugger, come on! You do it again, " he pointed out, and quite rightly so, Harry still stood by the mirror and had only waved his hand to make the pillow attack his redheaded friend. Ron yelped when a larger decorative pillow hit him hard in the back. "Not fair! "

"I do not play fair with those who do not deserve it," said Harry, but he took pity on the red-haired man who was now almost buried in the pillows. He looked down at his hand and noticed how his shirt was a little longer than it had been before. Had he shrunk?. Harry fingered the seam for a while before magically reducing it without any problems.

" Huh," Since when could he perform wandless magic this good?

Ron crawled, muttering out of the pillows and shook his head. "You know, I asked Ginny that once, why she did not fix her hair with magic." The redhead said, not noticing Harry's thoughtful expression, " She had the same problem as you. It comes from the fact that some individuals secrete their magic unconsciously all the time. Have you ever wondered why Hermione has a problem with the hair that she has? "

Harry could not precisely say that he even thought of it, "Good to know. How do we make it stop growing? "

"Absolutely no idea," Ron said, stuffing a caramel in his mouth as he sank into the sofa again. "Ask Fred and George? they maybe have pranked you?"

Harry rubbed his face and gave off a frustrating sight. "No, I don't think that's it." Why did this happen to him? Why could he not just live his life in peace and without anything different happening to him? Now he had strange dreams and a wild hair that decided to have a life of his own. Besides, the headache was going to be the death of him, and on top of it all, the pain relief potions no longer worked as they used to. He had even started taking the double even to have the slightest effect.

"Harry, are you okay?" the redhead suddenly asked him, as he had gone quiet for some time. The previously amused voice was now full of anxiety. "you look like you're in pain, do you need me to call Hermione? perhaps it is a new attack."

Attack, yeah, that was what they were calling the massive headache that was popping up and almost swoop him under each time. It was not like it always was a new dream that came to him when it happened. Sometimes his body burned and hurt like someone broke his bones and torn his muscles apart only to pull him together in another way.

"No, no, it's fine," Harry said, massaging his temple. He was tired, grumpy and everything just felt wrong at this moment, and he needed to... to do what? He had no idea as the feeling gripped on his heart. Everything from his body to his magic felt strange. Also, he could not eat anything properly and could only live on dry bread and water.

Ron suddenly stood next to him again with his arm supporting him and now looked worried, "Harry, you can barely stand straight," he said, "Maybe you should try to rest a little?"

Harry held back a sigh and ground his teeth as the explosive pain swooped over him. Suddenly, sleep didn't sound so bad.

"Rest," the redhead said as he put a blanket over his body. "I wake you up if Herms finds anything." Harry could only nod as he laid down on the sofa, and his head had not even been put on the pillow before he drifted away, and his mind was invaded with a new dream.

The room he entered was huge. The whole ceilings were decorated with massive gold ornaments; not a single place in the roof was empty of art ornament. The farthest wall was covered with massive windows that towered up in the ceiling and down the sides hung heavy red curtains that were held together with thick golden ropes. At the far end of the room were majestic tables lined up in dark wood and an old look filled to the brim with food, pastries, and fruit.

Harald could see that many guests were already in the full festive atmosphere, both men and women were all exclusive dressed, and laughter filled the air. There were even some fairies and elves there as well. Harald could recognize their appearance as they had a completely different attraction to the surroundings than others; it was as if they absorbed all the light as they moved fleetingly among the guests.

Harald swallowed hard and focused on his parents' backs while they were presented to the court. He could feel burning glances at him, and he could read that most people were curious about them, curious, a little scared, and from some, he knew even a cold corps of menace. He understood why these glances were directed at them. His family adhered primarily to their own and did not often mix with others. But as part of the legendary creature that they were, there were many preconceived notions and opinions about his people.

Most often, many saw them as wild beasts and monsters, and to some extent, it was true. That he and his family looked more human was due to their high level of magic and rank in their society. They were more powerful than other creatures and had a greater sensitivity to outside forces or energy. And honestly, Harald hated events like this; he enjoyed himself better out in nature and not trapped in a cage of gold. Even if it was only for a short time, but a hundred days of festivity? It felt like a universal joke. He wanted nothing more than to merge into the shadows and flee from all the gazes he felt directed at him.

In honor of the evening, he wore a long cobalt blue tunic that stretched down over his knees and was fastened to his waist with a brown, beautifully decorated belt. He wore a white undershirt under the tunic that floated comfortably over his arms and hid his mark. His jet-black hair was set in a highly elegant knot with pearl ornaments around the knot. But already now, even less than an hour since they had fixed his hair, it had fallen off the knot and framed his face and gave him a more feminine look. He could already hear whispers around them as his family went against the royal family to pay their respects.

Harald raised his head and lifted his chin to feel more confident than he thought; he had to remind himself that he needed to look taller than what he was. It was something he hated, how short he was compared with his family or friends. He only went to his father's chin for goodness sake, and even his mother was half the head taller than him, but his father had just laughed at his complex and shook his head, amused. Apparently, the shortness was a sign that his magical ability had real potential to become one of the most powerful in the nine realms. Not that he cared about that.

It was puzzling and did not matter much what it was because he was still short and skinny! In addition to his mind-blowing complex. He was shorter than his sister, who now hovered next to him in a cherry pink slender dress that perfectly fit her feminine curves. Her silver-gray hair was beautifully braided and fastened with the same pearl embellishment as he had in his hair. Her eyes were in deep amber, and her lips were as red as sun-ripened strawberries, and around her neck was the soft golden band of her soul mark that yet had started to bloom. Overall, she was a beautiful young woman, and she knew it.

Harald glanced at his sister as they went half-hidden behind their parents, and she gave him an annoyed glance back. Seriously, he could even hear her complaining voice with that look, and her voice rang in his mind that he had to sharpen up and endure this godforsaken torture. He held back a grimace.

Once they stopped in front of the royal family, they bowed in respect, and as Harald straightened up, he suddenly felt an intense shiver go through him. His brain shut down at the incredible feeling, and Harald slowly raised his gaze to the royal family. And for the first time in six years, his gaze was met by a pair of deep jade green eyes that stared right at him in what Harald only could describe as a shock. His mouth suddenly felt dry, as if all saliva had been sucked out of his throat and left a spoonful of ashes instead.

He tried to calm his running heart, and the nerves that made the air around him begin to vibrate, and his mark burned intensely. Suddenly it felt almost impossible to breathe, the jade green eyes dug deeper and deeper into his soul, and he could not tear his gaze from the black-haired prince.

Haralds suddenly felt his sister's hand pull lightly on his arm, and the spell broke.

"You're staring," she muttered. "Behave"

He looked at her quickly before he looked down and grimaced at her tone. He wanted to snap at her that he had all the rights in the world to stare at his mate. But he did not, because he didn't have that right; he had forsaken that chance a long time ago. As soon as their parents set off to mingle with the rest of the guests and they had to follow, and as Harald walked away, he could feel the fiery gaze on his back.

Every step he took away, felt strangely heavy and almost trailing, and Harald clenched his fists. He did it again. Harald turned his back on his soulmate and voluntarily left him. But he needed to be social for a while before he could escape, and he also needed to get his emotions under control before he exploded something and made the decore dance to the music.

He wasn't made for significant events like this, and his magic was flaring out of him in steady liks. But after some time, Harald managed to apologize and pull away from the floor without seeming rude. The darkness had now settled outside the massive windows, and the doors stood wide open to let in the fresh air. Around the walls were enormous tapestries with newly lit candles that were as thick as his forearms and probably as long. It gave the room a vague and mysterious impression and, from the large ceiling, hung a dozen large crystal chandeliers that illuminated the dance floor.

He had never understood why a palace needed so much decoration or gold hanging everywhere. But Asgard was well known for being one of the fiercest peoples of war, living and fighting was in their blood. They were dangerous to their enemies and very protective of their loved ones; it was a large part of these warriors who made peace possible together with the Valkyries, of course.

Sadly, strength had never been Harald's central area, he had trained in the art of war, but his body was not made for bulky weapons or melee combat. He was the more agile type in his battles; he could defeat his opponents with both cunning, tricks, and of course, with his magic if he had to.

It always fell back to his magic, wild and untamed but ever-present as if it was almost everything he did was. He was magic, and magic was him. Funny enough that his supposed soul mate had the title of god of magic already in his arsenal. Magic was a fickle thing indeed, especially in this kind of event, his magic more palpable, more reactive to even the smallest look.

Every century, Asgard's royal family held a grand banquet to celebrate the peace that lay over their worlds and make new politics contacts. The first night was mainly for the younger generation to find their other half or make new friends. The festivities lasted for a hundred days and one night, and this was the first day of several months of celebrations, meetings, and political events that would take place later. He was sure that there would even be competitions to brag about their abilities or have a legal excuse to beat someone into the ground.

Harald pulled nervously in the arm of his tunic. He had seen several guests proudly showing off their soulmate marks. They were clear for everything and everyone to see in the hope that their chosen ones would notice it or show that they had already been taken. But Harald did not need to show his wrist to the world. He already knew who his soulmate was and after today, so did his match. The only question was how he would dare to meet the Asgardian prince now? after everything and after how he had left him?

He had not seen Loki once in the years since he had cared for him from the brink of death. At first, it was about him being ashamed; he had run away from his soulmate, the one who was said to be the other half of his soul, his perfect match. And he had become afraid and left him to his fate, or in his brother's care as it turned out.

But it had then become clear that he would not be able to get away from his realm for some time. Apparently, the awakening of his soul mark had come with a new boost to his magic. And considering that he already had a lot of wild magic since before, it did not help that it almost doubled in a short period, and he had a hard time controlling it. Even his planes to become death heir had been put on ice as death had chosen three Midgardian to take it instead. If this was faith's wish, then so mote it be.

Harald let out a heavy sigh and felt how his whole body was tense. As if he was just waiting to be jumped. He leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes and just listened to the sieve of happy guests and the music playing.

He had no idea how to deal with Loki. Should he just go ahead and introduce himself? It felt like the most logical thing to do, but the question was just how. The tickling sensation swept over his arm and back suddenly felt burning, an annoying reminder to see what he was avoiding, and he bit together.

Harald remembered the pained and almost betrayed look in his eyes as he had fled all those years before. Would Loki hate him now? Was it already too late? Perhaps he already had a match that he loved, and he already forgot about him.

He took a choppy breath as the reality of his thought hit him. Shit, shit, shit, what would he do? What would he say? should he say anything? should he apologize over how cowardly he was? But he had only been a child, and standing up to adult warriors had not been something he could in that situation. He had followed them in the distance to see that Loki was well looked after and that he had not abandoned his soulmate to his enemy. But the care the blonde mountain gave him calmed him down as they had entered the rainbow colors of Bifrost.

Harald sighed heavily and lowered his gaze to the floor again. Perhaps he would leave it be? His eye was fascinated that the floor was as beautifully decorated as the rest of the room. The polished stone had small veins of glittering golden veins glistening under the light of the lamps. He could hear the laughter and music around him but contented himself with standing in the shadow of the pillar that acted as his screen to the outside world as he tried to calm down his mind.

Suddenly he could see a pair of polished black boots standing right in front of him, and he stared down at it. His shoulders tensed, and he held his breath as he painfully slowly raised his gaze to the farthest neat and beautifully sewn black trousers. He could see the decorative seams exclusively creeping into the texture. He took in the equally elegant green tunic framed by a black sleeveless coat that was as exclusive as the trousers. Overall it was a complete and beautiful Asgardian ceremonial dress.

His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands felt damp with sweat when he realized that the person now standing in front of him was precisely the one he was afraid to meet. Harald raised his gaze quickly, despite the apparent nervousness, all the way up to the handsome face and the intense eyes that nailed him to his place when he met them again, and he was frozen stiff.

His breathing caught in his throat as Loki stared down at him with a blank expression on his face.

Harald swallowed hard, "My…. prince...". Why was Loki here? Why did he stare at him so much ? he was angry, he must be, those eyes looked so dark, and his eyes were two shades darker than before. His thoughts were tossed around and circled his worries. But he suddenly became aware that Loki's lips had moved, and he had not understood a single word. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to apologize; this was not good. He could not humiliate another prince, even less his soulmate!.

Sure he was one himself, but Asgard was the head of the nine realms, the supreme regent of all the worlds. Fu..ck

"You haven't heard a thing I said right now, did you, Prince Harald?" The Prince of Asgard made a low laughing noise as he looked down at the now stumed teen before him.

"Should I feel wronged? Loki asked, his voice was dark but at the same time one of the smoothest and most pleasant voices Harald had ever heard before. Before his brain sprouted again, he swallowed hard and shook his head

"I apologize so much, Your Highness," he forced himself out, grimacing at how his voice cracked. "It was not my intention. I was lost in my thoughts…."

Loki made a low humming sound " Only for this time. I will accept you're apologizing on one condition."

Harald bit the inside of his chin. He barely stopped his mouth to say he would do anything to earn his forgiveness.

"Dance with me."

Harald stared at him with a half-open mouth and had no idea how he could say anything about it. What? he must have heard wrong, Harald felt like his brain finally had stopped working. He must have heard wrong. But when Loki held out his elegant hand to him, he could do nothing but stare at it.

"May I have this dance?" Loki's voice was soft, and a captivating smile and the mere sight of it made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

Harald slowly raised his hand and put it in his waiting, a shock went through them both, and something in Loki's gaze shifted. He got a more satisfied and victorious look as if this was the last confirmation he needed and his smile reflects his triumph. Loki slowly began to back out onto the dance floor, where several people were already dancing with each other in a jumble of colors. Women in beautiful and exclusive dresses and the men with ornate clothes in all its color moved around in time with the music that began to ebb and gave a little break to let people get off the dance floor or stay if they wished for the next song.

Harald now stood opposite Loki, who bowed slightly, and when he straightened up, his hand was placed against Harald's waist. The music began to play again at a slow pace, and Harald tried to calm his beating heart down. But it felt almost impossible as his gaze was fixed on the older man's face, which stared down at him as he held him close. The intense green eyes had him in an iron grip, almost as if he was afraid he would disappear if he looked away. It was as if he were holding his very soul down.

Slowly, they began to move softly to the music in a soft circle. Loki's one arm resting behind his back led them both in a gentle and elegant motion around the other dancers. The hand on Harald's waist almost burned holes in his clothes. His steps were still a bit hesitant, but Loki skillfully led him around in light circles. None of them said anything while the music started appropriately, and Loki took him lightly to the side n and changed the elegant arm that brought him when he came back into his arms and this time much closer than before.

"Relax," Loki mumbled and hugged his hand, "I will not make you fall and make a fool of yourself."

Harald gave him an annoyed glance, easy for him to say! Everyone around them had stopped in their dance and were now openly staring at them. Harald began to feel more and more uncomfortable with the attention that was on them, and his whole being told her to flee. But at the same time, the Asgardian prince kept him in a stable and secure grip.

"Just look at me like there is no one else here," he said and took a step back and pulled with him "Do not care about the others"

Harald gave away a low snorting sound. "only look at you? Is that not a little arrogant to say?" he asked. " Maybe we will dance into someone and crash down, making a huge mess. And what makes you think you're something to look at?" he could not help the nervous rambling, nor did it help that he still did not understand how he could have ended up in this situation that suddenly felt way over his head. He was not a dancer; why had he accepted his hand?

The young prince humming made his chest vibrate, which sent an electric sensation straight through Harald, and he held back the redness that threatened to arise.

"It's not me they're watching, love," Loki continued, pulling him away and then taking him back. "No, they are looking at the beautiful spiritually dance partner I managed to catch in my golden net."

Harald stumbled at his words, but Loki was quickly there and caught him and instead performed a new movement to hide his mistake and looked amused at his smaller dance partner. This time Harald could not stop the hot redness that made his whole face and neck painfully warm.

"So the rumors are true, that silver tongue you have is deadly dangerous," he said with a low voice in an attempt to cover up his nervousness. He had to get some control over himself, and his magic before it started to sip out.

Loki spun around, so his back was pressed against Loki's chest, and he could feel it sending electrical signals through his whole body when his face was close to his head. Suddenly he could feel the softness of another magic cover his entire body in a soft blanket, rearing in his own. His arms were now outstretched while they danced a little slower to the music before almost reluctantly separating as the magic still lingers between them.

"You should not listen to all the rumors you hear," he said in a hoarse voice as he held him close, his eyes were now burning into Haralds own.

"So, you deny it?" Harald asked and shuddered as Loki's every breath fell over his neck as he bowed his head closer to his, and He must have imagined the feeling spreading within him.

"No"

It felt like his heart was trying to tear itself out of place behind his sternum. His mouth felt as dry as if he had eaten sand. Loki's arm was suddenly behind his back again, holding him close to him. His warmth slipped into his back, and he felt his breath hitch as his magic accepted Lokis without any questions. The soul mark was sending heated pulses up his arm and down to his. The sensation was lighting a fire inside him that he had never been feeling to this Extenze before. Harald could not find the energy or the will to create spaces between them as he socked in it all.

He looked up at Loki as he was led around on the dance floor. Everything around him suddenly began to fade. He could still hear the music playing in the background but was focused only on his dance partner, who smiled down at him.

The tickling sensation spread throughout his whole body now, and he almost drowned in the safe feeling of the magic created. Loki's face was so close to his now, their breath mixed, and it felt like he was about to drown and only stayed afloat in each other's arms. The warm arid hit his sore lips that wanted to be pressed to his dance partners, and as Loki's eyes flicked down at his lips, he would say that he felt the same need.

But the sudden sound of applause brought him back to reality, and in surprise, Harald jerked away from the warm body. He let go of Loki as if he had been electrocuted, eyes wide in shock over what he had wanted to do. He gave him a stiff bow before quickly turning around and fleeing the room as new dancer sets took their place.

Shit. Shit. Shit

What is he doing? how could he let this happen, not now. He fled out of the massive glass door and onto the porch and into the darkness that was on the outside. Without further notice, he began to walk back and forth on the porch, pulling his hand through his hair as he had a habit of doing. Which managed to ruin the last of his before nice hair bun. But it had already done its thing, and it was a miracle that the hair stayed where it had been for so long. He pulled out his tassel and leaned against the cold stone railing and stared down at the beautifully illuminated maze below the balcony.

He pulled his hand through his hair again and shook it out better, his long black hair reaching down to his waist and draped over his shoulders as he tilted his head forward. His heartbeat painfully stiff and he grabbed his shirt and bit it when the blush threatened to spread over his neck and cheeks again.

He had been so close to kissing him, why had he done that?. Suddenly he felt someone else's presence right behind him, and the magical scent that surrounded him had begun to become as familiar to his senses as his own was. Even after only bathing in it once, and that was for nearly 5 minutes ago. Harald closed his eyes tightly but refused to look up or turn around, he both heard and felt Loki getting closer, but he was too scared to look at him.

A suddenly soft scent of flowers suddenly hit his senses, and Harald opened his eyes in surprise and stared down at a bouquet of forget-me-nots held in front of him. He stared down at the baby blue flowers before slowly looking up at the smiling prince next to him.

Loki's gaze was dark and intense, but there was something else there as well, something he could not put into words.

"A word of warning, my dear prince. I will not let you run away from me again the second time."

Harald's breath stuck in his throat, and he tried to swallow around the lump created there while he received the bouquet with shaking fingers. He did not know how to interpret the words said, nor did he know what to answer. He could only stare up at the handsome prince's amused face.

Why did he suddenly get the feeling that he was facing a predator that had found its new prey? And why was his heart beating so fast of the mere thought of it?

A / N:

I hope that you all like it so far. I can tell you all that the first draft is already written. It is going to be ten chapters (so far). I'm probably going to update this one on Sunday or Saturdays or even earlier. It all depends on you guys :D love ya!

Fun fact:

Forget-me-not: This flower has long been considered a flower of love or friendship. It can also mean, "Open your heart to love."