Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Harry Potter universe, J. K Rowling might.

Warnings: Drug use (nothing too abusive), violence (no more than the books), sex (I dunno, I hope they get to that), SLASH of the GAY kind isn't that QUEER? (I feel like I should say it, yet it's already redundant...), fucking swearing...

Info: AU after fifth book, starting during the first term of 6th year, but only following how the fifth book ends. I'm American, read the US copies of the books, write like I am from colorful USA, I'm not even very particular with slang...

Summary: At the beginning of 6th year Dumbledore sits the boys down, and tells them they are soul mates. Draco tries to deal. DM/HP Slash.

Author's Notes: I have never understood these... hey! wanna hear a joke? No? Well, I'm typing it anyways:

Me: Knock knock.

You: Who's there?

Me: You know...

You: You know who?

Me: Aaaaah! It's Voldemort!

1. Tuesday

Draco's Fun Fact: My favorite day of the week is Tuesday, it is by far the best sounding word out of the choices.

"You two are soul mates." The words hung from Albus Dumbledore's' lips, making time and sense drift away. Thoughts had turned to acid, burning but dripping away, changing everything in their path.

There was yelling, a lot of it, but Draco Malfoy just looking down at his hands. He could distantly hear the definition of soul mates being explained, all about love and honor. Draco only kept one ear to the conversation because he knew he was ignorant about many things, but he did have a vast understanding of pureblood tradition, culture and folklore. Therefore, the deep foreboding settling in his stomach was expected as acceptance of the situation trickled in. He understood the concept of soul mates well enough: a seer would prophesize true love between two people, then said people would live happily ever after. Seers are given a lot of power; Draco vaguely wondered what seer had had the prophecy. There was a lull in the conversation, silence prevailed.

"Who had the vision?" Draco asked, quieter then he meant to, but still demanding.

"It has been confirmed by the council, I'm sure you can get more information on-" But Draco cut off his Headmaster with a harsh nod of his head. He knew better then to deny this, if it was confirmed it was documented.

"And my father, there are… politics." Draco's demanding was frantic, verging on hysterical.

"You are seventeen, a certified adult. You can decide for yourself what you want to do about your father, and politics." The headmaster was twinkling, Draco looked down. With his father in prison, logistics were not a problem, but his father would find out, and that terrified Draco more than anything else.

"What the bloody hell do you mean by the two of us as soul mates?" Potter roared, in outrage, motioning his hand between himself and Draco. Draco's eyes snapped over to look to Potter, for the first time since they received their soul mate diagnosis. Potter wasn't any different, flustered, upset, angry, red-faced and yelling, just like Draco was used to.

Draco was standing and walking out, before he could quite comprehend his decision to leave. He was met with the door unable to budge, seemingly locked, with no way to unlock it. He tried the door a few more times then necessary, then stood facing it, feeling at a loss.

"Let him out!" That was Potter, which was met with Draco's slack jawed, wide-eyed, face.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" The Headmaster remained calm, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"No." And Draco was shaking his head.

"If you could wait to tell anyone until we have talked more." The headmaster was stern, but still had the twinkle.

"I won't tell anyone." And for once Draco wished he were trust worthier, because he honestly couldn't fathom telling anyone. There felt like a whoosh, and the door was open. Draco looked at Potter, finding fear filled green eyes. Draco's stomach clenched; after all the years of tormenting, and this was the first time he actually scared Potter.

Draco turned out of the office, down the stairs, and down five more flights of stairs before turning into an unlit hall. He sat on the ground of the hall, slumping and sighing.

He couldn't think about it, not really. Every time he got to "Harry Potter" his brain would stop. Harry Potter wasn't real. He was a school rival, the boy who lived, the boy who put his father in prison, but not a real person. They didn't know each other, couldn't know each other. They weren't allowed to know each other, and yet now… now everything was different. Draco couldn't.

He was up, walking again, down to the dungeons, back to his stuff, his room, his people. He hadn't been gone more than an hour, he had been cocky when called to the headmaster's office, and now returning to his life as if the world could keep going. The common room was busy, and he was out of it quickly, hurrying to his bed. Crabbe and Goyle were talking to each other, they tried to acknowledge Draco, but he waved them off and they continued their previous conversation. His bed was covered in homework assignments and books, as well as some clothes, all left from before going to that meeting. He tried to look it over, tried to remember what was due the next day, but instead slowly put it in a pile on his desk. He cleaned his space, undressed, and redressed in sleepwear.

He was at his desk with the nicest parchment he had, the fanciest ink, the fullest ostrich feather, and the words: "Dear Father" written, before he froze. This was now so integrated into his ritual that he let ink drip from the tip of the quill, ruining the parchment, before he shoved it away violently, then cleaned it up. He paced quickly, then flung himself on the bed, lying motionless. Would his friends still be his friends? Would his father disown him? Would his father actually disown him? Would his mother let his father disown him? Could his father actually disown him?

Out of the corner of Draco's eye he noticed Crabbe and Goyle worriedly looking at him. Draco searched his brain for an excuse, but he didn't know why they were worried. Was it the meeting he had with the headmaster? Or his behavior since reentering the dorm? Or-

"Did you do your potions homework?" Crabbe squeaked, having been hit by Goyle in encouragement to speak. Draco smirked at his friends, he really did like them, he appreciated their reliability. He got up, looking through the papers on his desk until he found it. He had only completed half the assignment, leaving off half way through a sentence.

"It hasn't been finished." Draco muttered. He had to read over what he had previously written three times before he comprehended the information, and could continue writing.

After all his assignments were at their appropriate levels of completion for a Tuesday night, and Crabbe and Goyle were fighting with each other over copying his work, Draco tried to figure out his father. Would his father care that he never chose this? Probably not, choice had never held much importance in the Malfoy household, action did. Having a soul mate was an honor, but Draco doubted his father would notice that, under the looming cloud that was Harry Potters name. Would his father tell him to ignore it? Say it wasn't true or real, deny it, and let Draco deny it too? Or would father ask son to betray soul mate?

Politics had turned into the war; no other issues mattered. The prophecy that had been broken was not his father's fault, Draco reassured himself. Draco knew his father didn't really have to do with anything; in fact he was counting on that. How much would anyone care if he ran off to some other continent after school? Would anyone notice if he just avoided the war? He supposed that was water under the bridge now, because Potter was doing nothing to distance himself from the war. The war against someone Potter had a prophesy with. How involved did Potter really have to be? Maybe they could run away, maybe he could still just run away. Maybe his father wouldn't disown him.

He stood, pulling off his sleepwear, and pulling his school clothes back on. Draco could hear his friends saying something to him as he left, but he didn't stop or turn around. He got all the way to the Entrance Hall before he stopped, catching his breath from having just walked up from the dungeons.

The Entrance Hall was a stupid place to be after curfew, for obvious reasons. First being that the Entrance Hall stays lit, all night. Secondly, it was a main walkway that anyone patrolling, or moving through the castle, would probably walk through. And thirdly, the main doors to the school were right there. The Entrance Hall was an incredibly stupid place to be on a Tuesday just before midnight, and yet that is where Draco lay down in the center of the hall. He lay on his back, legs crossed at the ankles, hands behind his head.

When hurried descending footsteps were starting to echo towards the Entrance Hall Draco Malfoy froze. Then he got the overwhelming feeling that he needed to flee, or at least hide.

Twelve chimes on the bells rang indicating the arrival of midnight and Draco relaxed lying on the floor, his lips forming a relaxed smirk. Draco had remembered a single name: Harry Potter. If the world could set him up to fail so epically with Potter, set him up for this sick soul mate joke, then he wasn't going to follow the rules either, because life was not playing fair. As the bells ringing faded, the footsteps approached.

"Hello?" Potters voice drifted into Draco's ears.

"What do you want?" Draco didn't look towards Potter, even closed his eyes in useless defiance.

"You can't just lay there, you-you're going to get in trouble." Potter stammered slightly.

"And how did you know I was here, scratch that, I have a more important question: Are you seriously here trying to keep me out of trouble?" And Draco was on his feet, facing Potter with a challenging sneer.

"What? No! I don't care if you get in trouble. I want you to get in trouble!" Potter was getting frustrated.

"Then why are you here? Are you already in love with me? So desperate for everyone's attention you had to make me your soul mate, because god forbid you can't have one person hate you!" Draco was glaring, he hated Potter, he really did.

"A lot of people hate me. And what the hell Malfoy, I didn't make you my soul mate, I hate you too." After Potter finished talking Draco stared, Potter was not usually rational, or calm around Draco, and yet here Potter was with a lot of people hating him.

"Why are you here Potter, and a real answer this time." Draco snarled frustrated.

"They say the first kiss between two soul mates makes them know its right, maybe we should try it?" Potter squeaked, but bravely stepped forward. Draco made up an excuse in his head about accidental weight shifting, but he knew that he had taken a step back.

"Scared?" Potter was more confident, taking a larger step towards Draco. The voice in Draco's head, telling him what to do, was his father's voice, saying: "hex Potter". His body was telling him to run, just flee, but he didn't know where to go. Logically he should kiss Harry Potter, it made sense, if they were truly meant to be, but this thought troubled him. His logical options had now completely turned around, and he could feel his body start to win as his foot stepped back, away from Potter.

Harry Potter threw himself at Draco Malfoy, grabbing the back of Draco's head, by the hair, and shoved their faces together. It took a minute to shift pulling into kissing, but then none of it mattered.

The kiss wasn't particularly romantic, nor sexy. It was a good kiss, lips moving together, even a slight taste of each other, but the physical is not what made it special. The special part was Draco thinking about wanting to be with the boy he was kissing for the rest of his life, that the person in front of Draco was right, and comfortable, and nothing else mattered anymore. Draco wrapped his arms around this boy, pulling their bodies together.

Harry Potter shoved Draco away from him, panicked. Potter stumbled back a bit, then turned and fled. Suddenly the perpetually lit hallway felt far too exposed, and Draco slunk into a dark corner.

In general Draco hated the personality the castle sometimes let slip. That stupid disappearing room that Potters gang hung out in last year, for example, but the castle also let the corner Draco was in be unnaturally dark, giving his huddled form some privacy. The first thing Draco did was punch the wall, but that turned out to hurt. Draco ended up just sitting in his absurdly dark shadow, watching the light.

There was bitter acceptance that Harry Potter, the famous important boy who lived, also happened to be someone Draco might be with. Draco could not get his head around how they could be with each other, he couldn't imagine it, much less want it, but for some reason he now expected it. The expectation did not have excitement or exhilaration, it was like dead weight, stuck in the middle of his life, and however many times he stubbed his toe in it, or tried to push it away, all roads suddenly seemed to point to Harry Potter.

If Draco had Potter, then he couldn't have his father. His life mission had been to make his father proud, was he seriously going to throw that all away for some silly expectations Potter put in his head? The tears came to Draco's eyes fast, and he was crying before he could really get his bearings. The sobbing came, then subsided, he sighed quietly, catching his breath, and rubbing his face.

"Do you feel better?" A voice came. Draco's head shot up to see Looney Lovegood, standing in the center of the hall. They had been friends, long ago as children, after the first war when Draco's father was still trying to pretend to be moderate and let his son hang out with liberals, when Lovegood still had a mother. Draco hadn't held back insults since she started school though.

"You're crazy, no one will believe you." Draco's voice cracked, and sung hallow. He hated this moment, oh boy, did he hate this moment. He stood, straitening his clothes.

"I won't tell anyone about this, but I would be concerned that the wiggles in the shadows might see you." She worried.

"Wiggles don't enter stone buildings." Draco sneered, rolling his eyes. That was common knowledge in traditional wizarding folklore. He smirked slightly, this girl was not about to screw him, sure she was crazy, but with the way his life was going, Draco would take crazy over being fucked over, gladly.

"That part is wood." She said airily.

"How would they get here? They would need to pass over stone, duh." Draco smiled slightly; the debate was actually relaxing him more.

"In the Sahara desert, nine years ago, there was a wiggle incident-" Looney tried to point out, only to be cut off by:

"Sand is not stone."

"Sand is many tiny stones." And Looney was so sure of herself saying this.

"Meaning they can slip through the cracks."

"I wouldn't think anyone, even a wiggle, could live happily constantly slipping through cracks." Looney sounded genuinely sad as she said this, which totally threw Draco off.

"It's against school rules for you to be here, go away." But Draco was the one who wanted to go away. Ever since Dumbledore's office Draco had been going from one place to another, he didn't know if he was running away, or just lost, but he suddenly needed to get away.

"Something's different about you." And she took a few steps closer.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Draco growled, far more defensively then he knew was necessary.

"You don't have to be afraid of wiggles anymore, they only gossip about the heartless." With that Looney was grinning at Draco, a real unabashed grin.

"How do you know I'm not heartless?" This came out more quiet than Draco would like to admit.

"The heartless don't cry, at least not the way you were. Goodbye. " And with that Looney walked away, down a corridor that Draco was fairly sure was not in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room.

Draco stood, now in the light of the hall, stunned, only one thought in his mind: I have seen me father cry, he might not be heartless. Draco may expect Potter, but he wasn't letting go of hope for his father, he was going to figure out a way to stop himself from getting disowned, and hopefully one day earn his fathers pride.

Draco went back to his room and went to sleep, for a while forgetting about the kiss and soul mate.