Harry Potter One Shots

Shadows Mimicking Heartbeats

All rights belong to the author, CookiesAndInk

George froze in the corridor, ignoring the rest of his year mates for a split second and then he was running. Down each of the stairs, his eyes flicked sideways to check on his shadow which hadn't changed. Something was wrong. Something was desperately wrong and George was finished pretending that he didn't notice.

As he reached the Hogwarts dungeons the torchlight warped and distorted the shape of his shadow. Except it wasn't his shadow, that wasn't how the soul bond worked. He came to a halt, staring at the dark image on the floor by his feet, hoping to get some clue of where his lover was. The shadow remained still, curled in a tight ball, rocking ever so slightly and George cursed.

Having a soul bond with someone was a magical thing, and each of them was specific to the people bonded. Shadow bonded mates were quite rare, which is why George had struggled at first learning anything about his mate. He knew it was another boy, their body shapes were similar although his mate was much taller, even when they were younger. Fred used to tease him about that, his fingers always idly reaching for the red ribbon only he could see that wrapped and tied him to another.

He had nearly fallen off his broom when he'd realised who it was. It had been at the start of the match, the afternoon sun still high in the sky as it was not long after midday. Both he and Fred were hovering, glowering at the Slytherins, full of cocky bravado as it was their third match playing for Gryffindor. Then George's shadow, his mate had moved. It had extended a hand, shaking hard and George had stared with wide-eyed panic at the Slytherin captain, whose own shadow was riding on a broomstick.

Fred had played most of that match, George too dazed to fully concentrate. He had let his brother drag away after Hooch's whistle blew, ignoring Oliver's shouts in the changing room about their sloppy plays. Fred had walked, steering George to the lake, squeezing his shoulder rhythmically to remind him to breathe. Anxiety attacks and overwhelming panic was something his twin had always helped him with. In a trembling voice, George had told him what he'd seen and Fred had sat in silence.

'So what? If he's meant for you, then he'll be... It'll be okay George.'

It wasn't okay but Marcus never noticed. George was in his third year and had waited for a year for Marcus to realise, to approach him. Even to send a slight smile or wink in his direction on the Quidditch pitch. Instead, it was like he didn't exist and George had never managed to get Marcus on his own to try and bring it up. He had spent months worry about it and then Hogwarts disbanded through the summer and George spent July and August feeling sick with horror.

Marcus - his shadow, the person meant for him - was being hurt. Nightly George flinched and cried as he watched his shadow writhe in pain, arms up in surrender. What was happening, he didn't know but Fred had eventually told their parents, worried that George was going to run away in the night. He had been determined to find Marcus on the train but the older Slytherin hadn't been there. It was well known that Marcus wasn't particularly gifted academically so wild thoughts had raced through George's mind at the Start of Term Feast, wondering his mate had left school. There were too many lights, too many shadows for him to see what Marcus was doing.

Then in the corridor, he had seen his shadow twisting, twirling in a pattern that George could only guess represented Marcus flooing.

It was ridiculous. It was impossible, but George felt as though he knew where to go and so he kept running, past the hidden entrance to the Slytherin Common room he and Lee had found in their third week of school, deeper into the dungeons where the dust grew thicker and the cobwebs presented a choking hazard.

Marcus was in Snape's personal quarters. Queasiness washed over him as George hesitated, his hand poised on the door. Even he and Fred had never dared to directly antagonise the Potions Master, more worried that he would take revenge on one of their siblings. That seemed the slimy, sneaky Slytherin way of doing things. A wavering torch illuminated the shadow on the wall, and George gritted his teeth as Marcus hunched forwards, still curled up tightly.

He knocked on the door, rapping hard, telling himself he was a Gryffindor. Someone who needed him was in pain, even if Marcus refused to admit it.

Snape opened the door, a furious glower on his face and George drew himself to his full height, not that it made much difference.

"I'm here because Flint is hurt. Can I help?"

"Just what do you think you're doing Mr Weasley?" Snape began and then a soft voice called out.

"Professor Snape, it's okay. Weasley is my... George is my soulmate. He must know what's happened. You might as well let him in."

Snape's face never relaxed but he did step aside slightly and George forced himself to walk slowly, to not shove Snape out of the way. Marcus was sat on the floor and there was blood on his shirt. George's eyes fixed on that and then he dragged them away, sitting on the floor crosslegged next to him. Silently Snape went back to casting spells, healing ones that George half recognised because Fred kept telling him he needed to study them to become a Healer one day.

"Hi," George said softly.

"Hey Weasley, can't really shake hands right now."

"Not quite sure that's what soulmates do but it's okay."

They lapsed back into silence. George had questions, so many questions but he just sat and waited as Marcus was healed, spell after spell until George felt weak imagining what sort of injuries the young man had hidden under his clothes. George breathed through it, slowly counting his breaths and tapping his fingers against his leg in time and under the lamplight of the Potion Master's office, their shadows sat and slowly relaxed, finally side by side.