I'd really like to let you know...
Title: I’d really like to let you know…
Characters: Goyle/Bones
Prompt: The Effect of Impact on Stationary Objects
Rating: PG
Word Count: close to 1100
Summary: In which Susan Bones has a run in with Goyle
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Author's Notes: This story takes place after the war, near the end of their seventh year
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. It was a rather simple rule that even pure blooded wizards who'd never set foot in a muggle school recognized. Susan was reminded of it two weeks after she had begun noticing that Goyle was indeed staring at her.
She had been walking from her Potions class to Herbology, a normally frustrating walk, as so many of the younger students seemed to enjoy stopping at random points along the way to talk to their friends. Today was, unfortunately, no different. She was forced on several occasions to stop, so as not to run into the person in front of her, and go around them, work through the bustle of people to find a clear enough path to walk through, only to have to stop and repeat the process. After the fourth time she could not help but glare at the offender as she walked past, unmindful of the person in front of her who had also stopped, causing her to crash into them and fall down, much to the amusement of the other students around her.
“You alright Bones,” she heard someone say. She nodded, not recognizing the voice. It was obviously male, deeper than Ernie or Justin’s with an odd mixture of curiosity and boredom underlying his words. “Here,” the voice said, before offering her a hand.
She took it without thinking and found herself looking at Goyle for the first time in her life. He had rather normal features for someone that was intimidating to so many; an impassive face, dull brown eyes, a small mouth, nothing special really. He was big though, easily just as tall as Theodore Nott, but clearly outweighing the skinny Slytherin by at least one hundred pounds. His grip was like iron, and for a moment she felt the same fear she’d felt when she saw him passing by the Hufflepuff table during her first year.
It was him she’d run into. Out of the hundreds of students she could have run in to, it had to be him. She blushed furiously at the thought and quickly apologized as best she could.
Normal Slytherin decorum required Goyle to make some indignant remark or criticism about her before snidely accepting her apology, she was sure of it. But she received neither, instead all she got was a mumbled “Should walk with your head up more often.”
“What,” she asked, unsure if she had heard what he had said. His voice was low, weak, as if unused to speaking, which, if he'd been one of Malfoy's lackeys, was probably true.
“I said that you should walk with your head up more often. Keep yourself from bumping into people,” he finished by way of explanation, a little louder this time.
“You’ve been staring at me,” she said with a slight blush, hoping to lessen the bit of guilt she felt for running into him.
“No I haven’t,” he muttered, his eyes wandering away from hers as if he’d been caught in the act of some wrong doing and was searching for a way out.
“Yes, you have. I caught you doing it yesterday in Transfiguration and today at breakfast,” she said quietly, almost hoping she was wrong and he was right. That this was another of Hannah’s attempts at cheering her up. At the same time though, Susan had to admit that she liked the idea of having an admirer. A secret admirer did wonders for one’s self-esteem, even if said admirer was Gregory Goyle of the Slytherin House.
“Sorry,” he said, suddenly finding something very interesting to look at on the floor.
“Why have you been staring at me?” It was simple curiosity, but even Goyle should be gentleman enough to answer a girl’s question. Shouldn’t he?
“Didn’t say I’d give you a reason now did I? I’ll try not to be staring at you anymore,” he said with a hint of aggravation in his voice, more than ready to find a nice hole to hide in and wonder about his first conversation with Susan Bones.
“I know you’re planning some sort of Slytherin trick to play on me, but I would highly recommend-“ Susan started, angry at having not received her desired answer.
“I wasn’t planning any sort of trick to play on you. Planning was always more of Draco’s thing,” he said, this time making sure to look her in the eye, “ ‘sides I don’t have anything against you so why would I be planning anything.”
“Why have you been staring at me then?!”
He didn’t answer, just stood there, biting his lip as if trying to answer a question on a test that he hadn’t studied for. ‘Most likely a common look on his face,’ she thought briefly to herself, still angry at his previous rebuff.
“Well,” she said her hands on her hips in an unconscious imitation of Hannah when she was exasperated.
"I just- you’re pretty alright?!” He hated the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. He hated that he was surrounded by a bunch of giggling first years. His words were supposed to be on paper, not shouted in the halls of Hogwarts. They were petty words, minimal compared to what he actually thought about her.
He was sure he’d be on the receiving end of a right good laugh soon. Not the laugh she gave Abbot when the girl suggested to her something that only the most dim witted would take as truth, or the shy laugh she gave when no one else got the joke but her. No, the laugh he expected was the same one he’d heard Bulstrode give the elder Creevy brother when he’d asked her to the Yule Ball, after which she’d told him no, but perhaps his younger brother would go with him. When he saw that none was forthcoming he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sorry I’m not more poetic about it,” and walked away. Not one of the students in the hallway dared laugh.
Hannah came upon Susan a moment later standing stock still in the now nearly empty hallway. After several moments of trying to get her friend's attention, she concluded that the basilisk had come back for them, but just as quickly dismissed the idea and pulled her friend the rest of the way to class. “Could have knocked her over with a feather,” she said to her friends when explaining Susan’s absence at dinner that evening.
Characters: Goyle/Bones
Prompt: The Effect of Impact on Stationary Objects
Rating: PG
Word Count: close to 1100
Summary: In which Susan Bones has a run in with Goyle
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Author's Notes: This story takes place after the war, near the end of their seventh year
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. It was a rather simple rule that even pure blooded wizards who'd never set foot in a muggle school recognized. Susan was reminded of it two weeks after she had begun noticing that Goyle was indeed staring at her.
She had been walking from her Potions class to Herbology, a normally frustrating walk, as so many of the younger students seemed to enjoy stopping at random points along the way to talk to their friends. Today was, unfortunately, no different. She was forced on several occasions to stop, so as not to run into the person in front of her, and go around them, work through the bustle of people to find a clear enough path to walk through, only to have to stop and repeat the process. After the fourth time she could not help but glare at the offender as she walked past, unmindful of the person in front of her who had also stopped, causing her to crash into them and fall down, much to the amusement of the other students around her.
“You alright Bones,” she heard someone say. She nodded, not recognizing the voice. It was obviously male, deeper than Ernie or Justin’s with an odd mixture of curiosity and boredom underlying his words. “Here,” the voice said, before offering her a hand.
She took it without thinking and found herself looking at Goyle for the first time in her life. He had rather normal features for someone that was intimidating to so many; an impassive face, dull brown eyes, a small mouth, nothing special really. He was big though, easily just as tall as Theodore Nott, but clearly outweighing the skinny Slytherin by at least one hundred pounds. His grip was like iron, and for a moment she felt the same fear she’d felt when she saw him passing by the Hufflepuff table during her first year.
It was him she’d run into. Out of the hundreds of students she could have run in to, it had to be him. She blushed furiously at the thought and quickly apologized as best she could.
Normal Slytherin decorum required Goyle to make some indignant remark or criticism about her before snidely accepting her apology, she was sure of it. But she received neither, instead all she got was a mumbled “Should walk with your head up more often.”
“What,” she asked, unsure if she had heard what he had said. His voice was low, weak, as if unused to speaking, which, if he'd been one of Malfoy's lackeys, was probably true.
“I said that you should walk with your head up more often. Keep yourself from bumping into people,” he finished by way of explanation, a little louder this time.
“You’ve been staring at me,” she said with a slight blush, hoping to lessen the bit of guilt she felt for running into him.
“No I haven’t,” he muttered, his eyes wandering away from hers as if he’d been caught in the act of some wrong doing and was searching for a way out.
“Yes, you have. I caught you doing it yesterday in Transfiguration and today at breakfast,” she said quietly, almost hoping she was wrong and he was right. That this was another of Hannah’s attempts at cheering her up. At the same time though, Susan had to admit that she liked the idea of having an admirer. A secret admirer did wonders for one’s self-esteem, even if said admirer was Gregory Goyle of the Slytherin House.
“Sorry,” he said, suddenly finding something very interesting to look at on the floor.
“Why have you been staring at me?” It was simple curiosity, but even Goyle should be gentleman enough to answer a girl’s question. Shouldn’t he?
“Didn’t say I’d give you a reason now did I? I’ll try not to be staring at you anymore,” he said with a hint of aggravation in his voice, more than ready to find a nice hole to hide in and wonder about his first conversation with Susan Bones.
“I know you’re planning some sort of Slytherin trick to play on me, but I would highly recommend-“ Susan started, angry at having not received her desired answer.
“I wasn’t planning any sort of trick to play on you. Planning was always more of Draco’s thing,” he said, this time making sure to look her in the eye, “ ‘sides I don’t have anything against you so why would I be planning anything.”
“Why have you been staring at me then?!”
He didn’t answer, just stood there, biting his lip as if trying to answer a question on a test that he hadn’t studied for. ‘Most likely a common look on his face,’ she thought briefly to herself, still angry at his previous rebuff.
“Well,” she said her hands on her hips in an unconscious imitation of Hannah when she was exasperated.
"I just- you’re pretty alright?!” He hated the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. He hated that he was surrounded by a bunch of giggling first years. His words were supposed to be on paper, not shouted in the halls of Hogwarts. They were petty words, minimal compared to what he actually thought about her.
He was sure he’d be on the receiving end of a right good laugh soon. Not the laugh she gave Abbot when the girl suggested to her something that only the most dim witted would take as truth, or the shy laugh she gave when no one else got the joke but her. No, the laugh he expected was the same one he’d heard Bulstrode give the elder Creevy brother when he’d asked her to the Yule Ball, after which she’d told him no, but perhaps his younger brother would go with him. When he saw that none was forthcoming he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sorry I’m not more poetic about it,” and walked away. Not one of the students in the hallway dared laugh.
Hannah came upon Susan a moment later standing stock still in the now nearly empty hallway. After several moments of trying to get her friend's attention, she concluded that the basilisk had come back for them, but just as quickly dismissed the idea and pulled her friend the rest of the way to class. “Could have knocked her over with a feather,” she said to her friends when explaining Susan’s absence at dinner that evening.