Love's Kiss in Equal Meaure

Harry sits at the eighth-year table in the Great Hall and just barely stifles a huge yawn. His sleep plagued by the first nightmares since he defeated Voldemort. Gleaming silver eyes like thestrals on all sides of the dark Forbidden Forest and every few minutes Harry hears the distinct snap of a twig but the sound echoes all around him so much that he can't tell which direction it's coming from. Harry shakes his head, trying to get rid of the sensation of being watched.

Over at the Slytherin table, Theo sighs as Malfoy holds court amongst the younger Marked Slytherins.
Theo's a little surprised Malfoy came back but with a rapt audience hanging on his every word Theo can understand. It's easier to be a mermaid in a small pond than one out in the big ocean.

And then he feels a stab of pity for Malfoy, the blond so obviously clinging to the past. Well, until a particularly evocative movement from Malfoy sends a sausage roll flying at Theo's head.

***

Harry enters the Potions classroom, excited despite himself and eager to see what Slughorn has planned for their tiny group: just the eight of them who decided to take the Potions class, a mix of returning classmates and actual seventh year NEWT students. Harry recognizes Nott from their Sigils class who gives Harry a barely noticeable nod and slides over on the bench.
Harry starts to head over but Hermione grabs his arm and tugs him over onto her shared space with Oliver.

Harry lets out a sigh as he smirks and mouths "Later."

"Harry, do you know what potion we're starting today?" Hermione asks, hands twitching with what Harry knows is unbridled excitement at learning something new.

"No. What is it? Honestly I haven't even cracked open the textbook."

Hermione sighs fondly and pulls her own textbook out of her bag, flipping it open immediately. "This one. The Soulmate Potion or the Soul-herte Philtre as it's known in Moste Potente Potions. I found it when I checked the book out in second year but when I went back in fifth year, the page had been torn out. Our textbook says it's very advanced!"

"Yes, Granger, it is so I doubt you or Potter will be able to successfully complete it. Besides it requires certain ingredients and we all know yours won't be good enough," Malfoy says with a sneer, settling onto the bench across from their table, just a few feet of space separating them.

Nott lets out a put-upon sigh and smacks Malfoy on the shoulder.
"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, don't antagonize Granger and Potter on the first week of classes. Slughorn may not care enough to give points but he can still give detentions. Besides you know as well as I do that this potion doesn't care about blood, it cares if you have magic which Granger definitely does considering she's beaten you in class rank 6 years in a row. Something that I've also done 6 years in a row."

"Except for last year, Nott," Malfoy hisses, face turning an unattractive shade of red.

Nott lets out a small snort. "Oh yes, of course, last year when I was one of only two non-Marked Slytherins seventh-years in the whole school."

Harry's eyes shoot to Nott and he remembers him now as a rabbity boy laughing in the library with Malfoy and his goons. "I thought you were one of-" He pauses, just barely avoiding saying that Nott was one of Voldemort's men."-Malfoy's cronies."

Malfoy lets out an aborted squawk of protest. "As if I'd even want him in my group!"

Nott scoffs. "Not hardly." He raises an eyebrow at Harry's slip-up and adds. "Father was. But I prefer my own path."

Harry nods in understanding and opens his own textbook. "So, I didn't think soulmates were real and now I found out I could've brewed a simple potion to find mine?"

Nott snickers softly, a smirk playing on his handsome features. "Not quite. It's a little advanced but if you've had prior Potions experience, it gets a lot easier. It uses very unusual ingredients so most traditional textbooks either have it in the NEWTs section or only in books in the Restricted Section."

"Have you ever brewed it?"

Nott makes a noise of assent. "One of the seventh-year Slytherins brewed the base when we were in fifth-year; it's something of a game older Slytherins play. I'm looking forward to actually brewing it."

Harry glances at the page, skimming the list of ingredients: lacewings, diced boar's heart, three crushed Ashwinder eggs, fifteen finely chopped lady-bird wings, powdered unicorn horn, an even three dozen rose petals and, finally-

"How much blood? Professor Slughorn, this seems a bit much."

"Just ten millilitres, you'll be fine, Granger. Unless you think your blood'll mess up the potion," Malfoy says, still sneering even as Nott holds his face in his hands.

"Circe above, Malfoy, shut the fuck up," Nott hisses again.

"Oh what do you care, Theodore?"

"Maybe I just don't want to piss off someone who could be my soulmate."

Malfoy lets out a wordless snarl of frustration but stops taunting Hermione out loud. Harry can still hear him muttering with every counterclockwise stir though.

Hermione mutters a low curse as she adds in her blood, one drop at a time until finally her potion turns a bright red and she wrinkles her nose.
"Oh! It smells like broom polish and-" She pauses, taking a deep inhale. "Snow?"

Harry watches his own potion carefully, adding in the blood and smiling as his turns a beautiful shade of deep gold, the potion almost like liquid gold with the way it shimmers and gleams.

"Oh my, Mr. Potter, your potion is absolutely gorgeous! Looks a bit like Felix Felicis, doesn't it?" Slughorn says, peering into his cauldron.

A trickle of peppermint-scented steam rises up from Harry's cauldron and he inhales deeply, grinning dopily at the sensation.

"Good, Potter? Does it smell like the Weasleys' hovel?" Malfoy says, sneering as he stirs his own potion. Nott shoves at Malfoy, hissing something Harry can't catch.

"No," Harry says dazedly before shaking his head to clear it.

Harry glances around at his classmates' tables, marvelling at the rainbow of potion colours. Next to him, Neville is carefully stirring a deep azure blue liquid while Fergus Cowley from their Sigils class carefully levitates into an ornate carved glass phial a stream of potion so white Harry has to turn away in pain.

Cowley catches his eye and gives Harry a toothy smile, his accent stronger than Seamus' but softer. "Do we match, Potter? N'offense but I'd hate to be soulmates with th' Boy Who Lived."

Harry huffs, eyes drifting towards Cowley's left arm then up to his Slytherin crest. "Still beholden to your Dark Lord or is it because my family's got Light magic?"

Cowley snorts, his blue eyes blazing. "Ain't Marked if that's what yer thinkin'. And my family don't give a bit about Light or Dark magic; far as they're concerned that's all Brit shite. No, I meant the fame. Could never deal with me life bein' under a magnifying glass, hounded by fecking reporters for the craic."

Harry pauses, caught up in the rush of information. "Your accent is different than Seamus'. But no we don't match."

Nott's ears perk up and he turns around, chiming in. "I didn't realize you weren't Marked, Fergus."

Cowley smirks and answers. "Mam pulled me out in Sixth Year when all that shite happened. Would've finished out at Scoildraíochta but Hogwarts has one of th' best Potions programs and I need that for when I get my Alchemy Mastery."

Nott's eyes alight and he and Cowley begin a conversation Harry quickly loses interest in.

Potions class finished, Harry heads out the door turning towards the entrance to the dungeons until a shout of "Oi! Potter!" makes him stop.

It's Malfoy with a vial of his Soulmate Potion clutched in his hand, his fingers obscuring the colour.

Harry lets out a short sigh, waving Hermione on. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his skinny throat. "We have the same potion colour," tumbles out of his mouth in a rush and Harry's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Really?" Harry snorts with barely disguised laughter.

Malfoy's pale face turns a splotchy red and he stamps his foot in irritation. "Yes, really!"

Harry rolls his eyes, starting to push past Malfoy but the blond grabs the sleeve of his robe, gripping so tight his knuckles go even paler.

"Please, Pot-Harry," Malfoy pleads.

Something in Harry's brain is screaming at him that this is wrong but before he can do anything, Nott appears behind Malfoy.
"Malfoy," he says, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

Malfoy huffs, light grey eyes darting wildly between Harry and Nott, his hand still clamped onto Harry's arm. "Potter's my soulmate."
Harry shakes his head minutely.

"No he's not," Nott says, so soft Harry can barely hear despite being so close.

"Yes, he is, Nott. Our Potions match."

Nott's silver eyes darken and he narrows his eyes at Malfoy. "He's not but that's fine. You'll find out soon enough, Malfoy." Then he continues on, footsteps echoing against the stone floor.

Malfoy sniffs, sliding his hand down to Harry's hand, eagerly grasping it and squeezing when Harry tries to pull away. "More like he'll find out. I'll see you soon, Harry." His voice caresses Harry's name like a he's a favourite toy and Harry shudders even as Malfoy slips away with a soft kiss to his hand.