Authors Note: I needed an idea. A good idea, a new idea. Davesmom (an
amazing author, go check out her fics she's just awesome beyond
comprehension) gave me a challenge: to write a "believable"
Dun dun dun:
Ginny Weasley/Gregory Goyle fic.
Oh and for the record (again): Forgive all grammar and spelling errors. I'm just exasperated with this little ficlet right now. Luv ya!
Ladies and gentlemen: I believe I am attempting the impossible.
Bear with me.
~*~
It had been a tough day for Ginny Josie Weasley resident sixth year of Gryffindor house. For starters she'd most likely failed her Potions test that she didn't even attempt to study for. And then she'd had a run-in with Malfoy around noon where he successfully struck a chord, again. After lunch Flitwick had yelled at her about 'running in the halls' and he had also piled them with loads of homework. On top of all of this, after classes Ron had told her to "go find her own friends." And she was sorry to say that she didn't have many of her own friends.
Unless you counted Colin. They'd met upon the Hogwarts Express and ate licorice wands and talked of magic the whole ride. He was her sole friend in all of Hogwarts, unless you counted Hermione and Harry (which were more 'borrowed' friends who had to pretend to like her, if you asked her.) Colin was, to many girls' standards, perfect. He was always ready with a shoulder to cry on and a hearty laugh, his sandy blond hair was always in his crystal blue eyes and he was really sweet.
But sometimes it felt as though she knew him too well, as though she wasn't ready to face her history and childhood. And as understanding as Colin was he often pitied her, and that wasn't what she needed. She could've talked to the girls' who occupied her dorm but they were far too '-prissy-' and it was a vile experience on the whole.
Back in the present moment she wasn't quite sure what to do. Maybe she was looking for someone, anyone, to converse with and cry to and tell her woes to. Or maybe she was just trying to get away. It'd been such an awful day and she wished more than anything to have someone she could really talk to. She turned corridors and ran into tables as glass lamps fell to the wooden floor, and she didn't look back.
Making a left she ran into a figure with broad shoulders. His thick brown hair fell in his hazel eyes as he brushed it away. His eyes glanced down to the short redhead. He was about to tell her to "bugger off" or to go crying to Potter, but she looked so scared and crestfallen that he changed his mind quickly. Which, for Gregory Henry Goyle was not entirely unusual.
"Weasley," he said stiffly as she backed away from him.
"Goyle," she mimicked, although without force because the tears were running and her resistance was down.
"You shouldn't be around here," he stated, and his voice lacked emotion of any sort, he said it as though it were a dry fact.
"Shouldn't I? Why not? I can cry where I want to," she knew she was being immature but didn't care. Sitting down near the concrete walls she noticed that he sat down next to her, but a great deal apart.
He signaled over to a room with a willow door that bore a sign saying, "Do not enter" in cursive, ebony ink and then she shivered slightly.
"Oh," she said, "and I suppose you don't know what's in there?"
"No," he said, "actually I do. We don't just sit around the common room and do nothing, you know. We have our, erm-" he paused, as though at a loss for words "-adventures, you know."
"Maybe so," she said, because she really wasn't in the fighting mood. "Where's all of your friends?" She asked, trying to be conversational even though she knew that Crabbe and Draco were somewhere in the Great Hall.
"I don't know," Gregory said firmly, "they're probably nicking food from the kitchens or telling off first years or something."
"They don't only tell off first years," she told him as the crying came to a slow halt
"No," he agreed, "not just first years. Why are you crying?" He asked, as though it were just a simple question like, 'where's the cloak?' or 'how are you?' or 'do you have to go to the lavatory?' She knew better than to expect sympathy from one of Draco Malfoy's cronies. Knew better; but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.
"It's just a lot of junk, Greg, you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"
"Not terribly," was the flat response, "can't you talk to Creevy?"
"Not with this," she said shaking her head, "and maybe not ever again."
"Oh," he said, "aren't you two 'best friends' or whatever it is you Gryffindors do?"
"He's my best friend," she agreed, "and it's what I do. But Colin's just Colin and I feel like I'm always burdening him with this stuff."
"Colin seems like a good friend," he observed.
"He is," the redhead agreed as her shoulders touched his.
"Argyle socks," he laughed as he saw her knee socks.
"Colin always said he thought they were 'cute as a button'-" she said and she almost started crying again, because she knew she should have been talking to him.
"Did he?"
"Yes."
"Well Colin has odd taste in socks," he said.
"What kind of socks are you wearing?" She felt compelled to ask him. He lifted up his black slacks and showed her jade green socks with silver animated serpents.
"They're cool if you like that kind of thing-"
"What kind of thing?"
"The Slytherin kind of thing."
There was an awkward silence as she coughed into the crook of her elbow and looked at the many smiling portraits on the wall.
"I need to go. I'll get some peppermint tea; it'll make me feel better. And Colin will worry, I just had a bad day, that's all."
"No," he said firmly, "I'll go get some peppermint tea with you."
"Boys don't like peppermint tea," she said, "well, my brother's don't."
"I don't much like it either," he admitted, "but if you're drinking it, I'll drink it. Unless you can settle for Ogden's." He took a bottle with red liquid out of his cloak pocket and without guilt showed it to her.
"I can't settle for Ogden's. I need some peppermint tea and peanut butter cookies, Mummy always made them for me when I was sad."
"I always went into the liquor cabinet and got myself some Fire Whiskey when I was sad," he said, almost hollowly.
She chuckled grimly. "Really. Now Greg, you don't mind if I call you that right?"
"I already said I don't."
"Well, Greg, I need to go."
"You don't have to go," he said.
"I need to," she said, "I can't find what I need here."
"And what do you need?" He asked quite taken by the young girl (although something he'd probably never admit.)
"Colin," she sniffed, "Colin, peppermint tea, and peanut butter cookies. And maybe for Ron to get accidentally kicked in the shins or something."
"If you must," he said standing up from the floor and brushing off his cloak. He gave her a hand which she took as he pulled her to her feet.
"I must," she said.
"Virginia," he said muttering softly to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said fixated by the slime green walls.
"I guess its farewell then," she said as she grabbed her brown-leathered book bag from the floor and fastened on her scarlet cloak.
"I guess so," he agreed. "Tomorrow you'll be okay, right?"
"Tomorrow I'll be fine," she assured him which really meant 'Tomorrow I won't need you to listen to me' and although he'd never been good with words he understood and nodded.
She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.
"Bye," she said, "and thanks for everything. Enjoy your Ogden's."
"Oh I will," he chuckled softly.
With that she turned her back on the seventh year boy and began walking back to the Gryffindor common room
"Bye Virginia," he said.
~*~
La Fin
It's over! Yay! That was the most awful, ridiculously terrible thing in the whole wide world.
Dun dun dun:
Ginny Weasley/Gregory Goyle fic.
Oh and for the record (again): Forgive all grammar and spelling errors. I'm just exasperated with this little ficlet right now. Luv ya!
Ladies and gentlemen: I believe I am attempting the impossible.
Bear with me.
~*~
It had been a tough day for Ginny Josie Weasley resident sixth year of Gryffindor house. For starters she'd most likely failed her Potions test that she didn't even attempt to study for. And then she'd had a run-in with Malfoy around noon where he successfully struck a chord, again. After lunch Flitwick had yelled at her about 'running in the halls' and he had also piled them with loads of homework. On top of all of this, after classes Ron had told her to "go find her own friends." And she was sorry to say that she didn't have many of her own friends.
Unless you counted Colin. They'd met upon the Hogwarts Express and ate licorice wands and talked of magic the whole ride. He was her sole friend in all of Hogwarts, unless you counted Hermione and Harry (which were more 'borrowed' friends who had to pretend to like her, if you asked her.) Colin was, to many girls' standards, perfect. He was always ready with a shoulder to cry on and a hearty laugh, his sandy blond hair was always in his crystal blue eyes and he was really sweet.
But sometimes it felt as though she knew him too well, as though she wasn't ready to face her history and childhood. And as understanding as Colin was he often pitied her, and that wasn't what she needed. She could've talked to the girls' who occupied her dorm but they were far too '-prissy-' and it was a vile experience on the whole.
Back in the present moment she wasn't quite sure what to do. Maybe she was looking for someone, anyone, to converse with and cry to and tell her woes to. Or maybe she was just trying to get away. It'd been such an awful day and she wished more than anything to have someone she could really talk to. She turned corridors and ran into tables as glass lamps fell to the wooden floor, and she didn't look back.
Making a left she ran into a figure with broad shoulders. His thick brown hair fell in his hazel eyes as he brushed it away. His eyes glanced down to the short redhead. He was about to tell her to "bugger off" or to go crying to Potter, but she looked so scared and crestfallen that he changed his mind quickly. Which, for Gregory Henry Goyle was not entirely unusual.
"Weasley," he said stiffly as she backed away from him.
"Goyle," she mimicked, although without force because the tears were running and her resistance was down.
"You shouldn't be around here," he stated, and his voice lacked emotion of any sort, he said it as though it were a dry fact.
"Shouldn't I? Why not? I can cry where I want to," she knew she was being immature but didn't care. Sitting down near the concrete walls she noticed that he sat down next to her, but a great deal apart.
He signaled over to a room with a willow door that bore a sign saying, "Do not enter" in cursive, ebony ink and then she shivered slightly.
"Oh," she said, "and I suppose you don't know what's in there?"
"No," he said, "actually I do. We don't just sit around the common room and do nothing, you know. We have our, erm-" he paused, as though at a loss for words "-adventures, you know."
"Maybe so," she said, because she really wasn't in the fighting mood. "Where's all of your friends?" She asked, trying to be conversational even though she knew that Crabbe and Draco were somewhere in the Great Hall.
"I don't know," Gregory said firmly, "they're probably nicking food from the kitchens or telling off first years or something."
"They don't only tell off first years," she told him as the crying came to a slow halt
"No," he agreed, "not just first years. Why are you crying?" He asked, as though it were just a simple question like, 'where's the cloak?' or 'how are you?' or 'do you have to go to the lavatory?' She knew better than to expect sympathy from one of Draco Malfoy's cronies. Knew better; but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.
"It's just a lot of junk, Greg, you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"
"Not terribly," was the flat response, "can't you talk to Creevy?"
"Not with this," she said shaking her head, "and maybe not ever again."
"Oh," he said, "aren't you two 'best friends' or whatever it is you Gryffindors do?"
"He's my best friend," she agreed, "and it's what I do. But Colin's just Colin and I feel like I'm always burdening him with this stuff."
"Colin seems like a good friend," he observed.
"He is," the redhead agreed as her shoulders touched his.
"Argyle socks," he laughed as he saw her knee socks.
"Colin always said he thought they were 'cute as a button'-" she said and she almost started crying again, because she knew she should have been talking to him.
"Did he?"
"Yes."
"Well Colin has odd taste in socks," he said.
"What kind of socks are you wearing?" She felt compelled to ask him. He lifted up his black slacks and showed her jade green socks with silver animated serpents.
"They're cool if you like that kind of thing-"
"What kind of thing?"
"The Slytherin kind of thing."
There was an awkward silence as she coughed into the crook of her elbow and looked at the many smiling portraits on the wall.
"I need to go. I'll get some peppermint tea; it'll make me feel better. And Colin will worry, I just had a bad day, that's all."
"No," he said firmly, "I'll go get some peppermint tea with you."
"Boys don't like peppermint tea," she said, "well, my brother's don't."
"I don't much like it either," he admitted, "but if you're drinking it, I'll drink it. Unless you can settle for Ogden's." He took a bottle with red liquid out of his cloak pocket and without guilt showed it to her.
"I can't settle for Ogden's. I need some peppermint tea and peanut butter cookies, Mummy always made them for me when I was sad."
"I always went into the liquor cabinet and got myself some Fire Whiskey when I was sad," he said, almost hollowly.
She chuckled grimly. "Really. Now Greg, you don't mind if I call you that right?"
"I already said I don't."
"Well, Greg, I need to go."
"You don't have to go," he said.
"I need to," she said, "I can't find what I need here."
"And what do you need?" He asked quite taken by the young girl (although something he'd probably never admit.)
"Colin," she sniffed, "Colin, peppermint tea, and peanut butter cookies. And maybe for Ron to get accidentally kicked in the shins or something."
"If you must," he said standing up from the floor and brushing off his cloak. He gave her a hand which she took as he pulled her to her feet.
"I must," she said.
"Virginia," he said muttering softly to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said fixated by the slime green walls.
"I guess its farewell then," she said as she grabbed her brown-leathered book bag from the floor and fastened on her scarlet cloak.
"I guess so," he agreed. "Tomorrow you'll be okay, right?"
"Tomorrow I'll be fine," she assured him which really meant 'Tomorrow I won't need you to listen to me' and although he'd never been good with words he understood and nodded.
She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.
"Bye," she said, "and thanks for everything. Enjoy your Ogden's."
"Oh I will," he chuckled softly.
With that she turned her back on the seventh year boy and began walking back to the Gryffindor common room
"Bye Virginia," he said.
~*~
La Fin
It's over! Yay! That was the most awful, ridiculously terrible thing in the whole wide world.