MASTERLIST: my HP Soulmates 2023 entries

Thank you to the mods of @hp-soulmates for a very fun list of prompts! I had so much fun with them. To commemorate the occasion, I made a master list of my own entries, which you can find below (all links are to AO3, but you can also find all of these posted on tumblr too). Enjoy!

EXPELLIARMUS RED

SEEKER PRACTICE

FAIRY TALES

THE HUMAN CONDITION

IN MEMORIAM

THE END AND THE BEGINNING

The End and The Beginning

Voldemort’s body hits the ground and the war ends. Harry has done it. He finished the war. He meets his best friends’ eyes across the crowd and feels himself turn from Harry, the Chosen One, to Harry, a man who has finally earned freedom.

He blinks. A second passes. Their hands wrap around his shoulders and it dawns suddenly on him that it was worth – all that dying and monster slaying and evil conquering business – for this, for the closeness and the assurance of his best friends in his arms.

And then they gasp in unison, all three of them, as a sharp pain pierces their respective left wrist and they pull back instinctively from where each other's necks meet each other's shoulders and each other's cheeks resting in that nook, and look at the counters which have steadily guided them to the person fated to them and only then.

The fierce surprise of his own counter suddenly functional makes Harry feel a pain not unlike that of dying – mainly, it leaves him breathless, and makes his hear skip a couple of beats as if it can't beat quickly enough.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers with all the passion of a just-born-star.

“The way I look at it,” Ron says, “Mione and I finally have some real leverage for the next time you try to dash away into danger without us by your side.”

Hermione laughs a strange high-pitched laugh and then takes Harry’s hand, bringing his writs up for inspection. “Something fixed it.” She’s right – his counter, notorious for skipping around, for doing everything except counting, now stays decidedly at zero. “Voldemort’s death…”

“My death.”

They stare at him for a long moment, but no one comments on an admission of such weight. It’s strange, that for all that him dying and returning from death is objectively a significant event in his life – in all of their lives – his fixed counter feels like it should take priority.

“You’re my soulmates, you’re not allowed to be angry,” Harry blurts out before he can stop himself. What a thing to say. What a thing to be true.

Ron snorts. “I think that allows us to be more angry with you, not less.”

“We’re your soulmates,” Hermione whispers.

And then they all just look at each other. Wordless and overwhelmed, there is nothing to do but just look at each other. Freedom tastes so sweet, Harry realises, because there is time now just to stand around, looking at each other.

My next entry for HP Soulmates Fest, Week 4:

TW: infidelity, not between Ginsy

@hp-soulmates 💞

In Memoriam

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lily—like the flower—with hair as bright as flame and eyes as deeply green as forests in July.

She had a friend who was a prince without a crown and veiled in shadows at all times except when her fire chased them away.

And for a while, life was magical.

⚘

It's strange to think that he's now shared more celebratory butterbeer with her ghost than with the real her, but it's true.

For the seventh year in a row, he buys the blasted butterbeers and sneaks down to the easternmost point of the Great Lake—as if he's still a damned student and not a professor whose habits no one should be allowed to question for Merlin's sake but are still questioned all the same because of how foolish and cowardly he'd been at twenty-one, changing one master for another.

He misses her—that's why he does this still. He misses how simple springs used to be—this is also a factor. He does this because if he doesn't, if he were to go and kill himself like he so often contemplates—another part of her will die with him.

She lives still in fragments so fragile they might get damaged by the wind: in letters he keeps under lock and key, in notes on the margins of books he rarely peruses anymore. She lives in her and Potter's blasted son who is due to insert himself into Severus's life—into all of their lives—come autumn.

She lives in two words in a neat script written on the inside of his right forearm: "What's obvious?"

He looks at them now, those fated words, as he always does on this cursed—blessed— day of the year, after spending the rest avoiding their faint remnant. He takes a swig of his butterbeer—sugar heavy on his tongue—and whispers like he used to whisper across the grass from her, leaning conspiratorily into her personal space, her grin brighter than the sun: "I know what you are."

A witch, he'd sometimes say. Other times, he'd huff and whisper, a menace. A foolhardy Gryffindor. My best friend.

Now, there's only one word to finish that sentence: I know what you are, Lily Evans — dead.

⚘

The girl had two secrets to be kept locked inside her heart, safe and deep, where no common folk could enter.

The first was this: before the watchful eyes of the moon, she could whisper a wish to be fulfilled upon the waking sun—whatever her fluttering soul desired would pop into existence if she wished it very very much. The second was scarier: whenever she was really really mad, she could breathe fire.

Both of these secrets made her sister jealous—and this was not a secret at all.

⚘

Some people claim they could see their soulmate coming from a mile away, the script of their first encounter as clear as day in their minds, like they've lived through that moment a thousand times before and there wasn't a word out of place. Severus never believed them—he still doesn't.

When he stumbled upon Lily Evans doing magic in front of her muggle sister, his thoughts had nothing to do with soulmates. Though, in hindsight, perhaps he could have seen it—he'd been filled with such wonder at that moment. Such surprise and delight. His heart started hammering in his chest even though he'd walked closer with supposed nonchalance. The whole of him, soulmark or no soulmark, yearned for a friend.

Human Condition

Call him jealous — he doesn't give a fuck.

It's not like anyone would believe it. Well, James and Sirius might but they'd think it's funny. Hillarious even.

And really, what does Remus even have to be jealous of? Sirius is his soulmate. Remus has him for life. Nothing but death will separate them if he has any say in it — and Sirius is not likely to abandon him either.

Remus is not jealous. He's secure in his relationship. He is very clear on exactly what kind of hold he has on one Sirius Black.

That doesn't mean, though, that he doesn't find himself bitter.

That doesn't mean, though, that he doesn't wake up in the morning and drink his tea laced with envy.

He's possessive —sue him. You'd feel the same in his position.

His position is this: draped over the third armchair from the fireplace — the one with the small side table next to it, onto which he can lean his elbow and occasionally his parchment to mark places he needs to rewrite. His back is to the rest of the common room. He's facing the couches. On the one on the right, Lily and Mary are working on the same damned Charms assignment that he is. On the one of the left, James and Sirius have given up the pretence of working on theirs.

They're quite a scene, the two of them; sprawled over each other, touching wherever they can reach and planning a summer vacation with such carelessness that Remus wants to drag Sirius away by his collar and remind him that there is a war brewing outside. That there are other people Sirius should include in such plans other than James Potter.

He doesn't do anything but watch though, because he's not a bastard and he's not jealous of James's hand tapping a syncopated rhythm against Sirius's lower back, nor of James's foot hooked against Sirius's calf, nor of James's shoulder into which Sirius presses his face whenever James's forces him to shush a particularly loud cackle.

Remus could do something. James is not afraid of him — especially this far from the full moon — but Sirius is his more than James's, and Remus could stand up and pull Sirius up and into his arms and kiss him with tongue until Sirius's knees buckle and Remus is prompted to pick him up and carry him away.

Sirius might even find it funny. He likes it when Remus gets a bit rough when they fuck. He likes to provoke it out of him, and it takes quite a bit of provocation too.

This — tumbling with James — is not a provocation. Sirius is smarter than that. More sly. Remus doesn't know if he hates the skill with which Sirius has come to use their soul bond in order to emotionally manipulate him to do Sirius's bidding, or if just another thing that makes him more… fond of Sirius. On one hand, Remus has always been drawn to Sirius's intelligence. On the other… there's always the fear that Remus's fragile self-control will see such manipulations and take more than Sirius can give.

The last thing he wants is to become one of those arseholes who don't let people come within a five feet radius of their soulmate.

Remus doesn't do anything about James and Sirius. It would be ridiculous to do something.

He likes it when Sirius is happy. He's willing to do anything to make Sirius happy — to make him smile and laugh and strum their bond with warmth and enjoyment.

Still, his skin crawls with every bubble of joy that bursts through his and Sirius's soul bond, which is there because of someone other than Remus.

He swallows with difficulty and lowers his eyes.

Sirius has not always been so physically affectionate. He used to keep them all at arm's length. They had that in common, Sirius and him, at least until James pushed and pushed and one day, Sirius became touchy. One day, Sirius's physical existence fused so deeply with James's that Remus started to wonder if his and Peter's presence was even necessary anymore.

But James continued to chase after Lily, and Sirius replaced Regulus with James when it came to the title of his brother, and Peter and Remus were never pushed away.

If someone had been so gauche to press, Remus would have guessed James and Sirius were soulmates. His own seventeenth birthday flipped this perspective on its head though.

James and Sirius have been and still are everything to each other — two twin stars so above it all.No matter his desires, Remus never allowed himself to hope that he'd have a chance at trying to survive the depths of Sirius's feelings appearing in his own chest. But here they are now: Remus and Sirius, connected at a level no magic could replicate, and James and Sirius, still tied at the hip.

Here he is in an armchair only a couple of feet away from the couch where his boyfriend is cuddling with another man, decidedly not jealous.

Sirius manhandles James into sitting up, snatching James's essay for the table. His expression is haughty and mischievous, but he manages to read only the first few words aloud before James shoots a stinging hex at him.

Remus flinches as Sirius's amusement bounces towards him and forces himself to think about something far away from jealousy. About Sirius's body arching from a different sort of pain. Right above Sirius's hip bone — the one James pushes at when Sirius lounges to take revenge for the hex — is a bite mark which drove him over the edge last night.

The pride Remus feels for this spare moment is enough to distract him from Sirius enjoying the company of another.

Sirius shrinks James's essay and holds it out of the way. James tries to snatch it, fails and then — always the master of strategy — dives low and starts tickling Sirius's sides. Sirius is not particularly ticklish but there are two very specific spots under his ribs which are sensitive.

Soulmates Secret Santa 2024 🥂🎇🎄🌿💏💕

We're happy to announce the HP Soulmates Secret Santa is returning for it's second year!! In association with the HP Soulmates Fest Discord Server, this is an anonymous fanfiction exchange focused on your favorite Harry Potter couples, whoever they may be --- as soulmates! We're a fun and friendly bunch, and we hope you'll join us this year 🥰

💝 2024 Schedule 💝

Rules, FAQ, and important links will be posted soon, but if you'd like to get a sneak peak, you can always check out our Ao3 Collection page. Follow our Tumblr or join the Discord for updates! We're so happy to have you here!

Come join more soulmates fun!!!

Expelliarmus Red

In retrospect it's rather obvious, isn't it?

He's eleven, the man who has been his professor for a year is dying at his feet because of him, and Harry's red string of faith is whipping around through the air, ready to strike a force invisible to most.

The leaves crunch under his feet as he walks deeper into the Forest, trying to find a hint of the man who will come to be his demise.

He's twelve, his best friend's sister is unconscious on the other side of the chamber deeper than deep under their school, and Harry's red string of faith is bleeding like a severed vein, melting into the black ooze coming from a diary bought fifty years ago.

It's not Dolohov and Yaxley who lead him to Voldemort's camp — not really — though they do convince him that his suspicions are pulling him in the right direction.

He's fourteen, his parents' betrayer is kneeling at the feet of his Lord, and Harry's red string of faith is coiled around the graves and the cauldron, the feet of loyal followers, and Cedric's body, as thick and as lazy as Nagini slithering by, as stark as a wound on Harry's left forearm.

His heart aches when he sees Hagrid in the midst of these people, cruel and unrelenting, but it aches even more at what Hagrid would think if red strings were visible to those not tied to them.

He's fifteen, his godfather's house is teeming with people trying to disembowel it, and Harry's red string of faith keeps disappearing through doorways he cannot see, leading to hiding places no human would ever curl in.

Voldemort looks frantic when Harry allows himself to see it. All his Death Eaters are standing around the pire of their supposed victory, but their leader — and Harry knows this just as he knows himself — is counting the seconds remaining until it's revealed if his sworn enemy will kneel at his feet.

He's sixteen, the girl he's had a crush on for months is holding his hand in a tight grip, the Room of Requirement unfolding around them, and Harry's red string of faith keeps getting caught in things cursed and abandoned, unravelling towards the middle of the labyrinth.

Nagini is floating in her glittering cage, and just looking at her makes Harry feel as if the towering trees are the spires of the cage now keeping him in. Voldemort spares no look at her, as he spares no look to anyone — even to Bellatrix when she tries to placate him with words Harry can't quite hear.

He's seventeen, his best friends have been sharing a too-small tent for far too long on a goose chase for items they're not even sure exist, and Harry's red string of faith winds around his throat, chokingly tight, whenever he wears a locket that claims to see his soul.

Harry watches the proceedings, the tension rising in the air at his own non-appearance. Malfoy's parents look on the edge of fleeing, Bellatrix on the edge of a warpath. Everyone stays still. Every Harry hardly dares to breathe under his invisibility cloak.

He's seventeen, his group of thieves has just broken into one of the most protected places in Wizarding Britain, and Harry's red string of faith is buried under thousands of copies of the cup it wants to fill.

Harry's hands are shaking as he takes hold of the cloak, but it slips off his shoulders like silk — like snake-shed long overdue. Voldemort looks at him. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.

He's seventeen, he's walking to his death to save the only place he's ever called home, and Harry's red string of faith has split into two, having finally found its other end.

cont. bellow:

My first fic for HP Soulmates Fest, Week 1.

Prompts: red string/lightning era/fate

Tied To Me With Crimson Knots

Ink Stained Heart

For last year's @hp-soulmates Fest I wrote a Harry/Pansy anonymous pen pals fic. It got great reviews, but everyone wanted more. There were also requests for a Harry POV.

Well, ask and ye shall recieve, folks, cuz there's a sequel in the works now!

Ink Stained Heart picks up right where Ink Stained Skin leaves off, and features Harry's POV, touristing around Los Angeles, and, you guessed it, (eventual) sexy times.

Read the new WIP on AO3 here!

(Link to the first fic in the series here, in case you missed it)

Written for the first week of this year’s HP Soulmates Fest: The Red String Edition, Chapter 1 of my Flintmione fic, The Thousand Acres Between Us, is now live on AO3!

Chapters: ¼ Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Marcus Flint/Hermione Granger Characters: Hermione Granger, Marcus Flint, Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Ginny Weasley Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger Needs a Hug, Quidditch Player Marcus Flint, Good Marcus Flint, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff Summary: Reunited after years apart following the war, Hermione can immediately see there’s something different about Marcus Flint. The boy she thought she knew came back a man, one she’s more than willing to reconsider. He’s older, obviously, broader, mysterious as always, and, most baffling of all, interested in her?

Check out the start of this new Flintmione by @sailtomarina /MarinaJune! ❤️❤️❤️