Soulmate AUs Day 1

Prompt: Write about someone casting a spell (or getting a spell cast) to find their soulmate.

Optional prompts:

3. (Event) Yule Ball (bonus 5 points)

Mistletoe

Someone had cursed the mistletoe. Of course they had. Percival discretely aimed his wand at the vile plant edging toward him, and attempted to vanish it.

Nothing happened. Vanishing living organisms was notoriously tricky, especially those enchanted in some way. He glared at the offending vine, and wondered how much trouble Seraphina would give him if he simply set it on fire.

"I wouldn't risk it," a soft voice interrupted his train of thought. Percival turned, wary of whomever had snuck up upon him.

He was a handsome young gentleman with wild red hair, a crooked smile, and a gleam in his eye that Percival found he rather liked, perhaps even a little bit too much.

"Risk what?" he asked, keeping half an eye on the misbehaving mistletoe.

"Setting it on fire. You never know how the enchantment might react."

"I wasn't actually going to do it," Percival grumbled. He turned and gave the man his full attention. "And how did you know that's what I was thinking?" One Legilimens in the building was enough; he didn't need another.

The man smiled as if he'd read Percival's mind, again. "That's the same look the dragons I worked with during the war would give us when we ran low on food."

Percival arched a brow. "Indeed?" A flattering comparison, in his opinion.

He was flashed a wicked grin. "Oh yes. Newt Scamander, a pleasure to meet you."

A name Percival recognised. He mulled over it as he shook the offered hand. "The man with a case full of mischievous creatures, by all accounts."

Newt turned pink beneath his freckles, but his grin was undaunted. "That's a polite way of putting it."

Now Percival was looking for it, he noted the bowtruckle tucked away in Newt's breast pocket. Surprisingly self-aware, the bowtruckle waved at him.

"Pickett, meet Percival. Percival, Pickett." Percival nodded when Newt hesitated over his name, encouraging the familiarity. Pickett scrambled onto Newt's fingers when they were offered.

"Would you like to hold him?"

Percival smiled. "Certainly." He tried to take a step closer, only to discover he was trapped where he stood. A glance above him identified the culprit, and he groaned.

"Oh dear," Newt said, tucking Pickett away, and attempting to hide his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand.

Percival was trapped under the mistletoe. Perhaps he could just set it a tiny bit on fire?

"This certainly is making for an exciting Yule Ball." Newt's wand was in his hand, and Percival recognised a few diagnostic spells. "What happened here?"

"Some moron was attempting to find his soulmate. Cast a spell on all the mistletoe so that it would trap whoever stands under it, and allegedly the only thing that can free us is true love's kiss." Percival pinched the bridge of his nose. There were several other people trapped, while the Unspeakables worked upon breaking the curse. They, however, were taking the spell to heart, and insisting upon kissing every person that walked by them.

Suddenly Newt was close, close enough to touch, close enough that Percival could just reach forward, and… he blinked, and cleared his throat.

"That is unfortunate," Newt murmured. "Perhaps we ought to try?"

Without waiting for an answer, Newt pressed their lips together. Warmth flooded Percival's body and he clutched at Newt, pulling him closer. For an instant, Percival forgot where he was, what he was doing, his entire world centred on Newt, until he pulled back, breathless.

"Did it work?" Newt was grinning, his eyes twinkling, and he skipped out of reach.

Percival huffed, and stepped forward, yanking Newt to him. He tensed in surprise, not actually expecting to have been able to move, but pushed his thoughts aside in favour capturing Newt's lips with his own. Newt was laughing as he kissed him, and Percival knew that he was smiling too.