Autumn Leaves

The autumn wind was cold, and Gregory pulled his robes tighter around him. He stood on the grounds, overlooking the lake and the Forbidden Forest; the leaves on the trees had changed from green to a cascade of red and gold, and the air had taken on the bluish autumn tint. He'd stood there for a while now, to get away from the bustling crowd of students and to cool his anger.

He heard footsteps behind him, hard steps through the wet grass, but he didn't turn around to see who it was. The feet stopped their pace right behind him, and the rustling of robes were heard. Soon the smell of cigarette smoke reached him. It was Pansy, of course; he'd half expected her to join him.

"What are you looking for?" she asked before taking a new drag of her cigarette, her voice impatient.

"Nothing, I'm just looking." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to keep the little warmth he had left in his body. "Isn't that what people do?" His voice was half-humorous as he tried to suppress a little smile. He turned to look at her.

Pansy blew out a cloud of smoke and stuck the wand back in her pocket with a jerky movement. Every move she made showed how irritated she was. He watched her from the corner of his eye for a minute, then turned his attention back to the forest. Something was stirring between the trees, a silvery white creature. When he looked closer it was gone.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong," she replied with a snort. "This whole bloody place is wrong. I hate this castle sometimes, Greg, and it's only October. Imagine what it'll feel like in February." There was bitterness in her voice now, a sound that had become only too familiar the last month.

She didn't reply, but her silence told him what he didn't want to know. Things were happening around him so fast these days, and Gregory found it difficult to follow it all. Pansy... She was standing by Draco's side, as she'd done ever since their first year. Constant rows and discussions were the result, and she often came to Gregory when Tracy and Millicent didn't offer her a sympathetic ear. Millicent had her own problems, and Tracy was always tagging after Blaise, and that sort of left Gregory. He didn't mind.

"I just needed a bit of fresh air," she muttered. Ashes from her cigarette flew by him and danced on the wind. "Gregory? Can I ask you something?" Her voice suddenly sounded insecure, and he turned to look at her.

"Of course."

She opened her mouth, but when they became aware of a person coming toward them she closed it again. "Bloody great!" she muttered with a sneer, lit a new cigarette and turned her back to Vincent who was approaching them.

Vincent had been out running. He'd sworn to get in shape before the next Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, and had taken his vow seriously. Puffing and sweating, he jumped around Gregory like an overgrown puppy. "Wanna fight?" he asked and pushed Gregory's shoulder hard. "I need to warm up."

"What for?" Gregory replied in an indifferent voice, taking a step away from him. "Aren't you warm enough already?" Why had everybody suddenly decided to seek him out, now that he simply wanted nothing else than to be left alone? He didn't mind Pansy, but the rest of the world could sod off, and that included his lifetime friend. Draco and Vincent were planning something, and he himself felt left out.

When it had started he wasn't sure; maybe on the train ride home after 5^th year, or some time during the summer. Gregory still had his father waiting for him when he arrived home, and that fuelled the other's suspicions - why hadn't Goyle senior been taken to Azkaban like the others? Gregory had no answers to provide them, and when he asked his father he got nothing back but a cold shoulder and the message to keep his nose out of other people's business.

Maybe Draco was right, perhaps he was thick as a brick. But one thing Gregory did understand: if Vincent hit his shoulder one more time, he would thump him. Which would be exactly what Vincent wanted, and today Gregory didn't want to please anyone - him least of all. "If you don't stop that, I'll tell Pansy what happened the first time you tried to fly a broom," he growled, and smiled triumphantly when he saw Vincent's horror-stricken face.

"What?" Pansy sounded positively thrilled as she turned back to them, staring at Vincent with curiosity written all over her. "Tell me!"

Snickering, Gregory resumed looking out over the forest. Then a wall of fury struck him from behind, and the air got knocked out of him as he landed facedown in the grass with a roaring Vincent on top of him. "Tell her anything and you die!" Vincent shouted in his ear. Gregory couldn't reply, his mouth was full of grass and weeds - he started giggling, he couldn't help it... Vincent seemed taken aback, and this gave Gregory an advantage; slowly he managed to get his right foot out, and threw Vincent off. Before a second had passed Vincent was back, surprisingly quick for a boy his size. The training had obviously done him good.

Too soon Gregory once more lay with his face pressed against the wet grass. "Tell me you won't say anything," Vincent sneered. "You fucking promised..."

"I won't tell," Gregory replied under his breath. The only thing he could see was the tip of Pansy's shoe two feet away - polished, black.

"You won't tell?" Another threatening push that nearly made him cry out in pain.

"I won't tell! You almost broke my arm, you bloody..."

"Serves you right." Vincent got up, and stared down at him with a frown. "If I ever find out..." he muttered and pointed a warning finger at Gregory who sat up, spitting grass and dirt. With a last unreadable glance at Pansy he left them alone, stalking back to Hogwarts with quick steps.

Gregory remained on the ground. He was already soaking wet, and he found his wand in his pocket and put a drying spell on his clothes and the ground he was sitting on. His arm still hurt, and he rested it on his knee and rubbed it gently with his right hand. He looked over the forest again; the branches of the trees swayed softly in the cold breeze.

"What was that all about?" Pansy asked, curious as ever.

"I said I wouldn't tell," he replied, and heard that his voice sounded more hostile than he had meant it to. "You know...I don't kiss and tell," he added in a more friendly tone.

Pansy burst into laughter. "You kissed Vincent?"

"What? No! That's not what I meant, and you know it." He turned to her, wondering for a second whether or not to get angry, but when he saw the teasing look on her face, he relaxed. "It was a figure of speech," he added slowly, as if he was explaining to a small child.

"All right," Pansy snickered and shrugged. " I just can't get the image out of my head, that's all."

"Must be a pretty awful picture."

"No, not really," she said, and looked at him with that dreamy expression that made his head spin. To save himself from further embarrassment he returned his eyes to the woods, once more searching for the shimmer of white among the leaves and trunks. He'd always had respect for this forest, knowing only too well what was hidden behind the curtain of red and golden leaves - funny how it could breathe so much peace. It was almost tangible how nature prepared for the long rest of the winter months.

"What are you looking for?" She repeated her question as she walked closer to stand behind him.

"Nothing." He didn't know how to explain but it gave him peace of mind, observing the woods and occasionally getting a glimpse of a magical creature.

"Didn't know you were a nature-lover?" She crouched down behind him, and placed her elbows on his shoulders and rested her chin on top of his head.

"Er, I'm not. I mean...it's all right. Pansy?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she replied with a casual tone of voice. "Just admiring the scenery. Isn't that what people do?"

He didn't respond. He wanted to say so much, but the words were gone. All he could think of was that she smelled good - sweet and fresh, like she'd just stepped out from the shower. He closed his eyes and felt the heat radiating from her. A heating spell, no doubt, but also the warmth from her body, lulling his senses into a comfortable haze.

Some things in life are measured out for us; all we can do is to walk our paths and walk them to the end. Gregory knew this, and so did Pansy. They never spoke about it because there was nothing to say, no words to express the fears and the uncertainty that lay before them. She had been destined to walk beside Draco, and she would - all the way straight to Azkaban. And Gregory would be there, walking behind her, taking the force of the blows that would come whenever he could. Did she know? Was that what this was all about; her way of saying "thank you"?

He didn't know, and little did he care. He was born to be a soldier, Gregory, a soldier in the legions of the Dark Lord; that was his purpose. No one had ever asked him what he wanted, his wishes didn't matter - the path was stretched out before him, and what awaited him at the end he did not know. All he knew was that Pansy would be there with him, and that was all he needed.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated for a long time before answering. "Nothing. People like me don't think," he answered, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Don't be daft," she replied and stood up. "I'm going in. You coming?"

"Soon."

He didn't turn to look at her as she walked back. He just sat there, staring at his hands as he heard the soft steps through the grass. The cold crept back on him, breaking the fragile peace he'd found for such a brief minute, leaving him shuddering in the wind. He saw a fox peer out from the forest, take a short walk outside the range of the falling leaves and sniff the ground before returning to the safety among the trees.

Winter was coming.