Handprint on My Heart

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: A series of unrelated ficlets in which fem!Harry meets her soulmate. Various pairings. Various fandoms. Enjoy.

Author: tlyxor1.

Of Lost Toads and Old Traditions

Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Laurel Potter (fem!Harry).

When she turns eleven, his words appear on her skin, a neat, slanted script that she later learns is described as 'copperplate'. At the time, however, she's just met Hagrid, and although she's waited her whole life to see her soul mate words, what the bearded giant has to tell her dominates her attention, wholly and completely.

Her name is Laurel Elizabeth Potter, she is 11 years old, and she is somebody. She is James and Lily Potter's daughter, she is a survivor, she is a victim, and she is a witch.

It is probably the best and worst day of her life, but as time is prone to do, it passes, and before she knows it, it's September 1st, she's on the Hogwarts Express, and a strange new world is awaiting her.

It's on that train when she meets her soul mate for the first time. She's seated with a ginger named Ron, but there comes a timid knock at the door, and once opened, a chubby faced boy sticks his head through.

"Sorry to bother you, but have either of you seen a toad? I've lost him."

Laurel inhales sharply, and it captures both boys' attention. She offers the second - his name she doesn't know - a tremulous smile.

"I haven't seen your toad, but I can certainly help you find it."

His eyes go comically wide, and he stutters, almost incomprehensible. Across from Laurel, and to Ron's credit, it doesn't take her companion long to realise what's going on. He, thus, stares avidly out the window, and pretends not to hear the encounter that happens only feet from him.

"I-I'm N-Neville. Neville LOngbottom."

"Laurel," she answers, and to her surprise, Neville's eyes widen impossibly further, "Laurel Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you, Neville."

"A-and y-you," Neville acknowledges. he appears dazed. "I err should go find Trevor. My toad."

He retreats like a bat out of hell, and Laurel stares after him, mildly dazed herself.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Ron shakes his head, no. "He's intimidated, I think. You're - well - you, and he's…"

"He's my soulmate," Laurel answers. She sighs. "But I suppose I should give him space. We've got all the time in the world, anyway."

Again, time passes. She's sorted into Gryffindor - with Neville - and between classes, new friends, and the mystery that surrounds the third floor corridor, Laurel slowly but surely gets to know her soulmate. He's shy and quiet, but he likes plants - a lot - and it's something they bond over. She's quiet too, after all, and she probably likes plants just as much.

And thus they grow and change and years go by. Before she knows it, they're 15, and on her birthday, he arrives on her family's doorstep, taller and broader and tanner, and made up entirely of muscle. He's been hiking in the Amazon rainforest, involved in a summer internship with a world-renowned herbalist there.

Most notable, however, is the way he holds himself. He holds his head high, shoulders back, comfortable in his skin and confident in his capabilities. He'd explained in a letter that he has his own wand now, that magic comes far easier to him than it ever did with his father's, and it seems to have given him a new lease on life.

Laurel's just glad he can finally see what she's known all along.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, pleasantly surprised. "I didn't think I'd see you until September."

"There's this old courtship tradition," Neville begins. They're stood in the front garden, and Laurel knows, without having to look, that the desperate housewives are stickybeaking from their front windows. She can't bring herself to care. "It goes that, if a wizard's found his soulmate by courtship age, he makes a request of intention when she reaches fifteen - if she hasn't - to her pater familia. In your case, your godfather, Lord Black. Yesterday, I asked him for permission to court you. He gave it, on the proviso you consented, as well. This is me asking for permission to court you."

"That depends," Laurel hedges, "Are you asking because you want to, or because it's expected of you?"

"Because I want to," he answers, unhesitating.

"In that case, I'd love to be courted by you."

Neville beams, squeezes her small hands in his, and releases one to rummage through a pocket of his jeans. He's dressed in mundane attire, she notices - jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of dragon hide combat boots - but she's distracted when he produces a small box from his pocket.

It's a necklace, an emerald pendant on a silver chain. On the back of the pendant, she recognises the crest of the Longbottom family, and she smiles.

"Will you put it on for me, Neville?"

He does so with trembling fingers, but when he's successful, he turns, tugs her into a hug, and presses a kiss to her crown.

"It's beautiful," he says, "You're beautiful."

She laughs. "You have to say that, suitor of mine. Now, there's this muggle tradition…"

Neville arches an inquisitive eyebrow, but his smile is knowing. She doesn't care. "Oh?"

"Yes," Laurel grins, "Don't keep me waiting, Neville."

He doesn't. Instead, he tilts her chin upwards, bows his head, and guides them both into a sweet, lingering kiss. It's everything Laurel's ever imagined and then some, and she wishes it would never end.

Author's Note: A first attempt at the soulmate trope. Thoughts? -t.