Full of Stars

Weeks had passed and Draco's mood only seemed to sharpen and intensify from a casual malice towards the world to a blind rage. It was almost as if he had tapped into the tune of the universe and knew what the chorus would bring at the Ministry of Magic that fateful night and that his father would be taken from him.

Or, perhaps it was simply coincidence. It may have been as simple as the fact that he didn't much care for Umbridge and like his father thought the Ministry a group of doddering morons who needed to be led on a leash. Whatever the reasons, his mania had been savage in those next weeks and even Goyle was afraid to get too near the boy.

It wasn't a fear of physical harm, so much as every time Draco looked at him with his feral anger, he seemed just on the cusp of spewing a vitriolic rejection of his affections. And as much as it hurt to not know what Draco had decided, it was better than knowing that he had absolutely no chance. So he dealt with the pins and needles. He acted the part of the knuckle cracking brute and did his best to keep anyone from getting close enough to Draco to strike him; which was a challenge given his foul humor.

The promotion to the Inquisitorial Squad seemed to merely feed into his dark temper. Not that he had ever been a particularly kind or charitable boy, but now he was even more empowered to cause trauma and pain with a casual docking of points or assignment of detention. He had even taken to a mild harassment of Snape, which was rather beyond the pale as far as Goyle was concerned. While the Professor seemed to tolerate it, it made Goyle rather anxious for when the bitterness would finally be turned towards him.

As it happened, that fateful 24 hours where Draco was overpowered by Ginny Weasley's bat bogeys and Lucius Malfoy was arrested at the Ministry of Magic seemed to have completely taken the piss out of the boy.

Because of this, Goyle wasn't surprised when the boy wasn't in their room. But he did know where he was likely to be and so he slowly trudged up the steps of the Astronomy tower. There was a bright and blinding electrical storm that seemed to almost reflect the stormy mood of the blond, who had dragged a pouf from the abandoned Divination classroom to sit on as he stared out at the constellations, almost as if some manner of answer could be found there.

Goyle stood back and watched him for a moment: the tragic angel whose face was sporadically illuminated from the blinking flash of lightening. Draco's eyes were full and heavy with tears he was holding back, glassy against the onslaught of his fears about his father being taken from him. The larger boy was just about to step forward when he saw Draco pull up a bottle of something that was revealed to be a dusty blue bottle, likely the brandy he'd so brazenly nicked from his parents' liquor cabinet and bragged about having at the start of the year. Though the bottle was undoubtedly precious and fine, Draco still swigged it out of the bottle like a common peddler, and what was more disturbing, was that he didn't seem at all ashamed of his behavior, even when a flash of light drew his attention to the large boy watching him.

"What do you want, faggot?" he snapped at Goyle.

"I was worried, you weren't in bed..."

"I was worried, you weren't in bed," mimicked Draco in a high-pitched falsetto baby voice. "Sod off, minger. I don't need your worry."

"I just thought I could..."

"What, suck me off? Maybe a blowjob from a fat turd would make me feel better?"

Goyle stood there in a stunned silence. He hadn't come up here to take advantage of the boy at all, he was just concerned was all.

Draco's head lolled down at Goyle's silence and he closed his eyes. Feeling still a bit dizzied from the alcohol and his brooding, he sighed quietly and said, "Fine then, come here."

Moving forward with his feet shuffling a bit, not at all sure what to expect, Goyle sat on the ground in front of the pouf. He watched Draco sit up above him, perched like a Roman god, or a vaulted angel. He lifted the alcohol up to his lips again, slugging down another large draught from it. Watching ever movement from the boy, Goyle wanted to reach up and touched the troubled cheek, blue in the half-light and then bright again, illuminated from the lightning.

He had been watching the boy sitting there, drinking, watching the stars, scanning the skies for so long, he didn't even remember when he saw the other boy's tears start. It was as if the lightning somehow at some point had thrust them there, leaving them as remnants of their jagged electricity. Goyle's hand reached up to brush them away and with a sudden and violent smack, Draco had slapped away the other boy's hand.

The larger boy recoiled his hand and his brows furrowed as he wasn't sure at all what to do for the blonde. "Look at the night, Goyle. It's full of stars," he whispered.

Goyle looked up into the overcast sky. "I don't see stars."

"You wouldn't. Because you're stupid and you're blind."

"I don't see them because the clouds are over them."

"That doesn't mean they're not there, Goyle. They're just covered up. My father is still with me. I just can't see him. I wish I could. I miss him. He's the only one who ever really got me. Who put me back on the path when I strayed?" he paused for a moment, taking another swig from the bottle and then shook his head as he started again. "He knew it wasn't going to work, that he would be sent away. Deep down he knew even though he tried to comfort me. He told me he had a mission, he didn't know if it would work out. Clearly it didn't. It's ironic that the one person who could make me feel better is the one who's gone. He's the only one I could talk to about this."

"You could talk to me."

"I don't want you, Goyle."

His words stung and he looked down, and took in a deep breath and closed his eyes to steel himself against the pain. Though he tried to rationalize that Malfoy meant he didn't want to talk to him, the rejection was plain. He swallowed hard and tried to think of a way to respond to that. Which was why he jumped when he felt Draco's hand on his cheek.

"That's not what I meant. I meant, 'I want my father.' As well-intentioned as you are, Goyle, you're not him."

Goyle nodded a little but pressed his face harder against the cheek. Draco's fingers splayed and he gently caressed the other boy's cheek. It was softer than he'd imagined it would be. Moving his fingers delicately down his jaw line, he lifted his face up lightly with his curled index finger and pressed his thumb against the larger boy's lips. Instinctively, Goyle pressed a kiss into it and looked up at Draco.

The pale form was rocking slightly as if the room were now spinning to him, as it did seem to be. With a surprisingly quick and coordinated movement, Draco's fingers pulled open Goyle's lips and he leaned down to drag his tongue over the larger boy's lips and then darted his tongue in. Goyle was surprised at this, and even more surprised with the sharp taste of the brandy still clinging to Malfoy's tongue and lips. It was a sweet but odd kiss, Goyle's first.

Wrapping his arms around the boy, he wanted this moment to continue, for Malfoy to hold him, snog him, feel him. To tell him that he loved him that he had all along. Draco moved silkily into Goyle's lap and his fingers moved through the short brush of hair and then down to up his face. He broke the kiss and just held the other boy and rested his head gently on the larger boy's shoulder.

Goyle's meaty hands slid over his slight frame, feeling over him as if he thought the boy might vanish suddenly, as if he'd never have a chance to feel his small body pressed against him again. The blonde simply whimpered at the feeling of being touched, it was so unfamiliar to him, he so rarely let anyone that close to him. But as all things must end, Draco's body went limp as he finally passed out.

Not knowing what to make of all of this, Goyle simply pulled himself up, throwing the smaller boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Although, since he was a Slytherin, he couldn't quite stop himself from fondling the boy's backside a bit before he walked down to the corridors at large. He smirked to himself about his little toll, but violated the boy no further and simply put him into his bed, kissed his forehead and closed the curtains around him.