Chapter Text
You don’t find love, it finds you.
It’s got a little bit to do with destiny, fate,
and what’s written in the stars.
- Anais Nin
When Bucky was a child, he was enraptured by the stories of princesses and princes and true love. He didn’t mind that he was a boy and the stories were really meant for his sisters, or that the truth of the world was far nastier than what his parents wanted them to dream of. His parents held hands and shared secret smiles, still in love after four children, still in love after the war and despite the economic recession threatening to unravel everything they knew. His parents promised that if they were lucky and the stars shone down on them just right, that not only would they find love that was true, but also the perfect match for their soul.
Later that night, after he’d braided his sisters’ hair and listened to the stories, he laid on the roof of the shabby tenement building next to his new friend Steve. Together they longingly gazed up at the stars. Steve was still sporting a bruised eye, now green and yellow instead of purple.
When Bucky had rescued the skinny boy from a group of no-good ragamuffins they’d become instant best friends, as if it was meant to be. Destiny. He liked that idea and Steve did too. It held the promise of a future and all the good things that came with it; after all the War to End All Wars was behind them so anything was possible.
As a shooting star danced across the sky, Bucky closed his eyes and wished that one day he would find the love that his parents shared in his perfect match. The star winked out of existence over the horizon.
Years later as Bucky fell to his death, the train and Steve’s desperate face becoming smaller and smaller overhead, regret surged through him that his friend would have to finish the mission without him. And regret that, unlike Steve who had clearly found true love in Peggy (even if neither were willing to admit it to each other), that Bucky would never get to know love. Fear, pain, and darkness greeted him when he hit the ice-covered rocks of the Danube.
*****
When Hermione was born the doctors placed her in the NICU after several moments of rushed silence and firm slaps on the back. She wasn’t breathing and was cold, as if her mother’s womb was an ice box, and where her left arm should have been was just nothing.
The doctors did not know if she would survive after so long without oxygen, especially given her other condition. They could not guarantee that there weren’t other abnormalities that they could not see. Mrs. Granger fretted that it was her fault, that she had taken some vitamin or medicine during the pregnancy that had caused their daughter to be born without an arm.
However, Hermione proved to be a stubborn and fully healthy baby and after a month of worry, the Grangers took her home with them and didn’t have to worry about her again.
They raised her on stories of Marie Curie and Elizabeth Blackwell and Jane Goodall. They told her that if she worked hard enough and treated those around her with compassion and love, that one day she too could be listed among the famous women scientists who changed the world for the better. They dreamed she would be a scientist, so were surprised when instead she turned out to be a witch. But they were proud of her no matter what and sent her off on her new adventure full of kisses and love.
Hogwarts was everything Hermione had dreamed of. Sure, she still got the weird looks about only having one arm, but she’d gotten used to such things and they didn’t bother her in the least. She could do almost everything that other kids could do, and, honestly, being able to do a pull-up or hang off the monkey bars was on the bottom of her list of what she felt she missed out on. She had magic now and it was wonderful.
It was two weeks into term that her roommates finally let slip why they had been giving her strange looks. It wasn’t that she was a muggleborn, or that she had one arm, or that it held her back in any way (because it most certainly didn’t), it was because her missing limb was one of the most obvious signs that she had a soulmate that they had ever seen or heard of.
“None of our class, or the upperclassmen … or the professors, or the staff …” Parvati added with a shiver “ … are missing an arm. I already looked for you.” Parvati said this as if it was the most helpful thing she could have done. “Which means it’s someone else. Maybe someone who already graduated. An older boy or girl.”
“You are sooo lucky that your soul-mark is so obvious.” Lavender swooned in her bed. “I don’t have a single soul-scar or mark yet. It’ll make finding your soulmate so much easier.”
Hermione thought they were pulling her leg, trying to trick her into believing something outrageous simply because she wasn’t raised in the wizarding world. However, when she inquired about it from Professor McGonagall, the most no-nonsense professor she’d met yet (other than Professor Snape who she couldn’t imagine trying to approach outside of class), her Head of House had confirmed it all. Seeing Hermione’s baffled expression, she had sat her down for tea and explained it all to her: soulmates were real and highly prized. The surest, and easiest, sign for finding your soulmate was seeing a scar that adorned your body on theirs. Not everyone found their soulmate (and there was debate about whether it was that not everyone was gifted a soulmate or if simply potential soulmates lived so far apart that they were never bound to meet), but that just made it all the more prized.
“Just you wait, Miss Granger, until Valentine’s Day,” Professor McGonagall said with an exasperated frown. “Then you will see just how much the allure of finding a soulmate turns the most sensible witches and wizards into foolish children. Utterly ridiculous. A soulmate may be a source of great happiness, but don’t forget you can find happiness and fulfillment within yourself as well.”
Sure enough, once February rolled around, the number of lovestruck students admitted to the Hospital Wing and given a stern talking to by their heads of houses tripled. Hermione, and most of the rest of the Gryffindor house, witnessed the unfortunate spectacle of one of the sixth-year prefects professing his soul-love for a classmate, cutting his arm as proof, only for the wound to not appear on her arm. He was led to the Hospital Wing to be patched up, both physically and emotionally, by Madam Pomfrey. Hermione didn’t say anything as she witnessed every other girl and many of the boys in the common room surreptitiously check their own arm, just in case he was their soulmate instead.
Ron had afterwards crowed about how his parents were soulmates and that they’d met during Hogwarts. Classmates crowded around him, eager for the tale they wished to be theirs, eager for hints of how it was done, eager to find their soul’s match within the walls of Hogwarts.
She thought the interest would die away after Valentine’s Day, but instead two seventh-years discovered during an unfortunate quidditch accident that they were soulmates. Previously rivals, they suddenly became lovers and all Hermione could hear for days was how romantic it was. She simply rolled her eyes and went back to researching Nicholas Flamel, a far more interesting and applicable topic.
*****
Hermione slammed the book shut and transfigured her quill into a hand mirror. A basilisk of all things was what was haunting the school and she needed to tell Harry immediately (and Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, but Harry first). She ran into another girl on the way out of the library and told her what she’d discovered. Together they walked through the halls looking only into the mirror.
But still, it wasn’t enough. Glowing yellow eyes flashed within the mirror and Hermione was frozen, unable to move.
Her mind wandered and flew away from her. She dreamt of dingy cinderblock corridors, men in lab coats poking and prodding at her, and of killing people with guns and knives. Singular purpose was her only thought.
When she was unpetrified, some months later, she felt unmoored and like her body wasn’t her own. Harry looked at her with such pain and desperation that she tried to smile and thank him. She pushed the nightmares to the back of her mind, determined not to think of them again.
*****
It was inevitable with the arrival of the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang that there would be eager talk of soulmates, now that there was a fresh batch of classmates to test against. Hermione tried to ignore it all, as no one tried to test a soul-bond with her. Her mark was too obvious, so she somehow became the one that Lavender and Parvati and Ginny wanted to share their secrets, suspicions, and sadnesses with. Hermione was okay with it. She didn’t mind lending an ear to their very normal talk about romance, but she knew it wasn’t for her. What were kisses to books? Books offered so much more.
To her surprise, though, she was invited to attend the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum and she said yes (also to her surprise – previously she had thought she just wouldn’t bother going). For the first time Hermione felt desired and felt pretty. Viktor, despite being one of the best fliers around, was clumsy on his feet, which made him all the more endearing. He stepped on her toes and she on his, but he held her up and never once said a single thing about her having one arm (and thus him having two). She danced and swayed with him all night and happily kissed him at the end of it. For the first time ever, she wished that he didn’t have an arm too, that he could have been her intended instead of what it really was; a fleeting teenage romance.
*****
Natalya stood in her undergarments in fear as the nurse analyzed every inch of her body, clucking at every small scar and bruise her skin sported. Many of them she couldn’t account for. Sometimes she just woke up and had a new mark on her skin or a new ache in her head.
Her bangs were roughly pulled back revealing her beloved birthmark that looked like a lightning bolt.
“Tell Dimitry we’ll need to perform a chemical peel,” the nurse said to the assistant taking notes behind her. “It is far too unsightly for a young lady like yourself.”
Her birthmark was not unsightly, but it was noticeable. And noticeable meant recognizable, which Natalya knew meant she was less worthwhile to the program, which in turn meant she could be killed as a waste of space. Hatred boiled in Natalya’s bones at what her so called parents had sold her into and that her life had become a straight line: survive or die.
*****
The sizzling purple curse hit Hermione straight in the chest. She had been so focused on Neville and Harry that she hadn’t had time to cast a protego on herself. She fell backwards, consciousness already slipping away, as her magic whizzed through her body like she’d never felt before, fighting against the foreign magic. Fighting and failing. As darkness descended over her, she could feel the curse slowly eating away at her skin and muscles and she knew it would reach her heart and she would die. Regret then sadness then hope were her last thoughts.
Darkness then light. Hermione hovered over her body, a bitter, biting coldness engulfing her. Her physical body looked so frail, covered in blood and alone in the Department of Mysteries. Her soul shivered again as the coldness settled further. She couldn’t get away from the cold, like she was in an ice bath or submerged in a glacial lake. The coldness stung, but the stinging kept her tethered even as her breathing came slower and slower.
Darkness then light. She was in the hospital wing. Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey leaned over her body.
Darkness then light. And pain. So much pain.
Hermione gasped and her lungs and chest burned. She was alive and it hurt.
“You will fully recover,” Professor Snape told her as he explained the purpose and schedule of every potion she was to take for the foreseeable future. “But it will scar. We were too late to stop that.”
Harry wept as he hugged her and she tried to put on a brave face, saying that she looked far worse than she actually felt, which was far from the truth.
“What if,” Harry said much later as the moon glowed softly through the windows of the Hospital Wing, “what if Voldemort is my soulmate?”
She sat up so quickly that she couldn’t help but wince at the pain. “Why would you ever think that?”
Harry chewed on his lower lip. “My mind is connected to his. I feel his anger and his pain. My scar links me to him.”
“No, Harry.” Hermione grasped his hands. “Magic would never do something so cruel to you or to anyone else. If you have a soulmate out there it is someone who will love you and cherish you and protect you like your parents did. Not someone intent on murdering you.”
Harry squeezed her hand back and gave her a tentative, hopeful smile. Truthfully Hermione was afraid for him, for what if he was right? Could a soulmate be an enemy instead of a lover?
*****
The Winter Soldier, for the first time ever, woke up while in the cryo-tank.
The incessant, desperate beeping of the machines warned his handlers only a couple seconds before the lid of the tank flew across the lab. The Winter Soldier tumbled out, gasping for breath, as the alarms blared and ice melted around him. He pulled the tubes and cords out of his arms and looked around with startlingly lucid, paniced eyes. He clutched at his chest where a strange purple burn spread from his collarbone to his naval. “My soul, my soul,” he mumbled over and over again.
The handlers tranquilized him as soon as he stumbled to his knees (after destroying half the lab with his super-human strength), and then laid him down on an operating table to stabilize him. He was far too valuable to put down (their own bosses would be furious), but he would need to be wiped as soon as possible.
Once they determined his mark, which they decided was an electrical burn caused by the old, faulty cryo-tank, was only superficial and wouldn’t leave any lasting damage, they wheeled him into the room with the machine. He struggled against his bonds and they strained against his inhuman strength, but in the end they won. They always won. His brain was wiped clean once again and their jobs were saved as they agreed to not put any of this in any official report.
The Winter Soldier was placed in a brand new cryo-tank and refrozen. No one spoke about what had happened, the unsettling words he had said, or that the his chest was forever scarred with the strange burn.
*****
Pain spread across the Winter Soldier as he crouched on a rooftop, eyeing his target far below. He rubbed at his arms and his chest but the pain blossomed further into an incessant and distracting ache. And then, as soon as it appeared, it stopped. He felt unnerved at the strangeness of it, at the memories that attempted to unfurl in his brain of similar pain. He couldn’t think about any of that, though. His handlers wouldn’t like these thoughts. He needed to focus and forget.
Focus. Forget. Or he’d get the chair.
*****
Natalya circled her opponent within the Red Room. It was a normal day of sparring, training, and relinquishing any bit of self she had left to the program. Natalya was good, almost the best, of her class. She liked being the best because it meant she was punished less even if it meant the other girls hated her more than the rest.
She dove forward, rolled, and side swiped the other girl with her leg, knocking her to the ground. With the fluid movement of practice, Natalya rolled on top of her opponent and held her arm against the girl’s throat. The girl’s eyes glittered in anger and Natalya grinned down in satisfaction.
“My win,” Natalya said. She hadn’t been defeated in three days and she intended to keep the winning streak going.
“Again,” instructed a man from behind a curtain.
Natalya rolled off her opponent and held out her hand to help her up. The girl spat at her feet and stood on her own. The two crouched in preparation, ready for the word to start, but Natalya never heard it. A sharp pain jabbed her forehead. The pain became a burning and a tugging and then she couldn’t breathe.
Embarrassment swept over her when she woke up, moments later, lying on the ground of the training room with the nurse leaning over her. The headache was already gone, and she insisted she could continue to fight, that she was fine, but the nurse didn’t listen and forced her to sit in the office for the rest of the afternoon while she ran tests on her hormones and health.
Natalya’s winning streak was over and anger burned through her at all the phantom pains and marks she’d gotten over the years. She wished she had someone to confide in and wondered if anyone else experienced such things. She was alone, though, and would have to ignore it all if she wanted to survive.
*****
Harry stood in the ruins of the Hogwarts courtyard. Power unlike he had ever felt before thrummed in his bones. A shadow loomed over him, visible just out of the corner of his eye. Death.
He was invincible while he possessed the elder wand, invisibility cloak, and ring. It thrilled him and terrified him. Later he couldn’t say quite how he managed to turn towards Death or how he managed to hand the shadow all three objects, but he did. The power remained though, a whisper deep in his bones, a promise of what he could still do as Master of Death should he ask. Harry chose to ignore it. Such strange power had been the obsession of Voldemort’s life (and Dumbledore’s too) and Harry refused to let the remainder of his life focus around such an absurd thing.
For the first time ever, he was free of destiny and expectation. He had killed Voldemort and all the soul bits he’d scattered around (including Harry’s own head), and stopped the war.
“Harry.”
He turned again and saw Hermione leaning against a pillar. Blood dripped down her face and she limped, but she looked okay otherwise. He stumbled towards her and they hugged. At some point Ron found them and the three of them remained together for a long time.
*****
Hermione knew that her deep crush on Ron would end in pain, but she had held onto the hope of romance throughout the months because it was one of the few things she had. Ron wasn’t her soulmate and he had always made it clear from the moment she met him that he wanted the soul-bond that his parents had. But still, she had selfishly hoped that she could have had at least one day of romance with him before his destiny pulled him away from her.
As the three best friends released each other from their hug, Hermione’s heart dropped when Ron excitedly pulled up the leg of his ratty trousers to reveal a brand-new blue swirl. A soul-mark.
Hermione swallowed her hurt and instead smiled happily at her friend.
Three days later excitement rolled through Hogwarts. Everyone dropped what they were doing to crowd into the Great Hall where the Weasley family was clapping Ron on the back while a small first-year Hufflepuff girl stood within their circle, her parents glowing with pride. The girl seemed pleased, if not confused, that her soulmate was one of the saviors of the wizarding world. Ron’s face was red with embarrassment, but he never stopped grinning.
“Calliope Thistle,” Ron breathed out as he leaned on the table. The three of them sat in the kitchens later that night eating some of the leftovers that the house elves had scraped together. Everyone had eaten earlier, but Ron had been busy with the excitement and Hermione had distracted herself with repairing the second-floor corridor before Harry had pulled her away.
“Kind of weird,” Harry said with a grin. “She’s twelve.”
Ron grimaced. “Yeah, that bit is odd, for sure. I feel this overwhelming connection to her, and when I first saw her and realized she was a firstie, I was really worried and grossed out that I might think of her in … certain ways … but I don’t yet.”
“That’s a relief.” Harry laughed and Ron did too.
“My mum and dad and her parents have already worked out this courting schedule. It’s so old school, but I guess it’s good. She’s going to graduate from Hogwarts before we marry.” He gazed off into the distance with a silly smile on his face.
Hermione had to look away.
“Enough of this sappy stuff.” Harry cut each of them a large slice of pie. “I’m happy for you, mate, truly I am. I’ve decided, though, that I’m not going to let destiny determine my life ever again.”
“Here, here.” Ron lifted his glass of pumpkin juice and the three of them clinked their glasses together.
Harry’s face became more serious. “I know Ginny’s not my soulmate. She would’ve gotten some scars and stuff from the last few years, but I love her. Not everyone gets to have a soulmate, and maybe that’s my lot in life, and I’m okay with that. I’ve had enough of my soul being tied to someone else’s.”
“Oh, Harry.” Hermione leaned over and hugged him. Ron patted him on the back with a pleased smile.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Ron added, “Ginny hasn’t stopped yammering about you these past few days either. You may not be soulmates, but who cares. You both love each other and that’s good enough for me.” He turned to Hermione and gave her a soft smile. “And, Hermione, I’m sorry. I know you liked me and I liked you, but…”
Hermione held up her hand before he could continue. She didn’t think she could hold back the tears if he kept talking. She swallowed thickly and tried to smile and joke. “I’m not going to lie; I did look everyone over these few days to see if anyone new was walking around without an arm.”
The three of them laughed.
“I think, though,” Hermione said after a pause, “that I’m with Harry on this one. I want to live my life how I want it. I want to kiss who I want and I want to follow my own dreams. I probably don’t have a soulmate anyways. I’m sure if there was a witch or wizard out there missing an arm, they would have come forward by now claiming to be my match. We are kind of famous at this point.”
Harry laughed and gave her a high five. He lifted his glass. “I’ll drink to that. To a life lived as we choose from here on out. Destiny or no destiny, soulmate or no soulmate, our lives are our own.”
Ron heartily clanked his glass against theirs and they fell into silence.
For the first time in what felt like years, Hermione’s heart felt less heavy, as if an expectation had been lifted from her. Her future spread out before her to do as she wished and she was excited. She could become a professor or the Minister of Magic or maybe a scientist like her parents had always dreamed.
Later that night, though, as she lay in her bed, she thought back on the strange moments when she had almost died (and tried not to shake her head at that fact alone) and how she had felt that her soul was tethered within ice unable to leave her body even when she felt it should have. Was that because somewhere someone was her soulmate and their unknown bond had saved her?
No one had ever talked of such a thing happening for soulmates, though she had never truly researched the phenomenon herself. Either way she decided it couldn’t be so, for it was too much to think of all the pain she potentially put another person through.