Disclaimer: No characters are mine except for Alana Burke.

Author's Note: When it comes to romance and Slytherins, Draco gets everything. Occasionally we'll see a male Blaise. I started to feel a little bit bad for Crabbe and Goyle. Sure they're hulking, violent brutes…but everybody needs somebody! So here's Goyle's Romance fic.

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Slytherin was losing. To Hufflepuff. That was just not having on. It was Hufflepuff. And yet there was the score, clear as day. Slytherin 40, Hufflepuff 80. And if that idiot Kevin Whitby caught the snitch…

Gregory Goyle was proud to be a Slytherin. He'd gone rather far, at least in his opinion. He was friends with the most influential of his House-Draco Malfoy-and him and Vincent were bloody good mates. He was a beater, he wasn't failing anything, and no one gave him any gruff. He was proud, and he wasn't going to be beaten by a bunch of baboons on broomsticks.

Burke had the quaffle. Burke was headed towards the goals. Gregory frowned, eyes seeking out the nearest bludger. They were not going to lose to Hufflepuff! He urged his broom to the right, grasping it with one hand as he swung hard, sending the bludger in the direction of the small, dark haired chaser.

He really didn't think he hit it that hard. He really didn't. He'd just meant to throw her off balance, make her drop the quaffle. He hadn't meant to make her fall…

***

"I cannot believe you!" Draco was angry. Gregory hung his head, the insults and threats and whiny tone rolling off of him. He was used to it by now. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

"It was an accident," he mumbled, staring down at his hands.

"And they called off the game because of it! I almost had the Snitch, but no! You had to go and muck things up for us!"

"Stupid," Vincent muttered. Of course. When Draco was in his moods, it was always 'Stupid Goyle'. He hated it.

"M gonna go do some stuff," he said, standing up.

"Look at that…can't even take a little friendly teasing!" Draco's voice was really starting to get on his nerves. He resisted the urge to flip him off, and trudged out of the Common Room and into the corridor. Snape wanted to see him, anyway. He was probably in trouble. With a heavy sigh, Gregory made his way down to his Head of House's office.

"Mr. Goyle. Sit." Snape didn't look like he was in a good mood. Gregory nodded, and dropped his rather impressive bulk into a chair. All of his baby fat had turned into muscle over the years, but he was still a large young man.

"I'm really sorry about what happened…"

"Yes, I'm certain you are. Quidditch is a dangerous game. If that girl couldn't sit her broom, she should not have been playing. Regardless, Professor Sprout is incensed. Apparently the Burke girl suffered some rather severe injuries."

"Is she gonna be okay?" It wasn't like she was a mudblood or anything. And he really hadn't meant to hurt her badly!

"She is expected to make a full recovery. But I would advise that you attempt to keep your nose clean for the rest of your stay here at Hogwarts."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Not at the moment, no." Snape glared at him, almost as though he wished that Gregory were in some sort of trouble. "But one more transgression and there may be problems. You do not have the best of records, Mr. Goyle."

"I'll be good," Gregory promised. He was seventeen, but he felt like a small child who'd been caught stealing.

"As long as we are understood. And do stay out of the way of the Hufflepuffs. They're not happy with you at the moment."

Gregory just nodded. He did sort of want to go and make sure that girl was okay. He couldn't even remember her first name, but he felt badly. Especially since she was really hurt. Why couldn't it have been Summers or something? That stupid mudblood deserved to fall off of his broom.

In a fit of rather rare generosity, Gregory slipped-inasmuch as a 113 kilogram boy can slip-back into the common room. Draco and Vincent were nowhere to be seen. Hopefully the wouldn't be in the dorms, either, since that was where Gregory was headed.

The dorms were empty. He nodded to himself, and began rooting about in his trunk. He pulled out a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and a tin of treacle tarts his mother had sent him. She made the best treacle tarts in Britain, as far as he was concerned. Stuffing them into his bag, he headed out to the Hospital Wing.

***

The infirmary was pretty quiet. Madame Pomphrey was bustling about, and Gregory stood in the doorway for a few minutes, before he cleared his throat and the nurse looked up.

"Oh? Yes?" she narrowed her eyes at him, hands on her hips.

"Um…here." He thrust the tin and the box rather sheepishly at Madame Pomphrey. "They're for…for her." He jerked his head in the direction of where he assumed Burke was lying. Behind the screen.

"I'll make sure she gets them." She was still looking at him funny. Almost accusingly. He hadn't meant to!

"I feel really bad…"

"It's all right. Go on now, I'm certain you have things to do. She'll be up and able to have visitors tomorrow. *She's* the one you need to apologize to, not me."

"Yeah…thanks…" Gregory shoved his hands in hit pockets, and left the infirmary.

***

He waited two days. He didn't know what he was going to say to her. Other then 'I'm really sorry'. And that sounded so stupid. He had even made her a card. A rather sloppy one, but he wasn't very artistic. He took it with him, when he finally went to visit her.

Madame Pomphrey wasn't around this time, and the screen was gone. He'd found out that her name was Alana, and she was a year behind him. He clutched the card tightly in his thick fist, and forced his feet to carry him over to her bed. She was sitting up, eyes fixed on some schoolbook.

"Uh. Hi." Gregory stuck out his hand with the card, feeling like a fool. Draco was right, he was an idiot.

"Hi…" Alana looked up at him, confusion rather clear in her eyes. They were kind of pretty eyes. Or they would be, if they hadn't been so big. She took the card gingerly, looking it over and then back up at Gregory.

"I'm really, really sorry I knocked you off of your broom," he said, sitting down next to her bed. "I didn't meant to. I mean, I meant to hit you and all but I didn't mean to knock you off of it."

"Oh. That's…that's okay, I guess." Alana shrugged, setting the card aside with the rest of her get well wishes. There were a lot. "Quidditch is a rough sport."

"But you're gonna be okay. Right?" The sudden fear that everyone had been lying to him welled up in him.

"Yeah, I'm going to be fine. I broke my hip, where the bludger hit. And there's some little stuff, but I should be better in a week."

"That's really good."

"Thanks for…the stuff." She waved her hand at the tin that was sitting next to her bed.

"My mum made the tarts."

"They were good, I had one." Alana frowned. "You didn't have to say you were sorry, you know."

"I wanted to." She really was little. He'd never noticed it before. The bones in her fingers and hands made him think of bird bones.

"All right then."

There was an awkward silence. Gregory folded his hands nervously in his lap, suddenly very aware that he was big and clumsy and stupid.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, quickly.

"Oh no. Thanks though. You don't have to stay here with me. It's okay."

"I sort of want to," Gregory said. "Um. You seem sorta nice."

"Oh…" Alana looked away. She was probably disgusted that he thought she was nice.

"You're kind of pretty, too."

"Um. Okay." Now she was just looking at him like he was mad. Which he was starting to think he was.

"No, you are. I mean….your eyes are kinda too big, and your lips are really thin and that sort of makes your head look like it's bigger at the top but…you're eyes are a pretty color and you don't have any splotches or anything…" And Gregory remembered why he didn't talk to girls.

"You probably should have stopped at 'I think you're sort of nice'," Alana said.


"I'm not really smart or anything." Gregory shrugged. It wasn't news to him. "And I don't talk much. 'Cept to my mate Vincent."

"Okay. Look…I'm sort of tired." Alana gave him a weak, funny smile. "Thank you for coming and seeing me, that was really nice."

"You probably don't want me to come back, huh?" He scratched the back of his head, looking down at his feet.

"Uh…I guess you could. If you wanted to." Alana shrugged. "You're not mean, or anything. And I think you were trying to compliment me."

"Oh I was!" Gregory nodded his head vigorously. She had nice hair, too. It looked really soft. It wasn't to long either, and it was a pretty shade of dark brown. Sort of like really thick, rich mud.

"You're not all that bad, you know that?"

"Really?" No one had said that to him before, and he was sort of touched.

"Yeah. So you can come back again, if you want."

"Gee, thanks!" Gregory stood up, smiling broadly. "Hey! When you're all better, you wanna maybe come into Hogsmeade with me?"

"Uh…we'll see." Alana gave him a smile-not weird or funny-and made a shooing gesture with his hand.

We'll see. As far as Gregory was concerned she had said yes. Suddenly, he was sort of happy Hufflepuff had won the game. They weren't so bad, after all.

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