Soulmate AU Prompt: Each day on your arm is a sentence that your soulmate's said that day.


The words that appeared on the pale skin of Newt's inner forearm tended to be scrawled in a midnight blue ink so dark that he'd mistaken it for black the first time he'd seen it. His seventeenth birthday had allowed him to gain both his magical maturity and the ability to view upon his skin a sentence his soulmate had spoken that day. It had been late at night, his bedroom lit by candlelight as he'd peered curiously at the words.

Get your act together, Smithers!

Newt had smiled and wondered who Smithers was - a friend, an employee, a family member?

Years later and his soulmate had hardly changed. Everyday he seemed to be scolding a new employee, nagging Auror Goldstein, or having furiously angry conversations with people he considered puffed-up purebloods. Of course, Newt was of the opinion that every pureblood was puffed-up, including his own family, so he could commiserate.

He wondered what writing appeared on his soulmate's wrist, what colour Newt's words would take. Something vibrant, he hoped, something that would bring a little bit of joy into his soulmate's strict and steady world.

The day his arm drew a blank Newt was on a steamship headed for The City That Never Sleeps; New York itself. He was curled into the bunk he'd built for himself in his suitcase, far more comfortable than the bed in the cabin above.

Using the light of his wand, Newt yawned as he watched yesterday's blue ink 'take this to the President, Abernathy' fade away. Today's words would soon follow and every time it was a delight to see them form.

His arm remained pale and unadorned as the minutes ticked by. An hour passed, then another. With a frown on his face and his stomach churning, Newt drifted off to sleep.

When he woke, his arm was still blank: his soulmate had not said a single word the day before.

Newt absentmindedly stroked Dougal, who had curled into his side as Newt had awoken, and stared at the wooden floor of the hut. A blank arm could mean nothing good and he hated the thought that his soulmate might be in danger.

He opened his mouth to speak, to offer both himself and Dougal some meaningless reassurances, when he shut it again, struck by the thought that whatever he said might appear on his soulmate's arm.

"I'm coming to find you," Newt said after a long pause. As he went about his chores inside his case, he repeated the words; "I'm coming to find you."

Throughout the entire day he said nothing else. He would find his soulmate and determine why they'd been struck mute. He could only hope it was something as simple as a foolish prank or a bump to the head.

That evening Newt stripped off his shirt and stood before his mirror. He'd heard of soul marks moving, but had never believed the tales. Even so, he wanted to be certain he was not missing his soulmate's words. As the end of the day approached his heart began to race.

"I'm coming to find you," Newt promised.

He sagged with relief as words began to curl into shape upon his arm. As they took form, he stared at them in disbelief. After all this time, could it really be so easy?

My name is Percival Graves.

He was the Head of MACUSA's DMLE and the Director of Magical Security. Anyone that even wished to step foot upon American soil had heard his name. He was strict, no nonsense, and inscruciably fair.

"Hello Percival," Newt murmured. "I really am coming to find you, I promise."

He was headed toward New York City, after all, and he'd be arriving there tomorrow.


After a chaotic day that only proceeded to go from bad to worse, Newt managed to find himself in MACUSA Headquarters, having almost been arrested, and having come face to face with a man that an Auror named Abernathy addressed as 'Graves'.

Newt stared at 'Graves'. The other man glanced at him and dismissed Newt in one disinterested frown.

In that instant, Newt knew that 'Graves' had to be an imposter. Newt's soulmate would be far more suspicious of someone like Newt just turning up in his city, especially considering the fact that Newt did not have the right paperwork for his wand, let alone his creatures. Newt's Graves loved paperwork, or at least he loved making other people complete it.

"Let's see the little guy," the imposter said, nodding at Newt's case after Goldstein had rushed through their story of the Niffler's escape.

Newt took a breath and released it in one panicked gasp when Goldstein then opened his case only to reveal that it was filled with pastries and not a single magical creature in sight.

"But sir," Goldstein said, staring at the case in dismay.

"Goldstein," 'Graves' said in a low voice and shook his head with disappointment. He strode away.

"Miss Goldstein," Newt hissed, as Auror Abernathy huffed in dismay and hurried after his superior. "That man is an imposter."

"Oh, I just can't believe this," Goldstein groaned to herself, then her head snapped up. "What?"

He drew close to her - too close, perhaps, from the way she narrowed her eyes.

"Percival Graves is my soulmate," Newt said. His voice shook. "And for the last week he's said nothing else all day other than 'My name is Percival Graves'." He ripped back the cuff of his sleeve to show her a curl of writing.

"Mary and Merlin," Goldstein said, jaw dropping. She reached for his arm and only barely managed to stop herself from touching his wrist. Newt awkwardly stepped back, glad that she was listening.

"That's Mr Graves' writing," Goldstein said, an incredulous note to her voice. Newt sagged with relief, grateful for some reassurance that he wasn't going mad.

They exchanged a long, worried look, then both peered in the direction that the false Graves had walked.

"If that's not Mr Graves," Goldstein began, horror darkening her gaze. "Then who in magic's name was it?"

President Picquery hadn't believed them until she'd found the document Graves had signed when accepting his position as the Director of Magical Security and then called in an expert to compare the writing on the document to the writing on the arm.

When Percival's handwriting was declared valid she swept a hand over her face.

"Shit!" she swore after a moment's silence. Both Goldstein and Newt jumped. The graphologist hovered in the corner, looking uncertain.

"Why's it always you, Goldstein?"

"Sorry, Madam President," Goldstein said. She didn't look particularly sorry.

The President began to pace her office, occasionally talking to the portraits and asking them to summon various members of her congress. Newt was ushered into a corner and he sat on a leather armchair with what could only be Mr Kowalski's suitcase on his knees. He watched as the crowd of wizards in the President's office grew and grew, listening to snippets of conversation.

"Could it be?"

"-the worst kind of deception!"

"-a dark wizard, very dangerous-"

"Perhaps, Dumbledore?"

"No," the President snapped at that suggestion. The room fell silent. "Let us not cast aspersions upon the origin of the wizard until we have captured him." She took a breath. "Are you ready? Goldstein, stay with Scamander and for Mercy's sake, stay out of trouble."

The President led the gathered witches and wizards from her office, wands at the ready.

"They're going to confront him," Goldstein said. She stared after them hungrily, obviously wishing that she could have joined the fight.

Newt tried not to squirm in his seat, instead looking at the various magical instruments in the President's office although they did not hold his interest. He wished that he had his true case with him. He wished that he was gifted in duelling, so that he might help. He wished, above all, that Percival Graves would be found safe and sound.

A loud explosion shook the entire building. They waited in silent anticipation as several smaller blasts echoed down the halls. Screams and curses overlapped with the sound of spellfire.

Then, amazingly, someone burst into the office.

It was a man that looked like Percival Graves, but dishevelled, with wild eyes and filthy clothing. He wore the tattered remains of a smart robe and he collapsed to the floor as the door shut behind him, bloodied and bruised.

"Who are you!" Goldstein snarled, wand raised.

Newt peered at him. The man gazed back, wary of them both.

"Put the wand down, Tina," he said, sounding tired. "I've had a hell of a week."

Shoving Kowalski's case off his lap, Newt stood and brushed past Goldstein.

"I don't suppose your name is Percival Graves," he said, folding back his cuff's. His heartbeat stuttered. The man's robes were so torn that he merely had to shift to reveal his own wrist and subsequent soul mark.

In the deep turquoise of Newt's coat were the words 'I'm coming to find you' in a looping scrawl Newt recognised as his own. He fell to his knees beside Graves, clasping their shaking hands together. He squeezed his fingers, holding the other man tight.

"You kept me sane, you know," Graves said. His gaze was intense, his brown eyes searching. "What's your name?"

"Newt Scamander," Newt said, barely managing to get out the words. He smiled, blinking away tears of joy. "I guess I did find you, after all."


Word Count: 1580

Romance Awareness Day 2 - Each day on your arm is a sentence your soulmate's said that day.

Assignment #1 Potions Task 1. Write about saving someone's life

Character Appreciation songs 2. Write about finding the good in something bad

Cookie's Crafty Corner - Write about characters meeting for the first time

Showtime 8. Joy

Amber's Attic Songs 2. Write about someone important to the main character

Buttons Words 4. Awkward

Lyric Alley 12. I am brave, I am bruised

Sophie's Shelf 57. NewtGraves

Bex's Bazar - Write about a large event in someone's life

Film Festival 59. Deception

365 Prompts 115. Upset

Gobstones Bronze - (theme) Freedom, (accuracy) 19. Eccentric, (power) 6. Candle (technique) 6. Mirror