Vonne: First off, it has been so long! I am so sorry. I was working on finishing up so many other fictions that I'd started and completely forgot all about this one-- which I am completely planning on finishing up. The original plan is to make this somewhere between 20 and 30 chapters, though I'm sure it will be somewhere around the 30 plus area. Anyway, once again, I apologize! Hopefully this chapter will make up for it, too.

Anyways, then here it is: chapter six, finally!

Chapter Six:
There in Lies the Problem

Gregory Goyle wasn't exactly sure what to think when he'd first spotted Draco Malfoy sitting in solitude in the village library. In fact, he had to take several steps closer to the glowering white figure just to make sure. Malfoy had his heavy head in the palms of his hands, though his nose was undoubtedly in the book he'd been analyzing. The slender width of his arm was plummeted low in the pocket of his thick black peacoat, from which extended a long, wiry antenna. For a moment Goyle stood opposite to Draco Malfoy, remaining unnoticed, before extending a rather stout leg and whisking off his own burley jacket. "Well, Draco," Goyle said rather bluntly, sending Malfoy's head skyrocketing up from the pages of the library book, "the library? Last place I'd ever imagined seeing you." When he was close enough to his friend to manage a whisper, he hoarsely added, "they don't sell liquor here."

Malfoy lifted a long finger, holding it up stiffly as if he were in fact ordering up. "Already got that taken care of, Goyle." He lifted his chin, exposing the red brightness of the tip of his nose. With his head in the air, he sniffed, blinked his glassy eyes, and wrinkled his nose as if such an action would surely discourage Goyle completely. "When will you ever realize it, Goyle? I'm always one step ahead of you."

"Ah, yes," Goyle nodded, solemnly as he waved the stench of alcohol away from his own front, "always just one stumbling step..." With that, he flopped into the chair next to his old friend and leaned backwards in it. Eyes scanning the book shop, he felt admittedly rather uncomfortable, despite lacking the pride he'd carried just several years ago. Back then, being in such a place would have embarrassed him undoubtedly but now Goyle was embarrassed only because of his intoxicated company. "I thought I saw you in here through the window," he said, mentally wishing he'd met up with a more sober Draco, "so I came in to see how you've been. Last I saw you, you weren't quite... there. If you know what you mean."

Malfoy mulled Goyle's comment over, sucking in his cheeks. He turned back to the book, flipped a few pages, and whispered back responsively, "I work better when I'm drunk."

Goyle rolled his eyes, "both you and I know that's not true. Malfoy, don't get being pissed confused with being pissed. You work the best when you're angry, not when you're drunk." He then fell utterly quite, not quite liking where the subject of his conversation was about to lead to. Perhaps Draco Malfoy the Death Eater worked better when infuriated, but this was a new Draco Malfoy. Admittedly, Goyle was quite happy that Malfoy seemed to lead a less enraged life, though filling his new life with booze was, to be quite honest, hardly a substitute. He pitched himself forward, leaned towards Malfoy with his chin on his palms, and said begrudgingly, "what are you doing here anyway? Reading..." he lifted the pages of the book, turning to the front cover and reeved back, almost blatantly shocked, "Muggle Electronics?"

Slowly Draco reopened the book, pushed the pages to where he previously had been, and buried his face back into it. He focused on nothing but the pages when he said back, "I need to figure out everything I can on Muggle radios."

Goyle's eyes reverted to little slits. He said rather dryly, "radios."

To which Draco responded just as blankly, "Yes, Goyle. Radios."

"Wow," Goyle continued, putting on a slightly sarcastic feat of shock. "I've heard of complete turn-arounds, but I must admit I'm inquisitive. Are you saying you've gained a soft spot for Muggles? Going to read up on them all... starting with electronics?"

Malfoy hiccuped, narrowing his own gray eyes. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, Goyle." Then, he permitted himself to bring his hand out of his pea coat pocket, elevating a square shaped radio from its depths. He pushed down the long wire and set the toy down on the surface of the library table, looking up at Goyle to see if his friend had had any reaction. However, when Goyle's face remained untainted, Malfoy pushed the little radio away from him in Goyle's direction, stating, "I found this lying around Hogsmeade village the other day."

"Ah," Goyle nodded, managing to contain his enthusiasm.

"Ah." Malfoy's face reddened slightly. "Just... 'ah'. D-don't you know what this thing does?"

The rain pounded harder outside, bringing up Goyle's attention. He's almost forgotten that it was even raining in the first place. Of course, it had only been drizzling when he'd first entered the library, though such instant rushing wind surely discouraged him. He shut his eyes, very much liking the relaxing sensation that overtook him as he did so. Had Draco Malfoy truly worn him out this much?

Goyle shook his head. He didn't bother lifting the Muggle toy to examine it. Instead, he shoved the thing back towards Malfoy, who grabbed it and sheepishly shoved it back into the pocket of his jacket. "As a matter of fact," Goyle began, "I do. And, really, Draco, no one uses two way radios before. Not with text messaging." Malfoy raised an eyebrow, looking more lost than incomprehensibly drunk.

"Text-messaging?"

Goyle's voice lowered. Shaking his head, he advised his friend, "please, don't ask." However, Malfoy's confused visage did not change an ounce. Finally, Goyle explained, "after the war, I had to get away. I spent a while outside the Wizarding World completely." He sighed, running a hand over his own large face. "Meaning London... Muggle London." He paused, looking up from his sausage-like fingers to examine his own affect of Draco's face. Furthermore, Malfoy's confused grimace had him a tad bit unsure himself. He further elaborated, "I had to get away, Draco. From all of this and, you know what, it worked. I came back and I was ready to start over again. Become something of a new person. I got my head back on straight." Once again, the chubbier of the two pressed himself closer, possibly more engrossed in what he was trying to saw. Perhaps it was something that truly needed to be said, really considering the circumstances. As he talked, he used his hands, widened his eyes, and looked as if he couldn't offer Draco any better advise in the world. "I'm not saying you need to go away, Draco. But you need to stop thinking about the past-- stop drinking."

A rather long and uncomfortable moment passed between the two of them. Malfoy's eyes drew away from Draco's, landing on the bulge of the radio in his pocket, and then flickered back to find his friend. Two things ran through his mind, and only one of them involved what Goyle was saying at the moment. First and foremost, he'd considered the radio, and all aspects of it. Whomever it was on the other end had heard absolutely everything he was saying only the night before and he couldn't take that back. It was true, of course, that the listener was more than likely oblivious as to who it was on the other end. However, that was not the point. What Draco was sure of was that the listener- no, the intruder- would find out who he was more sooner than later.

And there, in lied the problem.

The list of things Draco didn't know about the listener was ample. His cluelessness, it seemed, knew no bounds. Where he was currently was somewhere in the midsts of trying to invent an exposing jinx to hex the radio with and pretending to pay attention to Goyle's ramblings. Where Goyle was, however, was fully engrossed in what it was that he was saying. His eyes were intense and wide, bulging even. When he spoke, though he did so with fast enthusiasm, his mouth formed every word. "Stop drinking. Get your head sorted out. And drop this unimportant nonsense. Radios, Malfoy? Come on."

Malfoy's eye twitched, finally impacted by the word 'radio'. He jerked his chin up, straightened his jaw, and put on more of an interested face. Goyle's, however, melted with all the disappointed feelings he could muster. "Are you even listening to me?"

"You have my complete attention," Draco lied, wondering what other books he could find.

Goyle sighed, shaking his huge skull back and forth. There was a throbbing inside of it that he knew could only be caused by the blond seated directly across from him. He gripped his temples and swallowed hard, rather determined. "I'm not going to let you be just another lost cause, Draco."

Malfoy's mouth twitched up into that of an amused smile. For the time being, he had been brought away from his interest in the radio. "Is that right? And how do you propose to save me from utter destruction?" There was a cockiness in his voice that Goyle recognized almost instantly. He flinched, letting his shoulders drop at the sign of his friend poking fun at him.

"I'm serious, Malfoy," Goyle spat, somewhat repulsed and offended. However, he mellowed himself, continuing with patient persistence. "Look, what happened to us was definitely life impacting. I've thought things out, and I've had time to, too... I've been given great advice. I think after all the steps I've taken I've really began to start to think straight. We were brainwashed, Malfoy. We were told to think a certain way and we fell for it. All I'm saying is... find yourself."

Draco didn't bother to hide his oncoming laughter. "Goyle, you're insane. I'm... I'm fine. I'm striving and surviving!" With an unconvincing smile, Malfoy shoved his hands up into the air, as if to further show off this statement. Malfoy laughed, yet again, and when he did so it was in that of a laughing child. His eyes swam with amusement and even his drunkenly pale face turned to a satisfied shade of red. His cheeks, puffy as a result of trying to contain himself, were sore with his chuckling and only when he was certain his body couldn't take it anymore, did he stop altogether. After the ordeal, he was utterly tankful he didn't hear the librarian hush, "shh! This is a library!" because, after Goyle's previous speech, he was certainly not in the mood for any more cliches. However, Goyle did not laugh. He didn't move much, quite frankly. Instead, he sat temporarily frozen, taking in the wobbling, giggling presence that was Draco Malfoy.

He slapped his head on his forehead, shutting his heavy eyes. They had started to sting since starting down Malfoy for such a long while. "Get up. One step at a time, alright? I'm going to lock you in a single room and make you sweat and piss out that liquor for as long as it takes."

But Draco whipped his hand away. "No," he said, obviously not paying attention. "You go ahead. I've got stuff to do." At this, he turned back to the open book, lowered himself in his seat, and scanned the pages over intensively. Goyle stood there, brought up from his chair, in what seemed to be inevitable shock. He blinked, watching Draco ignore him so blatantly. Then, with a discouraged groan, he moved himself from Draco's library table, back out into the rain.

Hermione Granger was laying on her back, her brunette hair sprawled out behind her small skull. It had been raining for quite some time, though she didn't quite mind the moistness. She was laying underneath a bright pink bed sheet, somewhat of a fort in the middle of her room. She'd lit candles around herself, feeling quite relaxed in her new world of pink, orange, and red. And relaxation was exactly the thing she needed. To relax her mind-- that was the goal. Quite honestly, all that she had been thinking about was the little radio, which has been sitting on her chest, as she breathed in and out rhythmically. That damn radio.

But what use was it to blame a child's toy? She had, of course, been the sole person to blame. She herself had made the noise that gave her away. And she was sure that the boy on the other end had heard it. Furthermore she felt rather embarrassed and disappointed in herself. Currently, her mind ran back and forth between what she truly needed and what she wanted. What she needed was more scented candles, probably the only thing that would relax her a time like this. What she needed was contact through the radio again and even she wasn't really sure why. Though, thinking about the dynamics of it all was only just making her headache worse. Maybe she really did need the comfort of someone who'd gone through everything she had, as well. Someone that wasn't Harry or Ron. Of course, it wasn't that her best friends didn't bring her comfort; they did an amazing job of making her happy.

So then, what was it?

"Knock, knock," came the verbal entrance of someone unseen. A long and slender shadow was cast up against the sunset colored sheets draped around the bedroom. Hermione only made a little groan, hardly managing to move a muscle. But the newcomer took her grunt as a welcoming. Striding forward, Ron revealed himself duly into the light, presenting a goofy smile on his freckled face. However, his good natured beam proved only just temporary. "What's going on in here?" he asked, scrunching up his face.

"Shh!" Hermione scolded, tossing Ron a rather annoyed frown. "Ron, I'm trying to concentrate." With that, she shut her eyes, shifted slightly on the ground, and scrunched her face, as if such a thing would help her dive deeper into her serenity.

Reeling slightly back, Ron obeyed her, though not fully. With an over exaggerated grimace, he cocked his chin up and took to examining the mess Hermione had made of her bedroom. The only light that seeped through the windows was that that managed its way through the orange bed sheets. Cast along the walls, shadows were made heavily prominent by the lit candles on every desk in the room. Dandling pink lights gave the whole atmosphere the feeling of being inside a tent belonging to perhaps that of a gypsy. Trying to understand Hermione's newfound unorganized and artistic taste, Ron raised an eyebrow, allowing himself to say only, "huh."

Hermione's tired eyes bust open. "You know, it's not exactly easy to try and concentrate with you talking and breathing over my shoulder."

Ron stifled his laughter. Working on trying to mask his oncoming smile, he moved in, slunk back, and looked down on her, almost literally. "I was just trying to bring you some tea, 'Mione," he scoffed, rather amused, "relax."

Eyes following the silver tray in Ron's hands, Hermione caught hold of her own miserable reflexion that had been cast in the surface of it. The bloodshot color that had overtaken her pupils horrified her. The paleness in her face made her slightly sick. She shifted and finally transferring her gaze up to Ron, she allowed an unhid frown to pass her. "I was trying to relax," she informed him, irritably, though she gave up and pulled herself up into a seated position. However, she attempted to be somewhat polite as she took the tea cup from Ron's tray, nodding in a questionably bitter, "thank you."

"So," Ron asked, ignoring Hermione as she winced at the sound of him speaking again, "what's this all about?"

"Nothing," Hermione lied. "I'm just trying to get some relaxing in. And don't give me that look," she added, taking note of Ron's consistently twisting facial expressions. "I read up in the library that said settings like this were ideal for relaxation. However, you standing around was not included in that book's description. So, if you'll excuse me."

Ron's face both fell and rose. Stuck between being hurt and amused, his shoulders fell, though his smile quivered up into a smile. "Well," he said with a sigh and a laugh, waving his wiry finger around in a circle, "have at it then." Hermione watched him leave the tent, bending down low to avoid knocking down the sheets she'd draped all over the place. Left sitting cross legged with her steaming hot tea, Hermione was slightly unsure whether or not to be glad or embarrassed for her behavior towards Ron. After all, he'd only been trying to be nice. However, 'nice' was not what Hermione needed right now. What Hermione needed was a miracle. She need the radio, to hear that voice again because for some reason she found it unavoidably comforting.

And then Hermione Granger got her miracle. The little radio gave a static grumble, almost causing Hermione to drop her hot tea completely. For then came the voice, shaky and a little unsure, before it finally said carefully, "testing. Testing. One. Two. Three."

Vonne: R&R, thank you!