Sam watched as everyone settled in for the meeting, coffees in hand, cookies and other snacks avoided for now which was typical. Most people preferred the hit of sugar after. He was one of them - something like a pick me up.
He recognized most of the faces here at this point - this was one of his more regular groups. Even as he had the thought, a new face walked in. The messy head of dark hair was ducked, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a slightly oversized jacket. When the man looked up though, sharp green eyes took in everything - darting from corner to corner - to each window and the door - before he moved towards a seat with the best view of the exit.
Sam knew his type - this was someone who may or may not have been out of the fight for a while but more than that, he’d only recently accepted that he might need some help - or at least someone to talk to. From the dark circles under his eyes and the twist of his mouth, Sam would say maybe he was here as a favour - someone who’d managed to convince him that he should at least try. Sam found that was usually a good sign - because it meant they cared enough to at least listen to whoever had asked.
He turned his attention from the new guy when it hit time and made his way to his own seat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Even after all these years, all of them were used to reacting instantly to that sort of cue.
Harry sank a bit lower in his chair as his gaze wandered over the group. He was here because Hermione and Ron had both cornered him and informed him in no uncertain terms that he was running himself into the ground and they cared too much about him to let him. Hermione had shoved pamphlets into his hand, and despite his grumbling, Harry had read them. Since there was nowhere in Europe he could go without being instantly recognized, he’d decided to try the States, because what was an international port key to a celebrity? He was still somewhat bitter about it but he kept that to himself at least.
When he’d shown interest, Hermione had immediately buckled down to help him research a good place to go. She’d helped him narrow down cities - and then finally Hermione had found one that apparently met her standards and was highly acclaimed.
So here he was.
So far, he didn’t really regret it. The man who lead the group, he’d introduced himself as Sam Wilson, was charismatic but also very empathetic. It was clear he’d been in the same place as most of them at least and he didn’t shy away from the hard feelings. He was as quick to admit when he lost sleep or was triggered by something as anyone could hope to be, and when anyone spoke he listened. 100% of his focus was on that person, and there was something about it, that absolute devotion to being there, in the moment, had everyone else responding in kind.
It wasn’t really what Harry had expected. Not that he was unhappy with the information, but he’d expected something a little less - real. He supposed. Tangible. In a darkly lit room, not one filled with windows and sunlight. It was nice, really. It was nicer when nobody even so much as glanced at him twice - nobody forced him to speak. For now, it was nice just being in a room with people he could feel some camaraderie with without them wanting to drag the details of how he’d killed the Dark Lord from him. How he’d saved the day - without a single mention of what had felt like oceans of people laying dead in the rubble.
He didn’t speak during the meeting, though when Sam had looked his way, offering, and easily accepted the minute shake of his head, he felt even more comfortable. He was pretty sure he’d come back to this group - and he thought, at this rate, he might even end up feeling comfortable enough to speak up.
He realized, wryly, that his accent was what would draw the most attention.
He was grabbing a cup of the steeped water these people called tea, and a cookie, basking a little longer in the comfortable atmosphere, when someone approached him. He noticed them a moment too late and flinched back before they could even consider reaching out to offer a hand, and he turned to see Sam, no pity in his gaze as he slid his hands into his pockets, an easy practiced gesture that also made him less dangerous because you can’t attack someone if your hands are away.
“Sorry, should’ve announced myself.” Sam apologized easily, and Harry blinked at him, surprised. Nobody had ever apologized for that before.
“It’s uh - it’s alright, thanks.” And to avoid embarrassing himself any further he took a large sip of his tea. He immediately grimaced. It was foul. Sam grinned at his reaction, and Harry offered a sheepish smile.
“I’m not a big fan of tea to begin with.” He admitted. “But at least back home it doesn’t taste like this.” He grimaced again, setting the cup down to nibble on the cookie instead.
“Can’t say I’m a big tea drinker myself.” Sam agreed amiably. “I just wanted to come say hi. Haven’t seen you around before and I like to get to know everyone. I like to think it makes it easier to talk to someone who doesn’t just want to pry all your secrets out of you.” He offered wryly. Harry couldn’t help his grin.
“What a surprise.” He responded drily, and Sam’s grin brightened. Harry was pretty sure he’d never met anyone quite so naturally charming before. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” And there wasn’t even a hint of recognition. Harry basked in it.
“It’s good to meet you, Harry. You live in the States now?” And it was supposed to be easy conversation but Harry didn’t exactly have an easy answer.
“Just moved.” He decided on, because hey, why not? He’d have no trouble renting a flat and maybe a vacation would do him some good. “My best mates sort of bullied me into coming here.” And then he flushed, realizing what he’d just said. “Sorry. It was great. I just.” And he shrugged. Sam looked suspiciously like he was trying to fight a laugh.
“Look, man. I’d be lying if I said people always wanted to be here, but for what it’s worth, most people don’t regret it in the long run.” Harry nodded, because Sam made it hard not to believe it could be true.
“I guess I’ll see you next week then.” And he didn’t mean to sound dismissive but Sam didn’t seem offended, just took a step back.
“I’ll see you then.” And Harry walked quickly towards the door. He realistically did have places to be - after all, he needed to find a flat to rent.
>>>
“Only you, Harry, could go to a meeting meant to learn to deal with your experiences, would come out of it deciding to move flat across the world.” Hermione noted fondly. Harry rolled his eyes.
“It wasn’t on purpose.” He admitted. “But - I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” One he was starting to doubt.
“It is a good idea.” Hermione agreed, tone firm. “In fact, we think it’s such a great idea that we’ve decided to take a vacation so you can show us the sights.” Harry looked up in surprise, looking to Ron because if anyone had an explanation it would probably be him, but his friend was just grinning at him.
“I haven’t seen most of the sights.” Harry admitted, and Ron shrugged amiably.
“Then you’ll have to see them with us.” Gratitude welled in his chest, pooling there and almost cutting off his air. He was so lucky to have friends like this.
“Okay. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning, and I’ll want to come back for a quick bite, but after lunch?” His friends both thought it was a great idea and Harry relaxed back as the two bickered back and forth about what they should order for dinner. Even though it had only been a few weeks since he’d seen them, he’d missed them terribly. He was glad they’d be here for at least a few weeks more now.
>>>
Harry hadn’t slept this poorly since he’d moved to D.C.. He wasn’t sure if maybe it was because he’d gotten used to the quiet of having the space to himself, and while he trusted his two friends implicitly, he figured the sound of people in his space again might have set him off. He trudged into the meeting, knowing he looked like shite, and just hoped Sam wouldn’t call him on it. They’d become something almost like friends - or at least as friendly as one could get while chatting after the meetings. Sam always seemed to seek him out, telling about things to see and do in D.C.. He appreciated it, in all honesty, since he often felt a bit out of sorts in this city despite enjoying it immensely.
He’d barely even walked in the door when someone barrelled into him, and he flinched at the contact, hard. He hated strangers touching him.
Since you couldn’t find your soulmate until you made physical contact, at which point whatever colour expressed your bond would appear on your skin where your touched, people had been clamouring to get ahold of the Chosen One - too see if it was them he was destined for.
He barely had time to register the angry expression of the man storming off before his own reaction had him over balancing and he flailed, trying to grab onto something to slow his fall back down the steps - and then the backs of his shoulders collided with someone’s chest, two firm hands steadying him, one at his hip and the other around his bicep. The breath flew out of his lungs and he felt them constricting from panic.
As soon as his feet were back under him he wrenched around, furious and terrified, and found Sam standing there, hands out but no longer touching him, eyes pinched with concern. Harry tried to suck in a breath and found he couldn’t.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” Sam asked, and the fact that he asked had Harry wanting to cry. But he trusted Sam. He nodded. Sam stepped forward and pressed a gentle hand to his chest.
“Alright I want you to try and push your chest against my hand.” And Harry complied, realizing even as he did so that it was forcing his chest and lungs to expand - allowing him air. He sucked in a breath only for it to catch and Sam shook his head.
“No need to rush. Just push slowly.” And Harry could only listen. When he had his breathing back under control and the panic had receded to be replaced with anxiety that itched under his skin, making it crawl, Sam removed his hand.
“Thanks.” Harry managed, and Sam shrugged.
“Least I could do.” But the concern hadn’t left his expression. “I bet you probably want to go home.” And Harry nodded, exhausted and uncomfortable. “Will you be okay getting home on your own? I could give you a ride?” And if Harry was anyone else he probably would’ve accepted the offer, but instead he shook his head. Apparating would be faster.
“I live close.” He said instead. “Faster to just walk.” He was already starting down the steps, wanting to get home before the anxiety could turn into panic again. When he reached the bottom though he turned back, offering Sam as genuine a smile as he could. “Really, thank you.” And then he hurried off as quick as he could to find a could spot to apparate from.
The moment he got home, he started to strip, the anxiety of being touched making even his clothes feel like too much. He needed to wash, to feel like he was under control of his own body again. He got caught in a tangle of his sweater and t-shirt and let out a strangled cry.
Large, familiar hands were suddenly stilling his, even as they helped untangle him.
“Relax, mate. I’ve got you. Hermione’s already gone to fill up the bath for you.” And Harry really, really loved his friends. As soon as he could see again he slumped, only staying on his feet because Ron was there to support him. He hated how exhausted he always felt when this sort of thing happened - but his friend didn’t say a word, just pulled an arm across his shoulders and wrapped the other around his waist and carted him to where Hermione was just turning off the tap. Even as she turned she was sucking in a breath, eyes narrowing on his arm.
“What happened?” She demanded, flitting forward, fingertips brushing against his bicep, feather light. Harry frowned, glancing down, and felt dawning horror as he saw the silver sheen on his skin. Panic crawled it’s way up his throat once more as he wrenched towards the mirror, turning to see the mark on his arm. That’s when he realized it was a hand print, and wrapped around his arm. He twisted to see the rest, turning to see the silver spanning all the way across his shoulders - another hand print clear as day on his hip. Even as he realized just where his mark was, he relaxed.
It hadn’t been the person who’d knocked into him.
It had been the person who’d caught him.
For a moment, Harry felt light headed. He was fairly certain there was no possible better outcome of the situation. Then, he immediately felt horribly guilty for feeling that way. That wasn’t exactly fair on Sam.
Not because Sam wouldn’t be a great soulmate to have - he was kind, caring, empathetic, understanding - basically everything you could ever want a soulmate to be. The problem wasn’t Sam, it was Harry.
“Did someone hurt you?” The furious quality of Ron’s voice had Harry snapping back to attention.
“What?” he turned to look at his two best friends - his family - and they were both frowning at him. It had him frowning back. “Why would someone have hurt me?” Hermione waved at his mark again, gaze taking in every inch of silver skin.
“You were grabbed.”
“He caught me.” Harry immediately told her. It eased some of her suspicion but not her concern. So he explained - from the moment he’d walked up the steps to the moment he’d arrived home. As soon as he stopped, catching his breath, Hermione stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Wash up, then meet us in the kitchen, alright? Ron’s had a hankering for some of Molly’s stew so we bribed one of the house elves into appropriating some.” Harry couldn’t help his grin. Years ago, Hermione had been opposed to any and all mentions of house elves in any form of servitude. Now she understood that for most, it was their purpose - it was just their situation that needed improvement. They were like firm mothers, for the most part. They thrived having someone to take care of, though in turn they needed taking care of in their own way. They needed love and affection - appreciation for their care. For The three of them, that was easy.
“I’ll be quick.” he promised. But as soon as they left the room, he was looking at the mirror once more, admiring the silver on his skin. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of hope that Sam would feel the same way - hopeful and not disappointed.
>>>
Sam couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.
From the moment he’d caught him - seen how his skin had gone nearly translucent, the dark circles under his eyes prominent - and then calmed him from his panic - he hadn’t been able to do anything but worry. It would’ve been easier if Harry had left a phone number. Most people left a number or an address - some sort of proof of identity when they signed up. Harry, though, had given only his name, age, and date of birth.
He wondered briefly if Harry had already found his soulmate, and the thought was followed up with an accusatory one - if he had, why weren’t they taking better care of him? Not that Sam thought he wasn’t capable of taking care of himself - but he obviously had at least one person who cared about him enough to get him to seek some help - couldn’t they see that Harry was still running himself into the ground despite it?
And the look on his face when he’d been knocked. Sam knew it wasn’t the fact that he’d been shoved - but the fact that he’d been touched. Even from the awkward angle Sam had been able to see Harry’s jerk reaction at a strangers touch - he was clearly someone used to people trying to touch him on purpose - to try and trigger a soul bond. It made him revisit the thought of him having met his soulmate. If he had, he wouldn’t have nearly as visceral of a reaction.
He wondered just who Harry was that made people act like that.
When he’d first met Harry, bits of his behaviour had reminded him of how some of his other friends acted.
He reminded him of Steve whenever anyone mentioned death - but not in the general sense. In the self sacrificing sense. He looked how Steve looked whenever a plane crash was mentioned - whenever people mentioned things on ice - like he’d personally experienced what they were talking about and come back lacking.
He reminded Sam of Bucky too - and he was pretty sure that was the most worrying. Because the same things that triggered Bucky in regards to remembering being under someone else’s power - those same sort of conversation cues seemed to cut right through Harry.
It made Sam wonder if someone, somehow, had tried to force Harry to kill himself.
It made him wonder if they’d succeeded (at least for a moment).
It made him wish he could do more to help.
The others looked at him funny when he said he wouldn’t give up this job. Just because he could hero it up with the best of them didn’t mean everyone else wasn’t just as important. He refused to lose sight of that.
These people? They’d gone through a lot to do the same thing as he did on a much more personal scale. Because what was a super hero really except for a higher ranking soldier serving his country?
He had problems with that sometimes too, but now wasn’t the time for an existential debate.
He was making dinner when he saw it.
The glint caught the corner of his eye and he thought at first it was off the knife he was using to cut up vegetables. Then he was washing his hands and he realized the metallic glint couldn’t possibly be the water and looked at his palms. That’s when he realized they had a silver sheen, and it wasn’t just one hand it was both. As he stared at his hands, he wondered who on earth he could’ve touched with both hands - then it hit him. Eyes wide, he stripped off his t-shirt, looking for the closest mirror. He found it in the hall and stared at the silver that was spanning across his chest. Exactly where Harry had fallen into him. He glanced back at his hands and wondered just how defined his hand prints were on the other mans skin. The possessive thought was followed by another, far more worried one.
He wondered if Harry - who flinched at the slightest contact - was okay with such an obvious sign of possession that would never fade or go away. He decided this was one of those times he needed a second opinion.
“What do you want, Wilson?” Bucky’s voice complained over the speaker, and that, at least, was familiar.
“I need advice.” He admitted, and felt all of Bucky’s attention zero in, even over the phone.
“What happened?”
“I met my soulmate.” He shared, but Bucky didn’t immediately congratulate him, understanding already where he needed advice. “He comes to the centre. Or at least he did. He got knocked and he fell back into me. I caught him. But I used my hands, you know? To catch him. But he doesn’t like people touching him.”
“And now he’s got hand prints on him for the rest of his life.” Sam let out a breath of relief.
“Yeah.”
“Does he know?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice until I got home and he got out of there as soon as possible. He let me help him calm down first.” Sam offered. “He was panicking and I asked if I could help and he let me. Let me reach out, I mean.” Bucky gave a thoughtful hum.
“What’s his name?”
“You gonna track him down?” Sam joked, though he was only half kidding.
“You wouldn’t a called me if you could get ahold of him yourself. You’re worried he’s freaking out alone somewhere.” And that was absolutely true. “I’ll let you know if I find anything. Now what’s his name?” So Sam told him.
>>>
“Harry? There’s a scary looking bloke standing on the front step frowning at the door.” Ron called, and Harry blinked up from his bowl at Hermione who frowned back. She was instantly on her feet because Harry had no idea who the scary looking guy could be. Sam looked anything but alarming.
He was on his feet to follow because he was also curious, and when Hermione yanked the door open he had to agree with Ron’s assessment. The man had piercing blue eyes, sharp features, and a scowl on his face as his eyes assessed the two of them in an instant.
“Which one of you is Harry?” His eyes zeroed in on Harry, probably cued by Hermione stepping in front of him.
“What do you want with him?” Bucky’s eyebrows winged up but he just looked past her to Harry.
“My name’s Bucky. I’m a friend of Sam’s.” And he could tell the guy was being honest. Then he caught sight of his hand and his eyes widened.
“Is that a metal hand?” And his voice was tight. That had Bucky’s eyebrows winging up further.
“Yeah. Vibranium alloy. Wakandan tech.” And the easy answer got rid of most of Harry’s anxiety. He waited a beat but when no further questions came forward he spoke again. “I’m a friend of Sam’s.” He repeated. “He realized he couldn’t get ahold of you and he was real worried.” Hermione’s posture stiffened, her arms crossing in front of her chest.
“Why should we believe you?”
“Come off it, Mione. Invite him in.” Hermione jerked around, glaring at him. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Only people who know about us can find the house.” He told her, and that had her blinking in surprise. He turned a curious gaze on Bucky. “How do you know?”
“Been around long enough to hear some stuff. And no, Sam doesn’t know who you are.” He added, obviously having understood Harry’s expression. Harry tugged Hermione back and out of the way then, giving Bucky a clear invitation. Bucky accepted it. He visibly stiffened as he passed through the wards but didn’t complain, just followed them further into the house. When Ron found them all sitting at the table he blinked.
“Harry, I thought we’d talked to you about just letting serial killers into the house.” Bucky rolled his eyes.
“You this friendly to everyone you meet?”
“Everyone who comes after Harry.” And there was a glint or approval in Bucky’s eyes before he turned back to Harry.
“Sam’s real worried. Wouldn’t call me otherwise.” Hermione was scowling at him again.
“Why would this, Sam, be worried?” She inquired archly, and Bucky shot her a bland look. Then he looked pointedly at the edge of Harry’s soul mark, just visible past the cuff of his T-shirt sleeve. He must’ve seen something on Harry’s face because his whole expression seemed to soften.
“He knows how you are about touch.” He said softly, “And he put a handprint on you.” Harry could only stare for a moment, mind blank. Then it was going a mile a minute. If Sam was that worried that meant -
“He wants to be my soulmate?” The smirk Bucky offered was self-deprecating.
“Weird feeling, I know.” Harry raised a hand to touch his mark and his friends, who’d known him for most of his life at this point, watched the fire of a fight flare in Harry’s eyes. It was something they hadn’t seen in far too long.
“Shouldn’t keep him waiting then, should I?” Bucky pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket.
“You’ll need his address.” And Harry grinned, fierce and bright. Then he apparated.
The moment he was gone, Bucky turned to look at Ron and Hermione, expression far more serious than it had been with Harry.
“Sam’s as good as they come.” He told them. “Helped put my brainwashed ass back together. He’d cut himself off at the knees before hurting Harry.”
“Harry’s stronger than he looks.” Hermione admitted. “Having a soul mark will actually help a lot.” And that was something Bucky could understand. Nobody else would be able to have any claim or say over him now - he didn’t have to worry that any person who brushed against him would be that one.
“Galleon says he’ll break the statute of secrecy of secrecy within the first ten minutes.” Was what Ron offered, and Bucky smirked.
“Soulmates are exempt.” That earned another shrewd look from Hermione though it was no longer hostile.
“Who is it?” Bucky’s smirk just widened.
>>>
Harry rang the doorbell of the address Bucky had given him, heart in his throat and feeling more free than he had since he’d come of age. The door opened after only a moment and then he was face to face with Sam and he couldn’t help his wide grin.
“Heard you were looking for me.” And he knew he was probably grinning like a loon, giddy, but Sam just laughed, eyes roving over him and catching on where the mark he’d left was visible. Harry’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Would you like to see it then?” And he preened at how The other man’s eyes widened in shock even as the longing shot threw them. Then Harry had an idea. It was crazy, and reckless but that’s about how he was feeling. Elated and reckless. He hadn’t felt this way in years. He stepped inside and nudged the door closed before pulling off his shirt and twisting, showing the silver spanning his skin.
“I can honestly say this is not how I expected you to react.” Sam admitted, but even as he said it he was reaching out, brushing a hand against the mark. Harry’s laughter was almost breathless and he pulled his shirt back on. He turned and grabbed Sam’s hands.
“You don’t understand.” And his gaze was nearly feverish. “I have so much to tell you. But this?” He waved between them. “This means I’m free. If I’m yours I can’t be anyone else’s.” And Sam understood suddenly the drastic change in behaviour. It probably wouldn’t last long - there would be phases of - well remission, he supposed - but for now, he could understand Harry’s excitement. It also looked like his assumption had been right - people had been trying to create a soul bond with him and it had manifested in his need for personal space.
“You don’t have to tell me everything right away.” Was what Sam told him easily, because as much as he wanted to know, he also wanted this to work long term. Just because they were soulmates didn’t mean it wouldn’t still be work.
Harry’s grin was near wolfish.
“I think I’d like to show off a bit first?” At Sam’s surprise, Harry squeezed his hands. “Trust me? I’ll explain everything after but I just - I’d like to crush a few dreams.” Sam only had time to nod before it felt like his entire body was twisting around a single spot in his stomach.
>>>
“Oh my God.” Hermione gasped, almost dropping her mug. It drew both Ron and Bucky’s attention.
“What?” Even before she could answer, there was the pop of house elf magic and a howler appeared in front of Ron. Bucky looked to be holding back a laugh. It came out as a snicker.
“Ronald Weasley! Why didn’t you tell me Harry had found his soulmate?” His mother’s voice screeched out, and he turned a pale look of dread in Hermione’s direction.
“What did he do?”
“He managed to apparate all the way to Diagon Alley. Who knows how he didn’t rip them both to pieces.” She was muttering, wand in hand. “Apparently he and Sam somehow ‘accidentally’ ended up in some sort of accident where they both ‘had’ to take off their shirts.”
“How do you know all this already?” Ron demanded, and Hermione stepped out of the way of the sink, behind which sat a small mirror that was shaking with silent laughter, and showing off a preening Harry and flabbergasted Sam standing in a mess inside of the twins shop, completely shirtless. Then George’s gaffaw of laughter came through and drew Harry’s attention at which point he caught sight of the mirror. If anything, he looked even more pleased.
“Lo, Hermione. Ron.” That, in turn, drew Sam’s attention, and he immediately caught sight of Bucky, eyes instantly narrowing. Bucky didn’t bother stopping his laughter then.
“Son of a bitch.” Was what Sam muttered, and then he turned to Harry, murmuring in his ear. The mischievous light filled his gaze once more and he nodded, grinning widely. Then with a twist and pop they disappeared from the mirror.
When they reappeared in the kitchen, they were wearing shirts once more, but Sam was looking smug.
“So, are you going to be the one to tell Stark that you were hiding the existence of a secret magical society, or should I?” and the smug smile on his face as Bucky scowled had Harry giving a peal of bright laughter.
“I could always, accidentally, of course, do a demonstration.” and Ron and Hermione exchanged a look at Harry’s devil may care attitude.
Looked like this was going to be anything but simple. Considering the relief all but pouring off Harry, neither of them could be more grateful.
“Well,” Ron offered, “I’m always up for an adventure.” Hermione sniffed, though her eyes sparkled.
“And I best come along so you don’t break all the laws.”
Harry turned to look at them, grinning ear to ear, green eyes sparkling.
“What’s the fun in only breaking one?” Sam actually rolled his eyes.
“Oh, so you’re one of those.” but he looked anything but disappointed.
“Only one way to find out, really.” and Harry offered his hand.
Sam took it.