Synchronized Heartbeats: A Reluctant Love Story

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How can you see into my eyes like open doors

Leading you down into my core

Where I've become so numb

Without a soul

My spirit sleeping somewhere cold

Until you find it there and lead it back home

~ Bring Me Back to Life by Evanescence

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Spellbinding pools of brown

"Great game, Draco!" I congratulated him enthusiastically. He smirked in acknowledgement; but I knew that he was excited. His eyes shone and there was the little bounce in his arrogant stride. I pushed the loose strands of hair behind my ear, hoping that the intricate French braid it was fashioned in wouldn't fall out.

It was almost winter break, and we had been scheduled to play the last game before New Year. Slytherin had just defeated Hufflepuff in an awe-inspiring match. I wrapped my green and silver scarf around Draco's neck as we walked towards the warm indoor changing rooms. He rubbed his ice-cold hands together as we trudged through the damp Hogwarts grounds. I grabbed them and clasped my barely warm palms around his frigid fingers.

"Wait for me," he instructed firmly. I nodded wordlessly - what else was I supposed to do? He disappeared into a dark hallway that led to the Slytherin Quidditch shower room and I stood waiting by the entrance. The hallway had been bathed in gold light from the flickering torches that lit the entirety of the hall. The gray stone was smoothed flat with age and wear, and I moved my hand over them. They were warm to the touch against my frozen fingers. The heat from the stones warmed them and they began to tingle as I regained my sense of touch. I could hear the wind howling outside the castle. My lone footsteps echoed off the stone walls, creating a sense of solitude.

"What are you doing down here, Parkinson?" someone asked in disbelief. I turned around and faced the most unlikeliest person. Ronald Weasley. I rolled my eyes and spoke blandly, "Looking for hidden passages, dork, why else?" I laughed cruelly at my own little joke. Ron blushed and looked down at the floor, averting my eyes. I followed his line of vision. The floor was dotted with pools of melted snows; results of a snowy winter, and the countless treks that students had made down this hall.

"I'm waiting for Draco to get done changing, and then we can go to the feast," I told him after a moment of silence.

"Together, right?" He had a smile on his face, an amused grin that I had seen on Draco countless times.

"Yes, together, dumbass."

"He's the one who's the dumbass, bitch," he sneered in uncharacteristic Slytherin behavior. "He's actually going to let you hang around him?"

"Yes, he is."

"What an idiot."

"What?" I asked, looking up from the floor, leaning against the wall in a casual manner. My eyes traveled up his worn black robe to his face, "Are you jealous that you can't 'hang' around Draco like I can? Or is it you're jealous that you can't 'hang' out with me like he can?" I asked, looking him right in the eye.

The pool of brown was surrounded by light and dark freckles; which mother used to call 'fairy kisses' while I was growing up. His hair was damp from the snow and framed his face. Had not it been for its bright red hue, I would almost have thought it... attractive. I could see his eyes moving up and down my body and then back to my face. He was studying me, looking me over. I felt horribly self-conscience, as my cheeks burned under his gaze.

Ron wasn't looking at me the way that Draco looked at me. Draco looked at me hungrily, greedily, lustfully. Ron looked at me the way that you would look over the Minister of Magic; he was looking for intensity and character inside me. He wasn't interested in what I could offer with my body, but almost seemed to search me for what I could offer with my mind.

And what I could offer with my heart and soul.

"That's right, Parkinson; I'm dreadfully jealous of Mal-ferret over there. He's so lucky he can 'hang' out with you," he said, sarcasm dripping off every word. I could feel my cheeks redden even more from embarrassment. My face was heating up like it always did when I prepared to debate, or fight, or after a heated snogging session. His body stood parallel to mine, his left shoulder leaning against the stone; and we were so close I could smell a sweet, musky scent. My heartbeat sped up and suddenly my senses became sharp; I was tuned into everything in the corridor. How the torchlight flickered off Weasley's face, making his eyes glitter and turning his red hair orange, how the wind howled outside and, my hand, warm from the stone, lay by his shoulder. How it got there, I wondered, I do not know. I moved it back, hoping that he hadn't noticed its presence.

I was prepared to retort when I heard a footstep behind me.

"Pansy, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

I spun around and faced Draco. His wet hair was slicked back, and water dripped onto his robes. There was a smirk on his thin pink lips and his tone was light, but his eyes blazed with a deep anger and hate - for me or for Weasley?

"Weasley, stay away from her," he instructed, stepping closer. I clenched my fists in tight balls at my side - I hated it when he acted as if he owned me!

Weasley glanced at me hesitantly. I looked back at him, just as confused. Did Draco seriously think that we were doing something? As in, a romantic something? I almost laughed aloud.

"Sorry, Malfoy - m' boy," he said, in mock aristocratic style, "But I can't keep my hands off your chick. You're one lucky man, Malfoy. I bet she's great in bed," Weasley said in a deep bass voice. I drew in a breath for his comment - how the hell would he know? The depth of his voice sent shivers up my spine, and I bit my lip. Weasley wrapped a hand around my waist and I breathed in sharply, hoping that he wouldn't touch me. I looked over at him, mentally screaming, 'Get away from me, you bum!'

But Weasley wasn't looking at me. His eyes were focused on Draco, whose cheeks were bright red from anger. He looked at me and I sent him a worried look. He turned back to Weasley, who had removed his arm from around my waist, and was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his tall figure leaning against the wall.

Draco reached into his robe and drew out his black wand. He calmly leveled it at Weasley's neck. Neither of them broke their eye contact with each other. I tried to sneak away out into the corridor, but Draco stopped me. I could smell the scent of delicious foods from the feast as the aroma filled the castle.

"Draco, you know he was just joking," I said quietly, staring at him. He glared back at me with gleaming silver eyes, and Weasley backed into the wall. An uneven stone protruded into his back, stopping him from moving.

"He may have been joking, Pansy, but I am not!" he said and forcefully yelled a Dark curse. Black light shot out of the tip of his wand and wrapped itself around Weasley's throat. His eyes went wide as the ribbon wrapped around his freckled neck. He began to make strangled noises, his hands trying to tear the band of black off. I knew that it would be fruitless; the Death Ribbon strangled one until an inch from life.

I turned and fled, running as hard as I could.

I turned left, then left, then ran up the stairs, tripping on the topmost step.

Draco had used a dark curse.

I scrambled frantically, wrestling with the robe, trying to pick myself up.

He used it on Weasley.

My footsteps echoed in the halls, along with Weasley's screaming.

Draco could be expelled.

I could hear my heart in my ears as I ran down and hallway, turned right, and then right again.

Weasley could die.

Finally, a hallway that I recognized came into sight.

Why would I care?

I slowed down my running pace and fixed my hair. I was alone, should anyone ask, and I was making my way towards the feast. I had no idea where Malfoy and Weasley were.

I was alone.

"Ms. Parkinson?" inquired a silky smooth voice behind me. I froze and spun around - to face the potions master and head of my dormitory house, Professor Snape.

"Hello, Professor Snape," I said calmly, smoothing down the front of my robe. "How are you?"

"I'm good. That was a very good game we played today. I'm sure it'll put us in the lead over Gryffindor."

"Yes," I smiled, shoving my hands into my robe pockets. "I'm sure it will."

A yell came from down the hall, echoing off every wall and sounding in every corridor. There was no mistaking whom it belonged to.

I had no choice but to follow Snape down to the entrance of the Slytherin shower rooms.

When Snape and I reached the Slytherin shower room, Weasley was sprawled on the stone floor, face down. The edges of his robe were spread all around him, looking as if he had fallen petrified. He wasn't moving.

Draco was nowhere to be seen.