Newt had heard the stories, knew them like the back of his hand: everybody has a soulmate in this world, one person made just for them, blah, blah, blah. Their initials were inscribed on everybody's chest, just to the left of the sternum, directly over the heart. That he was fine with.
The problem for him, personally, lay within the other condition: that if you came within close proximity of your soulmate, but failed to meet them, you would have to relive the day until you succeeded. Which, in theory, seems like a good idea, but that's because most people didn't fuck up this badly.
Harry doesn't mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn't. It's just - do they have to be so friendly? He's not prejudiced, really he's not. It's just - they've got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he's attracting from everyone - the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair - and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.
When he's hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed - or cursed, by the look on Malfoy's face - with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry's skin remains completely bare?
[A Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy fanfic] [Complete: 20 chapters / 114k words]