Soulmate!AU Category Competition by DobbyRocksSocks
The first words your soulmate says to you are on your name as a tattoo
Ultimate Writer Challenge by CrimsonWonder
Write 2 het fics
I really have a thing for Soulmate!Dramione so here's another one shot for my favorite problematic couple
Just to clarify (since everyone seems to think my one shots will be continued) this is a one shot. The story ends at the bottom of this page. Enjoy.
Aren't you smart?
Ever since she found out what the words on her wrist meant Hermione had been curious about them. Her parents had told her about soulmates when she was in primary school, at the young age of five. The words on her wrist was the first thing her soulmate would ever say to her.
Aren't you smart?
What kind of words were those? One of her childhood friend had the words you look nice today written in their skin. Why couldn't she have something nice like that? Her mother tried to convince her that her words were good, that she was smart and that her soulmate would be a fool not to think so. Still, her words sounded cruel sarcastic. She only hoped that her mother was right and that they would be meant as a compliment.
As she grew older Hermione became less worried about love and more worried about school. Especially when a woman named Professor McGonogall showed up on her doorstep and told her that she was a witch, born with magical abilities, and that she would be attending a school for other kids like her in the fall. She bought ever book she could get her hands on and read them through all hours of the nights.
She wanted to learn every spell and brew every potion there was. Just in the first month of school alone her grades were better than they'd ever been going to her muggle elementary school. Of course the grading system was completely different form her elementary school, but she knew that her first year in Hogwarts was going to be great, at least academically.
On a day just like any other Hermione was in the library with Harry and Ron, all doing the homework they'd been assigned that day. She was desperately trying to explain to Ron that it did in fact matter how much time one waited to add ingredients into a potion. He'd only been going to potions classes for a month, how did he not understand?
"But if you still add the right ingredients why would it matter?" He asked her, trying to prove a point.
Hermione shook her head and rubbed her temples. Could he be anymore thick? "Maybe if you read something every once in awhile you would know that some ingredients need time to actually seep into the potion properly." She shot back, "And if you add an ingredient too soon it could screw up the whole potion."
"Aren't you smart?" A voice behind her asked. All three turned around to meet a face that Hermione had seen in her classes but never spoken to before. But she'd heard about him from Harry and Ron, mostly about how nasty he was.
Hermione didn't even recognize the question permanently written into her arm. All she remembered was all the awful things he'd said that her friends had repeated back to her. She wanted nothing to do with this blonde bully. "Smarter than you, I bet." She said, keeping her head high
For a moment the mask he wore, one of smugness and superiority, fell. His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open. But as fast as his mask had fallen it was once again back on. "What could you know that I don't?" He asked, "How much could a muggle born really know?"
"More than you think." She snapped back. "Why do you care?"
Draco shrugged, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder. "I don't care." He said defensively. "I just think you give yourself too much credit, Granger. It's not a good look."
Before she could respond he walked away from their table to find on of his own. Hermione shook her head and turned back to her friends and the homework she had been working on before her and Ron started their debate. She was able to focus once again on her work, but only for a few minutes. Hermione went to scratch and itch on her hand and saw the words written clear as day on her arm. They were written with flawless penmanship, with elegant curves. It was clearly the writing of someone who came from a privileged life.
Aren't you smart?
At the ripe young age of seventeen most only worry about life after school and getting their first job. But, after the long overdue defeat of Voldemort Hermione stood among the rubble of a place she called home for seven years. There were cheers of victory and sobs of mourning surrounding her. Others stood, silenced by shock. She stood in the archway entry to the courtyard, dirt and dried blood covering her face and hands. While some wanted to be reunited with their families others, like Hermione, needed time alone with their thoughts.
As gratifying as it was to know she had helped bring down someone so evil she sometimes wished that she could just be a normal teenager. If she'd never gotten a Hogwarts letter, had never been the magical product of two normal people, she would be living a plain and average life. She would be worrying about going to university next year, not mourning the loss of countless friends.
A numbness had settled over her. Even the pain of knowing what she'd done to her parents, the pain that had been burrowed deep in her chest every waking moment since. She simply felt like a sponge, one that had been soaking up way too much for the past couple of months. And someone had finally wrung her dry. But now, instead of feeling overwhelmed she felt empty.
Hermione didn't even bother looking, she hardly even turned her head. She could recognize that voice anywhere. It was the voice that had tormented her and degraded her for years. But something about his voice was different this time. Instead of his usual drawl and monotone sound, she could hear his own trauma he had endured in the past hours. It was the exhaustion and desperation in his voice that made her turn around.
She was so used to seeing him perfect, not a hair out of place. Even when she hit him back in their third year, which they would both admit was the lowest moment of his school career, the redness on his cheek wasn't nearly as bright as she wanted it to be. His personality was as ugly as a goblin, and she would never admit it out loud, but he wasn't hard to look at.
But he looked almost as worn as she felt. His pale features and light hair were both coated in soot from the fire in the Room of Requirement. Not only that but his clothes, which probably cost more than her school books, were ripped and caked in blood in more than one spot. But the worst was his eyes. While they usually gleamed with pleasure at someone else's misfortune by his hand, and annoyance when she was in his presence, they were now hooded and empty looking. His eyes looked like how the pit in her stomach felt. Bottomless and hollow.
He walked towards her until they were only a few feet apart. They both faced the courtyard, watching others cope with what had happened to them and their family. The usual purpose and pep he had in his stride was long gone, and he now shuffled like a zombie. Draco looked away from the rubble and down into her face, just as dirty as his own.
"You look like shit." He said, looking forward once again. "One of the few things we have in common."
After all she had been through a quick jab at her appearance packed no punch. It was such a pathetic excuse for an insult that she laughed. She felt just as mad as she looked, but not one cell in her body cared. "Is that all you have to say?" She asked once her giggles had subsided.
"No, it's not." He hesitated before continuing, attempting to rub the dirt off of his face with his equally filthy hands. But he was only successful in moving it around. He seemed even more uncomfortable just by the thought of what he was going to say. When he finally spoke again his eyes darted around, avoiding her entirely. "I'm sorry for all the cruel things I said to you in school."
Hermione couldn't quite believe her ears. Was Draco, spoiled brat extraordinaire with a superiority complex, actually apologizing to her? It seemed that both of them were surprised by his apology. She stared at him, her mouth open slightly, while he avoided looking at her with knitted brows. "Are you being serious?" She asked, fully expecting to turn around and laugh at her for almost believing him,
But he didn't. His discomfort only seemed to grow. "Yeah, I'm being serious." He told her. "I knew that what I was saying was mean, but I never thought that saying it would lead to all of this."
"Draco," she said, her voice growing soft. "It sounds like you're blaming yourself. You can't possibly think that you caused this?"
"Not personally." His eyes met hers, but only for a fleeting second. "But with enough people thinking how I used to, and enough people being proud enough to say it, there was bound to be some sort of conflict." His voice faltered slightly as he looked at the carnage that surrounded them. "I just never imagined it would be like this."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "How you used to think?" She asked. "What, you don't think that way anymore? But you've just been pretending to because it's what everyone expects from you?" Though it sounded silly she knew that he was proud enough to do something just as stupid just to keep up appearances.
The smallest hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Aren't you smart?" He asked her, repeating the words he'd said to her so long ago.
She had replayed that conversation over so many times that she remembered nearly every last detail. It didn't take much thought to remember what she had said to his same question six years before. "Smarter than you I bet."
His smile grew every so slightly, but he turned his head to the side to try and hide it from her, only he didn't move fast enough. Without a sneer or smirk he was even more handsome. Even if he was covered in soot. "I know we've been… ignoring it this whole time." He said, the hesitation to say what was on his mind clear in his voice. "But I know what's written on your wrist. And I have a feeling you know what's on mine."
Silence fell over them and they both moved their gaze back to the courtyard. Some witches and wizards were throwing around any spell they knew that would repair the damage done to the caste. Somehow she felt comfortable just standing next to him, not feeling any need to say a word. She didn't feel any bit of irritation or intimidation from being next to him. Why couldn't things have been that way the whole time.
They could both hear rushed footsteps coming from behind them. Moments later Draco's mother came over to them, her hands landing on his shoulder. She kept looking behind her shoulder, and a slight look of panic was in her eyes. Hermione wondered how much convincing it had taken him to have a moment away from his mother. She knew how protective the blonde could be over her son.
"Draco, we have to go." She said, attempting to pull him away. "The ministry will be here any minute and it would be best if we weren't here when they arrived."
His expression was impossible to read. With all the thoughts that were running through his mind it was hard to get a read on only one. But she imagined that a part of him wanted to stay. That he wanted to face the ministry and whatever consequences he may face to do right for his wrongs. But his care for his mother was holding him back. Though she knew that this was a unrealistic fantasy.
"Okay." He finally said. Draco turned towards her for what would be the last time for quite awhile. The smallest hint of a smile was once again on his face. "Goodbye Hermione."
As he walked away with his mother again she marveled at the sound of her name spoken in his voice. It was something she never expected to hear, but it was something she would gladly listen to again. Draco's apology gave her the strength to keep moving forward, to move on from the horrors of the war. She didn't speak of their conversation to anyone, not a soul in years. Not until she saw him again.