A/N: Goyle falls in love with a Muggle barista.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter.

Gregory Goyle had never referred to himself as 'Gregory', 'Goyle', or 'Greg'. His mother always called him Jack, after her brother who died in the First Wizarding War. It was his middle name. But all of his classmates referred to him as 'Goyle' or 'Malfoy's thug'. His teachers called him 'Mister Goyle'. He'd even had a girlfriend in sixth year who'd called him 'Greg'. He'd hated that.

Now, when she called him by his real name, the name his mother had given him, he fell in love. He didn't want to tell her that he loved her, so he kept his face as passive as possible around her. They both worked in a Muggle coffee shop just outside of London. After the Battle of Hogwarts (and after seeing his best friend die), he didn't want to touch magic again.

Her name was Caroline, but she went by Carrie. She was Asian, with short, black hair dyed blonde at the edges and gorgeous, dark brown eyes. When the light hit it just right, it looked like a beautiful halo. She smiled more than anyone he knew, but they were all genuine smiles. She cared for everyone, including him. "Morning, Jack," she said, smiling. They arrived in the early morning, around five, every morning together. These mornings were his drug; he breathed in the sweet air of flour and sugar and Carrie's perfume, and he wanted to sigh in content.

On the inside, he was melting at her expression, but he kept his face still. "Good morning, Carrie," he said. This was how their mornings usually went. They both made most of the food at the café, so they saw a lot of each other. He was afraid that one day, his plain expression would fall, and he would crack a smile at one of her jokes or compliments. He would hate for anyone to know he cared.

He continued to knead the dough for a pastry he was making, taking more flour from the jar to make sure it didn't stick. They usually spent the whole early morning just baking before opening the coffee shop at nine. "You have a good evening?"

"Yeah," he responded simply.

"Your socks don't match," she told him, pointing down at his shoes.

He looked down. She was right. "Mm, hm," was his response.

"You're not very chatty today." No. He wasn't. Today was May 2nd, after all. "You're kinda out of it." She plucked a bowl from one of the cabinets. "That's okay, though," she told him, making her own batch of dough. "I can talk enough for the both of us." And it was true. She talked more than anyone at Hogwarts ever had. He liked it. "After work yesterday, I went to go visit my father—he's still in the hospital, you know—and do you know what he said? He told me..." Carrie went on and on about the visit to her father, and he nearly smiled when she told him about the little six-year-old kid in the room next door who had a huge crush on her and gave her his pudding cup.

After a few minutes, she stopped talking and just stared. "What?" he asked her, noticing her silence.

She was frowning; something she rarely did. "Something's wrong."

"What? Did I forget the coconut extract or something?"

"No, no," she assured him, "that's not what I'm talking about, Jack." She had stopped stirring and was now watching him with a strange, intense focus. "Something's wrong with you."

He resisted the urge to make some sort of snappy joke. "No," he told her. "I'm good."

"No, you're not good. Tell me what's up."

"Carrie, honestly, I'm fine, I—"

"Jack, I've known you for nearly a year now. I know if something's wrong."

"I told you, I'm fine!" he snapped, and realized that he was no longer passive. He was snarling now. Carrie looked... Carrie looked frightened. He never wanted to scare her. He quickly relaxed his face. "Sorry, Carrie. I didn't... I didn't mean to...shout at you."

"Well, no wonder, Jack!" she replied, adjusting her apron. She was back to her normal self. "If you keep everything all holed up in your brain, you're going to have to shout sometime."

"Holed... I don't..."

"Yes, you do. Now..." She pulled up two stools and motioned for him to sit down. "What's up?"

"Er... I'm not really... I don't really want to..."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"You can trust me."

"Mm, hm."

"I may talk a lot, but I don't break people's trust, got it?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Yeah." Carrie waited for him to speak. Meanwhile, he stared at his hands. "My best friend died last year. Today. Last year."

"Oh," she said, and she touched his knee. "I'm sorry."

She was the first person to say that since Vincent had died. He'd gotten a sympathetic look from the Golden Trio at his funeral, but since Vincent had technically been on the 'bad side,' the rest of the school turned up their noses at his gravestone and refused to attend the funeral. That also was due to the horrible things he, Vincent, and Draco had done during their time at Hogwarts. He swallowed. "Thanks," he choked out. He tried to make his face as calm as possible, but it wasn't working... Why wasn't it working? He stood up, turning around. If he made any emotion whatsoever, he didn't want her to see it.

"Jack..." Then Carrie was there, her hand on his arm. She was there, touching his face. And she was there, pressing her lips against his.

"Stop." He jerked away from her and pressed his palms into his stinging eyes. He would not cry. He would not cry. "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Touch me like that."

She backed off, apologizing.

"No, no," he said, trying to make her understand. "It's not your fault. Not...your fault. I just...never mind."

"What?"

"I don't..." This time, he looked her directly in the eyes. She deserved that much. "I'm not worth it."

"What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "You're kind, caring, funny... I'm not a good person."

She scoffed at that. "Jack, that's crazy. You remember how we met, don't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts, Jack. I don't think you get it. You saved me. What about that makes you a bad person?"

Sure, he had saved her. That was true. As he had been walking back home, he had seen a few guys following her harassing her. The sense he had of her vulnerability in the moment sent fear coursing through him. It felt like when Vincent had fallen into the roaring flames of Fiendfyre, just a speck to the all-consuming hunger of the flames. He had been unable to save himself, just as Carrie had been. So he had chased them off with a few threats. That was all. He was no good Samaritan. He was just a person. He had done it because she reminded him of Vincent, who he couldn't save; because he was able to rescue her, some of the shame in his chest had waned. That didn't make him a good person. That made him a guilty coward, unable to move on from the past. "I just..."

"You just what?"

He bit his lip, sat back down, and opened his mouth. Then, he told her everything.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Challenges used:

Fanfiction Writing Month: November [1226]

The Golden Snitch - Ollivander's Wand Shop - Celestine Warbeck - 10 inch - Write about a Slytherin character.

The Golden Snitch - Simpsons - #6 (Nelson Muntz) - Write about a bully in need of some love.

The Golden Snitch - Through The Universe - #12 (Asteroid) - (character) Gregory Goyle

Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #553 (Emerald Mornings) - title

If You Dare - #245 (Early Morning)

Character Diversity Boot Camp - #18 (jar), Gregory Goyle