Vonne: Happy New Year! Doesn't it feel refreshing for it to be 2010? Okay, here's what I've been asking just about everyone all week: Is it two-thousand and ten, or twenty-ten now? What do you call it? Personally, I like the sound of twenty-ten. It just sounds more futuristic. And we are all pretty futuristic, aren't we? I mean, we've gone pretty far. I, for one, feel accomplished. Anyway, my last update about my new years resolution being that I'm going to update more was, unfortunately, a joke. I don't have a new years resolution. But I do promise to update, update, update as long as you review as much as you already have! Thanks so much to every one of you. I appreciate it more than you know.

Anyway, the responses below are to all those that asked a question. (;

Shining Bright Eyes: First off, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews you've been giving me. I love reading them- as they do make my day. Thank you. I'm so glad that you like what I'm writing and I hope you continue to keep on enjoying it.

Amandakai: I'm so glad that you like the concept of this and that you like how everything is going "so far", that means a lot so thank you! As for your concern that it seems to "drag on": I'm definitely trying to stay away from that route, but I'm also trying not to make anything I write seem too cliche fanfiction-wise, if you know what I'm saying. But if it does drag on, that is probably due to the fact that I love writing-- a bit too much at times-- and I'm sure you can even tell in the response I'm writing up now to you! As for the Ron and Hermione story line, I've definitely got that planned in the future of this story, though I must admit, I'd thought I'd already mentioned it. HAH, which was completely false on my part. Turns out I'd only just briefly done so (in chapter 4, the 9th and 10th paragraphs down). I'm so glad you chose to point that out, however, I will definitely try to make the subject more obvious! Thanks so much!

Oh, and from now on I am doing reviewer responses, exactly like the ones above. I appreciate all critique, so, lay them on me. In other words, PLEASE, don't hesitate to ask me any type of question. I can assure you that it will be answered on the next chapter update. So, in conclusion, make me happy.

And now, here is chapter eight.

Chapter Eight:
Pushing It

Gregory Goyle was laying on his back, spread out widely across the emerald grass. It was drawing towards night time, and they had spent a significant amount of time sitting there together, doing absolutely nothing. But that was beyond the point; Goyle had just wanted to drag Draco into Hogsmeade, having considered a stroll quite possibly therapeutic in Draco's sake. However, he had failed miserably in his goal, falling victim towards being Draco's listener. In fact, the two hadn't moved a significant muscle during the entire time they had been there, which was drawing on two hours now. Using his time wisely, Goyle had tried most of all to ignore Malfoy as he jolted the tiny Muggle toy with his wand consistently. "I wish," Goyle said, although aware of his statement's uselessness, "you would stop doing that."

However, his comment had gone very much ignored. "My father," Draco Malfoy spat as he poked furiously at the tiny radio with the end of his wand, "thinks I'm miserable." Goyle squinted up at Draco from his spot lying on the ground. Malfoy was positioned awfully, with his back slumped against nothing but the bitter air. He looked drunk even when sober and had let his shaggy blond hair flop around his pale face. The front of his shirt was slightly unbuttoned and his black tie hung around his shoulders like a skinny and useless scarf.

"Ah," Goyle nodded, once again shutting his eyes, "and why in the world would your father think a silly thing like that?"

Draco rounded on him anxiously. His eyes burned with icy coldness and he narrowed his eyes to slightly open slits. "Are you mocking me, Goyle?" he asked, chilly, and he used his hands to support his faltering stillness.

Goyle once again opened his eyes, just barely peaking through his heavy eyelids. Despite his friend's annoyance, Goyle could see right through him. He lumbered up, using his elbows to support his beefy body, and crossed his legs at his ankles. The sky above him churned with the oncoming evening. Colors of red, orange, and pink blended together just behind the cluster of thick and leafy trees. Knowing he was running thin on time, he spoke rapidly, "you know, Draco, I don't think that being mocked is something you should be concerned about. Your father thinks you're miserable remember? Surely he didn't just come up with an idea like this on his own."

And much to Goyle's dismay, Draco seemed not to catch on to his sarcasm. "That's what I asked myself," he said inquisitively. He seemed to mull his own question over, truly unaware as to what could have possibly caused his father's concern. "Did I tell you that he came up into my bedroom last night? He asked me if I was feeling alright... which is odd..."

Goyle sighed, running a hand across his face. Truly, he wasn't in the mood to play the part as the therapist, but what was his choice. Grumpily, he asked with a lack of any signifying tone, "why is that odd? He's your father. Why can't he be concerned?"

Malfoy reeved back, raising an eyebrow. "Would your father bother to show any concern, Goyle?" When Goyle hesitated, only then did Malfoy allow himself to smile slyly, the only hint of his prior self that Goyle had noticed since meeting up with him. "Huh," Draco laughed slightly, hugging his knees and bringing the radio up to his face all at the same time, "didn't think so."

"That's different," Goyle responded, scrunching up his face. "You know as well as I do that my father is completely incapable of doing such a thing... well, now anyways." For a moment, Goyle fell silent. It had been five years since the death of his father and Goyle had always considered his passing as an ordinary event. Anyway, his father's death was good for him, essential for his success in moving on. Then again, at Draco's mention of the man, Goyle couldn't help but feel a ping of loss in the depths of his chest. His face reddened and he sheepishly sunk back into the grass, regretting that he'd allowed Draco to continue on with the subject at all.

However, Malfoy did not remain oblivious to Goyle's instant concern. He shifted slightly, stumbling around the aspect of saying sorry. However, Goyle only lifted up the palm of his hand, unquestionably forgiving him. Humbly positioned on his back in the dewy grass, Goyle managed to avert the subject to Draco's own father, rather than bring up the subject of his own. Perhaps they both were the ones with Daddy issues, but Goyle was more concerned about Draco, rather than himself. "Don't you think your morose attitude would be giving your father this assumption? It's been--"

"Five years," Draco muttered, "I know."

"You know, I don't think you do. Because someone who fully understands this wouldn't be sitting around all day doing nothing to move forward in life." Goyle swallowed, shading his face from the sinking sun. It wasn't a necessity, though it did allow him to avoid Draco's eyes. Contact with them seemed almost painful, as if connecting with Draco in this way would only permit him to draw on more about his personal unhappiness. The clattering that came from Draco's presence made Goyle wince. "And you need to stop fiddling around with that damn radio!" Instantly, he made a lunge for it, but Malfoy was naturally too quick. He leaned instantly out of the way, whipping the Muggle toy up in the air like a bully playing keep away.

Instead, he stuffed the toy back into his pants and tossed Goyle an annoyed expression, as if he were the one who was tired of the other's ramblings. And maybe he was, but that certainly made two of them. "I'm not fiddling," Draco mumbled once the toy had been stuffed away, out of sight and safe from being kidnapped, "I'm trying to figure out how to mentally murder the bitch on the other end."

Goyle's face fell blank. "Do you even realize how insane you sound right now? Talk about deranged." Malfoy only mumbled to himself, though Goyle didn't bother to try and listen. Instead, he pushed himself back up, fumbling with the ability to regain his determination. "Come on, Draco," he commanded sternly, "get up." Malfoy only squinted up at him, looking utterly lost. However, Goyle took to obliging his own commands. He yanked himself up off the grass with sudden urgency, doing so in fact almost too quickly. He stumbled to his feet with a newfound headache and placed his hands firmly on his rounded hips. "Don't just look up at me like that. Get up, let's go."

Malfoy let his head fall to one side, acting like he couldn't be more tired. "Let's go where?" he asked sleepily, not bothering to hide the dark bags under his gray eyes.

"Into Hogsmeade. We're taking a walk, Malfoy. Yes, we are." At his friend's discontent, Goyle offered out his hand, stiff and unbreakable. "I heard that long walks are--"

"Merlin, Goyle!" Draco said with a smile. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to pick up on me."

Goyle reeled back in disgust. Then, regaining himself after being the sure butt of his friend's joke, he tossed his head to one side, exhaling impatiently. "Don't be a prat. I know it's difficult, Draco, but shit, for once in your life!" Malfoy stifled his amusement, shoving himself up from the ground. Even slouching, Malfoy still stood taller than Goyle. He plummeted both of his hands into his trouser pockets and beamed boyishly at Goyle, who was only glad that Draco had pulled himself up from the ground in the first place. "Ah, well," he said, analyzing his friend as he stood, ready to go, "that's a start."

Malfoy sniffed, "I'm expecting you to buy me a round as a gracious reward."

Goyle scrunched up his pudgy face, informing Draco hastily, "don't push it."

All things considered, Goyle wasn't sure what to make of Draco's current get up. He was walking fast paced, his head pitched down to the soles of his polished black shoes, and he'd slipped his massive hood so heavily over his head so that his pointed nose was just barely showing. When he talked, he did so quietly and every so often. His hands he kept inside of his coat pockets, and when he did manage to expose his eyes, they darted around with nervous anticipation. "It's been five years," Goyle reminded Malfoy for the second time that night, "you don't have to disguise yourself every single time you step out in public, Draco."

"Sh!" Malfoy hushed, nudging Goyle hard under the ribs, "don't say my name too loud, for fuck's sake."

Goyle shook his head, tossing his arms out to signify his own comfort. "Look at me, Malfoy," he said, purposely enunciating his friend's surname for good effect, "I'm not ashamed to show myself. I'm not hiding out. I'm not hiding from anyone." Goyle walked with slow intentions, though tried to keep up with the fast moving Malfoy. His own hands were thrust out wide, as if inviting someone in.

Then, a new shadow hustled on by the two of them. He locked eyes with Goyle and picked up his pace with complete and absolute determination. Hurrying by he disregarded Goyle completely, knocking him aside with full intention. "Move it, Death Eater," he hissed, and finally vanished in the darkness slowly. At the collision, Goyle stumbled back, his outthrust hands forced limply back down. Stumbling, he whipped his head around to catch the rude passerby, but managed only to look completely dumbstruck in the process. Momentarily, he stood there, lost, but when his eyes found an observing Draco's he swallowed embarrassed and stumbled to bring himself up to an acceptable stance.

Watching like a dark black shadow in the distance, Draco huffed, "oh yeah, I totally get your point now. Loads of good that does you." Nonetheless, Goyle dusted himself off, wiped his sweaty forehead hastily, and sniffled back a runny nose. He walked alongside Draco in silence momentarily, with his own hands pushed down low in his pockets. He didn't, however, bother to hide himself, though he did take up Malfoy's action of checking out the soles of his painfully bland shoes.

"Well, at least I'm trying!" he spat finally, after not being able to quite take the long lasting silence. Irritably, Goyle repositioned his own mess of mousy brown hair. His eyes were glossy with what looked like tears, though he didn't bother to rid himself of them for sake for trying to fool Malfoy. Instead, as if trying to suck them back behind his eye lids, he remained still as he pressed one short and stubby leg over another feebly. "They have a point, anyway. They have every reason to continue on loathing us."

"And yet, you say there's hope," Draco mused, seemingly relishing in the aspect that he may have been right all along.

Goyle furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating on every word he was trying to say. "They don't all hate us, Draco. There are some days where people act completely normal around me--"

"Oh!" Draco huffed sarcastically, "how lucky of you! There are some days where people treat you normally? What a great way to live. Some days, huh?" Finally Malfoy tossed his own hands up, as if he were only just about to attempt the same stunt as Goyle. Though he thrust them back down with furious haste, slamming them bitterly at his side with an angrily bitter grin, "Merlin, it's a miracle!"

"At least it's something!" Goyle hissed, finally looking up. He lunged forward, attempting to remove Draco's hood from over his eyes though, snakelike, Draco slid away. Shaking his head, Goyle only mumbled, "shit."

"Don't try to drag me down along with you, Goyle," Draco whispered, "you may be alright with living like that, but I'm sure as hell not okay with it. In fact, I'm far from okay with it. Why'd I even agree to come out with you anyways?"

Walking silently, Goyle bit his lower lip. So much for proving a point to Draco. With his previous plans so obviously having failed, he lowered his head and let his shoulders sink low, thankful that Malfoy was too buried under his hood to notice. "Forget about the people that are still angry with us, okay? The majority of people in the Wizarding World are accepting." He added with an uplifting high note, "that's the new thing lately. Acceptance. You'll come to find it's all the rage."

Malfoy only shook his head. Blinking under his dark hood, he sighed, "and you think I'm deranged?" With that, he grabbed the side of the nearest pole and swung himself with full force into the closest pub, completely disappearing from Goyle's intermediate sight.

Once again, Goyle sighed miserably. Obviously he had failed to reach Draco miserably. What else was there to do then to face to consequences? He turned around on his heels, rolling his eyes, and marched into the pub on his own, wincing slightly at the dim light that emulated in the dodgy little place. At once he spotted Malfoy, who had already positioned himself at the end of the bar, his slender arm sticking up anxiously, prepared to order himself a drink. "So," Goyle said, advancing forward, "you're just going to keep drinking, huh?" Still hidden, Draco's hood flopped slightly as he nodded aggressively. "And you're not going to even think about what I said to you earlier?"

Not even hesitating to consider Goyle's question, Malfoy barely moved when he said, "nope. I think I'll just skip right to downing hard liquor, please. Excuse me! Oy!"

Goyle rolled his eyes, defeated, "how noble of you."

Seated next to Draco in the dark building, Goyle's own confidence seemed to slowly waver. However, realizing this all at once, he shook his throbbing head. No, in no way would he possibly let a downer like Draco drag him to that awful level. He squared his jaw, regaining himself, and lunged forward as the bartender approached Malfoy, a tiny shot in the palm of his hand. "Don't you dare," Goyle warned the man threateningly, and spun towards his friend, grabbed him by the arm, and whisked him off the barstool with a gust of almost incomprehensible strength. In fact, such a strong grip he'd hand on Draco's arm, that he didn't let go until he'd whisked the boy out the back door and shoved him furiously into the back alley.

Stumbling backwards on impact, Malfoy tripped over the backs of his own feet, letting out a quivering yelp, and fell over the cylindrical trash bins in one big hefty heap. For the first time that night, it was his sure time to look up dumbstruck. His mouth open in disbelief, Draco's eyes found Goyle's, who stood tall and muscular above him on two still feet. "Goyle!" Draco croaked from the ground, his palm having been slightly scuffed and bleeding, "what the hell!"

Goyle breathed in through his nostrils. Like a bull, he could almost envision the white steam coming from his nose and floating around his reddened face. "Get. It. Together." Huffing, he could almost feel the urge to lean forward and sock Malfoy in the face, however, his newfound containment kept him from doing so. With one heavy thrust of his entire body, he collided his massive back into the side of the brick building and slunk down to the cement to meet Malfoy's level. He pushed his stubby legs out in front of him, tilted his head into the palms of his own hands, and pressed his eyes shut so tight that he's started to see stars. "I'm not going to let you drink your entire life away, Malfoy."

"And who's choice is that to make, Goyle?" Draco spit, whisking himself off of the ground with sheer fury. He staggered to regain his posture and examined his bruised and bleeding hands. Having examined their completely mauled fronts, he took to tossing them down at his side and, heated, he shouted breathlessly, "shit!"

But Goyle rest on the floor, equally unhappy. "It's your choice, you're right. It's your choice because it's your life! But I'm your friend and I'm telling you that you can't just drink your whole life away! You're going to end up moping around... or worse, you could bloody well kill yourself. Is that what you want, huh? To die a miserable old man?"

"No!" Draco roared, racing towards Goyle with a red face of his own. When he'd reached him, he kneeled down and whisked his finger out in Goyle's direction, hovering it just barely in front of his nose as if offering him a threat. "You know what? You're wrong. Truth of the matter is I'd rather it that I die now, is that better?"

At once Goyle's face faded, his shoulders sinking almost lower than before. All the fury in his face had drained and he watched Draco as he stood above him, huffing wildly, his eyes burning with undoubtable rage. There was no mistaking Malfoy's intent and Goyle knew that he was at risk of being considerably socked in the face, however, as Goyle continued to watch Malfoy above him, he considered the fact that maybe Draco's threats were nothing but empty. The threat of being destroy had completely vanished and Goyle proceeded to only see Malfoy as a desperate, pathetic, and lonely human being. "What are you going to do?" Goyle asked miserably, his tone calm and almost soothing, "curse me?"

Draco flinched, as if Goyle had only just considered the idea for the first time. He fumbled slightly and then let his free hand dive into his pea coat, whisking out his wand without any questions. However, his uncertainty proved strong. Once he'd lifted the thing to Goyle's large nose he only continued his breathing, not allowing the fierceness to drop from his glare.

The two stood there for a moment, looking both fierce and unafraid. Then, with a massive groan, Malfoy pulled his wand away from the front of his friend's face with great force and spun around on his heels. When he turned back around to face Goyle, he had stuffed his wand back into his pocket, though his stance remained heavy and furious. Goyle's hand moved to pull himself back to his feet again, but Malfoy stuck his hand out in protest, "don't bother," he said, "I'll take myself home."

"Draco, come on. I didn't mean--"

"To what, Goyle? You know what? Your method of therapy isn't working. Obviously." As Malfoy shouted into the streets of the alleyway, his harsh voice echoed around the two of them, bouncing off the wall mercilessly. "I'm doing just fine on my own, if you haven't noticed. I don't need your help."

Goyle's breath had returned to normal. The color in his face had slightly begun to regain itself. Whatever anger had overtook him previously had begun to drain and staring at Malfoy he felt nothing but sheer pity. "Everyone needs a some help, Draco."

"Well, I don't want it." Draco huffed and finally slunk back against his side of the building. Wearily he ran the front of his clammy palm over the front of his face and when he finally looked up, there was no mistaking the sadness in his face. He allowed himself time to catch his breath and, when he did so, he swallowed a rather large lump in his throat. Then, without hesitation, he stumbled away from the wall, forced himself into the center of the alleyway, and stared down into the streets, looking morose and hollow. "I-I'm g-going home now, Goyle. Alone."

Though Goyle didn't quite believe him. In fact, he was more than sure that Draco would only take back to the pub the moment his foot touched the streets of Hogsmeade again. However, Goyle was not about to try and convince Draco to do otherwise. Accepting his night's defeat, he tried, "hey, Draco, I've invited Pansy over to my place for a drink tomorrow night. She hasn't seen you in five years." Shrugging, he tried once again, "it'd be nice if you'd showed up. She'd love to catch up on things, you know. Just the three of us again..."

But Draco's mind was already focused on the streets ahead of him and, lifting up his hand, he said with his back facing Goyle, "yeah, we'll see," and disappeared behind the brick wall completely. His steps were slow, however extended outwards with quick desires. He focused on nothing but his feet and the ground alone. Goyle, as it turned out, was wrong; he was not going to bother to enter the pub, had almost completely lost interest in doing anything but going to sleep in his own bedroom by himself. He longed for nothing more than to submit himself to total darkness and bury himself under the heavy covered, slinking in to yet another sleepless night. However, footsteps ahead of him grabbed his attention instantly. He braced himself, sinking under his hood sheepishly. Only the footsteps echoed throughout his mind and his heart beat hard inside his skeleton.

However, walking with his head thrust downward proved rather unsuccessful and he came shoulder to shoulder with the new shadow almost instantly. The impact was sharp and, stumbling back, Draco reached eagerly for his hood, which slid easily off of his face. Hunching low, he pulled the thing back over his head, and felt around for the wand he'd felt slip out of his coat pocket. "Oh my Gosh!" came a female voice, earnest and sorry. On the gravel, Draco could hear her kneel down. She extended a hand and placed it simply on his shoulder.

The touch of her palm, even over the thickness of his coat, was warm on impact and, not suspecting such a thing, Draco reeled backwards, his hands gripping his dark hood. "I am so sorry!" the voice cooed, undoubtedly sweet beyond all her concern. "Are you alright?"

Draco mumbled timidly, "'M fine," and his determination to find his wand quickly doubled. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there, to go home and go to sleep.

Though the voice seemed to sense his despair. Nonetheless, she proved to have the answer. "It's okay," she said, knowing exactly what Draco had been looking for. Though she couldn't see his face, she managed a smile and hope he was returning it on his own. "I've got it." Extending her other hand forward, Draco's intruded offered Draco his wand softly. "This is what you're looking for, right?" Draco's blood ran cold, thanking God that it was too dark for anyone to recognize his wand.

His sweaty hands reached out and he grabbed his wand anxiously, muttering a timid, "thank you." Then, feeling slightly more at fault, he added politely, "I'm sorry. I- I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh no, really" the woman smiled, offering her hand out. She placed it warmly on Draco's slender shoulder and tilted her head to one side, "it's completely my fault. I wasn't paying attention." To further prove her point, she lifted up a heavy looking book and waved it around briskly in the air before her. "It's these books, really. I get a new one and my focus is just drained in them. So, really, don't worry about it."

With her hand on top of her shoulder, even over the thickness of Draco's coat, Malfoy couldn't deny the sheer warmness that he'd felt at the woman's touch. However, he resisted falling into it. In the darkness, he slunk lower into the safety of his hood, feeling mild despite the thumping beat that emulated from his very skeleton. And then, all at once it hit him. Heart sinking and chest dropping, he felt weary and light headed. Why he hadn't noticed it before was beyond him. Her books and her warm, helpful voice.

Hermione Jean Granger. She sat, kneeling, her hand now almost a bother on Draco's shoulder. He felt hot and embarrassed underneath his hood and his desire to go to sleep was now stronger than ever. As Hermione tilted her head to peer underneath Draco's hoods, he lifted his hands up defensively, pulling his coat down impossibly low. Draco's chest plummeted, his eyes wide underneath all the darkness. Then, instantly, he staggered to his feet, stumbling over himself with unshakable nerves. Once he'd reached a comfortable stance, he placed his head downward at his feet, sniffed, and tried to act as unaware as possible. However, at his brash actions, Hermione lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, smiling almost nervously. She laughed anxiously and then placed a strand of wavy brunette hair behind her ear. "Are you sure you're quite alright?" she asked curiously, as if she sensed something off about Draco right away.

Malfoy's heart skipped a beat and, mumbling he assured her, "I'm positive, thank you." He slunk his shoulder away and Hermione's hand fell off of his body in one swift motion. Embarrassed, she tucked her hands away and offered Draco a timid smile.

However, Hermione was quick on noticing the man's instant discomfort. She regained herself, shaking her head as if trying to rid an uneasy thought from her mind. "Okay," she said shakily, "well I really should get going then. It's getting late." Nodding, Draco managed to keep his mouth shut. "Okay, well have a nice night."

Coughing, Malfoy said with a rather low voice, "yeah, you too."

With that Hermione took off, looking over her shoulder only once to get another look at the man before regaining herself, as if forgetting the incident altogether. Without another attempt, she dove back into her book and vanished completely.

But Draco couldn't manage moving himself. He only stood, quite pathetically, in the middle of the newly deserted streets, his fingers around the width of his wand sweatily. His breath ran cold and, this time, he could truly see it as it danced like mist in front of his face. The warmth he'd felt was only just starting to subside and as his body finally succumbed into it's natural chilliness, he stumbled back home, not all that tired anymore.

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