Soul Mate - Chapter 1:

The war had finally ended.

When Harry snapped the Elder Wand and walked back into the ruined Great Hall of Hogwarts beside Hermione and Ron, he looked around at the people still tending to the wounded and cleaning up the wreckage. A quiet thought crossed his mind—

it was truly over.

He raised his head toward the ceiling once known for its starry enchantment, a detail proudly described in Hogwarts: A History. Now, it was just gray stone, dull and ordinary, like any old castle. A soft sigh escaped him.

Hogwarts, the thousand-year-old school that had never fallen, still stood proud. Yet what about the students who had been dragged into the war far too young? And what of Slytherin—one of the four great houses—now shrouded in suspicion and loss? How would they all learn to live again after this?

The hall suddenly fell silent. Harry turned toward the entrance.

Someone completely unexpected had arrived.

Draco Malfoy.

Even more surprising was Kingsley Shacklebolt—now Acting Minister for Magic—who stepped forward without hesitation and embraced him warmly. The gesture was utterly free of the usual pure-bl00d decorum.

Draco merely arched an eyebrow and forced a polite Malfoy smile, the kind that hid every thought.

Ron’s outraged voice broke the silence, nearly a shout, demanding to know what on earth was going on. But before Kingsley could answer, two sharp cracks echoed through the hall—two Apparitions—and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy appeared beside their son. Their expressions showed nothing but confusion; clearly, they hadn’t come of their own will.

Draco turned to them first, giving a small look of reassurance before addressing Kingsley with calm courtesy. He promised that his parents would remain within Malfoy Manor until their official hearing and that he himself would take responsibility for overseeing them. He asked—almost pleaded—that, in recognition of his actions during the war, they be spared from immediate imprisonment in Azkaban.

Kingsley studied the family for a long moment. At last, he nodded slowly and said he would trust Draco’s word, given his remarkable contributions to the victory.

The phrase remarkable contributions sent a ripple of disbelief through the hall.

Harry caught Kingsley’s eye, and the Minister confirmed what seemed impossible. Draco Malfoy had been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

Shock spread like wildfire—Lucius and Narcissa looked as stunned as everyone else. Kingsley explained that Draco had infiltrated the Death Eaters and supplied the Order with potions and information. Only Dumbledore had known, and a binding Unbreakable Vow had sealed the secret until Voldemort’s final defeat.

Narcissa’s expression softened into realization. So that was why her son had spent endless nights locked away in his room, sleepless, brewing potions. Her voice trembled between pride and disbelief as she looked at him.

Draco lowered his eyes in quiet apology to his parents.

Lucius hesitated, his hand lifting halfway as if to touch his son’s head before dropping again. In that uncertain gesture lingered pride, regret, and a fragile kind of love. His voice was barely more than a sigh when he told Draco he had made the right choice—that by surviving honorably, he had secured the Malfoy name from fading into history like so many other pure-bl00d houses after the war.

Draco gave a solemn nod. He understood.

Ron muttered something bitter about ferrets and opportunists, earning only a cold snort from Draco, who didn’t bother to respond.

Kingsley shook his head at the tension. He reminded them that Draco had served as a spy for nearly three years.

Three years. The number hit Harry hard. From their fifth year onward, Draco had been working for their side. The thought left him dizzy.

Draco caught his stunned look and smirked faintly, voice dripping with old Slytherin pride. Slytherins, he said, never follow someone unworthy. He still believed in bl00d purity—but not in madness.

Harry nearly snapped back, but when he saw the dark circles beneath Draco’s eyes and the exhaustion beneath his cool exterior, the urge faded. After everything, what was the point of fighting? They were adults now, survivors of the same war.

Draco seemed to notice his restraint. With a brief nod to Kingsley, he took his parents by the arms and Disapparated, leaving the hall behind.

Ron kicked a loose stone in frustration, muttering that the ferret was still as annoying as ever.

Hermione’s patience finally snapped. Her glare could have rivaled Professor McGonagall’s as she scolded him for missing the point. Draco had risked his life as a spy; that alone deserved respect.

Ron tried to argue, but between Hermione’s fury and Harry’s quiet plea for peace, he eventually backed down with a grumble.

Kingsley stepped back into the conversation, telling Harry that Voldemort’s death had already been announced to the public. In the coming days, Harry would need to attend several press conferences—but he must remain cautious. Many Death Eaters were still at large, and among them would be loyal fanatics like Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry understood. Killing Voldemort had made him the ultimate target for revenge. He promised to stay alert—he had no intention of surviving the Dark Lord only to die at the hands of some nameless zealot.

Kingsley also warned Hermione and Ron that they, too, were likely targets.

Hermione agreed but pointed out that Draco might be in greater danger. To the Death Eaters, he was the ultimate traitor.

Kingsley reassured her that the Malfoys were protected. Malfoy Manor, one of the oldest pure-bl00d estates, was shielded by powerful wards. As long as Draco and his parents stayed there, their safety was all but guaranteed.

Harry exhaled softly, a quiet sense of relief washing over him. Whatever his feelings toward Draco, after living through a war so brutal and senseless, he wanted no more deaths.