A/N: OOOOH, I don't believe I've ever seen this pairing. Slash ahead! (Non-graphic.)

Goyle stared at the coffin. How was it, that he was really gone? How was Vincent B. Crabbe really gone? How? To him, it seemed that it was only yesterday that he was there, beside him.

Hard to believe it was already a couple of weeks.

He was, Goyle's very-best mate. Never mind Draco, who was always insulting the pair of them, but it was Crabbe and Goyle who followed through to Draco's schemes, it was Crabbe and Goyle who stayed at Hogwarts in that final year.

Crabbe didn't deserve to go like that… If anyone else had known, they would've said that Crabbe was a fool; it was his own fault that he was now… dead. True, it was Crabbe who had cast the spell for Fiendfyre, but it wasn't his fault that he got burned; it wasn't possible that it was his fault at all.

The line progressed, and someone from behind had pushed Goyle along to remind him so. It was now his turn to say his goodbye to the shell of Vincent Crabbe, possibly the love of his life. Goyle laid a black rose on Crabbe's chest, and turned to leave Malfoy Manor.

He walked to the weeping willow tree in the back yard, and just sat there. Tears weren't a good enough comfort, so Goyle sat under the willow tree, and mourned for the loss of his best friend.

It must've been a good one and a half hours before anyone approached him. Malfoy took a seat beside Goyle; didn't make contact.

"Missing him?"

Well, so much for the unemotional Slytherin character they had learned to portray.

"Yeah," Goyle said, "I am."