Work Text:
October 25, 1997
It appeared on a Sunday afternoon, while Harry was trying to gently let Romilda Vane down. He didn't know how much longer he could be nice to her because it wasn't the first time they found themselves in this situation. The Gryffindor 6th year just wouldn't take the hint. Harry wasn't interested. It was going to change. He wanted a nice, quiet, last year of school, and so far, it had worked well. He didn't want to mess it up by dating, of all things, never mind the fact that he wasn't interested in Vane. At all. She was nice, okay? She was cute and funny, but Harry wasn't into her.
“We could go to the tea house. Ginny said you didn't have Quidditch practice this afternoon.”
Ginny said, eh? That was surprising, considering that, from what Harry had heard, those two were rivals. Something about getting his attention (but Harry honestly tried to avoid listening to that kind of gossip, especially when it involved him).
He almost flinched when she put her hand on his shoulder.
“Err... Look, Romilda. You're nice and all, but I -”
HONK
The two Gryffindors jumped in startlement, then Romilda jumped back as something ponced on her. She gasped in pain, holding her foot, and Harry moved forward, putting himself between the girl and the...
“Is that a Goose?!” Romilda whisper-yelled, staring at the beast in astonishment.
Harry blinked. The goose was large, with a black head and neck. Its chest and sides were a pale brown, while its upper parts were brown, turning grey-ish. Its dark eyes stared them down.
Harry blinked again and tilted his head to the side.
“Uh.”
“Harry-”
Romilda made a move, and the goose took a step forward, spreading its wings in a threatening way while honking loudly.
The girl gulped and took a step back, putting some distance between herself and Harry. The goose relaxed slightly.
Oh. Realisation settled inside her chest with all the grace of a drunk elephant.
She sighed, a pout forming on her lips.
“Your soulmate must be close.”
That... Harry had heard of it, but it wasn't overly talked about. He knew, technically, that 'Soulmates' were a thing, both in the magical and non-magical world. He had a brief interest in it. Who wouldn't? There was someone, somewhere, compatible with you? Of course, Harry had obsessed over it for a while, but the probability of actually meeting your soulmates was... Well, it wasn't actually as low as the probability of settling down (in a romantic way) with your soulmate. Having a soulmate didn't necessarily translate to finding the love of your life. Despite what the official Soulmates guide (the title was more complex than that, but Harry couldn't remember it for the life of him) said, a pair of Soulmates didn't necessarily have to have a romantic bond.
He had heard of Soulmate Geese, too, but he thought it was only an urban legend, something to amuse or scare away unwanted suitors (“Stop messing around with him or his Soulmate goose will get you.”). He hadn't really thought those existed for real!
He knew that, according to the stories, the closer (physically) you were to your soulmate, the more tangible the goose became. The fact that the goose threatening Romilda was more solid than vaporish meant that his soulmate was close by, not at Hogwarts, but maybe Hogsmeade!
Harry cleared his throat and tried not to look too excited. He had long since given up on the idea of Soulmates. He shouldn't get his hopes up.
“So... Yeah. I'm sorry, but -”
“Oh, no! I understand. I completely understand. I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to be so pushy.”
The Gryffindor girl spent one more minute apologising before beating a hasty retreat. Harry was left staring at her retreating figure before he turned to face the goose.
“Well, you were useful. At least now I won't have to fight her off anymore.”
The goose honked and waddled away before vanishing.
At least, Harry thought, the goose hadn't attacked him. He had heard stories about Soulmate geese attacking their 'masters' soulmates' (that probably wasn't the word, but Harry used it anyway). Those little fuckers could be terrifying. Harry could be too, though.
He grinned. He wondered if the goose would show up every time someone harassed him. He also wondered why it was the first time it showed up. Was it because he was seventeen? Or was it completely unrelated?
Further away, at Hogsmeade, a cloaked figure left Dervish & Banges' establishment, satisfied. Sylvianus Travers was always the person to go to if you wanted accurate information. As it was, the man leaving the building had just come back to Britain after a month-long trip away, during which he had hunted down a prison escapee. The fugitive in question had been a wizard sentenced to a Muggle prison. It should never have happened. Sometimes, people fell through the cracks, though. Still, it was good to be home.
November 8, 1997
It happened on a Wednesday. Antonin was so distracted by the man who wouldn't take 'no' in answer to an invitation that he didn't notice the goose until it was too late. See, there was a reason Antonin rarely ventured out of the Department of Mysteries without his uniform (the robes, hoods, and masks hid everything, from the identity of the Unspeakables to the way they looked). He couldn't always get away with it, though, especially since Rufus Screamgour liked knowing whom he was addressing during meetings.
Antonin was just trying to get rid of an overly interested (and most likely drunk) Retalius Malfoy when the winged beast popped up. A beast, it sure was, Antonin mused, as the winged menace honked loudly and jumped the Malfoy brat. It landed on his face and picked at it, honking, spitting, and hissing aggressively. The brat, meanwhile, shrieked, flailing and screeching in pain. Antonin did nothing to help. His colleague and old friend, Augustus, was chuckling from his hiding place in the corner of the room, half-hidden in shadows. Two of Scrimgour's bodyguards attempted to help Retalius Malfoy, without much chance.
“Don't be fools. That's a Soulmate Goose. You might actually lose a hand,” Vana Wolfe, Madame Bones' protegee, told them, as she entered the room, sparing barely a glance at the screeching Malfoy.
She seemed amused. Antonin was, too. The goose didn't look tangible enough to inflict damage, but somehow, it got the job done. When it landed back on the floor, Malfoy's face was a mess of bloody scratches, thanks to the claws on its webbed feet.
The goose was a cute thing, small, mostly white, very fluffy-looking. Antonin recognised it as a Snowy Goose (he had a brief goose phase, don't ask), with bright green eyes - his soulmate's eyes, if rumours about Soulmate Geese were to be believed.
Damn, Antonin mused as he inspected the goose intimidating Retalius. It was a cute little thing, but the most vicious creature in existence. The way it snapped its beak at the guy and made him bleed... Yeah, it was vicious, alright. Ruthless, too, since it didn't stop when Malfoy started crying. A match made in Hell. He could live with that. He's never really been into the whole soulmate thing, but if there was someone out there, bonded to this winged menace... Well, they might be worth getting to know.
December 3, 1997
Back at Hogwarts, Harry had had another two encounters with the Canada Goose, each time while he was trying to get rid of overly interested suitors. He was starting to think of Mitch (yes, he had to give it a name, alright? Why not the name of a movie assassin? It fitted.) as something akin to a guardian angel. Every time Harry was in distress because someone couldn't understand that “No, thanks” actually meant “No, thanks. Back off. Hiss!”, it would appear, wings spread in a threatening way, claws and beak at the ready. Mitch wasn't as solid as he had been the first time, so Harry figured that his Soulmate either didn't live in Hogsmeade or didn't work there. They might have been visiting the village, or something. It didn't stop Mitch from doing some serious damage to his victims.
Rumours had started spreading out that a Soulmate Goose was protecting Harry Potter, but as the encounters, so far, hadn't been public, and Harry wasn't confirming or denying anything, nobody knew if it was true or not.
That's when Ginny Weasley decided to strike. She had taken Romilda's retreat as a sign that Harry had let her down and that she had more chances now.
Harry did not expect the attack. There was no attack, so to speak. He just didn't expect her to accost him as soon as he entered the Great Hall for lunch that day. He didn't expect her to have the guts to approach him, and certainly not in public. He probably should have known better. She was a Gryffindor, after all.
“Harry.”
Harry paused as he was about to take a seat between Fred and George Weasley (nobody, not even McGonagall, batted an eyelash anymore at the twins' sporadic apparition in the castle. They came and went as they pleased). The twins blinked, then glanced at their little sister and grimaced in sync. Harry felt his insides churn. Oh, no.
He turned around and tried to put on a relaxed smile, but he wasn't sure he succeeded, judging by the sympathetic grins he got from Hopkins, Turpin, and Finch-Fletchley.
“Ginny?”
The redhead girl walked to him with an easy smile that almost hid her nerves.
Oh, Hell, no.
“Hi,” she said nervously. “I was, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Ball with me.”
A hush fell into the half-filled Great Hall, and Harry's eyebrow twitched.
That damn Ball.
See, the Yule Ball from a few years ago had apparently been such a blast that both Dumbles and the Ministry had fallen into agreement and decided that Hogwarts would host a Ball, each year or so, for Yule. It was going to be an impressive, hard-to-access thing, ike one of those fancy, very exclusive princess Balls in some European (like the one that recently took place in Monaco, from what Lavender had told him the other night) places. Things that only the richest could get in, although Dumbles had tried to argue that point, but at least, it was free for the students, so there was there. They weren't going to be kicked out of Hogwarts for the night or secluded in their common room.
The thing was that Harry was actually excited for the new Ball. He hadn't been in the mood at the time and was very stressed out, but now it would be different. He really wanted to take advantage of the night, dance, and have fun with his friends, but... He didn't need the stress of being pressured into taking someone or accepting someone's invitation.
He knew Hermione had tried to subtly let him know that Ginny didn't have a partner, yet, and would most likely accept the invitation. He knew that Ron would scoff every time she tried that tactic, and, honestly? Harry felt like scoffing, too.
He glanced at the redhead awaiting his answer. He would have felt more sorry about smashing her dreams of going with him to the Ball, had he not been so annoyed by her. Couldn't people tell he wasn't comfortable with being asked out? Especially not in public? He hated the attention, and now everyone was looking at them!
Harry sighed and licked his lips nervously, knowing everyone was watching them.
He ducked his head and finally spoke up:
“Sorry, Ginny. I don't think that's a good idea.”
Predictably, she turned red, and he might have felt some sympathy for her had she just accepted and moved on.
Instead, she gave the impression of a child being denied a treat. She almost stomped on her foot and crossed her arms over her chest:
“Why not?”
He thought he might have heard one of the twins' friends mutter something like: “Oh my god! Give up, Weaslette. He's not interested.”, and privately agreed.
He wondered if he should be nice about it, but he didn't want to give her false hopes, as he knew it would if he accepted.
“Do you expect anything out of this outing?” he asked instead of replying.
Whispers travelled across the table. You'd have to be stupid not to realise that Harry had no interest in her or anyone inside this school.
“W- What?”
Be nice, Harry.
But he couldn't. He tried to be polite, though.
“Did you expect anything to happen, had I said 'yes' to your invitation?”
He hoped Ron wouldn't be too mad, but he didn't think the redhead would mind. Ron had told him before that he thought it would be weird if his best friend dated his little sister, especially since Ginny had had a crush on him before they even met, and never quite grew out of it, thanks to what happened in her first year.
“Err, well. It -”
She was spluttering and red-faced, but Harry remained impassive. He had learned that he had to stay firm or the vultures would swoop down for any leftovers. The Weasley twins had taught him to be especially impassive when it comes to unwanted suitors (males, females, others). It might not stop them from coming onto him, but it would deter some.
“I thought we would fit well. For the Ball.”
Harry glanced at the twins. It looked like they were trying not to laugh. Great, he thought as he tried not to roll his eyes. They would be of absolutely no help, too busy laughing at their sister's misfortune. To be fair, though, they had tried to warn her against asking Harry out to the Ball, or in general.
Harry turned back to Ginny.
“I see. I'm sorry, but, as I said, I don't think that's a good idea.”
He could tell his answer did not satisfy her. Indeed, she looked even angrier now.
“Are you going to accept Romilda's invitation, then?” she asked petulantly.
The green-eyed wizard raised a brow.
“Romilda did not invite me.”
True. She hadn't invited him, although they had become friends since the whole Soulmate Goose attack. She never tried to flirt with him again, but they got along well now. She was an excellent gossip partner.
“She's been around you lately,” Ginny argued.
“Yes, because we're friends,” he said, speaking slowly. “Nothing more. Not that it concerns you.”
He was pretty sure he heard somebody whistle and mutter: 'Ouch! Burn.'
He would have been unable to tell you who did, though.
“Harry, just, please. Reconsider this.”
She took a step forward, extending an arm as if she was about to touch him, and Harry took a step back. He shouldn't have bothered because something stepped between them, honking threateningly and loudly.
The student body gasped at once. Harry's lips twitched. Mitch the goose spread its wings and hissed menacingly at Ginny. The redhead shrieked and backed away at once. That didn't stop Mitch the Goose. The bird swooped down on its victim, claws out, hissing and spitting like an angry... well... goose.
Now, Harry probably could have yanked Mitch away from Ginny, but... If anyone asked later, he would tell them that he was too surprised to do anything. (Fred and George apparently decided to use the same excuse.) As it was, he just watched the scene unfold.
Hermione was the one to rescue Ginny, having walked into the Great Hall halfway through Ginny's invitation.
“Ginny!”
She tried to stupefy the goose, but Harry already knew it would fail. Still, Mitch landed back on the floor, having apparently decided that he was done with his victim, and he waddled until he had some distance from the redhead. Hermione wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulders, who was crying and covering her face. She glanced around warily.
“Why hasn't anyone intervened?” Hermione hissed.
“Because you don't involve yourself with a Soulmate Goose, Granger.”
It was Hopkins who had answered. Wayne was a Hufflepuff in their year. He usually tended to fall in the background because he liked to blend in, so Harry was a bit surprised to see him speak up. Then again, he had some sort of rivalry with Hermione, so maybe it shouldn't be that surprising.
“Yeah, that's a fight you won't win,” a Ravenclaw added, snickering.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, unamused. She was still standing close to Ginny.
Then, she rounded on Harry.
“Why didn't you help her, Harry?”
Harry blinked.
“I was in shock.”
The tone he used was so flat he wondered how Hermione could believe him when the rest of the room could see the lie for what it was. He decided not to think too much about it. Clearly, her concern for her redheaded friend made everything else less important. She was a good friend. Harry only wished she were less pushy.
“You could have still done something.”
“Well, I didn't ask her to touch me either, but here we are,” he defended himself, overly sarcastically.
Someone snorted behind him, and Stephen Corner spoke up:
“Yeah, if she hadn't tried to put her hands on him, the goose would have left her alone. She was looking for it.”
“She couldn't have known a goose would attack her!”
“Oh, please.”
This time, it was a Slytherin who spoke, while Harry withdrew from the conversation and crouched down to be at more or less the same level with the goose.
“The rumours of Potter's Soulmate Goose have been all over the castle. One would have to be stupid to ignore it and push forward in their attempt to seduce him.”
“Hello, Mitch,” Harry whispered, extending a hand towards the winged menace.
The goose honked (at a much quieter volume, thank you very much) and waddled to him. He heard a couple of students gasp when it let Harry pet it on the head.
“Harry! It's dangerous!” Hermione scolded him.
The green-eyed teen blinked and snickered.
“No more dangerous than crossing the road. Mitch won't hurt me,” he added, before looking at the mellowed goose. “Thank you for protecting my virtue,” he told it quietly, grinning.
The twins chortled in glee, ignoring their sister whimpering in pain.
“You should go to the infirmary, Gin,” Fred told her after a few seconds. “Don't wanna get an infection.”
Harry snorted. Obviously, the twins were still angry with Ginny (something about Ginny snitching on them to their mum).
Ginny did so, led by Hermione, and they were accompanied by whispers and pointed fingers.
Ginny's plan had spectacularly backfired, and, while Harry knew he should feel bad for her, all he could think was that, with Mitch having made an example of her, he might have some peaceful moments this year.
December 27
Antonin had been in a foul mood since he woke up earlier, in the middle of the night, when it was supposed to be his day off. Instead of going back to sleep, he had decided to do something useful and had gotten to his workshop to work on a project, but soon had to retire to the living area. Obviously, he wasn't going to be of any good today. He probably should have stayed in bed. It would have stopped him from shattering a 2000 thousand galleon worth artefact. Granted, he knew how to repair it. He wouldn't do it today, though. He'd rather not risk making his bad luck worse.
All of that, combined with some minor inconveniences, should have convinced Antonin to stay at home today, but he didn't. Instead, he went out to his favourite wizarding café and had the misfortune to be noticed by the one person he was trying to avoid: Ronald Marchbanks.
Ronald Marchbanks was Lady Griselda Marchbanks' nephew. He was also a pain in the ass. Antonin had all the trouble getting rid of. He was a bit older than Antonin, but damn if he didn't act every bit as childish as Augustus' youngest child.
“Antonin, hey!”
Antonin's eye twitched, but he obligingly stopped walking.
“I thought I told you we were not that close, Mr Marchbanks.”
Ronald deflated slightly.
“And I thought I told you you could call me Ron.”
“You did say that I could, and I decided not to.”
He heard a snort behind, and when he glanced, he recognised one of the regulars of that café. It was one of his colleagues' cousins, a Selwyn, though he didn't know his name. Great. Antonin could feel eyes on them. There weren't many customers at the café, but they weren't exactly in a private place either. It was going to be an uncomfortable moment, and Antonin mentally prepared himself for the gossip that was going to surround him... again.
He momentarily forgot about the goose that had been repeatedly chasing off each and every one of his most annoying suitors (those who couldn't keep their hands to themselves and just had to touch him, somehow).
The barista, Matthew Fleming, was a foreign student who needed a job to pay for part of his apprenticeship. He called his name, and Antonin grabbed his drink with a grateful nod. Fleming didn't try to make small talk: Antonin had been here enough times that Matthew knew when Antonin was or wasn't in the mood to talk. It wasn't everyone's case, as shown by the way Ronald blocked the exit door to talk to him.
“I was disappointed to see you didn't show up to the Ministry dinner the other day.”
Frustration edged in. Antonin could feel the impatience eating away at the polite smile on his face.
“I had work.”
It was no secret that Unspeakables worked more hours than almost anyone else in the Ministry. They had odd hours; no one was ever sure whether they had arrived early in the morning or just hadn't left the night before. It wasn't just working hours. They didn't have any obligation to leave. If they wanted to stay all night to work on a project, then they were allowed to.
“Right, right. You work in the Department of Mysteries, right?”
Hm. As if Ronald hadn't spent their last two accidental encounters gushing about his work, as if he knew what was actually happening there. If he knew what was going on in the Brain Room, the guy would have nightmares (not that Antonin worked in that room, but he had seen what was going on there).
“Hey, so, I was wondering,” Ronald said.
Oh, no. He knew that sentence.
“There is this dinner next month, with the Minister, and I'm invited. Would you like -”
HONK!
A wave of relief washed over Antonin. Saved by the goose!
Antonin had all the trouble in the world hiding the grin that threatened to take over half of his face as a snowy goose came charging at Ronald. Behind him, Fleming and Selwyn burst into cackles even as Ronald erupted into shrieks of shock, fear, and pain. The goose didn't waste time: it went straight for the face before landing and attacking Ronald's ankles.
Just as the other few times, it didn't look as solid as it did the first time Antonin encountered it, but it still managed to inflict some serious damage.
The more he observed the goose, the more he felt like his soulmate was probably a fair bit younger than him. Its feathers looked a bit different the first time it intervened, all clumsy in its fiery attack. Now, it looked more... it looked a bit more mature, let's say. The fact that the goose also felt and looked way more solid at Hogsmeade than anywhere else made him think that maybe, just maybe, his Soulmate was still studying at Hogwarts. He... didn't quite know how to feel, but, you know, having a Soulmate didn't necessarily mean that you were a romantic match, or that you were going to become romantic as soon as you met. Still, he hoped his Soulmate wasn’t a first-year or someone who grew up thinking of a Soulmate like a Knight in shining armour because he didn't want to deal with the puppy pining or the tears of disappointment.
The attack went down with Ronald running off, screaming, and the goose chasing him for a few seconds before stopping and turning towards Antonin.
It gave a satisfied honk. If it were human, Antonin would have sworn it was smirking.
“I should have recorded this,” Matthew said, grinning. “It certainly made up for the shitty day I've been having so far.”
“Glad we could be of service,” Antonin said wryly before glancing down at the goose still standing next to him. “Hello, again.”
Honk.
The goose stared at him for an almost uncomfortable moment before quietly waddling away and vanishing as the door opened on a new customer.
Everyone stared at the spot where the mostly-untangible goose had disappeared.
Antonin never did completely buy all of that Soulmate business, but he couldn't deny the thought of dropping by Hogsmeade more often. Just in case.
January 15
Antonin met his Soulmate on a Saturday morning. Well... He wouldn't have confirmation of it until a few weeks later, but he first got a glimpse of them on a Saturday afternoon. He had visited the local library of Hogsmeade (a newly opened establishment that mixed magical and Muggle books) and was just leaving the store when he came across what looked like an argument. It was taking place a few feet away, and although this particular street had some shops, it wasn't the busiest street, so few people were around.
A man in his forties, obviously drunk, was harassing a Hogwarts student, crowding him to the wall and stopping him from leaving.
Antonin glanced around. The teenager, although he couldn't see his face, he had short dark hair and a Gryffindor tie- radiated discomfort and made no effort to be quiet when he told the drunkard to get lost. No one intervened, although, just like Antonin, he could see some watching them with concern.
Antonin was debating intervening when things took a turn.
The man put his hand on the teen's waist, yelling pick-up lines as he went.
“Let me go!”
And then...
A goose materialised out of thin hair. The goose – a very solid-looking bird- was large, larger than the one that kept showing up to scare off Antonin's suitors, with a black head and neck. The rest of its body was a mix of pale brown and darker brown-grey. It honked threateningly and attacked the older man, showing no sign of stopping even when the man was down and yelling in pain. Similarly, the people around who had been watching with concern either looked or watched the scene amusedly. The goose felt... familiar. Antonin stared.
He didn't think the goose would kill the man... but you can never be too sure. The harassed teenager had taken a few steps back, and when he raised his head, Antonin almost gaped. He recognised the young man, alright, he thought, as Harry Potter straightened and gave the man a look of distaste before stomping off with only a small pat on the goose's head.
The goose stopped pecking at the downed man and turned to stare at Antonin, blood dripping from its beak.
It honked one final time and promptly disappeared.
Bloody Hell, Antonin thought. He was pretty sure he had just figured out who his soulmate was.
(A Snow Goose suited him.)
February 2
Harry met his Soulmate on a Hogsmeade day. It was the first time he returned to Hogsmeade since that time, last month, when a drunkard harassed him and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Harry was alone, for once. Ron was participating in a very secret Chess tournament somewhere in the village, Hermione was off studying for an Arithmancy test and had decided not to go to Hogsmeade, and the twins were... somewhere. Well, they had originally left the castle and walked to Hogsmeade together, but they went their separate ways after that. Harry had just left The Enchanted Feather (the bookstore that had opened recently), two galleons and several knuts lighter. He had bought several books – both magical and a few Muggle novels he couldn't resist. there. Most were now stored in his feather-light bag, but one was in his hands. It was a novel he had been eyeing up last time. He was currently sitting at the terrace of a coffee shop, a warm cup of Canadian maple cocoa (strange at first, but he enjoyed the taste, and it kept him warm all over) in front of him, and an untouched blueberry muffin sitting on a napkin.
He was so immersed in his book – never even taking his eyes off it when he grabbed his cup to take a sip- that he wouldn't have noticed the newcomer had he not cleared his throat to get his attention.
Harry looked up and blinked. The man facing him was an unknown. Harry was certain he would have remembered meeting a handsome man like that. He was taller than Harry, for sure (that wasn't hard), with a long and pale face. He had a tight jaw and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were dark and staring intently at Harry. He didn't dare look away. He was burly in a way that told Harry he could easily lift him up and throw him around, but most of it seemed hidden away by the dark wizard robes he was wearing. His hair was almost as dark as Harry's and a bit longer than his, but slicked back.
Shit, Harry thought. He really was handsome (perhaps not the classical handsome, but still very attractive), and Harry had no idea how to interact with pretty people.
“Hello?”
The wizard was still staring and, although Harry felt his cheeks heat up, he didn't feel uncomfortable.
“Is this seat taken?”
The Gryffindor quirked a brow at him.
“That depends...”
“Oh?”
Harry looked around. No sign of Mitch. Of course, it could be that the man wasn't flirting, but that never stopped Mitch before (the goose did attack Snape once, and there was nothing Snape could do to punish Harry, because he wasn't at fault).
Looking back at the man, Harry snorted:
“Be my guest.”
The man nodded gratefully and sat down in front of him. By the time his drink floated to their table, they had introduced themselves (first names alone, although Harry was under no delusion that the man didn't know his full name), and Harry knew the man worked in the Department of Mysteries. Although the location made him shudder at the painful reminder of what happened there, it didn't make Harry any less curious. They did run across some very curious things when they broke in, after all.
They were halfway through a lecture on the most useful defensive spells taught around the world when they were interrupted by a terribly familiar sound.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Harry mumbled, dropping his face in his hands.
He was really into it. It didn't hurt that the guy was very good-looking (look, Harry wasn't about to flirt with the guy, okay? But it certainly made him feel things to be talking with a handsome man like Antonin). He didn't want Mitch to hurt his companion.
Then a second Goose materialised next to Mitch, and Harry did a double-take.
In front of him, the man chuckled.
“Just as I thought.”
If Harry expected signs of aggression from the geese (or at least, from Mitch), he found himself staring in shock and bewilderment when the two geese simply curled up together at their feet, honking softly.
He blinked slowly.
Okay, he thought. Harry wasn't as stupid or oblivious as others might think. He knew what this might mean, alright? He just... didn't expect it. He didn't know what he expected to happen the day he'd meet his Soulmate (if he did). Somehow, he hadn't expected to have such a normal conversation with them.
He never thought it would be so normal, so natural.
Harry glanced from Mitch the Goose to Antonin.
“I gotta say... His character makes much more sense now.”
Antonin arched a brow.
“How so?”
“Dunno. There's just an aura around you that screams danger.”
The older man's lips quirked up.
“You can sense that? Interesting. I guess I should say that your goose suits you, too.”
“Huh?”
“It's very... cute,”
Harry felt his cheeks heat up and resisted the urge to groan in embarrassment. He couldn't handle pretty people, never knew how to respond to compliments.
“Yet it hides a certain ruthlessness.”
At that, Harry snickered.
“Oh yeah,” he thought, remembering the times he enjoyed seeing unwanted suitors get their due (especially those who thought they could just touch him without his consent). “Definitely.”
“I feel like there is a story.”
Harry's grin turned mischievous.
“Maybe,” he told him.
He took a sip of his hot chocolate and bit into his muffin, chewing and swallowing before looking up again.
“I'll be honest,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I might have had a phase when I was younger, but after that, I never really accorded much importance to all that Soulmates stuff. I'm not sure what to expect or what you might expect for that matter.”
Instead of being offended or angry, like Harry half-expected (usually, magically-raised Wixen tended to take everything Soulmates-related much more seriously than Muggle-borns did, although that Soulmate stuff was seemingly important for most people), the man nodded in understanding.
“I'm not quite certain what to expect either. I'd say we... get to know each other and go from here. I'm not expecting anything. I will not be disappointed or angry if nothing romantic comes of it. Stories all over the world proved that Soulmates are not necessarily lovers.”
A wave of relief washed over Harry. It's not like he... Like he didn't want to find true love or anything, but it was stressful. He never thought too much about it because the chances of meeting his Soulmates were slim to none. Now that he did, though, he could almost feel the expectations that would come from literally everyone if the moment they found out that he had met his Soulmates. Even if Soulmates didn't always end up as a romantic pair, there was still that expectation.
At least, Harry was reassured to know that his companion would not bury him under expectations and disappointment. If anything happened in the future, it would come naturally. Not because they tried to 'make it work'.
The Gryffindor pointed at his practically untouched muffin:
“Want some?”
Antonin snickered.
Mitch the goose and its fluffy white companion (that Antonin never thought to name) never reappeared again, not even when others still tried to flirt with Harry (or Antonin, whom Harry found out was a Russian Pureblood descending from a dark family). He didn't have to worry about it, though, because a) he knew that Soulmate Geese only appeared to protect you from unwanted suitors and to lead you to your soulmate, and b) Fred and George Weasley took over that role even from outside of Hogwarts. Not that Harry couldn't defend himself, but it was nice to know that he had friends to count on.
Just as he thought, there was a frenzy all over the castle, the news, and even the goddamn country, when it was revealed that Harry Potter had met his Soulmate, but both Harry and Antonin kept any commentary to themselves. Antonin had especially good lawyers who put the fear of the Gods into any reporters (yes, even Rita Skeeter) if they ever thought of slandering or defaming the Potter Heir. Hermione hadn't initially been excited to find out the identity of his Soulmates (a pureblood, and from a dark family at that?!). Even now, she was still wary, but begrudgingly accepted it (she didn't have any other choice anyway). Surprisingly, apart from a bit of wariness at the beginning, Ron had been pretty chill about it.
The only good thing (he was exaggerating) that came out of all of this was that Malfoy and Parkinson stopped talking to him after a scathing letter from their respective parents.
Harry had been dubitative in the face of all of this 'Soulmate bullshit', but... he had to admit that he was happy with how his life had turned out. He frequently met up with Antonin the following year, until they developed a solid friendship. They were fine with this, didn't necessarily need more. Somehow, that friendship naturally morphed into something new as the years went by.
Harry was nineteen the first time they kissed. It was nearing Christmas, and Antonin had taken him to Norway. Harry would be lying if he said he didn't want to be taken care of. When they became a couple, it didn't feel forced. It wasn't because they were soulmates. It was because it felt right. It felt good. More than good. It felt like them. They decided that they wanted something more, and they went for it.
It took time and nurturing. A relationship doesn't just happen with a snap of the finger. There were long talks – because Antonin might be flexible about some things, but not when it comes to those talks. They had to happen, no matter how embarrassing Harry thought they were. He was right, of course, but still. Harry could have done without the PowerPoint (it was a PowerPoint; Harry didn't even think Antonin knew what a PowerPoint was) presentation about kinks, of all things!