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wren-of-the-woods · 11 months

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True Slug's Kiss

When Geralt finds himself entangled in a magical mishap, Jaskier is prepared to save him as usual. What he is not prepared for is the sheer strangeness (and sliminess) of the situation— nor the feelings that it will force him to reveal. This is 2.3k of Geraskier shenanigans, rated T! Also on AO3.

If there was one thing Jaskier really should have learned over his years of traveling with Geralt, it was that he should never trust Geralt when he said everything would be fine.

Here Jaskier was, picking his way through overgrown and vine-entangled elven ruins, all because he trusted Geralt to know what he was talking about.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, he says,” Jaskier muttered to himself, doing his best Geralt impression as he clambered over what was probably once a stone pillar. “‘I’ll just do a quick sweep of the ruins for monsters. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ Then, flash! Bang! Something loud and fucked up and probably magical has happened! And now I, a humble bard, and once again stuck cleaning up the messes of Geralt of Rivia.”

He climbed under the remnants of a door in a great stone wall that was now more of a great stone heap, wincing as water dripped into his hair. He was headed in what he hoped was the direction of the flash he had seen. He had stared at the ruins for long enough as he waited fruitlessly for Geralt to return that he was reasonably sure he knew the way. It shouldn’t be much further; or at least, he certainly hoped not, because he’d left Roach and most of their things on the top of the hill overlooking the ruins and he did not want to leave them there longer than necessary.

Jaskier passed the tall beech he had noticed just behind where the flash had been. He picked his way through large, scattered blocks of stone strewn across a cobbled street.

“Geralt!” he called. There was no response. Taking a deep breath, he rounded a corner and looked into the courtyard where he thought the probably-magic had taken place.

The sight that greeted him was… not what he expected.

For one thing, there was no particularly unusual wreckage or carnage. There was no sign of a fight. The courtyard, in fact, was completely unoccupied— except for a large, yellow something beside a heap of stones right in the center.

Jaskier stood there cautiously for a moment, watching. The thing did not move. It was long and low and rather squishy-looking. It did not seem particularly threatening.

Slowly, Jaskier approached.

As he drew nearer, he began to make out more of the thing’s appearance. It was as long as Jaskier was tall, and perhaps three or four hands’ width at its widest point. It was yellow and gave off the overall effect of a rather slimy banana. It had antennae protruding from one end. It was, Jaskier realized as he began to draw near, some sort of exceptionally large slug.

He kept a healthy distance between himself and the giant slug, mindful of the fact that this thing was probably involved in whatever had happened to Geralt. As he watched, he realized that it was moving. It was, very slowly, turning to head towards him.

He took a step back. The slug continued to turn.

“Nice slug,” he said placatingly, slowly starting to back away in earnest. “You are a very nice slug with no malicious or magical intentions toward any humble bards, I’m sure.”

The slug was still turning. Jaskier noticed that it had something around what passed for its neck.

He paused, frowning. He watched as the slug turned to face him. When it finally came around, his jaw dropped.

Around the slug’s neck was a chain, and from the chain hung a very, very familiar medallion.

“You’re Geralt,” said Jaskier, master of the seven liberal arts. “Fucking fuckity fuck.”

The less said about the next few hours, the better. Suffice to say that, with great effort, determination, ingenuity, and some slime, Jaskier managed to get the slug up to where Roach was waiting before nightfall. The slug was just as surly and stubborn as any white-haired witcher could be, and any lingering doubts Jaskier might have had about its identity were laid to rest when, the moment they were close enough, Roach trotted up to the slug, sniffed it, and whickered happily.

“What am I going to do with you?” Jaskier asked slug-Geralt once he’d had a moment to breathe. The ex-witcher looked rather incongruous surrounded by their packs and Jaskier’s lute.

Geralt-slug, predictably, said nothing.

“Is this a curse? It’s probably a curse. That pile of stones I found you by could have been an altar or some other object of magical fuckery, retrospectively. Shit. I’m going to have to find a mage, aren’t I?”

Geralt-slug said nothing. He looked, to Jaskier’s frazzled imagination, rather judgemental.

Jaskier sighed, long and deep. “I suppose it’s Yennefer time.”

It was a long, long few days as Jaskier tried to get Geralt to Yennefer.

He discovered very quickly that there was no way he could travel at Geralt’s pace without getting bored out of his mind, and try as he might, he could not figure out a feasible way to get the giant slug to ride Roach without Roach becoming incredibly unhappy, so he was eventually forced to spend a day constructing a makeshift sled out of logs and Geralt’s cloak and clothes so that Roach could drag him along behind her. Jaskier draped his own cloak over Geralt to keep him from drying out, and also to keep him from bewildering any unfortunate passers-by.

The nights passed rather uncomfortably, too; Jaskier had to subsist off of their rations and what little he could find himself. He also tried to gather some nice leaves and greenery for Geralt to eat, because his size seemed to impede his ability to find his own without squashing them.

The only upside to the whole situation, as far as Jaskier could tell, was that Geralt couldn’t complain when Jaskier sang incessantly. He could invent as many ditties about his irritation as he wanted without repercussion. He wasn’t entirely sure that Geralt could even hear him.

If he had to go through this ordeal without anyone to listen to his complaints, he was damn well going to get a decent song out of it. After a several days of travel, he had something he was reasonably happy with. He sang it incessantly to stave off boredom.

The witcher called his barker to save his sorry ass To find him after he got lost in ruins of cities past A strange yellow shape oozed forth to request a deft assist But the Witcher was still unseen, the story had a twist

The Golden Slug with the golden slime A wolf’s head medallion on its neck shined Far squishier than a day-old lime It covered me with grimeI’m all covered in grimeThere’s so much slime

The strange yellow slug turned to the bard with pleading in its eyes The bard realized the truth, he saw through the spell’s disguise He knew he had to help it, or else throw away his lute For it was a curséd witcher, not a giant slimy fruit

Oh, the Golden Slug with the golden slime A wolf’s head medallion on its neck shined Far squishier than a day-old limeIt covered me with grime I’m all covered in grime There’s so much slime

Eventually, he did manage to make it to the town where he had last heard of Yennefer being. The little party received several confused looks as they made their way through the streets. Jaskier eventually managed to get a (mildly frightened-looking) child to point him in the direction of the sorceress.

He stood on Yennefer’s doorstep, feeling distinctly bedraggled and rather absurd. He was fully aware of the fact that he, or at least Geralt, had a decent chance of being lampooned if not laughed out of town altogether.

He was not disappointed.

Yennefer did not stop laughing for a solid quarter of an hour after Jaskier explained the situation. She broke down again when Jaskier brought Geralt into the alley behind her house for her to examine him. It was distinctly awkward to stand there as she looked at a against slug and giggled. He really hoped Geralt appreciated/would appreciate his sacrifice.

Eventually, Yennefer completed her examination and vanished back inside to do some research. Jaskier deposited Geralt in the stables with Roach, hoping that it wouldn’t cause a disaster, and bullied Yennefer into letting him use her baths. It was heavenly to finally be clean of all that sweat and slime.

“I believe he’s been turned into a giant version of something called a banana slug,” Yennefer told him over wine that evening, after having concluded her research. “They live mainly in the wet forests by the coast to the north. Normally, they’re only about six inches long.”

“That’s still unsettlingly large for a slug.”

Yennefer shrugged. “Anyway, it was probably caused by an old magic item he happened across in the ruins, one that had broken over the years to curse anyone who came near it.”

“Do you think you can undo it?”

“I can’t undo it directly. It’s too old. But I do know the cure.”

“What is it?”

“It’s old, just as the magic is. It’s hardly used nowadays, but it’s effective.”

“Get to the point,” said Jaskier. He thought she looked like she was enjoying this far too much. It was suspicious.

“It’s true love’s kiss.”

Jaskier blinked. He stared at Yennefer, hoping that she would laugh and tell him it was all a joke. She did not, though her eyes were sparkling in what was undeniably amusement.

“Are you telling me that Geralt’s true love has to kiss him for him to become human again?”

“Yes,” said Yennefer. The expression on her face was approaching glee. Jaskier was afraid.

“Where are we going to find Geralt’s true love? Does he have one?” Jaskier blinked. “Is it you? Do you have to kiss a giant slug?”

“No,” said Yennefer. Her expression clearly added the word ‘idiot’. “You have to kiss a giant slug.”

Jaskier blinked. “Me?”

“Of course.”

“But… doesn’t the love have to be reciprocated for true love’s kiss to work?”

“Yes. But it is. He loves you back.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s obvious.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you aren’t just trying to get me to make a fool of myself?”

“That’s only a delightful side effect. It’ll work, I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Her grin grew. “Though you should know: banana slugs are that color because they’re mildly toxic. It’ll make your mouth go numb. Also, the slime expands in water.”

Jaskier resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Oh, joy.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt. Geralt (probably) looked at Jaskier. Yennefer watched them both. She was ostensibly there in case of any magical mishaps, but Jaskier thought she just wanted to watch the fun.

“You’d better love me back,” Jaskier told the slug threateningly, doing his best not to feel like a fool, “Because if I have to kiss you like this, I’m going to be fucking mad if it’s for nothing.”

With that, he leaned down and planted a large kiss directly between the slug’s antennae.

It was wet. It was slimy. Jaskier stayed as long as he could bear before rearing back, spitting and spluttering. The slime stuck to the inside of his mouth, expanding. His mouth was indeed beginning to go numb. It was a deeply unnerving sensation.

Jaskier was so wrapped up in his disgust that he didn’t notice anything else had changed until, from behind him, a very deep and familiar voice said, “Jaskier?”

Jaskier whirled around. There stood Geralt in all his witchery glory, his armor and swords on, not a drop of slime or a hint of yellow to be seen.

“Geralt!” Jaskier tried to say. It came out as an indistinct mumble, since his mouth was numb and full of slime. He tried to spit again.

“I told you it’d work!” said Yennefer happily.

“What happened?” asked Geralt.

“True love’s kiss,” said Yennefer. She sounded entirely too pleased with herself, and also not nearly appreciative enough of Jaskier’s plight.

Geralt blinked. He turned to Jaskier. “But that means…”

“Mmmph,” said Jaskier emphatically.

Yennefer conjured a glass of water and handed it to him. Jaskier swished it in his mouth gratefully.

“I love you,” he managed to say when he spit the water out. “I love you so much I kissed you as a slug.”

Geralt swallowed. He, at least, looked suitably touched. “I love you. I never thought you’d love me back.”

“I do. Idiot.”

Geralt smiled, pulled Jaskier towards him, and tugged him into a kiss. It was rather slimy, as first kisses went. Jaskier’s mouth was still numb. The whole affair was rather awkward.

And yet, because it was true love — because it was Geralt — it was the best kiss he ever had.

“Do you have to keep singing that damn song?” Geralt grumbled.

“Yes. It’s my payment for having gone through that ordeal.”

“I thought your payment was kisses.”

“That too. I went through a lot.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, shut up. I know you love the song, deep down.”

Geralt said nothing, but his glare spoke volumes.

“I’ve written a proper ending, actually. Would you like to hear it?”

Without waiting for a response, Jaskier began to sing.

The bard sought out a helper, a sorceress beauty She told him how to break the curse, unpleasant as it be The brave bard kissed the creature, though it covered him with slime And the slug became a witcher, for their love was for all time

Oh, the Golden Slug with the golden slime A wolf’s head medallion on its neck shined Far squishier than a day-old lime It covered me with grime I’m all covered in grime There’s so much slime So much slime

He let the last note fade and bowed dramatically, trying not to laugh at the exasperated expression on Geralt’s face.

“Come on, give me a review. Three words or less.”

Geralt smirked. “Once, I would have said ‘shut up, bard.’ I know a much better way to keep you quiet now.”

Jaskier grinned. “Oh yeah?”

Geralt pulled him into a kiss that was long, emphatic, and not remotely, and the song was soon forgotten in the face of Jaskier’s joy.

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #geralt x jaskier #yennefer #wren writes #behold!! a very silly fanfic! :D

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

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destined for you (d.m.)

prompt requested by @sincerelymalfoy: everyone wanted to find their soulmate. that was except for draco malfoy. in this world, you find your soulmate because you can feel the same physical pain as them. this makes it harder for draco to avoid finding his soulmate.

pairing: draco malfoy x soulmate! fem! reader, friend! ron weasley x friend! reader

warnings: mentions of previous d*mestic ab*se, language, blood (from a nose bleed), burns from an open flame

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this fic mention’s draco’s abusive household at the end. if you find that this might be triggering content for you, please skip it or do not read this fic. take care of yourself please. fanfic is supposed to be enjoyable! so read with caution! all my love in the world, lex

You had heard of it before. Soulmates. Two souls put on this planet who were destined to find each other and spend their existence together harmoniously. Until death do them part.

It all sounded very romantic to you. Finding someone who had a soul, a spirit that matched yours. Kindred together. Your parents were soulmates and watching their relationship grow and blossom as you grew up was something you had always wanted. A love that continued to grow no matter the circumstances. A love that would guide you, protect you, care for you, and spend its days with you. A soulmate didn’t sound half bad.

Until you realized what that meant.

In order to know that you had met your soulmate, you would have to experience the same physical pains as them. Meaning everything that hurt them, you in turn felt, even though it wasn’t happening to you. The person could be on the other side of the planet, but the universe would still make you feel the same pains as them. It was an annoyance, for sure, but to you, anything that brought you one step closer to them was enough.

You remember exactly where you were when you first experienced your soulmates pain. You were about the age of eight, in your bedroom, reading on the floor, laying on your belly, kicking your legs about happily. That was before you felt a red, hot stinging sensation on your right cheek. Like someone had just slapped you in the face. Confusion washed all over you before you cried out, “Mum!” like any child would when random waves of pain washed over them with no reason why.

In a flash, your mother was in the doorway of your bedroom, asking what happened. You turned your cheek and pointed to it, telling her that it stung and hurt badly. Your mother’s eyes grew wide and she gasped, walking down to her child and touching the sensitive area. “Did you do this to yourself, sweetheart?” she asked, making sure that she wasn’t getting ahead of herself. Your soulmate couldn’t have possibly started showing signs of pain this young.

You shook your head and looked up at your mother worried about what was happening to you. “Am I gonna be alright, Mum?” you asked, your eight year old head full of worry and fear. This was scary for anyone, especially a child.

“Yes, darling, you will be quite alright. When you are a little older, your father and I will explain it all to you,” your mother brushed your cheek gently as you relaxed into her warm, maternal touch. She placed a gentle kiss on your hairline before speaking, “This happens to everyone, dear. I know, it’s confusing and can be scary. But it will end with good things, I swear it.”

And you held onto that promise that your mother told you that day on your bedroom floor. From that day on, you continued to feel random spurts of pain. A pinch in the fleshy part of your arm, a slap upside the head, a gut wrenching pain in the your gut, but most often you felt pain in your chest. Less physical pain, but like someone had just broken your heart. It would go away within seconds, but for those few seconds, it felt like someone had told you the worst news of your life, your heart felt hollow. This continued on and on for years but when you turned eleven things changed.

Two weeks before your eleventh birthday, your mother and father had talked to you about soulmates and how you felt their pain no matter where in the world they were. Even more specifically, your parents had given you warning that you might be meeting your soulmate soon. “What do you mean?” you sat in the dining room chair, dropping your fork at the suggestion of meeting your soulmate at the young, ripe age of eleven.

Your mother looked at your father who gave her a supportive nod. She took a deep breath in before speaking, “(Y/N), honey, you know that you’ll be going to Hogwarts soon. Kids from all over will be going to school with you. One of those kids could very well be your soulmate. I mean, that’s what happened to me and your father,” she tells you as your father grabs your mother’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Whilst you sat at the dinner table, face blank, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. You were going to turn eleven and all of a sudden you could be meeting your soulmate? You were a child. You should be focusing on school work, meeting new friends, having fun, enjoying this time of your life before it goes by in the blink of an eye. “But I don’t want to. Not yet,” you protest, tears starting to pool in your eyes. “I want to meet them soon, but not now.”

Rising from his chair, your father rushes to your side, not wanting to see his daughter torn over the news that she could be meeting her soulmate. She was supposed to be happy. “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay,” he wipes away your tear, brushing the hair out of your face, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t mean you’re definitely going to meeting them. You might. That’s all. What your mother and I are more worried about is you being safe and having fun. That’s all,” he tells you with a reassuring smile. And in that moment, you calmed down and succumbed to a sniffling mess. “Hogwarts is going to be a blast. You’re going to meet so many new people and have so many new adventures, pumpkin. No need to worry about a silly soulmate.”

Your father’s words soothed you, but that was only temporary. When you arrived at Hogwarts, you were too involved in the thrill of things to pay attention to the small pains you would get from your soulmate. Instead, you let yourself wander away with new friends, discovering new parts of the castle and the grounds. Soon enough, finding your soulmate became the last thing on your mind.

But the years started to go by and a lot of your classmates were discovering that they had soulmates within Hogwarts. Students were putting two and two together, realizing the pains they were feeling were similar if not the same as their soulmates. In fact, most soulmate encounters happened in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. A student came in complaining about a mysterious pain in their leg and low and behold, there was another student laying in a bed with their leg in a cast. Another match.

It came down to a new soulmate announcement happened every few days. You would groan and roll your eyes at the news, but deep down, you secretly wished that your soulmate would reveal themselves soon. Sure, when you first got to Hogwarts, you didn’t want to meet your soulmate because you wanted to focus on making friends and getting used to life at a new school. But now that you were in your sixth year and everyone was starting to find their soulmate, you felt left out.

You sat in the library, studying quietly by yourself before someone hurls themself in a chair right next to you. “Quick, pretend like we’re having a conversation,” Ron grabs your arm tight and shakes you. You give him a puzzled look before he speaks, “It’s Lavender again.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you mindlessly start talking about whatever, pretending to be deep in conversation with Ron. Out of your periphery vision, you see Lavender approach the table, but then stomp her foot in frustration before leaving the area you were in and out of the library. Ron sighs in relief and leans back in the chair as you chuckle. “Why can’t you tell her that you’re not soulmates. Is she still on you about that?” you ask him, crossing your arms across your chest.

Ron groans, “Because she makes shit up! Like in Potions! I had burnt my hand on the flame and it hurt and then she pretended like her hand burned too, but it didn’t!”

You continue to tease Ron. “Oh yeah? How do you know it didn’t actually hurt?”

He leans forward on the table and exclaims, “She’s making it up! Because when we were in class last week, she bumped into Katie Bell and she got a nose bleed. And me? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. We are not soulmates, (Y/N)! She’s bloody out of her mind.” You just sit back and laugh at Ron’s hysterics. You did have to admit though, making up pains just so you can be soulmates with someone who didn’t want to be soulmates with you. That was a little strange. “I’m telling you, we need to find our soulmates soon or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

At the mention of finding your soulmate, your heart speeds up and you gulp. You really didn’t want to talk about your soulmate right now. The thought just made you frustrated. The last sign you had gotten from them was about two weeks ago. A deep pain in your side, like something had smashed into it.

“Have you felt anything recently? Maybe if you tell me, I’ll know of someone who felt it too,” Ron encourages. “Go on now.”

With a groan, you sit up and prop your head up on your hands as Ron waits for you to tell him. “Two weeks ago I had a crippling pain in my side. In the afternoon. Didn’t fade until an hour later,” you reveal to Ron.

He thinks for a moment and then speaks, “Which side? Where in your side? Like your stomach?”

“My left side by my ribcage. Hurt like a bitch,” you suck in, reminiscing the pain that had you curled over in bed as your roommate sat next to you in your bed, rubbing your back, trying to soothe the pain. But there was no use.

Ron think again before speaking, “I mean...I know it’s a long shot, but I remember someone saying that during quidditch practice someone was sent to Madam Pomfrey’s for an injury. I don’t remember who, but you could probably ask Madam Pomfrey and see if she remembers.”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know if it’s worth it, Ron. What am I going to say? Two weeks ago my side hurt and I don’t know who was injured. Do you know who it was? It might be my soulmate,” you tease Ron who rolls his eyes. “When the time is right, I’ll find them.”

---------------

Another week goes by and it’s another week of no pain. From either you or your soulmate. It was like they were doing everything in their power to prevent themselves from getting hurt. Even a paper cut. Nothing. And it was making you more frustrated then ever, seeing people happily walking in the hallway with their soulmates and yet here you were, soulmate-less and painless walking in the halls by yourself.

You walk into Potions class with a sigh, not really wanting to be here. You’d rather be hanging out with your friends in the courtyard on this beautiful, warm day rather than being cooped up inside the castle, doing nothing. “You look thrilled to be here,” Cho teases you as you take your usual seat next to her and behind Ron and Harry. “You alright?” she asks as you simply nod, not really feeling like vomiting all your baggage right now.

Class begins as normal and your assignment was to replicate Girding Potion successfully and quickly. The whole class was at work diligently as you opened vials, reading the ingredients list, dumping them into the cauldron. As you did so, girls around you chit chatted about their soulmates and their pains, taking them as clues as to who it could be.

The chatter was like a fly in your ear, buzzing around and around and around, driving you towards a meltdown. Sweet Hannah Abbot gushed at how Neville told her that he thought they were soulmates, bringing her two bunches of beautiful, lush flowers. Girls cooed at the story, telling her how lucky she was. Hannah was lucky; having found her soulmate and that being Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts’ sweetheart.

Girls continued to chatter about their soulmate and how close they were to finding them and how excited they were. This only made your blood boil as you angrily tossed things into the cauldron now, fists tightening. “(Y/N), take it easy,” Ron laughs next to you as he watches you angrily toss things into your concoction.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ronald. Is my frustration bothersome? I can’t help it that I’m one of the last people in this school to find their soulmate after relentlessly searching for signs that they’re still alive,” you angrily tear up dragonfly thoraxes, tossing them into the potion as Ron just watches you concerned. “I mean bloody hell, there are fourth years who have found their soulmates and I’m still clueless as if they even go to school here. You’d thing finding one person wouldn’t be so hard, but damn it, Ronald, I’m so exhausted of hearing everyone else’s stories and how happy they are and how in love people are whilst I’m standing here trying to figure out if I still have a soulmate at this point!” you whisper yell at him, growing angrier with every word you utter. “Ugh, whatever I ju-Ow! Fuck!” you hiss as you realize you’ve burnt your hand on the open flame that licks the the cauldron.

Ron looks at the burn and his eyes widen. “Not again,” he huffs, having been through this before. “Come here, we’ll have to run it under ice water to stop the stinging,” Ron tells you, grabbing an empty cauldron. “Aguamenti,” he casts on the cauldron, filling it up with cold water as you submerge it fully, the stinging sensation subsiding. “Professor Slughorn! (Y/N) seems to have burnt her hand,” Ron calls over Slughorn who is attentive at another work table.

Slughorn turns around and lightly chuckles, “You too, Miss (Y/L/N)? Mr. Malfoy seems to have also burnt his hand. One moment and I’ll be right with you to take a look at the burns.”

Your eyes widen and your heart sinks for a moment. “O-Okay,” you stutter before you turn to Ron who looks at you in disbelief. Draco Malfoy? No. Absolutely not. No way. Not a chance. “It’s a coincidence,” you tell Ron with a shake of your head in disbelief. “Everyone burns their hand in Potions. It happens all the time,” you try to convince yourself as you focus on your hand in the cold water, watching it clench and flex underneath the surface.

Ron opens up his mouth in protest, but you give him a look as if to say don’t you dare try to rationalize this. Ron sighs. “Whatever you say. It’s your soulmate,” he shrugs with a little smile.

“Shut up, Ronald, or I’ll tell Lavender,” you warn him and he instantly shuts up.

The thought of Draco Malfoy being the person the universe chose to be your soulmate made you feel physically ill. Draco was nothing you wanted in a soulmate. He was cruel and vindictive and ill-mannered and vicious. He had no care for anyone except if it benefit him in some form. How could you manage to care for someone with a character like that?

You glanced over at Draco who watched as Professor Slughorn wrapped his badly burned handle in cream colored gauze. The motion of him wrapping the gauze around his hand was almost hypnotizing as you watched it go round and round, your eyes trailing up to Draco’s face. His face was relaxed, but his jaw was clenched and tense, accentuating his bone structure of his face. Slowly, his head turned to face yours, his cold blue eyes meeting yours as you gulped. When he looked at you, your heart thumped against your chest like a drum. Shaking it off, you look back down at your hand, but you can still feel Draco’s eyes on you.

“If he’s my soulmate, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you whisper down, not daring to make eye contact with Ron.

------------

Another week passed and their was radio silence from your soulmate. Nothing. However, you were kind of glad there was nothing after what happened in Potions class. You wouldn’t let yourself entertain the thought that Draco Malfoy could be your soulmate in some timeline. The more you thought about it, the sicker it made you feel.

When you passed him in the hall, you refused to look in his direction and him you. The both of you knew what the other way thinking, but wouldn’t dare confront the other about it. It was far too risky to play that game. No need to talk about something if neither one of you wanted it to be true.

You found yourself hanging out in the courtyard, messing around with a few of your friends as you sat on the grass, absorbing the brilliant spring sun. People chattered amongst themselves, delighted to be surrounded with their friends. As you leaned up against the tree, you chat lightly to Ron, watching other people toss around a ball, others lay around in the grass, some reading books. “Lavender finally off your back?” you ask Ron, giving him a nudge with a smile.

Ron rolls his eyes, “Bloody finally. It only took forever.” You chuckle before resting your head on his shoulder. “Anything from you? We haven’t talked about it since....you know...” he trails off, not daring to say his name like it was You-Know-Who.

But he was always around. There was no escaping him. There he was, standing in the courtyard, surrounded by his little bitch boy posse as you sneered, “No. And I’m not even entertaining the thought that it’s him. He’s horrid.”

Ron chuckled lightly, giving your arm a squeeze. “Alright, let’s get your mind off of him. Did you do the DaDa homework? Because I certainly did not and Hermione told me she won’t let me use hers again ‘cause I used hers last week.”

The two of you keep chatting for a little while until you feel a sharp pain in your left side, like the one you had all those weeks ago. “Ah,” you wince in pain as you hands meet you left side, clutching it in pain, writhing. “Not again.”

Ron turns and faces you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You alright? What do you mean not again?” he asks, searching your eyes for some clarity. “You need a medic? Someone? Hannah? Come over here!” Ron calls out to Hannah Abbot who lays on the ground, head in Neville’s lap. She shoots straight up to meet you at your side, asking you what the problem was.

“It’s fine. This happened a few weeks ago. You can ask my roommate about it. I think it’s my soulmate actually. They hurt themselves badly and it seems like, ah shit, they’ve done it again,” you seethe in pain as you clutch onto your side, electricity shooting up and down your sides.

Hannah looks at you and grabs your shoulders, trying to get you to stop contorting your body. “Don’t move, it’ll only make the pain worse, alright?” she tells you. “The pain should subside if it’s only your soulmate’s pain and not yours directly. That being said, you have any clue who your soulmate is? Are they at Hogwarts? ‘Cause if they are here, we can get them help which will ultimately help you,” Hannah explains.

And that’s when the moment you dreaded finally came. You gulp, your chest heaving up and down from the pain as you look up through your eyelashes to look across the courtyard. And low and below, there he was. Clutching onto his side, wincing in pain as he threw an arm over Blaise Zabini’s shoulder, using him as a crutch.

From the distance, you hear him speak, “I’m fine. Honestly. I think I reopened whatever injury I got from that quidditch practice a few weeks ago. I’m alright, Blaise, honestly, no need to fuckin’ baby me.” Draco untangles himself from Blaise as brushes off his shirt while still wincing lightly at the pain.

Your heart sinks into your feet and all of a sudden you feel lightheaded. So the day in Potions class was real. Draco didn’t coincidentally burn his hand too. He felt your burn because you were soulmates. You felt his rib injury because you were soulmates. Draco Malfoy was destined to be yours.

“I’ve got to go. Now,” you try and scramble to your feet, pushing through the burning pain up and down your ribcage, ignoring Ron and Hannah’s protests that you needed to take it easy. “The pain is gone. I’m fine. I need to go,” you simply call out, walking away from the group in the courtyard.

You were on a mission now and you were going to put an end to this. Once and for all. Without further hesitation, you grab your bag and start marching over to the other side of the courtyard to where Draco was. As you do so, he notices you approaching and starts to leave the courtyard, trying to prevent you and him having some sort of interaction. “God Godric, really, Malfoy?” you huff out to yourself, knowing that if this was the way he was reacting to the news, the future didn’t look too bright.

Draco starts to march through the corridors as you are quick on his heels, chasing him like a predator chases its prey in the wild. Draco turns to see if you are still on his toes and much to his dismay, you are right behind him. “Malfoy, would you stop running away from me? We need to have a conversation!”

He scoffs, “No, you want to have a conversation. I would like to go back to the common room and take a load off.”

You groan out in frustration before taking up a light jog and grabbing a hold of his wrist, pulling him into an empty classroom. Before he can squirm away, you shut the door and put your back against it, preventing him from going anywhere.

The two of you just stand there, glaring at each other, both gravely disappointed with the reality that just slapped you both in the face. No one says anything for a moment. You two are just breathing, heavy and hot in the room, a few feet separating the two of you. Neither one of you dared to take a step closer to the other.

“What’s the problem, (Y/L/N)?” Draco tucks his hands into his pockets, playing the fool. Pretending he isn’t bothered by this information that your souls were made for each other. He was trying to play it cool whilst inside his mind was screaming and shouting, how could this have happened? Someone like you with someone like him. The universe had to have made a mistake.

Oh, Malfoy, you fool. The universe doesn’t make mistakes.

Your chest is still heaving up and down as you speak, “We’re soulmates, Draco.”

He shakes his head, “Sure. Whatever that means. Congratulations, we did it. Go us. Now can you kindly move your arse out of the way so I can go relax in peace?”

“No!” you exclaim, firmly planted at the door, glaring at him. “Listen, I’m just as unhappy as you are with this outcome!” you reveal as Draco gulps with a scowl on his face. “But the universe chose us as soulmates for some reason and I’m going to listen to the universe. We both can’t ignore it anymore.”

Draco looks away from you, refusing to look you in the eyes. For some reason, looking at you in the eyes was too much for him. It felt like you were looking into his soul, you knew all of his secrets with just a gaze into those iceberg eyes of his.

“That day in Potions, you didn’t burn your hand...” you gently coax him. “That was my burn that you felt.”

“So what! We both burned our hands in Potions! That doesn’t make us any more or less soulmates!” he explodes in fury.

His sudden change in demeanor makes you change tactics. You knew that this conversation would be hard to have with Draco, but not like this. You didn’t think he would succumb to acting like a child at this news. Finding your soulmate should be something to celebrate, to rejoice about, but instead it was an uphill battle. But one you intended to win.

“Alright then, you want to ignore Potions. Fine! What about your rib cage? Four weeks ago, I was writhing in pain on my bed one afternoon for hours from the pain. Ron told me that a quidditch player got injured during timed trials. He didn’t know who. So, today, I feel the same pain in my side in the courtyard, just to look up at see you writhing in pain in your side. You were the quidditch player, Draco. And don’t you dare lie to me and say it was someone else. Because we both know damn well that neither of us deserve to be lied to again!” you exclaim, hot tears now brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill out.

Draco hears the emotion in your voice and watches your soft face crack to reveal a truly sad person. His eyes soften and he gulps, feeling horribly guilty. But he doesn’t let you know it.

“When I was younger,” you sniffle, “I always wanted to meet my soulmate. I felt so badly for them because I always felt their pain. And my soulmate was always hurting. In his body, yes, but in his heart,” you try to reason with him. “I told my mum and dad that when I met my soulmate I would give them a hug because I didn’t want them to feel anymore pain. I wanted them to feel loved.” Your eyes search Draco’s for some glimmer of hope. You weren’t expecting a proclamation of love or realization. You were looking for hope. “We were destined for each other.”

Draco takes a deep breath in before speaking, “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.”

His words leave you blank. That was the best way to describe the way you felt. You weren’t surprised he would say that, but you were shocked that he had actually done it. His sad smile means nothing to you; in fact, it feels like he just twisted the knife that was in your gut.

He manages to slip out of the classroom, leaving you there, numb and blank.

--------------

You didn’t sleep that night. It was nearly impossible to sleep. The scene just kept playing on and on and on in your head until it became a broken movie reel. Your mind screamed to close your eyes and sleep, but your memories manifested themselves into a sick nightmare as you jolted awake, heart pounding.

Your roommates were still fast asleep as you peaked a look at your clock. 2:22am. Angel number now? Great. Well, where were you hours ago?

Slowly, you toss your legs over the side of the bed and grab a sweatshirt and slippers, pulling the cozy material closer to your chilly body. Quietly, you descend the steps of your dormitory and away into the castle to go for a midnight stroll, hoping that you would be caught by the Head Boy or Girl or any other prefect that roamed the halls patrolling them from midnight stragglers.

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet. But not in a scary way. In a comforting way. The pictures on the walls slept gently, small snores coming from a few pictures making a small smile draw its way onto your lips as you shuffles the halls. The air was cool and crisp as you breathed it in, the sensation cooling your lungs as you sighed. This was much needed after a day like today.

As you stroll further through the castle, you come across the courtyard again and you gulp. The scene plays over and over in your head. “We may be destined for each other, (Y/N). But I don’t think we can ever love each other.” His words were a sick mantra in your mind. How could you possibly spend the rest of your life with someone who didn’t even want to put in an ounce of effort? You were supposed to be loved. Give love. Get love. But instead, you ended up with a shattered daydream of what things could have been.

You peel your eyes away from the courtyard and to the corridor where on the edge of the wall sits who you wanted to see least of all right now. Your heart stops at the sight of his white blonde hair, sloppily slicked back. His eyes were dark and tired. He couldn’t sleep either.

Maybe you could slip away without him knowing you were even there. Maybe if you turned around you coul-

“My father was ruthless to me as a child,” Draco speaks up without looking at you. You stop in your tracks and listen. Slowly, he turns to face you and gives you a sad smile. “Still is, to an extent. Not as physically ruthless, but...you get the idea,” he confesses as you sigh and walk over to him, taking a seat beside him on the cold brick, leaning your back against the wall.

Draco gulps and settles before continuing on. “I was always worried. That whenever he would make me feel hurt, my soulmate would feel it. My mother tried to tell me that they would be just fine, but I knew....I knew that she was lying to protect me. Protect me from whatever it was,” he trails off, becoming quiet. In the dark, you couldn’t really tell, but you knew he was softly crying, tears falling down from the pools of blue in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that you had to feel what I felt growing up...he’s a monster. My own father...”

You scoot over closer to Draco and shake your head. None of this was his fault. “Draco, you don’t need to apologize to me. Your father is despicable and you are not him,” you tell him as Draco wipes his tears before you could see them. He didn’t want to cry in front of you yet. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that all those years.”

He shakes his head, “You know, for years, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have a soulmate,” he lightly laughs. “That way, I only had to protect myself. It was selfish of me. But...obviously, that didn’t work out. I would feel your pain too. I remember one day in third year, something had happened to you. You were running and you fell and you broke your arm. I remember yelling out in pain in the common room and Goyle looked at me like I had ten heads,” he laughs as you joined him, smiling at the memory. He was right. You were running with Ron when you had tripped and fallen in Hogsmeade and broke your right arm. “I remember you came back with a bright orange cast and everyone signed it in Divinations class. You told everyone Madam Pomfrey said you didn’t need a cast because of the Healing Potion, but you insisted on getting one because you had one when you were eight. I remember I thought you looked cute smiling and giggling as people wrote their get wells on your broken arm.”

The smile that appears on your face is wide as your heart gently flutters as he remembered all the tiny details of when you broke your arm. Draco knew for so long that you were soulmates and yet, you were so dead clueless.

“I didn’t want to tell you that we were soulmates because I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Draco confesses. “I guess I’m a bit too late on that one, eh?”

You shake your head and sigh, “No, Draco. I mean, do I think you’re a down right dickhead? Absolutely.” He laughs. “But I don’t think it’s too late for you to start trying to act differently. If you can remember me breaking my arm in third year and remember what color the bloody cast was...I think you can work on being a better person. Not for me. But for you.”

Draco inhales deeply before shaking his head, exhaling. “I want to be better. For me, but I want to be what you deserve. If we’re going to...do this, I want to do it right. And if, by some fucked up reason,” he laughs as you chuckle, “it doesn’t work, then at least we know that we tried.”

You feel his hand grab yours as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You look down at his hands and smile, giving it a soft squeeze, assuring him that his proposal sounded like a plan. You were going to give this a go.

If the universe believed in you and Draco, why shouldn’t you?

“That’s all I can ask for,” you whispered gently.

“And I promise I’m going to do more than you ask for. I swear on my life.”

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