A/N: This story is the result of me trying to write a rare-pair drabble for the HP Advent prompts on twitter (find the full prompt list here: /hpadventprompts/status/1724886639569227920 ) and my brain deciding that it wanted to turn it into a whole fic.

So in the end I set myself the challenge to write 25 chapters - one for each prompt - and try to shape them into a somewhat cohesive story. The result is messy and chaotic and probably not the best thing I've ever written, but I guess that's what happens when you go into something big like this without planning it beforehand.

Either way I am determined to finish this story, even if it takes me another month, and hope that at least some of you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

ooo

"Goyle!" Ginny's voice echoed from the cold stone walls, as she strode down the empty corridor towards him. The tall wizard had frozen mid-stride, a guilty look in his eyes as he slowly turned around to face her.

"This is the second time this week that you're out after curfew." Ginny huffed, trying to put as much authority into her voice as she possibly could when facing someone twice her size. "If I catch you out of bed one more time, I will have to report you. Is that clear?"

Goyle let out a soft snort and shrugged. "Do what you have to, Weasley." He said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "And don't forget to tell Draco I said hi when you do."

Ginny's jaw dropped, and she let out an incredulous gasp.

That bloody bastard. Did he really think that he would get away with this, just because his best mate was head boy? Absolutely not. He had chosen the wrong prefect to mess with.

"Actually…" she said, shooting him a scathing look. "I think I'll take this directly to the headmistress. Draco and Hermione are so busy with all their head boy and girl duties. I wouldn't want to bother them with a rogue eighth year who doesn't know how to read a clock."

At that, Goyle's face instantly fell and his expression changed from smug to defiant as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"You wouldn't dare." He grumbled, and Ginny felt a sense of satisfaction at the nervous tone in his voice.

"What if I did?" She countered.

"Oh, come on! It's not even that late!" Goyle piped up, his face going red. "So I'm out of bed after hours. What's it to you? I'm old enough to decide when to go to bed."

"It's the school rules!" Ginny shot back.

"So what?" Goyled argued. "Are you telling me you've never broken a school rule before?"

Now, that threw Ginny off kilter for a moment. Obviously, she had broken the school rules before. As a matter of fact, she used to go against the rules all the time. Growing up with Fred, George and Ron as her older brothers, and dating no other than 'Harry No Rules Apply To Me Potter' for a while, she had learned very early on, that rules were there to be broken, or at least bent a little.

But things were different now. There was no war to be fought and everyone was safe. There was no reason to break rules anymore, and anyway, all she really wanted was to lie low and finish her education as quickly as possible, so that she could get out of this place with all its horrible memories and ghosts of the past, and start a new life.

Jaw set in a stubborn expression, she put her hands on her hips in her best and most intimidating impression of her mother.

"I want to know what you're up to." She insisted.

"Well, tough luck." Goyle deadpanned, crossing his own arms in front of his chest.

Anger burned in Ginny's chest and she had to take a deep breath to stop herself from going off like one of Dr. Filibuster's fireworks. But it wouldn't be like Ginny to give up just yet. She was too nosey and too stubborn to let it go.

"Okay." She said, trying for a calmer, more soothing tone; but not quite managing to keep the frustrated tremor out of her voice. "How about you tell me where you go at night and in return, I promise that I won't tell McGonagall anything about it?"

Goyle gave her a long, calculating look.

"How do I know you're not lying?" He asked suspiciously.

Ginny scoffed. "Because I'm a Gryffindor." She said proudly. "We keep our promises."

Goyle narrowed his eyes at her, his nostrils flaring slightly as he seemed to weigh up his options.

"Fine." He eventually caved, building himself up to his full height. "I bake, okay? Are you happy now?"

Ginny laughed. She didn't really mean to, but the surprised giggle just slipped out before she could hold it back, and once she had started, it was difficult to stop. "You're joking, right?" she wheezed, but then she spotted the embarrassed grimace on Goyle's face and instantly stopped. "Oh shit, you're actually serious."

The tall wizard looked sheepish all of a sudden, a light blush sweeping across his cheeks and tinting the bridge of his nose, and for a moment Ginny found herself distracted by the way it made his face look so unfamiliar, and yet somehow endearing.

She watched as he pushed his hands in his pockets, dropped his gaze to the floor and shrugged.

"I like cake." He murmured, the red in his cheeks now spreading into his ears.

Ginny almost snorted out another laugh and quickly bit her lip to stifle it, before she nodded. It wasn't exactly a secret that the burly Slytherin harboured a fondness for everything sweet. He used to be huge and she remembered that he was rarely spotted without a sugary treat in his hand. It had only been in the past couple of years that his physique had changed and the copious amounts of baby fat had turned into firm muscle and broad shoulders.

"Okay." Ginny said, struggling to keep a straight face. "So you sneak out after hours and risk being caught several nights a week to …bake?"

Goyle shrugged again. "It makes me feel calm." And when Ginny didn't react, he added "The house elves let me use their kitchen. One of them even taught me how to make sticky toffee pudding. It's my favourite and…" he broke off, looking embarrassed.

Ginny was at a loss for words, staring at the boy as if she had never seen him before. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that Gregory Goyle would enjoy something as horribly mundane and domestic as baking.

"Show me." She demanded, causing Goyle's eyes to grow wide.

"What? No!" He shook his head wildly. "That's… it's… private."

"Then how am I supposed to believe you?" Ginny pressed on. "Come on, I want to watch you bake."

Without thinking what she was doing, she grabbed the wizard's hand and pulled him into the direction of the school kitchens, only vaguely aware that Goyle, despite being twice the size and probably strength of her, allowed her to guide him.

Stopping in front of the painting of a fruit bowl, which she knew, marked the entrance of the kitchens, Ginny tickled the pear in the picture with a gentle finger. She watched as the wall disappeared and a rounded archway appeared, a smug smile tugging at her lips, as she grabbed the hand of the surly looking wizard once more, and pulled him straight through the door into the kitchens.

"Master has come to practice his baking skills." One of the house elves squeaked the instant they stepped foot in the kitchen. "Finty is laying out all the ingredients for Master to use!" the little elf bounced on her feet, her big periwinkle eyes round and shining with excitement.

"Thanks, Finty." Goyle said softly, and Ginny was stunned to see his face split into a kind smile. "I brought a... err... friend today. I hope that's alright?"

After several 'Yes, Sirs' and 'Yes, pleases' from Finty, and a handful of pleasantries exchanged between the little elf and him, Goyle eventually caught Ginny's gaze and jerked his head towards the back of the kitchen, prompting her to follow him.

They arrived at a wide work bench with built in oven and sink at the far back of the room, and Ginny slid into a chair that the ever-so-eager elves had already pulled up for her, smiling politely as one of them offered her a steaming cup of tea.

Goyle walked around to the other side of the worktop and began to wash his hands thoroughly, before waving his wand several times to summon ingredients from all across the kitchen. Ginny ducked when a bag of flour whizzed past her at a worrying speed and shot Goyle a scathing look, but the tall wizard only shrugged, a toothy grin spreading on his face.

"So what are you making?" Ginny asked, casting a curious look at the assembled ingredients. A part of her was still thinking that he was pulling her leg and she was all too eager to see him prove her wrong.

"Pumpkin pasties." He said, his ears going red again. "Our old house-elf used to make them for me every autumn until…" his expression darkened and he shook his head. "Well…she's not with us anymore, but I still get a craving for her blasted pasties every year when the weather starts to turn."

He looked a little sheepish when he shrugged and added "I thought if I learn how to make them it would be a nice way to remember her by."

Ginny nodded, her throat feeling rather tight all of a sudden, but before she could think of something to say, Goyle lifted his shoulders in another shrug and turned away.

And then he began to bake. - By hand.

He measured all the ingredients himself, he sifted the flour, and separated the eggs, mixed all the spices and kneaded the dough; …and Ginny found herself completely mesmerised by it. She couldn't stop staring as he went about the task with well-practiced moves; so smooth and fluid as if it came naturally to him. She was completely enthralled by the way the muscles in his forearms flexed as he rolled out the pastry, and how he filled and shaped each pasty with precision, crimping the edge of each individual piece in a way that shouldn't even be possible with hands as big as his.

It was like she was in a trance, and before she knew it, the sugary treats had gone in the oven and Goyle was waving his wand to clean up his workspace.

"You've been very quiet." He said, once the mess was cleared, casually leaning against the work top and crossing his arms.

Ginny shook her head, still at a loss for words.

"It's just…" she started, staring at the boy as if she'd never seen him properly before. "That was amazing." She slid off her chair and walked over to the oven, the sweet scent of the baking treats causing her stomach to rumble loudly.

"I've never seen anyone bake like that before." She continued, shaking her head in disbelief. "I mean, my mum is brilliant at baking charms, but she'd never do it all by hand."

"Oh…yes, well." Goyle looked a little embarrassed at that. "I guess I just like to get my hands dirty. It…makes it feel more real. If that makes sense?"

Ginny nodded to indicate that she understood. That made perfect sense, actually.

They both sat down and fell into light conversation, while they waited for the pasties to bake, and Ginny was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to talk to the older Slytherin. It was strange to think that she used to be so scared of him. He had always seemed so big and intimidating, but here in this kitchen, where he felt safe and comfortable, he seemed much more relaxed; and his tone had turned from the usual ominous growl into a low and soothing rumble that was really quite pleasant to listen to.

She smiled, as he told her stories of his former house-elf Tippy who seemed to be the sole reason why Goyle had developed such a sweet tooth in the first place, and by the time the pasties had finally finished baking, and Goyle had cast a gentle cooling charm on them, so they could try them, Ginny was not weary or intimidated by him anymore. And as she nibbled on her pasty, the sweet and spicy flavours ticking her taste buds in just the right way, she thought that maybe, just maybe, Gregory Goyle wasn't as bad as she had thought.