Black.

It was the first thing he noticed, and Harry fell to his knees with a cry.

His soulmate was dead.

He looked again, and realised there was an enormous symbol etched onto his skin, starting from the nape of his neck to his tail bone. It was one that he was intimately familiar with. A snake spewed from the mouth of a skull, rearing back as if to strike.

The Dark Mark.

Harry sobbed, and summoned a t-shirt, covering himself quickly. He dragged himself back into bed and curled up, ignoring the burning pain on his back. Once more he had been marked by Voldemort. He was still destroying Harry's life in his death. Harry screamed into the pillows, and cried himself to sleep.

The next day Harry felt numb. The entire world had been aware of his birthday and imminent marking, and he received many pitying looks from those who realised what it meant that he wasn't celebrating his birthday gleefully.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, and he recoiled when she tried to hug him.

"Not now," he said, and her face fell as comprehension dawned.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. Harry ignored her and entered his office.

"I suppose you've got some magnificent gold monstrosity scrawled across you then?" Malfoy drawled as Harry entered. Harry didn't even bother with a glare.

"It's black," Harry said. There was a long pause.

"Oh," Malfoy said. "Sorry."

Harry ignored him, and began on his paperwork. Another day in the exciting life of the Boy Who Lived.