Babysitting Blues
A/N: As a reader, I absolutely hate flashbacks. However, at the moment I am an author, so here's a flashback for you. I know. I'm such a hypocrite! But aren't you even the slightest bit curious about Goyle?
Gregory Goyle
Malfoy seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face as Hermione watched him rummage through his purple box. She was in for it now. Hermione leaned back on the bed with her arms crossed and waited. Those stupid eggs couldn't come out fast enough. Malfoy was such an ass. Hermione didn't know why she had said that thing about Goyle. Okay, she did. It was because she knew it would piss him off, but what did he care what Goyle saw or didn't see? What did he care what they did or didn't do that night at The Three Broomsticks? It was none of his business. It's not like he liked her or anything. It's not like he had any right to be angry about the situation, if there really was some kind of "situation". You'd think he'd be happy his friend was finally getting some. Not that Goyle did get some, mind you.
Hermione thought back to the beginning of summer. It had been undeniably boring, until that is she got her first assignment for the Order. Then everything had changed. Life was definitely not boring anymore. It was completely unpredictable. And good old predictable Hermione found that just a little bit exciting. Not that Hermione hadn't had any adventures, she certainly had, but they were usually dangerous and involved possible death. Babysitting Malfoy was quite a different type of adventure. She didn't fear for her life, her sanity maybe.
Malfoy was acting very weird at the moment. He was now pacing the room. It was as if he was, dare she think it, jealous. Of Goyle. And now she had to put up with his shit. The thing that got to her the most was that "research" had gotten her into this whole mess. "Research", the one thing she could always depend upon, had turned her life upside down. Thanks to her "research", Malfoy was now a ticking time bomb and all because of one stupid crazy ass night at The Three Broomsticks…
FLASHBACK
The moment Remus left, Hermione got to work on her new assignment. She only had a week to prepare, but Hermione knew exactly what she had to do. It was quite obvious actually. It was the same thing she did for every assignment she had ever excelled in. What else? Research. She would totally have the upper hand because she was positive Malfoy didn't have a clue about her. Malfoy would be putty in her hands. She would find out everything there was to know about him from what his deepest darkest secret was to whether or not he really did sleep naked. What? She'd heard the rumors. She was curious is all. Besides every bit of information could be important, big or small. Probably small she smirked to herself.
This assignment was going to be too easy. She suspected Remus had his doubts about her being able to handle Malfoy, but she knew better. He wasn't even going to have a wand for goodness sake. And she knew tons of spells she could use and loads more she was planning on looking up. Malfoy didn't stand a chance. She could just picture herself reforming Malfoy and earning the respect of the whole Order. Then maybe they would give her a real assignment.
Dobby was first on Hermione's list. Who better to know Draco Malfoy's secrets than his own house-elf? Servants always had the best dish. Hermione knew this from the gossip magazines, not that she read that kind of trash, not really anyway. Maybe skimmed an article here or there. It's not like she subscribed to them or anything. Anyway, it took some finagling, but she convinced Harry to get her a meeting with Dobby. Of course, she had to tell a little white lie since she did not want Harry or Ron to know about her assignment babysitting Malfoy. She had two very good reasons for not telling them. One, they would go ballistic. Two, they would go ballistic. Wasn't that a good enough reason? They were better off not knowing. They could be blissful in their ignorance. That hadn't hurt them so far after all. So, she just told Harry it had to do with S.P.E.W. For some reason, he wasn't too receptive to that idea either, but after a lot of wheedling, he finally caved. Boys were so easy to manipulate.
Hermione got some really good information from Dobby, although she had to take an iron, a fire poker and a frying pan away from him so he didn't do any lasting damage to himself. Hermione felt rather guilty about the whole thing. Some president of S.P.E.W. she was. She promised herself she would knit some more hats and socks when she got home.
When Dobby wasn't trying to hurt himself, he told Hermione all about Malfoy's childhood. He was a thumb sucker and a Mama's boy. His favorite bedtime story was "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" (whatever that was, probably not that important anyway). He was scared of the dark and slept with a nightlight (and he still did!) His mother wasn't cold and disapproving. She loved her son very much. His father was cold and disapproving, but he loved his son too. The Malfoys ate dinner together every evening. Malfoy's favorite food was treacle tart, the same as Harry's (too funny), he liked to read potions books and experiment making new potions (he blew up the drawing room when he was ten), he hated Harry and Hermione and all of the Weasleys (even the one's he hadn't met), he cried and had a fit when he had a bad hair day, he took bubble baths, he slept in silk pajama pants, and he was in fact not small. She so did not ask that last question. Dobby volunteered that information almost entirely all on his own. She may have made some kind of crack about it or something. She couldn't quite remember. But she definitely did not ask about it.
What she did not find out however was the one thing she most wanted to know. Was Draco Malfoy a Death Eater or simply just another asshole? More research was needed. The next person on Hermione's list to interrogate was Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy's on and off again girlfriend. Pansy had probably seen Malfoy naked and would know if he had the Dark Mark or not. Pansy was such a bitch though that Hermione decided just to skip over her. That left Crabbe and Goyle, the two buffoons that always occupied the space on either side of Malfoy. She wasn't crazy about the idea of having to speak with them or rather attempt communication with them, but she really felt she didn't have a choice.
She now knew a bit about his home life, but she needed to find out what Malfoy was like at school and around his friends. All she knew about him was that he liked to call her a mudblood and make her, Harry and Ron miserable. Because of that, it was hard to be objective on the matter. She needed a friend's perspective of him. She needed insider information. The problem was getting Crabbe and Goyle to meet with her and then actually getting them to spill the beans on Malfoy. She needed a plan.
She didn't know that much about them though other than that they picked on younger students and were bodyguards for Malfoy. Oh, and that Harry and Ron said they were greedy little pigs. Maybe she should offer them free stuff. She also considered meeting with just one of them, it would be less intimidating that way, but she couldn't decide on which one. They were always Crabbe and Goyle as if they didn't have their own identity. Maybe one was smarter than the other, or not. Well, maybe one of them could speak in full sentences. It was too close to call though. They both looked stupid to her. So, she just decided to send an owl to both.
Dear Crabbe and Goyle,
Please meet me at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow night at 10:00 pm. I would like to speak with you on a very important matter. Have a butter beer on me. Please owl me with your answer. I hope to see you there.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Granger,
What's in it for us?
Goyle
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Goyle,
Butter Beer?
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Granger,
You can do better than that.
Goyle
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Goyle,
Appetizers?
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Granger,
Forget it.
Goyle
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Goyle,
What's your offer?
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Granger,
Firewhiskey and a favor.
Goyle
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Goyle,
What kind of favor?
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Granger,
Sexual.
Goyle
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Goyle,
Firewhiskey and a kiss. Take it or leave it.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Granger,
Firewhiskey and a kiss. A real one. Oh, and Crabbe wants the appetizers too. Don't be late.
Goyle
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Hermione stared at the last message in disbelief and utter horror. Had she just promised to kiss Crabbe and Goyle? She was insane. She should be put in St. Mungos. Part of her had thought they would just say no. What reason could they possibly have for saying yes? Now she wished she would have just owled Crabbe. She might have gotten off with just the appetizers. This Goyle was tricky, dare she say clever even. Well, clever was a stretch, but he certainly wasn't a dumb ass that's for sure. He had somehow gotten her to sell herself like some cheap harlot. She was selling her body for information. Now she had to kiss both of them. And what did Goyle mean by a real one? She felt like she was going to vomit.
She was late arriving at the Three Broomsticks. Crabbe and Goyle were already there looking somewhat angry or maybe that's how they normally looked. She couldn't remember. She hadn't ever really paid that much attention to them. They were Malfoy's clueless thugs. What else was there to know? She noticed that they had chosen a very secluded table in the back. That did not bode well for Hermione. She had a feeling she was in deep shit. Cautiously, she looked over the brutish pair in front of her. Crabbe had extremely short dark hair almost shaved. He was big, really big. Hermione wouldn't go as far as saying he was fat because that wouldn't be polite, but yeah, he was kind of fat. He looked like a typical bully, just plain mean and angry and obviously very hungry as he had an enormous meal spread out in front of him. Hermione was a little miffed at that. She had only agreed to appetizers after all. However, she had a funny feeling that she wouldn't mention that fact to his face.
She looked over at Goyle. He was taller than Crabbe and had lighter brown hair that was slightly wavy, and he had dark brown piercing eyes that were totally focused on her. He was also big but more in a muscular kind of way. He also looked fairly mean, but Hermione was more interested to observe that his expression didn't have the same vacant look that Crabbe's had. Perhaps there really was a brain in there somewhere. She was going to have to keep an eye on him.
You're late," grunted Goyle in a deep rumbling voice.
"I, I had trouble deciding what to wear," stammered Hermione. Goyle was making her very nervous for some reason. She never usually had trouble being in control. This was slightly disconcerting. She had faced Death Eaters and still been able to at least conceal her nerves. Of course, Goyle could be a Death Eater for all she knew. She knew absolutely nothing about him. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. She was an Order member and had a job to do. She needed to take charge of this meeting and try not to say anything else as stupid as that lame excuse she just made. She sounded like Lavender or some other dim witted girl who worried about clothes.
"And you decided on that?" asked Goyle raising his eyebrows.
To her great annoyance, Hermione blushed. The truth was she really did have trouble deciding what to wear. She had tried on several different outfits and had ended up wearing most of them. She had thought of going with something sexy in an effort to make Crabbe and Goyle talk thus the pale pink spaghetti strap top and short (well short for Hermione anyway) skirt. However, she decided this was a bad idea as they might expect something more than a kiss, and she wasn't sure if she could even handle that. So, she went with something more demure, a simple white button down shirt and pale blue Capri pants. Of course, this outfit had the potential to be inadvertently sexy by looking too innocent. What bloke didn't fantasize about having his way with a well, let's just say an inexperienced girl? This thought made her cringe. So, Hermione decided her best bet was to go as frumpy as possible. And layer, lots of layering. So, she kept on both outfits and added a dumpy oversized orange jumper that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her fourth year when she was feeling less than generous toward Hermione because of something she had read in the Daily Profit. Hermione thought the outfit was perfect. Absolutely hideous, but perfect. Maybe they wouldn't even want to kiss her; it was so awful.
"Yes, well let's just begin, shall we? I don't want to take up anymore of your time than necessary, said Hermione tentatively sitting down next to Crabbe on the very edge of the seat leaving as much room as possible between them. They had chosen a booth and Crabbe was on one side and Goyle on the other. She had decided Crabbe was the lesser of two evils since he was so busy stuffing his face he barely seemed to acknowledge her existence. Goyle on the other hand was focused so intently on her that her uneasiness with it made her completely forget she was sitting next to Crabbe. All she could do was stare back at Goyle's dark brooding eyes. She would have never guessed he would be so intense. It was overwhelming.
At that moment, the waitress came by to take her drink order. Hermione started to order herself a butter beer when Goyle said, "Three firewhiskeys." Hermione glared at him as the waitress quickly left sensing the tension forming between them.
"I can order for myself, thank you. I didn't even want a firewhiskey. I don't drink," huffed Hermione.
"You do tonight," said Goyle simply. He was definitely a man of few words.
Hermione carefully swallowed her anger. It wouldn't do any good to piss him off when she wanted information from him. However, she couldn't resist saying, "We'll see about that."
For some reason this made Goyle smile. However, it was not a comforting smile, and it didn't make her feel any easier about what she had to do. Hermione's big plan she had come up with was to get Crabbe and Goyle completely drunk off their asses. She figured that it would loosen their lips for the information part of the evening and then incapacitate them for the rest. She so did not want to kiss either one of them. Crabbe was disgusting and Goyle was just plain creepy.
In fact, Goyle was staring so hard at her that she actually worried that he might be a Legilmens and was reading her mind. She didn't think he was that smart but just to be safe she brought up an image of Ron naked in her head. She had once accidentally walked in on him when he was coming out of the shower while she was staying at the Burrow. She was quite sure Goyle wouldn't be too pleased with that image. She almost snickered.
She carefully observed Goyle, searching for any change in his expression. He either wasn't impressed with the image of Ron naked, or he wasn't a Legilimens. Either way, she decided to keep the image in her head just in case. However, the constant thought of Ron naked in her head made Hermione zone out a bit and then she started fantasizing about him doing stuff to her. She could almost feel his hand snaking up her leg toward her… Shit!
She yelped and jumped away in shock forgetting she was on the edge of her seat until she fell right off of it and right on her ass onto the hard stone floor. She looked up at Crabbe in disgust and anger. It seemed he had an appetite for more than just food after all. Crabbe and Goyle both laughed at her but then Goyle offered her a hand. She angrily pushed it away and stood up by herself. She was very tempted to leave, but she wasn't the type of person to give up that easily. She was just too damn stubborn. Hermione tentatively sat down next to Goyle eying him warily. "Do you think you can control yourself?"
"I can wait. For now."
Hermione figured that was the best she was going to get, so she settled herself down on the edge of her seat but this time held onto the table just in case. Her ass really hurt. The waitress silently brought the firewhiskeys and quickly left again.
Hermione glared at the drinks and then said, "I'm here because I'm looking for information on…"
"Malfoy," finished Goyle.
Hermione was a little taken a back but pressed on. "You see, I'm interested in helping Malfoy out of his current situation, so I need to know…"
"You want us to sell out Malfoy," interrupted Goyle.
"No, of course not. I just want to get to know the real Malfoy so that I can help him."
"And how exactly are you going to help him?" asked Goyle
"Well, I'm going to uh, um, well… that's sort of confidential, and I really need the information first to ascertain the best method of help for him. You see…"
"You're full of shit."
"Pardon?"
"I said you are full of shit. You don't care about Malfoy. You don't want to help him. You want to help yourself. There's something in it for you, isn't there?"
"I think you are confusing me with a Slytherin. I'm a Gryffindor. Not everything is about me. I guess you wouldn't understand that," sneered Hermione. This was not going well at all. Hermione was trying very hard to hold her temper.
"I understand more than you think I do," replied Goyle.
Hermione waited for him to continue, but it seemed he had nothing else to say. He just sat there staring at her making her more and more uncomfortable. He was absolutely impossible to talk to. She looked over at Crabbe to see if she could get something out of him, but he was still busy eating everything in sight. At least he was keeping his hands to himself at the moment. However, it was obvious he was going to be absolutely useless. So, she turned back to Goyle. "And what exactly is it that you understand?"
"You. You think you are going to save him. You want to be a hero just like Potter. You don't care about Malfoy at all. He is just a means to an end. You are more Slytherin than you think."
Hermione stared at Goyle in disbelief. How dare he call her a Slytherin. That was just wrong. Sure she wanted to save Malfoy, not that the fucking prick deserved it. It was just the right thing to do. She wasn't thinking about herself. Much. Hermione decided that she really did not like Goyle. At all. "There are only two snakes at this table," hissed Hermione.
Crabbe laughed at that and spit food all over the table. "Yeah, two really big snakes," he said and then winked at her.
Hermione glared at him in disgust. However, she still liked him better than Goyle. Goyle was really starting to piss her off. Hermione stood up to leave. "I don't think this is going anywhere. I'm sorry I wasted your time and mine."
"Sit."
Hermione sat. She didn't know why she sat but she sat. And she was really angry about it. How dare he treat her like a dog. How dare she act like a dog. Fucking Goyle. She was beginning to hate him more than Malfoy, and that was saying something. She crossed her arms and sent her most withering glare at him.
His eyes were still staring at her intently, but now they were laughing at her. "I thought you wanted information. Giving up so soon?"
"I thought you didn't want to sell out your friend," huffed Hermione.
"I only said that what you wanted us to do was sell out Malfoy. I never said anything about whether or not we would do it," replied Goyle.
"So, you're going to sell him out? I mean give me the information," asked Hermione incredulously.
"You bet your ass we will," said Crabbe. "The fucking bastard made us wear tights. We had to stand outside that room for hours as fucking girls. Almost had to take sixth year over because of that fucking prick. That fuck head deserves what he gets. It's going to kill him that we talked to you of all people about him. He's going to fucking shit. Asshole."
Hermione stared at Crabbe dumbfounded. She was completely shocked by that statement, and she wasn't sure if it was because of what he said or that he had used so many words.
She turned to Goyle and this time he really was smiling. "You like games, Granger?" he asked pushing the firewhiskey in front of her.