Once Upon a Dream

By Ammie Hawk

Summary: Soulmates, if lucky enough to find each other, begin meeting each other in their dreams. Hoping to give Harry an edge in the coming war with Voldemort, the Golden Trio brew a potion to induce the dreams.

Prologue

Harry Potter, age seventeen, stared around at the darkness surrounding him, unsure of where he was. He turned in place, trying to see anything in the inky blackness. A flash of something green caught his attention and he tried to focus on what it could be.

"Who are you?" a deep, silky voice asked curiously.

"Harry," he frowned, his eyes still trying to adjust. "Who are you?"

"We'll get to that," the other laughed, as bright green eyes appeared as their owner regarded him. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't even know where 'here' is," he shook his head. "And why won't you answer my question about who you are?"

"Hm," the other hummed. "I don't believe you could handle it. Though, I do suggest you leave. I don't think the Allfather would approve of my having visitors, even in my dreams. Or especially in my dreams. Both, perhaps."

"I didn't ask to be here," Harry scoffed slightly. "I don't even know how I got here. So leaving might be a bit tricky."

"Well," the voice turned thoughtful, "perhaps, since this is my dream, the easiest solution would be for me to wake up."

"Wait, no," he protested, that didn't sound right at all, "this is my dream. It—it has to be."

"They by all means, dear Harry, wake up."

Green eyes flew open and Harry sat straight up. He glanced around and realized he was in the bedroom of his best friend, Ronald Weasley. He flopped back on his pillow, throwing his arm across his forehead. It was just a dream.

"You okay over there, mate?" his friend's voice drifted quietly across the room.

"Yeah, just a dream," the raven haired teen sighed.

"Anything important?" a candle flared to life beside Ron's bed.

"No," Harry shook his head. "Nothing like that. It was just weird. It was completely dark."

"Was someone else there?" the redhead propped himself up on his elbows.

"Yeah, there was," he turned his head to look at the other. "But I couldn't see them. We talked for a minute, but that was it."

"It's about damn time," Ron laughed. "Though I guess it makes sense."

"What are you on about?"

"Your soulmate, mate," his friend said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, you didn't start getting dreams right away like Hermione and I did, so obviously your soulmate has to be younger. That's what the book said, right? If you don't start having dreams right away then your soulmate hasn't come of age yet. So they had to have just turned sixteen, probably even to…"

Harry gave him a confused look as he trailed off. His mouth was hanging open as if his thoughts had frozen him like that. Green eyes narrowed slightly before he sat up and retrieved his glasses.

"What, Ron?" he asked, getting irritated.

"Well, think about it, Harry," Ron shook his head, "your soulmate just turned sixteen, and well, today is Ginny's sixteenth birthday."

"I don't think it was Ginny," Harry scowled. "I mean…"

"Oh, come off it," brown eyes narrowed slightly. "You said yourself you didn't see her. And mine and Hermione's started off that way. So who's to say it couldn't be Ginny?"

"We'll see," he sighed, getting up. "It's too early to tell. Anyway, I'm going to talk to Mione. Why don't you go back to sleep? It's still really early and it's still break."

"Yeah, whatever," the redhead yawned and plopped back on his pillow.

He was asleep again before the other had located some clothes. He dressed quietly and grabbed the still lit candle before making his way out of the room. He padded silently down the stairs to Percy's old room, where his other best friend, Hermione Granger, was staying. He knocked quietly, hoping the bushy haired witch would have some better advice.

A moment later, the door opened a crack to reveal a rather sleepy looking Hermione. The bespectacled teen rubbed his neck sheepishly as he gave her a hesitant smile.

"Sorry," he whispered apologetically. "I thought you might be awake."

"I wasn't, but its okay," she held the door open for him to enter. "What's going on?"

"I really am sorry I woke you up," he perched nervously on the edge of the bed. "I can go if you'd rather go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now," she sat down next to him. "Besides, I just said goodbye to my soulmate, so going back to sleep would be disappointing. Now, what's so important that it couldn't wait until later?"

"It's not important, per se," he began picking at his finger nails.

"It was enough to bring you down here," she pointed out patiently. "So talk to me."

"Right," she sighed. "Well, I had a dream, and talking to Ron, he thinks it was my soulmate."

"Harry, that's…" she paused for a moment and quickly schooled her features. "I think that's great, but you obviously don't, so please continue."

"No, don't get me wrong, it's good," he ran a hand through his hair. "It's why we made the potion in the first place. I mean, I kinda thought I was defective there for a bit, or didn't have one. But, no, Ron's convinced its Ginny, since today's her birthday, and I'm not so sure, but he didn't want to hear it."

"Well," she smiled wryly, "a lot of people share the same birthday. And while age is the most common factor in a stalled connection, there are other things that can block it. Take mine for example. My soulmate is older than I am, and comes from a place where it's common for people to meet their soulmates, but our connection didn't form until I took the potion. Because, if you'll recall, it was Ron's idea we even explore this avenue, and before we took it, I scoffed at the idea of soulmates. She explained to me that subconsciously I was blocking the connection by my disbelief. On top of that, outside influences can affect it as well, though that is really uncommon."

"She?" a dark brow rose curiously. "Your soulmate is female?"

"That's what you got out of that?" Hermione gaped incredulously.

"No, I caught the rest," he chuckled. "You've just never let it slip before."

"Please don't tell Ron," she pleaded.

"Why would I tell Ron? Oh god," he suddenly sobered, "I think mine's a guy."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know," he shook his head. "I'm just saying, I think it's a guy. I mean, I didn't see him, but his voice sounded masculine, and it was just the feeling I got."

"Okay," she nodded. "What else did you get from this meeting?"

"Well, he has green eyes," Harry pursed his lips. "Another indication that it's not Ginny, even if I couldn't figure out it was a guy. He seemed highly amused by the situation, while I was just confused. Which is kinda embarrassing in hindsight. And he said something not liking him having visitors, even in his dreams."

"Well, that could explain why it's taken so long," she grinned widely, "if someone put a block on him so he couldn't meet you. Though now that the connection is established, nothing and no one can break it, not even the two of you. You are now in the first stage of the bond. Now, the hard part is setting up a schedule for the two of you to meet and start getting to know each other. Don't get discouraged, though, if you don't see him for awhile, your sleep schedules could be completely opposite and it might take time to actually figure it out."

"I'll keep that in mind," he couldn't help but grin as well. "Thanks, Mione. And for the record, I am really sorry I took you away from your girlfriend."

888888

Loki lay on the small bed that had been oh so graciously provided for him in Odin's dungeons. One of his legs was bent at the knee, and one arm was thrown casually across his forehead, as his green eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling of his cell. He was currently thinking about the dream he'd just had.

From tales he had heard all his life, the dream had all the signs of being from his Fated. But that shouldn't be possible. Only Aesir had guaranteed Fated. Midgardians also had them, but they were lucky if they ever found them. As for the other races, it's not that they didn't have souls, they just didn't have that one soul that matched theirs and completed them. So logically, as a Jotun, he should not have one.

When he was younger, he had longed to find his Fated, as all Asgardians did. At his majority, he had been highly disappointed that the call had not started. He thought he'd been defective, especially after Thor had finally gotten his call, a bit late for a prince, but he'd still gotten it. That was until he found out that he was actually Laufey's son and a Jotun. He had felt lied to and cheated, especially in this regard, because who would ever want him without the bond that came from being his Fated.

That was part of the reason he'd wanted to destroy Jotunheim. He felt that by being born to that race, they had stolen something very precious from him.

But now, he could feel the stirrings of hope blossoming in his chest. Though, if it were true, it would counter everything he'd learned in recent years. Fuck, his circling thoughts were starting to give him a headache.

He wished there was someone he could talk to about all this. He couldn't ask Odin. The Allfather had made it clear he would never deign to visit his adopted son in his cell. On top of that, he couldn't trust the man who had lied to him so many times already. And they called him the God of Lies! But that also ruled out Frigga. As Odin's Fated, she would not go against him in such important matters. That left Thor. His once brother always listened to him, and usually believed him, even when he outright lied to him.

With that thought in mind, he got up in one fluid movement and made his way to the small table. He almost smiled when he saw he had been given writing materials. He picked up the pen and drawing on his magic, began writing on the palm of his hand. It was a method he and Thor had employed many times as children when they had wanted to send secret messages away from the prying eyes of their tutors and parents. He closed his hand into a fist, hoping that this tiny bit of innocent magic would be able to escape the confines of his cell. He did grin when he opened it again and saw the message was no longer there.

He picked up a book and went back to his bed. He may as well be comfortable while he waited, considering he didn't know when or even if the blond would respond. He was surprised, however, when five minutes later, he heard someone coming down the dungeon steps. There was a hastily whispered conversation with the guard on duty, and then his brother was there, standing outside the magical netting surrounding his prison.

"Thor," he breathed, trying his best to keep his voice down as he went over to stand before him. "I didn't think you'd actually come."

"You begged me to, brother," the God of Thunder shook his head, for once in his life keeping his voice low. "Now, what was so urgent?"

"Before I tell you," Loki sank, cross legged, to the floor, as close to the netting as he dared, "could you do me a favor."

"Loki," Thor's voice held a warning.

"Please?" green eyes begged.

"Fine, as long as it is within my power, and does not violate father's edicts."

"It's nothing like that," Loki assured him. "Could—could you tell me about the first time you connected with your Fated?"

"Loki, I don't want to hurt you," the blond sank to his knees so they were now at eye level. "I know how this subject affects you."

"Please, brother?"

It was the first time since he'd found out about his heritage that he had used the term without his usual sarcasm and hatred. He wasn't strictly using it as a manipulation either. He truly just wanted his big brother at the moment.

"Very well," Thor sighed. "The first connection, as you know from the tales, is brief, as it is so new. It was completely dark, I could not even see my own hand. Then a pair of eyes appeared, blue as the sky. We spoke briefly, he and I, I will not tell you of what because that is private. Then it ended. When I awoke, I knew," he placed a hand over his heart, "here, that I had finally connected with the one that is my Fated."

"Thor," green eyes locked with blue, "I met my Fated."

"But that's not possible, Loki," the blond shook his head sadly, not wanting to break his brother's heart, but he had to stop this now. "As a Jotun, you do not have one."

"I cannot explain it either," the trickster ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. "But it was just as you described: black as pitch. Then the eyes appeared, a shade lighter than mine. His name is Harry. I swear on my magic, I am telling you nothing but the truth, brother."

Thor might be gullible where his younger brother was concerned, but he knew he was speaking the truth. He had tried once, shortly after Thor had gotten the call, to fabricate his Fated. A ruse everyone saw through. But the raw emotion in his eyes, the fear to even hope, was impossible to fake.

"I believe you," the blond said sincerely. "And I promise, I will take this matter before father as soon as I am able."

"No," the raven shook his head. "Don't involve him."

"Loki," he sighed, "even if you are condemned to remain in this cell for all eternity, you have the right, you and your Fated, to meet. Not even father can deny you that."

"Thank you, brother," a hesitant smile flitted across the other's face.

"You are welcome," Thor pushed to his feet. "And brother, I am happy for you."

Ammie: I know, I'm horrible. But I couldn't help it, I had to get it out there. I do have some more of this fic written so I can possibly update it soonish, but as with everything, I don't guarantee quick updates. Anyway, please let me know what you think.