Harry Potter Oneshots

Soulmates (Drarry)

Part 4  (and by far my favourite) of the soulmates series

Warning: smut. You're welcome.

It was a Thursday afternoon... maybe... I think. Anyway, we had potions which made the whole day feel worse than it really was. It was the sort of day that had the potential to be really lovely: sat in bed with a book watching the rain pour down the window and slide over Hagrid's prized pumpkins. Possibly spent sipping tea and sharing laughs and treacle tarts with friends. But potions had the power to always change the ambience of a lovely day into something incredibly dull.

And dull was what it was. I sat with Hermione, Ron and Neville at the back of the class gazing glassy-eyed at the notes that were scrawled over the board, notes I probably should've been copying down. It was fine - Hermione would recap them for me anyway.

In my lazy minded state, I didn't notice that my eyes had landed on Malfoy until I did in fact notice it. Or I noticed him anyway, the way he looked. He looked similar to how Hermione did after a sleepless night of studying: eye bags deep, hair rumpled, heavy head slumped over one arm. Except his eyes weren't bright and twinkling with knowledge like Hermione's so often were or even like his own were after a particularly enthralling charms class, no, his once gleeful, grey eyes were now riddled with defeat, disappointment, worry. It unsettled me slightly. I was so used to Malfoy's plans working and having to find a way to fight his ridiculously cunning masterpieces that it was startling to see him fail. Malfoys didn't fail. I had been on edge for months waiting patiently for his scheme to unfold and this was such a disappointing anti-climax.

Truly, it shouldn't have been. I can't explain why not being attacked by my arch enemy was disappointing to me, it just was. There was something about the familiarity of Draco's schemes that kept me going. They kept me vigilant, on edge, eagle eyed and waiting for Draco. But now he was failing, I had nothing to wait for and the days were just... dull.

"Potter," a sharp voice called, dragging me headfirst out of my trance. "have you been listening to anything at all this lesson?"

"Bits and bobs." 

My eyes were still on Draco and I could've sworn I saw him smile slightly before I caught sight of Professor Snape's sneer.

"I know that the endless tribulations of the Chosen One are far more important than his education but I'll let you in on a secret Potter, your name won't get you through the auror tests. In fact your name will get you nowhere if you don't live up to it so I suggest that if you don't want to spend the rest of your life bottling ink then perhaps you should write down some notes."

"Yes, sir." I sighed in defeat, he wasn't exactly wrong.

The rest of the lesson went slowly as ever except I did actually scribble down some notes with the help of a few motivational kicks from Hermione.

When at last the bell went, I hurried out of the classroom with a speed that would've made my firebolt jealous. However, speed is not my forte on land and I soon ended up crying out in a stream of curse words when my hip-bone hit the corner of a desk hard. Now, you might think it hilarious that the Boy Who Lived reacted that profusely to being knocked against a table (the rest of my class definitely did) but I'll tell you this, that pain was a truly remarkable feeling that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. It was almost comparable to a stubbed toe (at which I shudder at the thought).

I picked myself up to see a circle of students all laughing their heads off and one white haired boy staring with wide eyes and biting down hard on his lip. It worried me and I would've said something but he turned around and walked out of the classroom with a badly concealed limp. My eyebrows knotted together as I gathered up my books. I didn't speak to anyone as I left the classroom, still confused.