The Hogwarts Romance

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my genius.

1.

An alkaline silence swathed the Slytherin common room. Everyone was asleep, the midnight

creatures tickled the surrounding land, and their nocturnal rummaging could be heard from the

dormitory.

Goyle was waiting. He had been waiting now for two hours. Sleep was far away from Love's

pupil.

He had gelled his hair so that it made a crown on his head, pointing upwards. It seemed to

elongate his face slightly. His eyes were turned downwards, almost modestly. The darkness

around him hid his insecurities.

Where is he? Thought Goyle. Where is he? The only one who knows me for who I am? Who

calls me Greg?

The door yawned open. Light flooded in around the figure of a scrawny boy. The door closed

almost immediately.

"You came," the rough sound of Goyle's voice broke the magic silence. He regretted it.

The presence didn't answer. Goyle though he saw him nod, but the night was thick.

Meanwhile, in the dorm, Crabbe stirred. The nightmares haunted him, as they always did when

Goyle wasn't near.

He woke. There was no effeminate warmth emanating from the next bed. There was no deep

sound of sleep. There was only the whimpering of Malfoy opposite.

He rose hesitantly. His joints creaking, the glutinous sleep in his eyes begging him to lie down

again. But he could not, would not, sleep without Goyle. He would not suffer the nightmares.

He began to descend the steps. Suddenly, he heard a noise of footsteps, scuffling, and a human

sound – wordless. Goyle? He thought.

At first, Crabbe had assumed that his loved one had gone to get a snack as usual but now, there

was something else...something to fear.

He quickly skipped the last few steps and, with a nervous jerk of the arm, the common room lit

up.

"Goyle!" He cried, his voice wrought with emotion. "Harry!"