Chapter Text
Soulmates in the Wizarding World are a rare anomaly. The research on such a topic is limited. The children of magical lineage are told fairy tales of two lost souls looking for each other throughout many lifetimes. While these stories are passed down as fictitious, they are, in fact, authentic.
For witches and wizards, the warm caress of your soulmates magic as they enter a room is the first step in identifying one’s soulmate. Of course, there are many layers to soul magic, some dark and some light. But a soulmate bond is the purest magic.
While Muggles can have soulmates, recognising them is nearly impossible. Muggles and Muggleborn children are not told of such a person existing, only that there is plenty of fish and the sea, and you must kiss a few frogs before finding your true love.
When two soulmates find each other, they must learn that they will never be happy in another’s arms. However, the two souls intertwined together through lifetimes and millennia will always find each other. That fact is definitive. The paths will vary in each life, but when two souls are reborn, they are destined for each other.
Only when two soulmates are together will they be at their most whole and most powerful.
It happens during Hermione Granger’s sixth year, the first time she feels the connection. She should’ve felt the magic surrounding her, welcoming her home. But she felt so at peace for once, she ignored any curious questions brought to her mind. In a time of war, peace is so rare. This particular kind of peace she only found during certain meal times or classes. Sometimes in the library, she felt warmth surround her and soothe her. She would look around before landing on platinum hair, messy from restless hands. She doesn't know what it is, and with protecting Harry and winning a war at the forefront of her mind, this curious connection goes unanswered until over a year later.
The thing about Hermione Granger is that she’s always had a curious mind. She doesn’t like leaving puzzles unsolved, and so after the war, she had thrown herself in studying for her NEWTS but also in researching…that feeling she always got when Draco Malfoy was in the room. Because while she had put aside her moments of peace in fear of finding the root of its source, the questions stockpiled in her mind during nights on the run with Harry and Ron.
She had discovered it one night in the library when a romantic tragedy had grabbed her attention. It was the tale of two lovers, reborn again only to find themselves cursed. Each life, they would encounter each other, but each life was short, and soon the curse would take hold of one of them. For shortly after finding peace in each other’s arms, one of them would die. And the cycle would repeat itself.
The words “soulmate” repeatedly appearing in the text, the author describing the feeling as a soul being soothed like the sun warms the skin after a series of rainy days.
In the restricted section, she found another text involving a ritual to see if one’s soulmate had been born in this life.
So, late one night, in the Room of Requirement, Hermione performed the ritual upon herself. Her chest glowed with a golden light. A sign that she was, in fact, soulmates with someone . But the feeling of being alone in the library with Draco Malfoy and the glow emanating from her chest were one and the same.
He was her soulmate. Rare but beautiful. But their souls were tarnished from the war, and she hadn’t wanted to intrude on his life. She didn’t know if he even knew. If he did, he wouldn’t have let her suffer so much. Right?
She lied to herself for a while, but the research kept adding up, and even she can’t deny this feeling.
Draco Malfoy, however, had learned of it far sooner…and not by choice either. His duty wasn’t just to kill Dumbledore and let Death Eaters into the castle. It was to find his soulmate and use her magic to destroy the Order. It was the same ritual Hermione would do later on that Draco was forced into. His chest glowed, and warmth surrounded him. At first, he expected the task to be easy; he tried to hide behind the fallacy of bestowing honour to his family, but at the end of the day, he was sixteen, and he was terrified.
And fate had other ideas; because of all the people that could possibly be his soulmate, he had never imagined it to be the bushy-haired Gryffindor princess.
It’s when she was describing the smell of her amorentia that his magic reached out to her. She looked frazzled suddenly. His eyes looked up, following the path of her profile and down to her lips as she described the smell of amber and parchment.
But then, when she steps away with her brows furrowed, she looks at him. And he can’t control how his magic welcomes her with open arms.
She must feel it too, but with the shake of her head, she moves on. She wouldn’t know about soulmates. She’s a Muggleborn, so no one in her family would have told her of them. And soulmates are so rare that it isn’t discussed…
He doesn’t approach her, only watching from afar over the year. So how is it that he suddenly sees her through a different light? He knows she will never accept him, and he understands why. So he researches in the library both the task of fixing the Vanishing Cabinet and the soulmate bond between them.
He continues his task as it tears away at his soul. But he refuses to acknowledge that Hermione Granger is his soulmate. Not because he doesn’t want her, it’s the fact that he does want her. When Voldemort asks, Draco will and say he didn’t find his soulmate. He will Occlude and hide her away. Where’s she’s protected from not only the Dark Lord but also himself.
It’s Easter of the following year, and she’s in his home. His mother, the only one who knows, has to cast a spell on him to keep him from reaching Hermione as she cries for help on the parlour floor. Her eyes, the colour of dark honey, plead with him as tears stream down her face, and he has to look away. If he stops his aunt, they both will be killed.
It’s when she escapes that he knows he’ll never be good enough for her. He should’ve stopped his aunt. Should’ve saved his soulmate. He would rather die to see her alive than to ever watch her be hurt like that again. It is further confirmation that he is terrible for her. Damn the universe, and damn this magic that ties them together.
He thinks she’ll be safer if he finds a way to sever the bond.
That he’ll never earn her forgiveness for all the harm he caused her and the damage he didn’t stop. So, he’ll be patient and let her live her life while he searches for a way to undo the twining of their souls. She’ll never have to know. She’ll be content to be as far away from him as she possibly can. And she’ll have a life away from him.
And though he’ll never have true happiness, he will be content knowing that she’s safe.
It’s been five years since the war ended and four since he’s been released from Azkaban. Yet, he still hasn’t found a way to sever their bond. Each day that passes leaves him lonely. It leaves him empty.
He stays in muggle towns and cities, rarely venturing into the Wizarding world.
He recently inherited a local bookstore, whose owners had no children and had taken to his quiet self when he visited. Then, unfortunately, they passed away and left their store to him.
He never thought he’d own a bookstore, let alone a muggle one, but it’s peaceful and quiet. He sometimes likes to imagine what life would be like if Granger was by his side.
Although she’s never stepped foot into his bookstore, he’s reminded of the library during his school days when he walks up and down the aisles. Then, during his sixth year, when he’d stay up late and fall asleep in the library, and he would awake to a warm cup of tea and blanket around him.
There was never a note left, but he liked to imagine that it was his soulmate. He never asked Madam Pince for fear that his fantasy would be broken and that it was, in fact, the librarian keeping him warm at night with that blanket. He’s content with his daydreams these days, but they’re starting to lose their comfort. For even in his dreams, he sees her at the counter of his bookstore, signing paperwork and ringing out customers.
It’s the summer of 2003, and the birds soak up the sun in the London sky.
It’s been four years since Hermione Granger graduated from Hogwarts. And fourteen days since quitting her job at the Ministry. Fourteen days of leaving behind what was supposed to be her dream. She’s a little lost now, and walking the streets of Muggle London is the only escape these days. Especially after her very public quitting.
She shakes her head, the warm summer air surrounds her. She hasn’t explored this side in years, not since she was a kid and her parents would take her around London on their days off.
Around the corner, she turns and sees weathered copper framing a shop. Windows showcase stacks of books, and a smile falls on her face as she approaches and enters.
It’s a Wednesday, and it’s a slow day in Draco’s bookstore. He’s in the loft, sitting on the sofa when the bell rings, and he sees a girl walk in. His heart beats loudly in his chest as he rises and peers over the railing, looking down upon Hermione Granger.
He watches her as she takes in his quaint shop. Then, after picking up a basket, she begins walking through the fiction section, her hands gliding over the books on the front table before she spins around and walks towards the books in the front areas.
She grabs a book from the shelf, flipping through pages. Then, finally, she smiles and adds it to her basket. Her fingers gliding over the tombs lining the shelves as she walks around his shop, utterly unaware of his watchful gaze. It’s like watching something from a dream, and he blinks several times as he takes in her appearance for the first time since his trial four years ago.
She’s in dark washed jeans, and his gaze flickers over her body to the midsection between her pants and shirt, where tanned skin peaks out. Her chartreuse shirt is ribbed and form-fitting. Her long chestnut-coloured locks flow in curls that look rustled by the wind down her back.
Hermione feels warm and safe suddenly. The moment she entered the shop, it felt like magic. Like something was pulling her to the store. She hadn’t been inside before, but walking inside, it feels like coming home. It feels like…
She gasps suddenly. Because she recognises this feeling. She hasn’t felt it… not since the war. Not since his trial. She turns around nearly, dropping her basket of books, and she looks up. Up toward the loft that hangs over the shop, and there, standing at the railing, is Draco Malfoy.
He stares at her like he’s hallucinating. And maybe she’s the one hallucinating because he’s all but disappeared off the Wizarding map after his release from Azkaban.
But he’s there, and he’s standing in a muggle bookshop, and he’s just… staring.
She’s rooted to the spot, taking in the way the summer sun peaks through the windows and casts him in a glow. He turns away, and her eyes follow the movement of his broad back, taking up so much space in such a small shop. His strides are calculated as he makes his way down the stairs, weaving through aisles to get to her before she leaves.
He walks over to her slowly, like he’s scared of spooking her. When he’s standing in front of her, his grey eyes turn to the shelves, and his fingers roam until they stop on a text. He pulls it from the shelf and offers it to her.
“It’s fantasy. Romance. Adventure. But don’t be fooled; not everyone is as they appear to be at first glance,” he tells her, a small smile playing on his lips.
She reads the title silently in her head and then takes the book from his hands. She notices the absence of rings, specifically the Malfoy signet ring and a wedding ring. There had been rumours that he’d run off to France after his release to marry a pureblood. Some rumours even stretched so far that he’d run off to America of all places.
Instead, he’s standing in a Muggle bookstore in London.
The years of treated Draco Malfoy’s feature with grace. His chin and nose are still pointed but more refined. His eyes still hold that piercing silver that always caught Hermione’s attention across the hallway or classroom. But there’s a softness to them now. And she doesn’t know how to react.
“Where did you go?” She asks him.
“Around,” it’s all he can give her.
Just as she has taken in his appearance, he spends the next several seconds doing the same to her. Her hair, although less wild than their teen years, is still untamed and curly. The softness of her face more matured with high cheekbones and pink pouty lips.
She’s beautiful.
He’s fucked.
He turns around and walks away, the stress of her entering his life again hitting him at full force. It takes a lot of his power and pride to not turn over his shoulder to see her pretty face.
Hermione is left standing in the aisle, her mouth agape and wondering what the fuck just happened.