This is being cross-posted from Ao3. It was originally posted on 1 May 2019.

hank you to GaeilgeRua for allowing me use of her Grammarly subscription to beta read this. Any other mistakes you find are definitely my own. Much love, xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to those at Marvel Studios, Warner Brothers, or J.K. Rowling. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

Prompt: MMF N1 12 Grimmauld Place/HH N2: Soulmates

They say that people come into your life for a reason. They say that you shouldn't go looking for love because love will find you. They say that soulmates are real and that, when the time comes, your other half will be right where you need them to be. They say… They say a lot of things.

Hermione had never really thought much about why people came into her life. Hell, she never really thought about love or even tempted the idea of soulmates. Especially after the war. So much darkness in such a short amount of time. There was just no reason to bother with it.

She knew Harry and R0n had come into her life for a reason but now… Now, they were busy living their lives. She and Ron… That didn't work out. He moved on, and she just decided to let him go. She wasn't interested in love anyway. She had her career to worry about. Changing the Wizarding World; that's what she wanted to do.

Harry had moved in with Ginny after they married and Ron was living with George above the joke shop. Having nowhere to go since sending her parents to Australia without their memories of her, Harry gave her the deed to 12 Grimmauld Place. It was here that Hermione found herself finally feeling the loneliness that plagued her.

Even after remodelling the old home, Hermione found it still missing something. During the war, it had been dreary, but there were always people there. Being by herself made her realise that she didn't really want to be by herself. Only, she had no idea how not to be that way. All her friends were coupled off or happily married with kids. She hated going to the pub, and the thought of asking one of her friends to hook her up with someone made her skin crawl.

So each night after work, Hermione would return to 12 Grimmauld Place and have a quiet meal before relaxing in the bath with tea and her latest read. In essence, she assumed that she would just remain this way for the rest of her days. Maybe it was time to get another cat.

Only a few days after coming to this conclusion, Hermione was returning home from the shop and not thinking about soulmates or her loneliness. Her arms were full of groceries, and she was struggling to get the keys from her bag. Just as she managed to dig them out, she lost her footing on the stairs outside the front door. Some of the bags went tumbling from her arms, but that wasn't the worst of it. Unable to grab the handrail, Hermione began to fall backwards.

She clenched her eyes shut in anticipation of hitting the solid concrete steps. This was going to hurt. Hell, she may even die if she hit the right way. Without her wand, which was in her bag also, she was doomed. Seconds stretched on, and she sucked in a deep breath, fully prepared for the pain as best as possible. But something amazing happened. She never hit the ground.

Someone had caught her. In fact, they were still holding her in their arms. They were breathing rather heavily, their rapid breaths tickling her face. But she didn't care. She was alive and unharmed, if not a bit breathless herself. Carefully, she opened her eyelids to peer up into the dark, majestic eyes of a man she had never seen before.

As time seemed to return to normal, he gently placed her back on her feet and then said something. Shaking her head, Hermione tried to get her brain to process what just happened. Running a hand through her tousled curls, she asked, "Can you repeat that. I'm sorry."

The man chuckled but did as asked. "I said… Are you alright? That could have been quite the tumble."

Nodding, Hermione replied, "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks to you, of course. I thought I was a goner." She rubbed anxiously at the back of her head, thankful it was not split open on the sidewalk.

"Me too," the man said solemnly, a frown appearing on his dark face. "I was out for a jog and saw you start to stumble. I'm glad I was able to get to you in time."

Hermione managed to smile. This man was from America and by the looks of it, a former or current soldier. She reached out her hand to offer him a proper introduction and thank you. "I'm Hermione Granger. I possibly owe you my life."

"Sam Wilson," the kind stranger said as he clapped his hand into hers and accepted the handshake. "And you're very welcome. Just doing my duty as a kind civilian."

Their hands remained clasped for a moment longer than necessary before Hermione finally pulled back. Clearing her throat, she glanced about at all her discarded groceries. With a sigh, she said, "I suppose I should get this cleaned up and inside."

"Here, let me help you," Sam hurried to offer, stooping and grabbing some of the bags.

Surprised, Hermione threw a smile over her shoulder. "Thank you." she stood and opened the door, gesturing for Sam to go inside.

"Twelve?" Sam muttered as they passed through the now open door. "I've jogged past here countless times and never noticed this specific door."

Hermione had to laugh. "You probably wouldn't. It sort of...blends in." She had to lie a bit because she couldn't come right out and tell Sam about her being a witch. Not yet, at least.

"Interesting…" Sam trailed off as they fully entered the house and made their way to the kitchen.

Hermione began putting the items away and then turned to Sam when she was finished. "Fancy a cup of tea?" she asked, not quite ready to say goodbye to Sam Wilson just yet. There was something about him that intrigued her. Well, that and the fact that she was still a bit shaken up from her near-death experience.

"Sure. I could use something to calm me down." He winked, and Hermione blushed but began to make the tea nonetheless.

A few minutes later they were quietly seated in the armchairs beside the windows in the front room. Hermione couldn't shake the strange familiarity she felt about Sam, and it only grew the longer they sat there. Finally, she couldn't help herself and asked him outright.

"I feel like I've seen your face before. Maybe in the papers?" Hermione inquired over the brim of her teacup.

Chuckling again, the sound warm, Sam shrugged. "I used to be known as Falcon. I worked alongside Captain America and some of the Avengers."

Setting her teacup back onto the saucer with a bit more force than necessary, Hermione found herself speechless. "You're an Avenger?"

"Not really." He waved away her question, smirking as he did so. "More like a freelancer. I did more time in the Raft than actual work for them. I'm 'retired' now, though. Relocated here for some peace and quiet." He laughed again, this time a bit more jovially. "Only, I managed to find a damsel in distress."

Playfully, Hermione pointed her spoon at Sam. "Hey, I am not a damsel in distress, just an overworked witch who couldn't think to use a summoning spell on her damn keys." When she realised what she'd just said, Hermione gasped, the spoon clattering to the floor.

Sam seemed startled by this admission as well, his eyes going wide. "I'm sorry, did you just say witch?"

Well, the cat was out of the bag now. Hermione pulled a face and then met his steady gaze. "Actually, I did. You see I'm not your everyday Muggle."

"Muggle…"

"Non-magical being," Hermione explained quickly. "I'm a witch, and I use magic. That doesn't bother you does it?" She had no idea why she was so open with Sam. It was against rules and laws of all kinds, but something about him made her just feel comfortable, safe, and like she was meant to be telling him all this.

"Hmm," Sam said with a smile. Leaning forward he winked and added, "So a lot like the Scarlet Witch then?"

"In a sense," she tried to explain. She knew a bit about the logistics behind the Avengers and how they all came to be. "Only, I was born with my powers, and they manifested themselves as I grew of age."

"Interesting. Beautiful and smart," Sam complimented her, and she blushed.

"Are you staying here alone?" Hermione inquired after sipping her tea. "Or are you living with someone?"

"Funnily enough, my old roommate, Steve Rogers, he just returned to America on some mission for the government." A hint of sadness crept into his eyes, and he shrugged. "Been alone most of my life. Guess I'll just have to get used to it again."

"See I'm just the opposite," Hermione said softly. "I grew up surrounded by so many people. I"m having a hard time adjusting to living on my own." After some time, Hermione lifted her gaze to find him watching her intently, again. She asked, "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"I'd like to stay much longer than that," Sam said as he reached out to take her hand. "If you don't mind, of course."

Blushing again, Hermione cleared her throat at what he was suggesting. "I think I would like that, actually."

"Great," Sam said dropping her hand and coming around the table. He helped her to stand and then tipped her head backwards. "Is this okay?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Hermione replied almost breathlessly. Her heart was fluttering, and she felt warm. "I'm so glad you caught me."

"Sometimes, you're in the right place at the right time," Sam told her, brushing the backs of his knuckles gently over her cheek. "If I had been one street over, I never would have met you."

"It was like we were destined to meet today," Hermione muttered as she stared up into his eyes.

"I think you're right," he t0old her and then leaned down while holding her close.

And then they kissed. It was slow, magnificent, and somehow they both knew that this was what was meant to be for both of them. Never again would they be alone.