Chapter Text
Draco’s tattoo began shifting into coherent thoughts at around the same time he began having them. His parents watched with approval. Draco’s Counterpart would be someone his own age. They smiled as the words “hungry” would appear on Draco’s inner wrist at the same time Draco began to cry. From a young age, they were well synced.
As Draco got older, he learned to take comfort in watching the words shifting on his arm. He saw that his Counterpart wished to escape her family as much as he did. Thoughts about her “terrible Uncle Vernon” or “god-awful Aunt Petunia” popped up on a daily basis by the time Draco turned seven. Of course, from the very beginning, his Counterpart was constantly complaining about some kid named Dudley that Draco originally assumed must be her brother, but later understood to be her cousin.
When Draco was ten he realized that his Counterpart was not a she, but a he. Thoughts about sex and the lackluster explanation his awful family had given him began appearing. His “talk” was not nearly as in-depth as the talk Draco had received. At times, Draco found himself laughing at his Counterpart’s innocence.
Draco hid the fact his Counterpart was a boy from his parents and friends for a year before finally deciding to tell his mother.
“Mum, I think I’m gay,” Draco announced one day after scouring every inch of the house for the detection charms his father often left behind.
“I’m not surprised,” Narcissa replied, a small smile playing on her lips. It was never there when Lucius was around. Draco wished his mother would smile more often.
“You’re not surprised?” Draco repeated, eyes wide.
“You’ve always been fascinated with the male anatomy,” his mother teased. “Now go instruct a house-elf to make your father’s favorite meal tonight and never breathe a word of this conversation to him.”
“Of course.”
Harry was obsessed with his tattoo the moment he was old enough to understand what it was. He spent all the time he was allowed staring at it and reminding himself it meant that he wasn’t alone. He often pondered what thoughts his Soulmate would see popping up on his tattoo.
It was a proven fact that the tattoos translated all thoughts except ones about the Soulmate in question until they met. This phenomenon prohibited the Soulmates from truly communicating until they met each other.
As Harry got older, he noticed the thoughts on his arm becoming more delusioned and frightening. The person often thought about “wizards” and used crazy terms Harry had never heard before. Those thoughts confused Harry, but they weren’t nearly as bad as he’s going to hit me again, better me than mother, why does everything have to hurt so much, please stop. Please stop, I want to die. Harry would always stare at his arm while the terrible thoughts appeared and faded, waiting anxiously for everything to go back to its crazy normal.
When Harry was certain his Soulmate was safe again, he would focus all his energy on sending her happy thoughts in a desperate attempt to make her feel better. He never knew for sure if it was working, but when he looked back at his tattoo, she seemed to have calmed down.
When Harry was ten, he realized his Soulmate was a boy. And his Soulmate had parents that were way better at explaining sex and puberty. Most of what Harry ended up learning came from the thoughts scrawled on his arm that sometimes seemed to respond to his own inner queries. At first, Harry was concerned about his Soulmate being male, but soon realized he didn’t care. Still, he kept the realization secret from his family.
The boy who lived
Harry had seen these thoughts pop up multiple times, but the first time Draco saw it, he was 11 and preparing to go to Hogwarts. His excitement at meeting his Counterpart had slowly waned as he watched him learn about the wizarding world for the first time. For years he’d tried to convince himself that his Counterpart was just a pureblood wizard who thought primarily of muggle things, but this past week had proven beyond a doubt that his Counterpart was most likely a mudblood.
Draco stared at the train tracks in front of him, offering his mother half-hearted smiles when she glanced at him. At any moment, he would be boarding the train and potentially meeting his Counterpart. He caught the stern eye of his father for a moment and quickly rolled down his sleeve, resolving not to look at it until he arrived at Hogwarts.
Harry grew excited as he watched the thoughts on his arm ponder about maybe meeting his “Counterpart” on the train. His excitement faded slightly, however, as he watched his Soulmate decide not to look for him until well after the sorting ceremony.
When it came time to board the train, Harry was relieved to have his new redheaded friend and a young, honestly smartmouthed, girl with bushy brown hair to distract him on the train ride. As they talked about Hogwarts and the wizarding world they were entering, Harry’s anxieties around meeting his Soulmate began to fade away. That is, until they entered Hogwarts for the first time.
“It’s true then? What they’re saying on the train,” Draco said intentionally louder than necessary. Harry’s head snapped in his direction. “Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts,” Draco smirked and nodded to his friends as he introduced them. “This is Crabbe and Goyle, and I,” he stood up a bit taller and let his smirk turn into a proud grin like the one his father often wore, “am Draco Malfoy.”
Harry heard Ron snort next to him, failing to hold back a giggle. Draco’s attention snapped away from Harry and towards Ron, his smile quickly twisting into a glare.
“Think my name is funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe... you must be a Weasley.” Draco turned his attention back to Harry, pleased to find that he stood a few inches taller than the famous boy. “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort.” He stopped for a moment to shoot a glare at Ron and Hermione. “I can help you there.” He offered his hand, internally pleading with Harry to take it.
Harry eyed the blond boy for a moment, feeling the build-up of a hatred he usually reserved for horrible family. Hogwarts was supposed to be better than the miserable life he was leaving behind. Harry suspected he would never escape those wretched feelings of inadequacy and stupidity if he engaged with Malfoy.
“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” Harry replied, turning away and returning his focus to his new friends.
Draco felt himself turn red and turned quickly to hide his face. To his chagrin, Crabbe and Goyle were fully aware of the exchange that just happened and weren’t about to let him forget his embarrassment.
Draco figured it out quickly after that. The thoughts on his arm often complained about being the boy who lived and getting so much attention. What did I do to deserve this? Maybe they have the wrong person. I’m nothing. He tried hard to keep his thoughts kind, almost hoping Harry would never figure out it was him.
Harry figured it out within the hour. He secretly watched the thoughts on his arm scream SLYTHERIN I MUST BE IN SLYTHERIN as the sorting hat was lowered onto Draco’s head. It gave Harry the idea to ask for Gryffindor. Clearly, the hat took requests into account. He watched Draco’s smug face as he walked towards his new house, but saw the words on his arm scream only relief that his father would be proud. He won’t take me out of school thank god.
Harry almost confessed who his Soulmate was to Hermione and Ron on multiple occasions, but always stopped himself. They’d spoken about Soulmates on a few occasions, but for the most part, Hermione and Ron seemed just as content to avoid the topic as Harry was.