Note: Not a one-shot for Flipped.

Ouroboros

For the longest time, Tom had wondered what the mark on his heart meant. A split circle within a triangle was the mark that described his soulmate the best. As a child, he had searched high and low, looking for it in ancient symbols, in doodles of other children, in religious iconography, in mathematics and science. He never saw a trace of it.

When he found about magic and discovered ancient runes, he bought the best and the most expensive book of it despite it putting a dent in his budget because he had to know.

He had to know, find a clue to that one person who would not look at him with disgust or suspicion. Would was a strong word. There were soulmates who didn't like each other. It was a rarity but still a possibility. And as cynical and clinical as Tom was, even he could not stop but hold out hope.

It was not a rune; not celtic, not Gaelic, not Nordic, neither Roman nor Greek.

He would return to Diagon Alley again after discovering that there was a public library somewhere. It was not a very well stocked one, but it still had books that Tom could read. It still had newspapers come in every single day.

He doubted he would find his soulmate in a newspaper. Symbols did not come in newspapers generally.

He found more books, on other magical societies, other more advanced runes. He went through all history books minutely…nothing…nada on his soulmate.

But he did find out that Slytherin was his ancestor. Only known parselmouth in Britain. And after that, he did manage to find an old battered copy of Nature's Genealogy and he traced back every single family until he found the symbol of ouroboros, the sigil of House of Slytherin.

It linked to Gaunts, who only seemed to link to each other. Gross…he could not imagine that soulmates would be so closely related to one another.

He thanked his soulmate a lot that day. He might not have found them, but their search had made him all the more closer to his legacy.

He finally decided to look at newspapers, not the recent ones. But old ones, the ones that mentioned Gaunts.

Mad family…just what he needed. He found a Morfin and a Marvolo.

It took only a little effort on his part to get Mrs. Cole heavy on her Sherry and tell him what he knew about Marvolo. That man was his grandfather and his mother's father.

His mother was a witch and yet she died. Perhaps, magic did not solve a lot of things.

And his grandfather and Uncle were out of the prison, which they went in for attacking muggles near their town Little Hangleton.

Tom did not think that they would be keen on having him, all muggle raised and non-Gaunt. And as it was, he did not want a crackpot family.

He just wanted his soulmate.

But it was all good, perhaps the soulmate would be much more impressed now. He was Slytherin's heir. Good impression meant less likely to leave him or be disgusted by him and that was all Tom wanted.

He wondered if the bank, run by Goblins, had any money for Slytherin. The Gaunts looked like beggers so he was not very optimistic. He also did not think that they would choose to look like beggars if they had the money.

Moreover, even if money existed, why would the goblins give him access at all?

He had a much better chance at looking for his soulmate. So that is what he would do!

It was September 1 and he had no clue about his soulmate. Moreover, there was a terrorist in Wizarding world called Grindelwald. Tom had glimpsed his name in newspapers, and had found out more about the man and his reputation.

Unfortunately for Tom, Grindelwald's obsession with a certain symbol and what some wizards claimed was his mark was largely unknown and hence, unreported in the press.

Otherwise, he would have linked the mark in his heart to the dark lord.

As it happened, he was blissfully unaware of the bloody history that dark lord had created around the mark.

He was also still every bit invested in finding about the person. According to Hogwarts: a History, Hogwarts had a very large library. Tom was sure that he would find it there.

Tom's hopes would not come true. The Library would not help him at all. A few higher ups who bullied him unknowingly would.

"Lookie, lookie, a mudblood." One of them pushed him against the wall of the coach.

"A beggar mudblood!"Another sneered.

"Did you stich that with the mops of the gutter you have come from?" A mean looking girl chimed, crinkling her nose in disgust.

Under a minute, before Tom could gain his bearings, his trunk was tossed aside, he was thrown back to the wall and he had more wands pointed at him.

Fan-fucking-tastic!

This was just like the orphanage. Tom would have actively defended himself and even attacked if he was not utterly depressed at the idea of going through the same motions for another seven years.

He grimaced and groaned at the thought. His attackers saw this as his spirit breaking.

"Just what is wrong with your heads?" Another female voice chimed in. It was not nasty or superior. It did sound very, very annoyed.

"Get away Felicity, this is not your business!" The mean girl whined.

"And that person is yours?" The voice shot back.

"There are 4 of us. We are second years. You cannot outmagic us. You have not even begun first year," One of them said. Probably sneered too.

Blood from his forehead was falling into his eyes and Tom's vision was also not particularly clear. He shook his head and wiped away the blood.

It was a girl, a very tiny girl with shoulder length messy black hair.

"I know," she murmured next and socked the one in front at his nose, took his wand and poked it in another's eye, threw what looked like a half-eaten pasty on the girls' face and hit her elbow in the stomach of other.

"But I am good with hands and I am sure my cousin would love to teach you how much magic he knows…wouldn't he, Goyle?" She clapped her hands to get rid of dirt, "Oh stop crying Parkinson, run along and find another but better set of boys to do your bidding."

Tom was too taken aback by the muggle actions of the girl and the fact that they were afraid of her. They were more afraid of her when she mentioned her cousin.

Tom was amused by her. He thought he would even make an exception and like her. In all his eleven years, no one had ever stood up for him. Ever. And all his eleven years, no one had such a dry wit.

He was lost in his thoughts when the girl in question, Felicity, as the mean girl Parkinson called her, kneeled down in front of him.

She had the deepest forest green eyes, or maybe like emeralds. They were bright with a shine to them, not like the annoying twinkle of Dumbledore, but something much more stable and inviting.

"Don't mind them, they are bigoted, uncultured dunces who think they are entitled the whole world. I am so sorry that you were welcomed into the magical fold like this," She spat angrily and then the sight of him drowned all anger and her features turned softer as concern blossomed on her face.

"That must hurt," She murmured. Her wand lay to the side, but the next minute, her hands had some blue shimmery thing that she directed to his head.

The pain vanished and when Tom touched his head, all he felt was his skin. Wandless magic, exactly like how he did it. He liked her, he really liked her.

"Do you have a handkerchief? Mine's stained with the pasty grease," She murmured apologetically, her eyes sincere.

He shuffled out his tattered one from his robe pocket and the girl reached for it without grimacing or even reacting to its threadbare condition. Tom was too busy looking at her eyes, in that moment, but when she raised her hands to tuck away a flick of his hair and clean the remaining blood, his eyes fell on her wrist.

There is all its glory was an Ouroboros, Slytherin's sigil. Perhaps noble families marked their children with their marks?

"Can you speak to snakes?" He promptly asked, eager at the prospect of a non-Gaunt family.

"I don't think so," She smiled in confusion, "Why do you ask?"

His eyes flicked to the Ouroboros and Felicity flushed red, jerking her hand away and covering the wrist again with her sleeves.

"Don't tell anybody. It is my soul mark. Morgana, I should have hidden it better. It is not supposed to for everyone's eyes. On that note, I would be grateful if you don't mention this and my disinclinations to use wands…I do a lot of things I am not supposed to do…" She started rambling in her embarrassment.

Soulmarks occurred in pairs. If you had a name, your partner had a name. If she had a sigil, then her soulmate had a sigil too. Tom's mind was running.

He summoned his trunk by his side wandlessly, imitating her magical style, trying to comfort her that she was not an anomaly. Her eyes widened in surprise and somewhat in delight.

"I won't," He murmured, concretely promising it for further reassurance. Her eyes took his promise in, assessing and she must have found it to be sincere because she gave him a large grin.

"Are you from a noble family?" Tom could not resist asking. He had to confirm his theory on sigils. Her clothes were fine and considering Parkinson had spoken to her with fear…

"Apparently, I am," She scoffed, "Spent all my life in a dingy muggle orphanage near the border of France, thinking everything I was doing was bizarre and poof, two months ago, I discover I am nobility, what I do is called magic and I have a distant family eager to meet me. I am a Peverall."

"Orphanage…" Tom could not believe it but that bit of information certainly explained why she was not giving him the stink eye.

"Very old blood, thought extinct. But four generations ago, one Potter son managed to qualify for the title and took on the name Peverall. I am from that line, apparently, at least as much as Charlie told me. Parents died early, nobody knew I was alive but apparently Grindelwad is after Peveralls, so someone tipped Potters who found me. While Aunty Maddy has been trying to teach me stuff, I am not exactly…. I apologize from coming off as a heathen, it is not their fault," She looked at him apologetically, still continuing to clean his forehead.

Heathen, Tom snorted at the thought. Felicity had more manners and kindness than anybody he had ever met. But he sort of had a tunnel vision right now.

"Does your house have a sigil?" he calmly asked.

She looked at him amusedly, took his wrist and with her pinky finger, drew a split circle within a triangle on his wrist.

Tom thought he would burst.

"I lived in an orphanage too, London though. No family for me though," He supplied nonchalantly.

"Orphans stick together always," She exclaimed, squeezing his fingers.

"You do not even know my name," He murmured, so gladdened by her acceptance of him, even without knowing the status of their soul marks. Kind and lovely, no disgust and no suspicion.

"Felicity Chyce Peverall, may I have the pleasure of knowing my forever…' she thought of a word.

"Partner," Tom supplied without hesitation and with a little bit of smugness. He was her partner, he would be her only partner.

"My forever partner," She accepted, smiling ecstatically and offering her hand, the same one which bore the mark that proclaimed her as his.

"Felicity Chyce Peverall, my forever partner, I am Tom Marvolo Riddle," They shook hands.

A moment later, Tom crooked his head, looked at her and with a strange bravado offered, "Felicity, I believe partners should be on equal footing. Considering I saw your soul mark, I think it is only fair that you see mine?"

"You don't have to!" She said quickly, "It is not your fault that I am socially inept."

"Then the code of forever partner dictates that I be socially adept right alongside you," He shook his head, unfurled his robe and unbuttoned his shirt.

To his credit, his potential-soulmate/forever partner did not deem it inappropriate and scream murder. Instead, she looked at him with curiosity, the exact same curiosity with which he had looked at her a few minutes ago.

He unraveled his shirt from his heart and there in all its glory lay her sigil.

She gave out a light gasp and looked at him with something deep within her eyes.

"Ouroboros is the sigil of house Slytherin," Tom said softly, distinctly glancing at her mark and then hissed, "My forever partner."

Even though she claimed to not understand Parseltongue, she replied with resolution and something...perhaps fondness, "My forever partner."

And that is how Tom Marvolo Riddle found his soulmate.

I know, I know….what I am doing writing a oneshot when so much of Flipped is left. But I have wanted to do a soulmark fic for a long while. I don't know how, but muse struck when I was traveling and I think this is acceptable writing.

It is Deepawali in India and after seeing, reading and being reduced to tears by so many moving holiday (Christmas) fics, I wanted to post one for the most important festival in my region though this does not have anything related to Deepawali.

So, here it is. And a very happy Diwali to all my readers who celebrate Deepawali.

Don't worry. Flipped is still very much in progress*.

Best,

Katoptris

(For those who are unfamiliar, I am writing a giant AU with Tom and Fem!Harry. Check it out. )