Romance month: A red string leads you to your soulmate

Gobstones Event: Orange - Birthday

Optional prompts: (AU) string, (word) signs, (word) craze.

Thanks again to Shay (The Kawaii Neko) for beta-ing!

On Helena's eighteenth birthday, she received a ball of string. Red string, to be precise. It was thick and not the kind of thread that would go well with her needlework. Not very well at all.

She looked questioningly at her mother. Rowena had never outwardly expressed any dismay at finding out that her daughter was a Squib, but perhaps the years had caught up with her. Still, Helena decided to give her mother the benefit of the doubt.

'The latest Muggle craze?' she asked.

Rowena often tried to help Helena integrate into the world she would have to live in when she left home, though always reminded her that she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted.

'No, my dear,' Rowena chuckled, but it was a tired laugh, the sort one gave when one was burdened with too many worries. 'I have thought long and hard about thy birthday gift this harvest. I believe that thou art now ready. In the wizarding world, there are signs, tells that inform one of one's true love. There are many spells and potions that help one find happiness, but - alas - none would work on my dear daughter. Still, I do not wish thee to go without love, so I made this.' She gestured to the string. 'Tie one end to thy little finger and let the string fly. It will lead thee to thy true love.'

'Oh, mother, thank you!' Helena flew to her mother's side to shower her with kisses. 'But why art thou so morose?'

'I fear that once thee find him that will hold thy heart, thou willst never return to thy aged mother,' Rowena replied truthfully, the tears pricking at her eyes.

'But of course I will, mother! My place is here.' Helena paused. 'But I am too curious now. I promise that I will be back before the moon has reached its full.'

Grabbing her deep blue travelling cloak, Helena walked out into fresh sunlight, a smile upon her face. Tying the string to her finger, she threw the ball into the air, and sure enough, it left a trail as far as the eye could see.

For three days and three nights, Helena followed the string, until she reached the edge of the moors.

If I take one step further, she thought. It will be farther from home than I have ever been before.

Just as she raised her leg to step across the stream that bordered the land, a horse ran out from the woods yonder straight towards her, bowling her over completely.

'Goodness, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!' a young man exclaimed, quickly dismounting and giving her his hand. 'Art thou quite all right?'

'Yes,' Helena replied, a little breathlessly.

Casting around for her string, she realised that the red twine was no longer in sight. Sure enough, when she raised her little finger, she saw that the string had snapped clean off, frayed at the knot she had tied.

'How darest thee!' she cried, not caring that this youth had a horse and a sword, not knowing if he used magic or not, simply upset at the fact that her mother's gift had been lost. 'Brute! Now what will I do? Oh, woe unto thee!'

'Before thou cursest me, might I know the nature of my transgression? For never have I been punished for that which I deserve, only that which I was born with.'

'My mother's-' Helena cut herself off in mid-sentence. There are many signs… Could this be one of them? 'That which thou wast born with? A… lack of something entirely by happenstance?'

'Yes, how did…' the youth cut himself off nervously, glancing around. 'Is this witchcraft?'

Helena chose her next words carefully.

'I was never blessed with witchcraft, though I have heard tales of the wonder it has wrought.'

There was another pregnant pause.

'Did thy family casteth thee out into the wild, for fear that the trait propagate?'

'I have read of these heathen practices, but mine own mother would not abandon me for the world,' Helena replied.

The young man's eyes filled with tears.

'Then she is a better mother than mine could ever hope to be,' he replied. 'Thou shouldst not have left her, for a better mother thou willst not find.'

'Would… Wouldst thou wish to meet her?' Helena asked tentatively, feeling her heart going out to this stranger.

Instead of replying, the stranger held out a hand, helping her mount his horse, before following suit.

'My name is Septimus,' he added, letting her direct his mount. 'And I believe that fate has brought her together.'

He put his hand before her and opened it to reveal the cut red string.