Full of Stars

Pansy cackled too loudly for Draco's auditory comfort. "I can't believe you've never heard this!"

Draco's face remained slightly stony as he watched her pug-like nose jiggle as she snorted with laughter. "I'm glad you're so amused," he said as he watched her from his reclined position on the bed. "But no, no one's even implied to me that there was anything untoward going on between Crabbe and Goyle. I always just assumed they were off eating together, as their physiques would bear out," he said a little peevishly. This wasn't exactly true anymore; being beaters had toned them up quite a bit and while they were still rather bulky, the activity had caught up to their mouths, at least mostly. Not to mention that age had cut down a bit on the puppy fat.

That Draco had noticed this just made him observant. He wasn't a queer, after all. Even the notion of bisexuality had never quite occurred him. Either he was attracted and shagged someone or he didn't. Beyond that there was no real need for close ties. He just didn't like people that well. Not really.

Pansy finally stopped her spastic laughter in the face of Malfoy's rather blank look and her hand traced up his pale body and she leaned forward to kiss him. Draco flinched a little and muttered, "That's quite enough. Go now."

Looking down at his naked body a bit mournfully she stirred up the courage to ask, "What, no shag?" Her eyes blinked up pleadingly into the blue-grey ones that were always so cold and so removed from the world.

"After you've put the thought of Crabbe and Goyle rutting like pigs in my head?" he asked incredulously as he yanked the black sateen sheets back up over his lower half. "I let you suck me off, I have no further use for you now. Get out." He said his words directly and without particular malice but with a force that left room for no questions.

Making a small sound of disappointment, Pansy licked her lips again to taste what he had left with her and then gently ran her fingertips around her lips to wipe away any displaced lipgloss or stray saliva or semen that might have escaped and then she stood up and looked around the room to collect up her blouse and robes which she slipped into.

She looked back at Draco longingly one last time and he waved her off dismissively with an extra glare of malice to make his point. After a quick huff, Pansy picked up her purse and threw open the door to his room where Goyle was standing.

"Oh, you," she snarled, not at all happy to see half of the gruesome twosome that had ruined her afternoon. She'd finally cornered Draco and he'd finally agreed that a shag didn't sound half bad. Why she had decided to make that particular crack while they were waiting for Draco to recover his erection she couldn't remember other than it had been on her mind that Crabbe and Goyle could walk in on them at any time.

Then Draco had mentioned that they were always off together somewhere and she couldn't resist a joke about what the might be doing. Everyone in Slytherin speculated on it even though, as she understood it, Crabbe was actually seeing Millicent Bulstrode. And because of that, she wasn't entirely surprised to see Goyle standing at the door awkwardly. "Have a good listen?" she growled at him.

"Uh... yes?" he said, although in truth he didn't hear anything at the door. When Draco closed the door to the room during the day, he wasn't allowed to come in. That's all he knew about the subject. Even if he'd tried, the thick dorm room doors were hard to hear through. But Gregory Goyle wasn't filled with the sort of curiosity that his housemates were. Malfoy told him when to be curious and that was good enough for him.

For a brief moment Draco wore a pained expression that Goyle was at the door. Normally he didn't much care if the boys came in when he was in various states of undress, but in light of what Pansy had said he didn't want to be caught lying there semi-hard. That fag would probably rape him or something. He violently yanked up the soft black sheets over his ivory exposed skin and pulled it up all the way up to his chin as he listened to Pansy take out some of her aggression on Goyle who was predictably unaware he was being insulted.

Finally Goyle brushed by her and stepped into the room. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten why he was in the room and then he looked around a bit as if he'd lost something.

"What are you looking for, Goyle?"

"Uh... Crabbe, sir."

Draco grimaced at this and his eyes narrowed in a glare at the mountain of boy standing looking puzzled in the middle of the room. "What for?"

Goyle looked, if it were at all possible, even more confused. "Uh. I hadn't thought that far ahead, sir."

Shaking his head, Draco closed his eyes and wondered just why he thought it was so offensive that they might be shagging. Perhaps because he felt himself observant and how could he have missed something everyone else had clearly caught on to. Or perhaps it was because if they were fags, why hadn't they been attracted to him? He was rather vain about his looks under the best of circumstances; but on this point he was the obvious choice. Not that he'd put out for either of them, but to not even be asked offended his pride.

The pale boy turned over under his sheet and then leaned up to let the black fabric slide down his pale, well-defined back. "Then, Goyle, if you have no plans, massage my back, I pulled a muscle in Quidditch practice," he offered by way of explanation, not that he really had to.

Goyle's eyebrows went up but he quickly moved to sit on the side of the bed. He felt a little uncertain; Draco had never asked him to touch him before. The large boy was actually a little afraid that he'd hurt him. Malfoy had grown to be rather tall but remained slender and continued to be at least half, if not a third of his size. He leaned down and worked his thick fingers into the pale skin that was, to his surprise, even softer than it looked. The muscles shied away from his touches and he watched the way that Draco's body moved under the different pressures his fingers provided. He jumped a bit when he found a knot in the region of Draco's shoulder and the boy actually gave a loud groan of pleasure.

The pale blonde played it up a bit, writhing more than was entirely necessary and moaning loudly to Goyle's ministrations. It did feel good, though, he couldn't deny the enjoyment of a good, strong massage. "Do you like this, Goyle?" he whimpered back at him. He had curled his body some now, drawing his head under him so that he could peer at the large lump coquettishly through a rumpled mass of his hair and the sheets.

"Huh?" Goyle asked. In truth, he was enjoying this more than he knew he should be. He'd always admired Draco. He was smart, very smart. He told him what to think and that meant he was thinking enough for two people and you had to be really smart to do that. Recently, though, he'd become worried about Draco. The blonde boy had seemed more and more sullen and Goyle knew for certain that if Malfoy was brooding then he should be too. So his mood had also been dark.

He started to read a bit, too, just in case the reason Draco was upset was because he was tired from all of the thinking. It was hard to concentrate on words, though. It always had been, but thoughts of Draco's moods, Draco's smiles, Draco coming out of the shower, Draco needing to be shielded from the sun and the onslaught of the Gryffindors; it was more than his simple mind could process all at once.

Draco slid over onto his side, not really attempting to cover anything as he watched Goyle's face, searching it for any flicker of feeling.

"You're touching me, are you enjoying it?" he queried.

"You told me to..."

"I know what I told you 10 minutes ago, Goyle. I'm asking if you're enjoying it."

"Yes? I mean... No?" he attempted. He didn't know what answer Malfoy wanted and he was starting to feel terribly confused and uncomfortable. "Should I be enjoying it, sir?"

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Either Goyle was becoming more successful at lying or he was as completely and utterly clueless as he was acting. "Goyle, I've heard a rumor that you and Crabbe have been shagging. Are you a fag?" he blurted out bluntly.

Goyle blinked a few times and ran his hand through his stubby hair as he tried to take that all in. Him and Crabbe? Shagging? He shook his head. "I'm not shagging Crabbe. He's shagging Bulstrode,sir," he said as an offer of proof that he couldn't possibly be shagging the other bulky boy. The idea of bisexuality was too complex for him, really, so it didn't really cross his mind.

The naked blonde's eyes narrowed angrily. That he didn't know if Goyle was being purposely avoidant or if he was just as dense as he was acting bothered him. He rarely asked the boys their feelings on things he always just told them what to think and how to feel. So pulling information out of Goyle was a new transaction that he was losing patience with. "Goyle!" he snapped impatiently. "Are you a fag? Do you want to shag other boys?"

At this Goyle bushed deeply and turned his face away. People didn't generally find him capable of thought and thus didn't ask him questions, least of all about personal things.

"GOYLE!" Draco shouted at him angrily. "Answer. Now."

Finally Goyle's eyes fell to the floor and then nodded and said, "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I... I like boys, sir."

Draco turned over and sat up now, still keeping the sheet covering his lower half and he looked at Goyle for a moment as he sucked in his cheeks. "That's disgusting, Goyle. You're an utterly repulsive, fat, mentally deficient ponce. Who would ever have the likes of you?" he growled as he looked at the other boy skeptically.

The huge boy seemed to shrink a little with each rude word that Draco said to him, taking them like punches. But he suffered the slings quietly and instead nodded and confessed, "You're right, sir. No one has had me or even been interested."

He couldn't help but half smirk at Goyle's reaction. "Is this turning you on, queer-boy? You like touching me, don't you?" he teased caustically. "So who's your boyfriend, Goyle? If it's not Crabbe, who is it you jerk off to every morning, would it be our Golden Boy Potter?" he snorted.

He partially regretted the bit about Potter. A smarter boy might pick up on his assumption that Goyle would masturbate thinking about Potter to mean something. Not that Draco was really into Potter, in particular. Although sometimes... like during Quidditch... when it was raining... how the water would give his hair some direction and the way that his uniform clung to his lithe pale body that was so much like his own.... But that wasn't the point. Now wasn't the time for fantasies about the Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died.

"No. Not Potter," Goyle answered.

"I can't wait to tell your father. He'll be beating the queer out of you before you can even say 'I suck cock!'" Then he pursed his lips and let his eyes darken a bit. "Unless... you make it worth my while not to tell him," he said deviously.

With an apprehensive frown Goyle asked him, "What do you mean, make it worth your while? What do you want me to do?" He puzzled at this, he already did everything Draco asked him to at least within reason; it must be another one of Draco's little mind games. He hated when this happened because generally it meant he'd be forced to do something unpleasant like try to get the full story on how Hagrid was conceived or spy on Dumbledore to see if he was having an affair with McGonagall.

Malfoy snorted. "You know what I mean. I mean I want you to do things for me, keep me happy so that I do not tell your father that you're a faggot who wants to fuck Potter and Dumbledore in a big orgy of gluttonous fat queerness. And while we're on the topic, who is it the lucky boy you're jerking off to? Start with that, tell me who you think about when you pull it, Goyle." Draco looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary as he leaned forward. This was it. Goyle was going to admit to jerking off thinking about him. "Who, Goyle?" he asked as he leaned in like a snake ready to strike.

Goyle wasn't a smart boy, but he knew one thing for certain; if he admitted his attraction to Draco, the boy would laugh at him and mock him and he would never hear the end of it. "I... I don't know. I don't think about anyone in particular. I just do it," he said as he just stood there feeling awkward.

With a low growl, the blonde set his head back down and his pale body seemed to slither back against the bed. He snarled, "Did I tell you that you could stop massaging me?" he snapped. "And stop your stalling. I know very well you aren't smart enough to have some sort of abstract appreciation of sex that you can jerk off to. Why are you hiding it?" he asked as Goyle leaned back over and started to rub at the other boy's shoulders again. His brows knitted in consideration as he tried to think of anyone else who wasn't Malfoy, Potter or Crabbe.

"P-P-Potter's friend. With the red hair," he said lamely. That he didn't seem to remember Ron Weasley's name should have been a huge hint to Draco that this was a huge lie. But the shock of what Goyle had said made him stop dead.

First off, Draco flipped himself around and his hand railed back and without a second thought he had backhanded Goyle. He'd had no thought for his own safety but he was so filled with disgust and insult at being overlooked for a... a fucking WEASLEY! He recoiled in horror and kicked Goyle off of his bed.

"Filthy, disgusting! A blood traitor, Goyle? Isn't it bad enough that you're a buggering ponce? But to add to that, you want to suck the cock of that whiny, incestuous... beast?" he squealed as he yanked the covers back up over him to cover his body. He was much more attractive than Ron and a million times more intelligent with wit and humor and... and.... He knew Goyle was dumb, but what kind of moron would choose Ron Weasley to jerk off over instead of him?

The large boy took the hit and stared at Draco in complete shock. He'd never struck him before; Goyle didn't know what to say to it. Normally when someone hit him, he hit them right back with twice the force. But he didn't think he could bring himself to strike Malfoy back. When the other boy kicked him off of he bed and recoiled from him as if he had some dread disease, Goyle was as close to wanting to cry as he'd ever imagined being. He slammed painfully onto the floor, knocking his knee to the ground in the process, which made him hiss. Even more painful, though, was that Draco was so angry with him. What a stupid lie, and what a stupid choice. Why hadn't he gone along with saying he was attracted to Potter?

Draco wrapped the sheet around his lower body wrathfully as he slid off the bed to round on Goyle. He gave him a few spiteful kicks and glared down at him. "Why? What? What are you THINKING, Goyle?" he screeched at him.

"Maybe I'm just not all about looks or money," he offered lamely. He had crunched into a ball to try to protect himself from Malfoy's blows, which weren't really as hard as he'd ever received, but he was hurt by who was doing it.

The blonde's jaw just dropped. Who was this boy in his room? Not about looks or money? "Fine then. Maybe we should kick you out and send you to Gryffindor if suddenly your whole world view has changed. Maybe you'll even start to see the value of Mudbloods," he spat out as he went to where his clothes had been neatly folded and ripped out his wand. Spitefully he started to transfigure Goyle's tie to crimson and gold and tried his best to remember exactly what the Gryffindor crest looked like as he transfigured the embroidery on the larger boy's robes.

Even Draco was surprised with how angry he was about this, although of all people for his best friend to have a crush on; a Weasley was just disgusting! He tromped over Goyle to the end of the boy's bed and kicked at his trunk. It stung his bare foot and he screamed in the pain and frustration of it. Pointing his wand at the lock on it he shouted out, "Alohomora!" and the trunk flew open and the angry blonde started to transfigure the clothes inside until photographs of him sitting on the top of some books caught his eye.

Goyle just sat there stunned as his clothes were changed and Draco charged over to his trunk. He had never expected such an angry outburst of this sort. Not that he thought that Draco would be happy with what he said, he just hadn't even realized the error of his choice until the slight boy started screaming about blood traitors. Even so, he'd never known this boy to go quite so over the top. Generally even upsetting news was handled with an unpleasant sneer as he digested the news and within moments Draco would have figured out a way to use the information against the person. This was a shocking display. So much so that Goyle had quite forgotten about his pictures of the ranting boy in his trunk. However, the sudden silence brought this fact to the forefront of his mind.

The smaller blonde leaned down and plucked the photographs up and looked at each of them critically. They were all of him, not always his best sides. He didn't really remember a good portion of them even being taken, but there he was, cackling and pointing at something outside of the bounds of the picture. "Move," he commanded the picture and saw Granger with silver and green stripes through her hair and smirked. All of the pictures featured him and though Weasley showed up in one or two of them, he was merely an incidental player. Draco clenched his jaw and flexed it a few times as he flipped through the photographs again.

Finally he looked up and asked, "Why did you lie to me, Goyle? Was it some sort of trick? Did you want to upset me?" His voice was cold and controlled. The rampaging boy from before had seemed to freeze over in an anger that was more frightening than the rage.

"Please just let me go back to serving you, sir. I don't know what I was thinking. I just... if you... I thought it would be better," he sighed and crawled towards Draco and sat on his knees in front of him.

The standing boy tossed the pictures back into the trunk and flourished his wand and said, "Finite incantatem." This ended the transfigurations he had done and he shook his head. "No. Clearly you belong in Slytherin. You wanted to get me going and you did. You got the better of me, enjoy it," he snipped at the cowering large boy before him.

"Sir! No! It wasn't what I meant! That wasn't what I wanted at all. Please," he said as he crawled forward more and desperately wrapped his arms around one of Draco's legs through the sheet.

Resting his weight on the clung-to leg, Draco kneed Goyle in the face. "Get off of me. Now," he said as he watched the boy's hand move to his face instinctively before he pulled back again.

Goyle slowly got up off of the floor and sat mournfully on his bed. He couldn't even bear to look at the angry face of the boy he'd grown to love and to love to serve over the years at Hogwarts. He'd always been there to protect him, to keep Malfoy from getting hurt or at least tried to be there. And now Draco looked as angry and crestfallen as he'd ever remembered him looking. He was the one to have hurt the boy and he could feel his face grow hot and tears spring to his eyes. "I love you, sir. I do."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Maybe fourth year."

"Hm."

"Sir?"

"I need to think about it," he said slowly in a measured tone.

Goyle looked up in surprise. "Think about what, sir?"

"You."

The large boy was dumbfounded. He looked at Draco with astonished eyes, "Me?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "No, the other you," he spat out at him as he turned to head for the bathroom. "I'm going to have a shower. Get out and don't come back until after I'm asleep."

Goyle stood up and made for the door, "Yes sir." He wasn't sure when Draco would be asleep, so he would just sleep in the Common Room and come in to change in the morning. Still, his heart leapt. Not only had Draco not rejected him utterly, he actually seemed to be perhaps interested. He joyously hopped down the stairs, causing the other students to glare at his unusually chipper demeanor. But he didn't care what they thought. Draco Malfoy was thinking about him; everything else paled in comparison.