There was a once a goddess, worshipped by a beautiful, faithful woman. A woman who married a bad man. When the Fates cut her thread short, the goddess raged. Her worshipper, she insisted, had not deserved to die, not at the hands of that vile mortal. But she had, said the Fates, and when they took the goddess to task, reminded her she could not save the one and not the all, in her umbrage, the goddess gave to her people of long ago a gift- to see their Heart's Mate upon casting a spell.
But she forgot about the peoples' free will.
Helena Ravenclaw refused to believe her own Heart's Mate when he found her, refused to even try.
After she died, very few people clung to the old beliefs, that finding the mate of your heart was possible, though not always beautiful or easy.
The only family that remembered went by the surname Black. It did not matter, so much, until Dorea Black found that Charlus Potter was the only wizard-nay, man- who made her heart sing.
So too, went the story of Andromeda Black and Theodore Tonks, both women leaving their family for the homes of the men they loved.
Now, you ask, where did it change?
Was the worshipper ever saved?
I guess you'll have to turn the page.