Challenge: Second Annual 'Can You Write a Romance?' using the word Kismet, which means fate or destiny, three times throughout the story.
Warnings: Slash, Language, time travel, Light!Draco, ManipulativeButInAGoodWay!Dumbledore!Snape, written mostly from Draco's POV, so there's going to be lots of bashing of various characters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though this plot is mine with the help of RoyalJamboree and Aaliyanna's-SeventhHeaven.
Thanks lots and lots to my Beta RoyalJamboree who edited four chapters in a little over two hours!
Now edited and added on to!
Chapter One: Of Brewing, Denial, and Trickery
Draco scowled down at his cauldron, cursing his Godfather to all seven levels of hell as he worked. It was his fault that they were tricked into making such a… a mortifying potion! It was entirely too close to kismet for his taste - he didn't need to know his soul mate. Hell, he didn't want to know!
It was the first Slytherin-Gryffindor Double Potions class since Christmas break, and the one person Draco could always count on to whip the Gryffindorks back into shape had apparently been persuaded into a teaching fun potion. Though, Draco mused, he should probably give Severus more credit. After all, it was Dumbledore who managed to convince him. The manipulating old coot could make the world bow to his wishes with a single insufferable twinkle and some well-placed words. Although Draco, being ever-so Slytherin, liked to spread out blame, as well as revenge, entirely equally.
Somehow, Dumbledore had managed to persuade Severus into adding a new potion to the curriculum - the Soul Mate Potion. After The-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die defeated the Dark Lord, it had been decided that they all needed a little more love in the world. Draco sneered to himself - love, of all things. All Seventh Years must brew a Soul Mate Potion and then, worse of all, test it themselves. They had very little choice in the matter. It had almost made up for the disappointment of the potion to see Severus Snape, snarky dungeon bat, preaching about love, of all things. He had sat stiff and straight uptight at his desk, his menacing glare losing its touch as he kept as close to the text as he could while still managing to drive his insults home. Draco thought back to that moment with mixed emotions…
"The Soul Mate Potion," Severus drawled, eyes sweeping the room with their usual menace. It seemed to take a few moments before the title of their project registered in the idiot's brains, for there were small sniggers from the Gryffindor side of the room. Obsidian eyes darted over to the red and gold clad students, his trademark sneer appearing as he continued, "Is a decidedly simple brew. Even the most hopeless of you should be able to successfully brew this potion." Dark eyes landed briefly on Longbottom and Potter, while Draco smirked across the room. Hopeless indeed… He mused, his smirk widening as Potter met his gaze with a heated glower. "At the end of today's lesson, you will all test your potions. Your Soul Mate will appear in your mind's eye, and you will be compelled to find them. You will need to… kiss, for this feeling of compulsion to stop. You are allowed to leave School Grounds for the day to follow the compulsion, as well as settle the bond with any Professor or student in another class. If your Soul Mate is not born or of age as of now, you won't see anything. If your Soul Mate is already dead, you will see them, but have to follow the compulsion a different way." At this point, everyone had let out a chuckle or two at the Professor's monologue, while Severus himself spat the words 'Soul Mate' with unhidden resentment. Draco didn't have the time nor compassion to feel pity for the man, for Severus was already pointing out a foggy blue stone sitting forlornly on his desk. Somehow, the exquisite object managed to exude an air of mystery and depression, and he instantly felt compelled to comfort the beautiful object. It was a simple rounded stone and might have been mistaken as a crystal if one had not looked closely. The edges were smooth and the center might have held the deepest of blues, a shadow of deception swirling around and hiding what it truly looked like on the inside. "This is the Stone of Moira. Should one wish to, you would merely lay your hand on it and speak a few select words and one would find themself lost in another world entirely. Not that that is unfamiliar territory for some." A scowl was thrown at the Gryffindor side of the room, focusing on some of the bigger daydreamers. "While still considered the past, you can do whatever you wish there and not alter the present. The same thing will happen if you bring your Soul Mate back with you." The mudblood seemed dying to ask a question, though she hesitated in raising her hand. She was smart enough to know that any questions would be unwelcome and would result in them losing a copious amount of points. Severus continued, ignoring the look on her face. If he knew his Godfather, her question would be answered anyways. "If you wish to come back or bring your significant other with you, you must both fully desire to return, or the Stone will not present itself." Severus scowled around the room, standing abruptly from his desk. Standing in front of them now, he sneered at the students. "Open to page 356 and begin."
Draco shook himself out of his memories and went back to focusing on the brew.
The potion was simple and Draco was spending most of his time mulling over possibilities while it simmered. Merlin, please don't let it be the mudblood, or worse, Potter! Anyone but Potter! He groaned inwardly, but took a moment to check on the potion. He scowled as he noticed it was ready for the final ingredient. While he wanted to procrastinate as much as possible, Scarhead was even reaching the final stage. Draco stared down into the foggy blue potion, which reminded him of the Stone of Moira in color. He grabbed the available needle and jabbed at his finger, face going impassive as he watched a few drops of crimson hit the potion. It shimmered for a moment, sinking into an abyss of blue, before the potion flashed a deep maroon. Draco groaned quietly, dropping his head for a moment. Severus had made them add an extra ingredient, so the potion would turn the color of what house they were in. If it was foggy, they used to be in the house. If it wasn't a house color, they had never attended Hogwarts. His was obviously a Gryffindor, but it was supposed to turn a bright crimson for Gryffindor, not a maroon. Draco shoved the detail off, though, and scanned the room to watch for colors.
Potter's potion turned a foggy Slytherin green, which Draco smirked at. Imagine that, the Gryffindor Golden Boy with a retired Snake. From the look on his face, he was probably despairing over how his reputation would turn out. The Weasel and Mudblood's potions both turned a bright crimson, though that was no surprise. He watched as Finnegan and Thomas's did the same, rolling his eyes at the hope that came upon their faces. No doubt they were hoping to be each other's soul mates. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Millicent were lucky enough to have their potions turn emerald, and Draco took a moment to scowl down at his own potion. Of course he, the Slytherin Prince, would be stuck with a Gryffindor. Draco felt a pang of pity when Longbottom's potion turned neon green, and couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the poor Slytherin who had to deal with that bumbling idiot. Blaise had the misfortune of sharing his fate as his turned crimson as well. Sharing despondent glances, Draco scanned the room again, landing on the only Gryffindor whose potion had yet to change. Staring as a drop of blood touched the surface, he watched with masked surprise as the potion turned a deeper blue. It seemed only one of them had a Soul mate from the other two houses, and that happened to be Brown. Ice blue eyes darted back up to Severus as he came to a stop in front of his own desk again, speaking to the class as a whole.
"For once, it seems, none of you dunderheads have exploded your cauldron. When I call your name, you will test the potion and proceed to… settle your bond. If you see nothing, stay seated. If your intended has already died, please step forward and stand by my desk.
Millicent wasn't pretty by any stretch of the imagination. She was large and burly, with a square build and heavy jaw. Dark curly hair framed her face and fell past her shoulders, giving her a slightly more feminine look. She was one of the strongest Slytherins, though that was to be expected. Millicent was a half-blood living among Snakes - she had been forced to fight her way out of skirmishes with upper years until her sixth year. Within their year, though, she was respected to a certain level and she was one of Draco's friends. Her large hand grabbed a vial and ladled the emerald potion carefully into the container. Upon it being full, she tossed the liquid back. A grimace graced her face at the taste before she froze completely, her eyes glazing over. After what seemed to be hours but, in reality, was barely a minute, her small blue eyes unclouded and she stood, placing the vial on her work station. She weaved her way around Slytherin chairs, placing herself next to Gregory Goyle. Draco scoffed under his breath - no surprise there, they had been dancing around each other for months. Milli put a hand on her crushes shoulder and leaned in, planting her lips on his. The kiss dragged on for a few moments, in which the Gryffindor's glanced away, red in their faces. Finally pulling back, Millicent and Greg's faces were flushed, and Milli seemed reluctant to part with him, but returned to her seat after a moment of hesitation.
Brown was pretty, but in an annoying way. She was entirely too generic in Draco's opinion. Her skin was lightly tanned and she showed off the body of someone who spent far too much time traveling to the beaches of the world. She was one of the shortest in her years, and constantly tried to use it to her advantage, staring up at any male from under her lashes, thinking it made her look cute. Lavender was classically blond, with deep blue eyes that spent most of their time goggling at others or staring into space, claiming that she was looking into the future. There was nothing extraordinary about her, and she could be lost in a crowd quite easily. Of course, that was mostly a good thing. While her other half, Patil, didn't make it into advanced potions, they spent all their time giggling over boys and speaking in a high-pitched voice that was supposed to be endearing. One tan hand grabbed the vial, fingers adorned with sparkly pink nail polish. Draco sneered at the garish color, before waiting slightly and impatiently for the fog to clear from her eyes. She stood gracefully and sashayed out of the classroom, nodding to Severus as a goodbye. The door swung shut behind her.
Vince was far from handsome, though slightly better looking than Greg. He was a bulky man, and held himself awkwardly. The only time he seemed truly comfortable was when he had the opportunity to pound someone's face in. Brown hair was displayed in a pudding-bowl cut and dark, beady eyes would dart around the room nervously. Vince didn't have a way with words, you could say, and just grunted to the Professor instead. Draco would bet his manor that he knew Vince's Soul Mate, and waited to see if his suspicions were proven true. A meaty hand grasped the vial and he downed the neon green potion in one go, grunting again at the taste. Merlin, it must be foul…Draco mused as he watched the haze overtake someone for the third time. Patience is a virtue, Draco. He chanted to himself. Seconds later, Vincent stood and lumbered to the desk a few rows down, ignorant to Draco's satisfied smirk. I knew it… He gloated inwardly as Crabbe leaned down to capture Pansy's mouth for a mere second, drawing away quickly. Something that looked surprisingly like a blush lit up his cheeks as he sat back into his chair.
Finnegan wasn't hard to look at, to say the least. He was tall with lean muscle, towering over most. Pale skin was peppered with a light dusting of freckles, barely noticeable unless someone paid attention. Shaggy blond hair hung in front of blue eyes, which sparkled with mischief at times. He was a half-blood, though, so he was off limits to Draco. Besides, the Irish accent sounded whiny to his ears. It was also a known fact that, starting in the middle of sixth year, he was dating Dean Thomas, a mudblood who he was very close with. Even with the small chance that they weren't Soul Mates, they were bound to stop caring for their intended and get back together before the year was up. A pale hand grasped the vial and Seamus smiled arrogantly at his lover before drinking down the crimson fiery red potion. Sky colored eyes cleared faster than the ones before him, and the cocky smile was back in place. He didn't bother to stand, but reached over to the seat next to him. One hand grasped the collar of the dark skinned boy while another held his head in place, and lips met in a fierce kiss. The girls stared, gaping at the display while some guys turned away, muttering for them to get a room. Finnegan's tongue darted out, and he tasted Thomas's mouth passionately. It took several people to clear their throats loudly for them to pull away, Seamus with a self-satisfied smile and Dean blushing at the attention. Draco could have sworn he heard most of the girls groan in disappointment. He was just glad the blatant display was over, though.
Granger wasn't pretty, she wasn't beautiful, and she wasn't cute. Draco didn't believe her to be attractive in any way, shape, or form. Her hair, which may have toned down a bit over the years, was still bushy, heavy, and mousy. Brown eyes stared down at her cauldron, set in a heart shaped face. Her skin was too pale for Draco to even think about appreciating, and she was taller than Draco himself. Who liked tall girls anyways? If he was going to be with someone taller than him, it would be a guy, and he was even wary about that at times. Her teeth had been permanently straightened after the accident where she had looked like even more of a beaver than usual. Then, of course, there was the fact that she always strived to be better than everyone, an annoying quality. Draco refused to watch as she gulped down the crimson colored potion, focusing his eyes elsewhere as chocolate eyes clouded over. He already knew who her Soul Mate was. So Draco didn't even glance as she stood, ignoring the scene as she captured the Weasel's lips with her own.
Longbottom was a bumbling imbecile. He even looked the part. He was short and slightly chubby, though he had filled out a bit since first year. His face was round and stupidly naïve. Brown eyes stood out in pale skin, but there was a light sheen of sweat on his face. Probably worried that whatever Slytherin he's stuck with will make him their slave… Draco scoffed, but decided to present the idea to whatever lucky Slytherin was stuck with Neville Longbottom. A chubby hand clutched the vial, and soon the emerald green potion was no more. The only difference between him and the others was that he jumped in shock as he started to fade out, the empty vial clattering to the floor, luckily not breaking. Typical Longbottom. The Slytherins shared glances, all wondering the same thing - who was going to be stuck with the oaf? Longbottom stood abruptly, chair scraping across the room. Draco hid his horror as, instead of exiting the room, he walked stiffly over to Snake territory, as if fighting an unseen force. It was either him or Blaise, the only two available Slytherins left. The imbecile passed in front of his desk, and Draco left out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Glancing at Blaise, he noticed the compulsion was too strong for Blaise to fight. So when Neville pressed his lips against his, Blaise met him half way.
Draco started at his name, eyes darting up to Severus in disbelief. His eyes told it all. Draco would have to take the potion, regardless of the house. But he didn't want to have a Soul Mate. It complicated everything! What if it was a Mudblood? What if it was a Blood Traitor? Or poor? A parent of a friend? One of their grandparents? There were so many things that could go wrong if he tested this potion, and only one thing that could go right - it would be a perfect someone. The idea was tempting; having someone to be your other half, to understand you fully, to be everything that you needed. If he had been in an arranged, loveless marriage, though, he would have been happier than if he was in an apparently "perfect" marriage to something he despised. But destiny was inevitable. He steadied his trembling hand and clutched the vial, slowly filling it with the maroon potion. Staring down into the sparkling potion, he raised the glass to his lips and drank.
The world around him went fuzzy and dark, endlessly so. The atmosphere pressed in on him, crushing him, making it harder to breathe. He was suffocating; dying by potion, by a Soul Mate potion, irony at its finest. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw a light. An escape from the pressing darkness. Draco ran for it, slowed down by the force pressing down on him. He wouldn't be able to make it; it was too far away, the darkness too deep for him. It was as if he was stuck in quicksand; the faster he tried to move, the more resistance he met. The light, as if sensing his demise, darted forward. Warmth enveloped Draco as the golden ball went straight into his chest, coming to rest in his heart. It grew hotter and hotter, almost sweltering, till it exploded. Draco shielded his eyes from the light, clenching them shut. The world spun on its axis, and he found it impossible to scream. He didn't feel sick, just extremely uncomfortable. Slowly but surely, the world righted itself again, and the light faded away. Draco kept his eyes closed, though, feeling the world around him. He was sitting on grass, lush grass at that, and wind teased his hair. There were no sounds. There was no scent. Only sight and touch. Ice eyes peeked open, before fully widening. He was sitting on a Quidditch Pitch, smack down in the center. Looking around, he found he could easily identify the location. Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. Eyes instinctively moved to one side of the pitch, where a figure threw a quaffle into a hoop. This in practice was not an odd sight. The strange thing about it was the person themselves.
This person was obviously male and an amazing chaser. He definitely knew how to handle a broom. The man hovered for a moment, and Draco drank in his appearance from afar. Wind-blown dark hair, though it might have been naturally that messy, was teased by the breeze. As the male turned his head, Draco saw the silver glint of a glasses frame. The form looked familiar, he realized. Almost too familiar… Wait. Dark, messy hair. Glasses. Quidditch Pitch. Oh, sweet Circe, it's Potter! Flustered, Draco prayed to anyone who would give a damn for it to be anyone but Potter. Then he remembered the conversation he overheard back in forth year. The Weasley twins had been coming back from practice, commenting on Potter's skills as a Chaser, or lack thereof. To put it nicely, he was utter rubbish. This man was amazing. So it couldn't be Potter, right?
At this revelation, the world fuzzed out again, though not as drastically as before. There was no darkness, no heat, no suffocation. All that happened was the scene changed before his eyes, till a face of a man was all he could see. He must be related to Potter… It was a carbon copy of his arch nemesis. Black hair stuck up in the back and seemed endlessly messy, and his mouth curved into a laugh the same way he had caught Potter's doing on occasion. There was no lightning bolt scar, though. The biggest difference, though, happened to be his eyes. Instead of the unnaturally bright emerald, they were a deep hazel color, sparkling with mischief. There wasn't anything particularly spectacular about them, but they seemed to display the Potter-Clone's emotions for the world to see. I think I like this Potter better… Draco mused, but questioned who it was. Who could look so much like Potter but so different at the same time? The only thing he knew about this man was that he was a Chaser, which rang a dim bell in the back of his mind. Chaser, Chaser, Chas-er…. Ch-ase-er…. Chaser! It clicked in his mind, remembering the plaque that hung in the Trophy Room, with a James Potter mentioned as Quidditch Captain and star Chaser. One had to remember this after scrubbing scum off it for hours. Concentrating on the man, he suddenly had no doubt in mind that this was James Potter.
James bloody Potter? The father of my rival? What did I do for the Fates to hate me so? He's married with children, for Merlin's sake! A small, rebelling section of his mind pointed out his blood status. Maybe there were some ups about this. James Potter was a Pureblood, and a rich one at that. Draco wouldn't be altering the time line, and he had the opportunity to bring him back to his time if he so wished. Wait, what are you thinking? This is the father of The-Brat-Who-Lived! Of course he's just like his son. Arrogant, obnoxious, probably completely devoid of manners! And a Gryffindor to boot! No, he wasn't going to be with James fucking Potter. Screw the compulsion, he wouldn't touch the stone and say the incantation. All he had to do was tell Severus who it was and he'd be home free. He'd live his regular life, before marrying some chit from Beaubaxtons after graduation, knocking her up, and stealing the child after the divorce papers are filed. That sounded like an excellent plan to him. Not only did he get an heir, he would be able to fawn over it as much as he desired without some girl trying to demand his attention. There was no need to ever meet James Potter, even if he was easy on the eyes. If he had a say in it, he would never have the misfortune to meet the man who spawned Potter Jr. Draco always got what he wanted.
As if reacting to his thoughts, there was a sharp tug in the back of his mind. Draco scowled as the picture went fuzzy once again, the world darkening for just a moment. A powerful wind seemed to rush past him, pushing him forwards. The tugging in his head was persistent now, growing in strength as he finally stumbled, getting the odd sensation he was falling. There was no wind to tell him which way he was falling, just the feeling of emptiness around him. Then it stopped. Draco could finally hear. He heard someone tap their foot, people rustling fabric. But everything was toned down due to the constant nag in his head. Draco opened his eyes slowly, though, and took a moment to glance around the room. Everyone's eyes were on him, filled with impatience. Severus was watching him carefully, a hint of curiosity in his features. I'll tell Severus after everyone leaves… He decided, before standing up gracefully. Reaching Severus's desk, Draco nodded at his Godfather before taking his spot over to the side, sneering down at his classmates. They really needed to mind their own business. Despite the pull dragging him towards the Stone, Draco managed to ignore it, instead attempting to focus on Severus.
Draco half-watched the events before him, as his rival hesitantly downed the foggy green potion in one go. He didn't want to watch Potter Jr. after what he just witnessed, but he was curious as to which retired Slytherin would be stuck with him. Draco spaced out for a moment as Scarhead eyes glossed over. He pushed the pull back carefully, trying not to stop it, but to push it to the back of his mind. When Potter finally returned to the land of the living, Draco had enough of his bearings back to watch curiously as he stood and made his way to the front of the classroom. Wait, to the front? But wasn't his intended just a retired Slytherin? It was possible that it was dead, but, from Draco's experience, if they're dead it usually turns to a more somber shade. Severus was watching him warily as well. As Potter stopped in front of his Godfather, it seemed Draco understood before Severus could. Sniggering under his breath, he watched as Potter had to go on his toes to reach Severus's height, and placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder to steady himself. Potter pressed his lips onto Severus's for a mere second before pulling away, blushing heavily. Severus shook off the pull quickly, and glowered at the laughing class. As Potter sat in his seat again, he addressed the class.
"Mr. Malfoy and Potter, stay after class. The rest of you, dismissed."
Everyone scrambled out of the classroom to escape Severus's Death Glare, leaving only him and Potter behind with the seething Professor.
"Potter, stay seated and don't make a sound." Severus ground out, before turning to a smirking Draco. He watched as Severus quickly threw up some privacy charms before turning back to him.
"I'm not going." Draco spoke in a firm tone, but hid a wince as the compulsion seemed to rebel. "There has to be a way to get rid of the pull."
Severus contemplated his options as he watched his Godson, trying to ignore the glare that was burning into his back from behind. Leaning back against his desk, he crossed his arms as he thought, staring down at the child he considered his son. He doesn't want to go, but maybe he'll find some peace if he does. And with the compulsion distracting him, he'll be easier to deceive. Severus weighed his options carefully before reaching his decision.
"There is one way to halt the compulsion. Are you sure this is what you want?" He watched as Draco scowled before giving a resolute nod. Severus sighed inwardly. It's for Draco's welfare, though. "Alright. To stop the pull, you need to return it to the stone." He drawled, pushing the stone closer to his Godson. "Place your hand upon the stone and repeat after me. Fatis mihi." Draco seemed to hesitate before placing his hand on top of the stone, and saying the fated words clearly. In a small flash of light, his Godson was gone.
Turning to his next problem, Severus inwardly rolled his eyes at Draco's antics. It's not like his Soul Mate is Potter!
Before Draco had the chance to hex Severus, he was forced to close his eyes as the room seemed to rush away from him. Then, he was falling. He hurtled through freezing, harsh wind that seemed to enjoy prodding at him. He only felt a small amount of dizziness, but couldn't focus on it. Unlike the last time where he could barely sense anything, everything was ultra-sensitive. Draco could feel every caress of the wind, smell the heavy rain, and taste the mist on his tongue. As he fell, he briefly wondered if it would hurt when he landed. Sounds rushed past him, vague voices from the past. They seemed to slow down before, finally, he fell on top a hard surface. His bones jostled and crashed, and his head hit the ground hard. As the stars cleared from Draco's vision, he came to the conclusion that yes, it did hurt when he landed. Thunder rumbled from above him, and suddenly rain was pelting his body, causing him to gasp and struggle to sit up. Bloody Snape! He tricked me, that bastard! Growling, Draco stood unsteadily to his feet, looking around him while using one hand to shield from the heavy downpour. He was at the same place he had been when he first spotted Potter Sr., in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch. A dark figure was running towards him, shouting something, but Draco couldn't hear over the pounding rain, not noticing as the pull increased in the back of his mind. His head was pounding excessively, and he knew he should be listening to whoever was speaking to him, but couldn't find the energy too until, suddenly, a very wet James Potter was standing in front of him.
"Are you mad? You could catch your death in a storm like this, why aren't you in your common room?" Potter sounded very, very angry but there was a hint of concern in his voice as he spoke. The pull swayed him towards Potter, forcing him to stumble into him, while Potter brought up his arms to catch him. "Hey, are you alright?" He questioned, peering at Draco's face as if to try and determine who it was. "Wait, who are you? You don't go-" Potter was too close from Draco's liking, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. The pull was too strong and he just wanted it to stop. So, taking advantage of Potter's ducked head, he turned his head up and pressed his lips to his.
It was hardly an enjoyable kiss, with cold rain soaking them through and through and Draco suffering from a major head ache, but it was apparently good enough for the compulsion, for it disappeared immediately. As soon as it did, Draco pulled back as if electrocuted.
"What the hell was that? You don't just go around kissing people! I'm taking you to Dumbledore." Draco groaned aloud as the stubborn man grabbed his wrist tightly, dragging him back up to the castle.
"If you leave a mark, so help me Potter, they will not find your remains!" Draco's threats were heard throughout the grounds as he was dragged unceremoniously to the Headmaster's Office by one James Potter.