He was surrounded by silence, but whoever knew him would see the flicker of pain in his eyes, the anger that boiled in his veins. Still, he didn't use his fists like before, when they were children – were they ever children? He clenched them, plastered a smile and when he couldn't smile, a mask of indifference on his features and carried on.
If there was one thing Goyle was good at, she knew, it was to carry on.
Maybe it was the reason why she stood in front of the cottage he'd lived in since the war. She had nothing but a bag with a few clothes, a few lipsticks and mascara – She used to like her paint out of vanity but paint had become warpaint and it was fitting, to hide the child that was thoroughly destroyed by war and parents' foolishness, to hide the scars that didn't affect her skin –
She felt shards of pain.
Crabbe was gone.
The girl swallowed before knocking at the door.
What if he wasn't there? What if he was gone? What if he kil-
He opened the door and she sighed in relief. Quick, quick, he plastered a smile on his face but it didn't escape her.
Nothing escaped her anymore.
"Pansy" His voice was raw, rough.
Did he speak with others?
She looked around, at the dense forest surrounding the cottage, at the axe digging into the soil a step from the entrance, at the chips and the logs splashing the ground around her. It was small – but so was he.
A giant of a man trying to take as less space as he could, trying to let her pass in the doorway and she herself felt like she was taking too much space – too much of him already.
They didn't need words, not anymore. Not after he came back from the Room, smelling of burnt flesh and flames, with ashes in his mouth. She didn't need words, not after they burnt a mark on her skin, worse than the Dark Lord's mistake.
"Can I stay?" She asked and her voice was hard – she hated it hated the words she wanted them to be gone why do they hurt so much?
He didn't ask her for how long, he didn't ask her why. He opened his arms to her and she dropped her bag, her heart lurching to her throat and she felt safe safe safe with his arms around her.
His lips brushed her temple and she closed her eyes, blood hammering in her veins, her eyesight turning black with want and tiredness and emotions too raw for her to control.
Safe safe safe.
"Stay for as long as you need" He whispered and he was soft.
Soft tone on hard muscles.
She took as little space as she could in his bed and so did he but at the end, when morning came, his arms were around her shoulders and his stomach pressed against her back and warm.
Merlin, she was so warm.
It was strange, to be warm after a year of cold shoulders, sneers and threats.
Sleep the time away, child.