Beta'd by the lovely Arete20 on Ao3.

Chapter One: Not-Soulmate

When Rose Weasley sat down at her cubicle that morning, it was only because her boss, Mr. Barnes, hadn't approved her request to take a mental health day. She liked her boss enough, but his attitude was a bit on the outdated side. When she asked for the time off, he looked as though he were seconds away from checking her into the loony bin himself. She quickly mumbled a 'never mind' before slinking back to her desk.

Rose heaved out a sigh as she sat on her too-hard-and-somehow-still-rickety chair, spotting the SoulMate pamphlet on her desk and picking it up. The last time she picked it up, she'd had such hope. She was convinced she'd do the SoulMate program, she would find out that she and Scorpius were meant to be and it would give her the courage to tell him how she felt. But no.

Scorpius Malfoy was not Rose's soulmate.

And that might've been okay, in a soul-crushingly devastating kind of way. She'd only fancied him for what, six years? Maybe more? She did SoulMates to push her to act on her feelings; what was she supposed to do now, knowing there was no point?

As Rose fought against the urge to rip the SoulMate pamphlet in tiny little pieces, said not-soulmate came around the corner and sat at the edge of her desk, two coffees in hand. The desk groaned loudly, despite the fact that Scorpius had only perched on it.

"Morning," she grunted, attempting to subtly shove the pamphlet underneath a stack of papers.

"You know that soulmate shit is bullshit, right?" he said casually, placing her cup onto the small empty space beside her inkwell.

It seemed she hadn't been that subtle. Rose busied herself with the schedule on her desk, hoping he hadn't noticed her turning red. "I'm glad you've defined the type of shit it is."

"It is," he continued, taking a sip of coffee. "You've heard the stories, right? Happy marriages have been completely decimated just because they did the program and found out they weren't soulmates." He sneered the last word as though it was bitter in his mouth.

"You've taken the test," she pointed out, "and when people are brought together by the program, no one complains. The spell never fails."

"It's ninety-nine percent correct. That means there's a chance it will fail." He peered at her closely. "And it has."

Rose didn't answer. The SoulMates program was created fifteen years ago by a wayward inventor named Gertrude Pillette, claiming that her new spell would etch your soulmate's name on your chest, over your heart. She was criticized for her true intentions—putting a price on love seemed ridiculous, didn't it?—but witches and wizards everywhere were curious. It included a long survey and a top-secret spell. Many people took the SoulMate test and lo and behold, found the person they were meant to be with.

But it wasn't as if Scorpius was wrong; SoulMates was the direct cause of the demise of many previously happy marriages. It had since been heavily regulated; the spell would only work if both SoulMates participated in the program, and married couples were restricted. Only those who were of age could register.

Some people still didn't believe in SoulMates, but there was no dying it was popular. After a year of failed attempts of attracting attention from Scorpius, Rose had been curious. If a tattoo formed on her chest, over her heart, and it was his name? Her name would form on his chest as well, of course—that had to at least get her a date, didn't it?

But no. They weren't soulmates, and not only did her potential soulmate have to be part of the program, she had to have met them. How was she supposed to do that?

"So." Scorpius seemed to be hesitating as he spoke. "What's the verdict? Who's your soulmate?"

Her spine stiffened, but she kept her voice casual. "I didn't do it," she lied.

"No?"

"I was just thinking about it." She was aware she sounded defensive enough, but met his gaze so he wouldn't suspect her dishonesty. "I think SoulMates is legitimate."

The grin he gave her nearly caused a heart failure. "Your naivety is adorable."

"You mean it's based in fact."

"Statistics," he corrected. "I only did SoulMates because Albus dared me. You know that."

"I know." The fact that his soulmate was unknown had haunted her for the past year since she'd found out. She wouldn't have taken the test if he hadn't been registered—how else would she know if he was her soulmate?

He crossed his arms over his chest, smile faltering. "If it wasn't for Albus, a lot of alcohol and a complete lack of intelligence, I never would've taken that damn test."

Rose pushed her red, curly hair out of her eyes before looking away. She hadn't been there that night a few years ago, even though she was quite close to her cousin Albus Potter. He, Scorpius and Orion Scott had been inseparable since they'd been Sorted into Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Although they'd been friendly, she was never really part of their group.

"Besides, you know how true facts can be in the news world," he continued, looking around the busy office. "It's a wonder anyone believes what we write."

Their boss saved Rose from answering, waving them both to his office. Exchanging glances, they brought their coffees and sat in front of the large desk, covered in stacks of newspapers, magazines, parchment and quills. A lone goldfish in a fishbowl sat at the corner, threatening to fall down but was probably held up by magic.

"Morning, Mr. Barnes," Scorpius greeted as they sat in seats in front of his desk. Mr. Barnes hadn't sat down at all; he'd chosen to pace behind his desk, the stomping causing the water in the fishbowl to swish around. His already patchy, frizzy hair was turning wild.

"Readership is down," he said distractedly, stroking his moustache as he paced. "Readership is down."

Rose avoided Scorpius' gaze because she knew he'd make her laugh. It truly was laughable; since the Wizarding world—admittedly, the younger generation—recently adapted more Muggle technologies like computers and smartphones, the popularity of magazines had indeed plummeted. Technology still went haywire at places like Hogwarts, so printed media was here to stay, but even The Daily Prophet had adapted to online readers, magically protected from the Muggle world. That was old news, really.

The breaking news, at least for the slowly balding Mr. Barnes, must have been that their magazine, Quidditch World, was officially losing money.

"Readership is down," Scorpius confirmed carefully, corners of his mouth forced down. "But there are new brooms coming out soon—"

"We need bigger stories than broomsticks!" Their boss exclaimed, suddenly turning and slamming his palms to his desk. The goldfish began to race around its bowl. "Even Which Broomstick? hit gold with their coverage of that new Puddlemere player. We need a story."

"The World Cup isn't for another year—"

"Not the Cup," Rose interrupted, sending an apologetic look towards Scorpius. As soon as Mr. Barnes mentioned Puddlemere, something clicked in her brain. "Did you read that story from last week?"

"In Which Broomstick? About the unconfirmed favouritism that got her on the team?" Scorpius clearly could no longer hold back his expression of disbelief. "It was just gossip."

"It was news," Mr. Barnes emphasized. Scorpius looked scandalized. "Exclusive news. It sold magazines. And," he continued, turning to flip through a small notepad on his desk, "it just so happens I received a tip-off that we could get confirmation on that news."

"Gossip."

Mr. Barnes ignored Scorpius and turned to Rose. "You know Emily Wood, do you not?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Sort of. We went to Hogwarts together. Saw each other on the pitch."

"I read that you two were quite close," he replied, sitting down and leaning back on his chair. "You both were recruited for the Wasps, straight out of Hogwarts. In fact," he continued, suddenly ruffling through the stack of magazines on his desk, "I believe I have the issue here when we reported on it…"

Rose struggled for words. Since Rose had left the Wimbourne Wasps a year ago, she and Emily hadn't been on the best of terms, but she still considered Emily her best friend. They'd grown up in the same Hogwarts dorm, becoming her first friend that wasn't related to her in any way. They skipped History of Magic classes to throw a Quaffle around and got on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together when they were third years. Rose loved being on the Wasps team with Emily.

Only, The Accident happened. And though Emily accepted it, she never quite understood why Rose left Quidditch. They'd drifted apart significantly over the past year.

"We're not that close anymore," she tried, "we haven't really spoken in a while—"

Scorpius interrupted Rose's obvious scramble for a lie, loudly protesting, "Gossip."

Mr. Barnes pushed the magazines aside, giving up on his search, and scooted the chair forward. "It's not gossip if we have a source."

"GOSSIP."

"Think of it as investigative journalism," he countered, leaning back in his chair and stroking his moustache again. "You have the experience. Miss Weasley has the connections."

Rose felt a sinking feeling. While it was true that Rose slipped her way into this job—no certification, no experience, just several years of a career in Quidditch—it never felt great to hear that she'd been hired based on her contacts rather than her abilities.

All the same, she needed this job. She wasn't entirely pathetic; the last thing she wanted to do was move back in with her parents, because it would be admitting defeat. If there was one thing she retained from her Quidditch days, it was that she wasn't going down that easily. If she kept expressionless, she kept her job.

Scorpius, on the other hand, didn't hide his disdain. "I want a raise."

"We've spoken about this," Mr. Barnes said, glancing at Rose, "and—"

"Six months ago."

"Consider this the most important story of your career, then," he replied dismissively, putting on a pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses and picking up his quill. "The sooner you get it done, the sooner we can have another chat."

Scorpius was out of his chair and out of Mr. Barnes' office before Rose could even nod.

When she got back to their conjoined desks, he had his hands over his face and didn't look at her as she sat down. The chair squeaked loudly as she sat back, making Scorpius groan loudly. "I need to get out of this shithole," he mumbled.

She offered him a consoling smile. "They really do need to replace their furniture."

Scorpius didn't reply.

"I do appreciate you getting me on top of things with this job," she said, feeling her cheeks redden. It was the reason they shared a cubicle in the first place—he was his supervisor, practically mentoring her. "I've learned a lot, thanks to you."

"Have you learned how to betray your friends?" he asked quietly through his fingers.

Rose shook her head even though he couldn't see her, the discomfort palpable between them. The last time she had seen Emily was six months before, when they'd had an extremely awkward brunch. Emily hadn't mentioned anything about trying out for Puddlemere, or even leaving the Wasps.

Much less that she was sleeping with the Puddlemere captain.

"I think we can do this," Rose insisted. "We're going to figure something out. I can feel it."

Scorpius snorted.

"We're just going to have to figure this out without Emily Wood," he decided, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Got any parchment? I have a few ideas."

Rose busied herself in her notebook, trying not to notice his muscular forearms.

Another day, another eight hours of pretending she wasn't in love with him.

"I still don't understand why you can't just get your leg fixed at St. Mungo's."

"I told you, Albus," Rose reminded him impatiently, "I did get my leg fixed. It still hurts. This is my life now."

Albus, her cousin and absolute angel, met her outside the Quidditch World offices in Diagon Alley to help Rose back home at the end of the day. Since Rose left the Wasps, she'd decided to live in muggle London where she wouldn't be hounded by people asking about her injury. To her surprise, she quite enjoyed it, even if she couldn't Apparate or Floo without arousing suspicion. There was something nice about getting away from the magical world, from being famous.

Even if it meant that when the lift was down—which was a little too often—that Albus would help her out, and he would have a very similar conversation with her every time.

"We literally have—" Albus shushed his voice, in case there were muggles around them, "—magic. How can your leg still hurt?"

"I don't know. It just does."

"I still think you should move back to Diagon Alley," Albus said. Rose formed the words on her lips as he spoke, having heard them so many times. "Or you could move in with us."

"With you three?" Rose said, nearly laughing even though she was hobbling on the cobblestone; she knew she should've brought her cane with her today. "With my not-soulmate? With you and Orion's unresolved sexual tension?"

"I think it's just because you're too into Scorpius to be around him," he deflected.

"I'm around him all day."

"Only professionally."

Rose grit her teeth as they turned a corner. Her flat was only a few streets away from Diagon Alley—just a bit more to go. "I like living in muggle London. I like my space. I like not having a camera flashing in my face all the time."

"It's not so bad anymore," he pointed out. "It's been a year since you left the Wasps."

"I like not having my entire life being around someone who isn't my soulmate." Before that day, however, she had been thrilled to be around him. She and Scorpius had never been close until she started at Quidditch World, and at the time, she'd thought it was the perfect opportunity to get to know him.

But Scorpius had been waiting to meet his soulmate for several years, and though he claimed it didn't make a difference to him, of course it would. As soon as his soulmate's name formed into his skin over his heart, Rose didn't see how he could pursue a relationship outside his soulmate at all. Naturally, the only course of action was to take the test as well.

"It was silly," she said miserably. "I don't know why I thought we would be soulmates."

"What I don't understand is that you've fancied Scorpius since Hogwarts," Albus pointed out, "and you didn't pursue him then. He never would've taken the test if he was with someone."

"Back then, I was getting scouted by Quidditch captains." Rose stared determinedly at the street, tracing the bricks with her eyes until they didn't seem so blurry. "Back then, I had full use of my throwing arm and right leg."

Albus wrapped an arm around her back, simultaneously comforting her and supporting her leg. "Bad luck, Rose. I was sure Scorpius would be your soulmate."

"Why's that?"

"Intuition?" He smiled sadly. "I mean, that worked for Orion and I. Not that it helped us."

Rose couldn't help but sympathize. Albus had fallen for Orion as soon as he'd met him on the train, Orion promising that if Albus was Sorted in Slytherin, then so would he. Rose had been sure they would have gotten together during Hogwarts—Albus had told her they'd snogged a few times—but for some reason, they never did.

She often wondered if the reason behind it was that Orion's aunt was Gertrude Pillette and his entire family was involved in the SoulMate company. Orion had done his SoulMate test as soon as he was of age, only to find out his soulmate was unknown—that is to say, his soulmate had not registered in the SoulMate program, or they hadn't met.

Until one night a few years ago when Albus, Orion and Scorpius had gotten very drunk after a friend's wedding. Though Rose wasn't there that night, she'd heard all about how Albus and Scorpius had gotten into an argument and dared each other to take the SoulMate test. Scorpius' soulmate was unknown, but not Albus'.

Apparently, finding out that your soulmate was the person you'd been pining after for your entire life doesn't necessarily mean you'd be together.

"So, Orion and I are soulmates," Albus mused as they approached Rose's building. "So what? If Orion wants to live in denial, I'm okay with that. We're flatmates, we work at SoulMates together. We're practically married." He let go of Rose to open the door for her. "I'm okay with that."

"I didn't realize we were getting pissed every Friday for the last year because you're okay with it," she said, holding the door frame to limp through.

"Do I want to snog his face off every morning when he comes into the kitchen all cute and sleepy? Yes. Do I want to risk not having him in my life at all because I couldn't wait? No."

Rose turned to him as they reached the stairwell. He looked dejected, and she admired how determined he was to hold out. "Al, I still think you should just talk to him."

"I've tried, I have. James was giving me a hard time about it the other day, but I can't push Orion into something he doesn't want."

She hugged him. Older brothers could be a little harsh, as James often was with Albus.

"I'm fine," he said, smiling sadly before pulling away to turn and kneel down so he could piggyback her up the stairs. "Get on."

"I can do the stairs today."

"Let's not do this today," he said, craning his neck to give her a look. "If you don't know who your soulmate is, the least you could do is give your leg a rest on your way up the stairs."

She put her arms over his shoulders. "And Indian takeaway?"

"We're definitely ordering Indian."

A/N: Hey there! I feel like I caught the bug with this soulmate idea and had to try it out. Warning, this is not going to be a regular soulmate type of fic, but there's going to be a happy ending. Promise. :)