Say what you might about Harry Potter: some thought he was reckless, moody, temperamental, and perhaps even a bit ignorant at times. But the one thing that everybody knew without a shadow of doubt was that Harry was a hopeless romantic. He believed in childish things like fate and destiny and soul mates, and not a single person that he had ever met could convince him otherwise.

That's why when he fell in love, he fell hard, and he fell fast.

The first time he fell in love, he was twelve. You might laugh, say that he was too young to even know what love was, but he would have told you that you were wrong. Because he was totally, head over heels, crazy about Hermione Granger.

Sure, the girl had started off as a bit of a nuisance to him during their first year, but things had changed quite a bit since then. Her hair was still bushy and she was still the smartest witch in their class (and had no problem reminding him and Ron of that as often as she could), yet Harry slowly began to find originally annoying traits endearing. She was brilliant, confident, and brave, and honestly, what more could one ask of a soul mate?

That's why, when Harry had decided to confess, he was hardly nervous at all. He and Hermione were meant to be together, so surely she must have seen that as well. It had been so devastating when Harry, as any twelve year old boy in love would do, awkwardly stuttered out a confession, and had only received a tight, apologetic hug, while Hermione babbled about only thinking of him as a friend and how her parents had strict no-dating rules since she was so young, anyways. She had smiled and grabbed his hand and said, "I hope that this won't affect our friendship," before hugging her books to her chest and rushing down the hallway to her next class.

"Turned down by a mudblood?"

Harry had turned, anger flaring through him like he had never experienced before (not even that time Dudley had announced during recess in the third grade that Harry had been adopted, and that his aunt and uncle had tried several times to return him to his old family). Draco Malfoy leaned up against the wall across from him, pointy face turned up high in the air. He was flanked on either side by his mindless goons, Crabbe and Goyle, who were grinning at his cruelty.

"Don't call her that," Harry had growled.

"What, Potter?" Draco feigned innocence. "It was a compliment. All I'm saying is that there's nowhere to go but up from here."

Harry saw red, and the only thing that kept him from immediately hexing the self-important prat was McGonagall passing through the hallway, giving them each pointed looks as she went, sending them both scrambling in opposite directions to get themselves to class on time.

Two years came and went before Harry fell in love once again. He and Hermione were the best of friends, and he harbored no residual feelings towards her. If it was meant to be, it would have been. But obviously, the universe had other plans, since, when he was fourteen years old, he was over the moon, completely enamored with Ginny Weasley.

He didn't even notice the younger sister of his best friend until the Yule Ball that year. He had no date, and the dance was quickly approaching.

"You should take Ginny," Ron had suggested casually one day, while they were all at dinner. "Since you've got nobody else to ask."

And just like that, Harry knew. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the gorgeous, blushing girl several seats away from him. Hermione turning him down two years ago, him not being able to find a date, it was all leading up to this. How could he have been so blind? Ginny was amazing. She was funny, beautiful, kind, and everything that Harry could have wanted in a soul mate.

"I can't," Ginny answered quietly, and it was as if some dark, cold hand had gripped his heart tight. "I'm going with Neville."

Harry never thought he would see the day when he would envy Neville Longbottom, but sitting dejectedly at the Yule Ball, watching the large, clumsy boy step all over his lovely date, the jealousy was almost suffocating.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Harry didn't even have to take his eyes off of Ginny to recognize that drawling voice. "Did Longbottom get to your Weasel girl first?" He sneered. Harry had yet to look at him, though, so he decided to step directly in his line of vision so that his quality sneer could be fully appreciated.

Harry groaned. "Shove off, Malfoy. I don't need this from you right now."

"You're right, I imagine that knowing the ginger picked Longbottom over the Boy Who Lived is torture enough. Not used to not getting your way, are you, Potter?"

Harry crossed his arms and glared up at him, refusing the stoop to his level. A long, silent moment later, Pansy Parkinson walked over and wrapped her arms around Draco, insisting that he dance with her. Draco smirked and winked at Harry over her head.

"Don't worry, Potter. I'm sure that one day you'll find your Mr. Right, and he'll come and sweep you off your feet before you know it," he stated in an overly sweet tone as he draped his arm over Pansy's shoulders and led her towards the dance floor.

Harry scoffed and loosened his tie, too enraged to give his date, Parvati Patil, the time of day.

It was another two years before fate threw him another curve ball. Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw girl, had sprung up in his life too suddenly and in too big of a way for it to have just been a coincidence. This was the one, he knew, the one that would change his life for good. She was sweet and caring and clever, not to mention strong. He began to wonder how he hadn't noticed earlier how obvious it was that she was his soul mate.

He approached her outside of the Room of Requirement, the day before Christmas break, heart pounding so loud he was sure that she could hear it just as clearly as he could. And then she was crying, and his heart was breaking because this was the girl of his dreams and she shouldn't have to cry for anything at all. So he did the only thing he could think of: he pulled her close to him, wiped the tears from her eyes, and slowly closed the distance between them, initiating his first kiss.

Cho was immediately receptive and wrapped his arms around her neck, but Harry no longer found himself as elated as he should have been. The kiss was pleasant, if a bit wet, but he felt absolutely nothing. After another moment, Cho backed off and muttered an excuse, rushing down the hallway, putting her fingers to her lips as if she didn't quite know what just happened, or for what reason.

And so, at this extremely delicate time where all Harry wanted was to be alone to contemplate what had just happened, of course he has to run into Draco Malfoy, the only person in the world who could look so gleeful after witnessing such a horrible first kiss (not that he knew it was Harry's first, of course).

"Are you really that bad, Potter?" Draco sneered. "She just ran off as if you might be carrying the plague."

Harry sighed, tired, and maybe just a little crushed, too. "Save it, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood."

"No, obviously not," he snickered, crossing his arms and leaning causally against the brick wall. "Well, chin up, Potter. One day you'll find someone stupid enough to let you kiss them."

"And what if I don't?" Harry asked, the words passing his lips before he had a chance to stop them. He flushed red and looked anywhere but at Malfoy, who he was sure was positively giddy with all of the gold he was being given to use to torture him with in the future.

"Is the Golden Boy of Gryffindor actually beginning to doubt himself?" Draco asked, voice dripping with blatant sarcasm. "How do you think you're going to defeat the Dark Lord with an attitude like that?"

Harry looked up, surprised that Draco could tease about the Dark Lord when times were this bad. But when he met Draco's gaze, he saw more concern there than the disdain that he was expecting, as if he actually were afraid that Harry was too weak to defeat Voldemort.

He wanted to ask a million questions about how his love life and the war were related, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was, "Do you believe in soul mates?" And suddenly he was desperate to know Draco's answer, though he was too preoccupied to figure out why exactly it was so important.

"Soul mates," Draco drawled slowly, as if testing out how the word sounded on his tongue. "As in, two people who are destined to be together for the rest of their lives?"

"Yes, that's how most people define it," Harry answered warily. He was slightly concerned for Draco's health. Clearly he was feeling ill if he hadn't immediately been mocked for asking such a feminine question.

Draco shrugged. "Then I suppose that I don't. Believe in soul mates, I mean."

"Why not?" Harry asked, trying to ignore how strange this situation was becoming.

"Because there are billions of people on this planet, Potter. How could anyone possible find their soul mate? And if they do exist, then destiny is kind of cruel, don't you think? If there's only one person on this earth that is meant for you, odds are, you and that person would never even cross paths."

The brunet let out a swift breath, feeling a bit as though Draco had punched him in the gut. It sounded like the boy had thought a lot more about this than he was letting on.

"So what do you believe in?" Harry asked quietly, mind reeling.

A long moment passed where Draco seemed to inspect Harry from head to toe, and the brunet had to suppress an unexpected little shiver. Draco started to answer, but then snapped his jaw shut and narrowed his eyes, closing himself off as though he just realized exactly what was happening.

"I believe in privacy," he snapped before turning on his heel and storming off down the hall.

Harry stared after him for a long while, trying to make sense of what had just happened, and fighting off the uncomfortable disappointment he felt at the blond's departure. He shrugged and turned to do towards his own dorm and resolved that he would try to forget the strange encounter had ever even happened.

And for an entire year, he almost did. Of course, Draco seemed to be everywhere when he was trying resolutely not to think about him, because that's just the way the universe worked. Still, Harry figured he did quite a good job of avoiding his confused feelings.

In fact, it wasn't until Harry found Draco sitting against the wall, face buried in his knees, shoulders shaking violently, outside of where the Room of Requirement once was, that the conversation even crossed his mind.

He considered just leaving the boy there, since he doubted there was much that could be said anyway, but decided against it. When it came down to it, the war was over, and the house rivalry was all but finished. And it wouldn't be right to ignore a classmate in distress, even if it was Draco Malfoy. A little voice in the back of his mind kept trying to tell him that he couldn't leave the boy especially because it was Draco Malfoy.

So he swallowed his pride and walked over slowly, ignoring the way that the blond went quiet and deathly still when he heard someone approaching. He slid down on the wall next to him, hugging his knees and staring at the boarded up doors. He wondered absently when the school repairs would ever be completely finished.

After a moment of quiet, tense contemplation, Harry asked, "Do you believe in destiny?" He smirked slightly, startling Draco enough that he finally glanced up at Him.

The blond wiped furiously at his eyes, probably embarrassed to seem so vulnerable in front of the boy who was once his enemy, though that seemed now like it was a lifetime ago. After a long pause, he answered, voice slightly shaky, "I thought that my destiny was to die in this place. So no. I believe in it less and less every day."

Harry grinned and agreed. "Me too."

Draco raised a slender eyebrow. "Really, Potter? No destiny? Fate? Soul mates?" He elongated the last one, just as he had a year ago in that very same hallway.

The brunet shook his head thoughtfully. "Everything happens for a reason, I'm sure of it. But we define our own actions. We don't have set paths laid out for us, we have to make our own. Every choice that we make changes our course. It leads us to different futures, different places… different people." He eyed the blond out of the corner of his eye.

Draco's eyes were still red, but he had at least stopped crying. Harry was pleased he was able to distract the other boy. Too many people were crying in the halls these days, and Draco's silver eyes were much more enticing when they weren't rimmed with red. "And when did you decide all of this?" the blond asked, voice finally steady again.

Harry blinked and asked, "Do you remember at the Yule Ball, when you told me that I'd find my Mr. Right some day? And that he would come along and sweep me off my feet?"

"Yes. I was pretty sure you knew I was joking," Draco answered, refusing to let himself feel guilty.

"What if I told you that I already knew who he was?" Harry continued cautiously. "And what if I told you that I think he maybe swept me off my feet the first day that I met him at Madam Malkin's, and that I've just been too blind to see it until now?"

Draco stared at Harry for several long moments before answering decisively, "I would say that you're an idiot." And just when Harry began to feel the cold (yet familiar) sting of rejection, Draco continued with a shrug, "But, you know, I probably wouldn't hex you or anything if you tried to do a stupid thing like kiss me."

Harry felt the smile that came over him spread slowly, and he reached out to trace Draco's strong jawline with his fingertips. He leaned towards him as if in a dream, and stopped so that his lips were just barely brushing Draco's. "If destiny does exist, though," he murmured, "maybe it's not as cruel as we thought it was."

"You talk too much," Draco breathed in return before leaning forward and pressing his lips against Harry's.

Unlike his kiss with Cho, this was not gentle or unsure in the least. It was immediately a battle for dominance, as could only be expected from the school's most infamous rivals. It was all hot breath and rough hands and demanding tongues and when they separated for air, Harry ran his hands down Draco's chest and whispered in his ear, "I thought you told me someone would have to be stupid to let me kiss them."

The blond, still catching his breath, grinned. "I might be as daft as you, then, Potter. And I think I'm okay with that."

Harry smiled and kissed Draco once again.

Some would say that he fell in love too quickly. Some would say that he was naïve or foolish. But it had taken seven years, three broken hearts, and a whole lot of wishful thinking to get Harry to where he was. And he might have lost his belief in childhood dreams like fate and, yes, even soul mates along the way. But he believed in himself. And he believed in Draco, as crazy as that seemed. He even believed in the future.

And maybe that was enough.