New FanFic: Chocolate Cakes
Inspired by the last two lines of Shakespeare's first sonnet.
This is very rough and unedited, I'm just having fun.
Title: Chocolate Cakes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 for some strong language.
Characters: AU Crabbe and Goyle
Summary: Crabbe and Goyle are not what they seem. What really happens when Harry and Ron set out to drug them? Set in HP and the Chamber of Secrets.
Disclaimer: The universe is JKR's, I also quote her some, and also some Shakespeare.
Thanks to my dear friend Fiend, for helping out with this.
“Oh Merlin, I hate not being able to see!” Gregory Goyle whined impatiently. “Vince, who are the two cretins still loitering at the Gryffindor table?”
“Greg,” Vincent Crabbe chided gently, “you are too young to be using such language.” He strained his eyes, having some difficulty discerning the figures as well. “It looks like Weasley and Potter. They’re not really eating… mostly giving us strange looks.”
“Great,” Greg muttered. “Even Malfoy finally ran out of Potty jokes and fucked the fuck off. What’s wrong with them?”
“Greg! Language, seriously! You’re barely twelve!”
“I know, I know. It’s just… you know. Getting harder to wait every week.”
Vince nodded. “Hey, at least the elves outdid themselves with the Christmas desserts.”
“Yeah,” Greg grumped. “I just wish we could enjoy them privately.”
“Oh lighten up. We’re loitering. So they can be loitering.”
“Yes, but we always loiter. Once a week, anyway.”
“Greg.”
“I know, I know.”
“No, look - I think they’re finally leaving. …Yep, gone!”
“Thank the heavens,” Greg moaned, hurriedly reaching into his school bag. Vince followed suit.
Pulling on his glasses, Greg grinned as his friend's face swam into focus. “Merlin, Vince, is that a huge zit I see?”
“And what about you?” Vince demanded, adjusting his own spectacles. “I see two - and the beginnings of stubble!”
“We must be entering puberty,” Greg sighed, then grinned again, holding out his hand. “Merry Christmas, mate!”
Vince laughed, gripping his hand firmly. “It’s like you haven’t seen me for a week,” he teased.
“Yeah, I was getting pretty tired of fuzzy-blob you. Got the books?”
“Of course. Flip for it?”
“Nah, you choose.”
“OK. Wizard.”
“Foo.”
Vince laughed, handing Greg a battered book and opening a similar one of his own. “I just know you love the Muggle one.”
“Sure.”
“All right - ready?”
“Always.”
Vince squinted at the book in front of him. “Adjective,” he read out, “characterized by use of long words.”
“Sesquipedalian.” Greg shrugged lazily.
Vince whistled, reaching for a quill. “Yep. Fits.”
Greg looked down in turn. He snorted. “Creator of the sorcerer’s stone,” he read.
Vince sighed. “Flamel. That the best they got? Let’s see… His last theorem left everyone stumped.”
“Fermat. …First recorded example of an animagus?”
Vince fidgeted suddenly. “…Cliodna?”
“Oof, sorry, mate - second letter’s an E!” Greg announced triumphantly.
“Balls. Aesalon it is, then.” Vince grinned happily. “First punishment of the night, eh? What shall it be?”
Greg surveyed the table. “How about some trifle?”
“Oh - you’re a god!” Vince quickly bit into the spongy dessert. “Lefffee…” He swallowed before continuing. “Wrote the Heptameron.”
“Boccaccio,” Greg drawled confidently.
“Not even close!” Vince exclaimed. “One, two… nineteen letters!”
Greg cursed. “All right, what am I having?”
“Pudding.”
For several long moments the only sound in the Great Hall was that of two boys chewing.
“Vince,” said Greg after a while. “Remind me…” he made a grimace, “…why we do this?”
“Do what? Play blind crosswords weekly after dinner and eat sweets when we get questions wrong, often on purpose?” Vince smiled beatifically.
“No…” Greg looked away, suddenly pained. “You know.”
A carefully measured pause.
“…Ah. You mean, why do we all but shun our birthright IQs, and dumb ourselves down in the eyes of everybody around us, all so that we may fit into the two neat little boxes labeled Malfoy’s cronies?”
The boys’ eyes met and held for one…two… three long heartbeats. Suddenly Greg flared up, shooting out of his seat. “You don’t get to blame me!” he yelled. “You don’t dare! We agreed!”
Still their gazes held and Vince nodded, calm as ever, and ever more subdued. “Yes. And that is the essence of the matter, is it not? We agreed. Two years ago, when Malfoy was your first love, and you mine… we agreed.”
Still their gazes held.
Greg collapsed heavily, suddenly and painfully at a loss for words.
“…We could be great,” Vince whispered after a moment. “We could show everyone. Malfoy, the know-it-all Granger, Professor Snape… even our fathers. Instead we choose to be… disappointments.” He spat the word as though it were poison.
“No… no.” Greg shook his head, suddenly vehement. “We’re doing the right thing. We are safer, safer as idiots who are nothing to the Dark Lord. Safer for Malfoy, too… we watch his back more closely than he’ll ever realize. It is… better this way.”
“Perhaps,” Vince agreed. “Yet why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?”
The Great Hall was silent once more.
“Oi,” Vince muttered suddenly. “Greg… Weasley and Potter are peeking into the hall.”
“Bloody hell,” Greg groaned. “What are they up to? Hand me that dish, will you? The clean one.”
Brusquely, Greg transformed the dish into a mirror, shielding his actions from the entrance with his bulk. He tapped the mirror twice with his wand. “Entrance hall of Hogwarts, please,” he asked politely. "If it pleases you," the mirror answered in a tinny voice and flared to life.
“Um… I see cakes,” Greg reported after a moment.
“Cakes?”
“Cakes. Most likely chocolate.”
“Another Gryffindor scheme, then.”
“So it seems.”
“Nothing lethal, of course.”
“They are Gryffindors.”
“Flip for it?”
“Nah. Let’s let our wits decide. Get the next question wrong - eat the cake.”
Vince laughed. “I like it.”
“OK… Famous wizard Bertrum le Bliz reportedly had an affair with this young Muggle playwright,” Greg read out.
“Uh… Jonson,” Vince offered.
Greg grinned. “Nope.”
“Thought so. …Author of the The Passionate Pilgrim.”
“Marlowe.”
“Incorrect,” Vince intoned, pulling off his glasses. “Well… cakes it is.”
Greg followed suit grimly. “The ironic thing?” he griped. “We wouldn’t even have noticed the damned cakes without our glasses on.”
~*~*~
…To Harry’s and Ron’s utter amazement, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shoveling down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry had perched the chocolate cakes on the end of the banisters. When they spotted Crabbe and Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron hid quickly behind a suit of armor next to the front door.
“How thick can you get?” Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both keeled over backward onto the floor.
~*~*~
“Greg? Oi, Greg, you awake? Lumos.”
“Urrrrm…” Greg groaned and sat up, peering around him. “Yeah, I’m awake. We’re in a closet?”
“Yep.”
“Sleeping Draught?”
“Sleeping Draught. And our shoes are gone.”
Greg chuckled. “Positively nefarious.”
“I’m sure that’s not all there is to it,” Vince murmured.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Vince looked owlishly at Greg. “You answered your question incorrectly on purpose,” he said softly. “Shakespeare is your passion. You even chose a contemporary instead.”
Greg regarded him for a long moment. “You, too.”
“Yeah. Funny that both our answers were Shakespeare, no?”
“Yeah. Weird. Alohomora!”
The two boys padded reluctantly back to their dormitory.
“Greg. Why’d you answer incorrectly?” Vince asked after a moment.
Greg shrugged. “We are on the side of the light, Vince. We always have been, we’re too smart not to be. And Malfoy… he’ll come around. And Potter… well, Potter wouldn’t do something like this unless it is important.”
Vince sighed. “Yeah… I know.” He bumped Greg with his shoulder suddenly, grinning fiendishly. “I just wanted the cake! Chocolate’s my favourite.”
Greg laughed. “Pity the world, or else this glutton be, to eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee!” he delivered grandiosely.
“Oh that doesn’t even fit,” Vince grumbled.
“It half-does. Nothing is perfect!”
And suddenly they weren’t laughing anymore, instead staring soberly at the entrance to the common room.
“You ready?” Vince queried.
“Yes. Here we go again.”
~*~*~
“There you are!” Malfoy exclaimed as soon as they stepped through the door, theatrical as ever. “Did Pomfrey give you that medicine for your stomach, Crabbe? What took you so long?!”
Greg and Vince exchanged a look. “Yeah,” Vince answered quietly. “Yeah… she did.”
This is very rough and unedited, I'm just having fun.
Title: Chocolate Cakes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 for some strong language.
Characters: AU Crabbe and Goyle
Summary: Crabbe and Goyle are not what they seem. What really happens when Harry and Ron set out to drug them? Set in HP and the Chamber of Secrets.
Disclaimer: The universe is JKR's, I also quote her some, and also some Shakespeare.
Thanks to my dear friend Fiend, for helping out with this.
“Oh Merlin, I hate not being able to see!” Gregory Goyle whined impatiently. “Vince, who are the two cretins still loitering at the Gryffindor table?”
“Greg,” Vincent Crabbe chided gently, “you are too young to be using such language.” He strained his eyes, having some difficulty discerning the figures as well. “It looks like Weasley and Potter. They’re not really eating… mostly giving us strange looks.”
“Great,” Greg muttered. “Even Malfoy finally ran out of Potty jokes and fucked the fuck off. What’s wrong with them?”
“Greg! Language, seriously! You’re barely twelve!”
“I know, I know. It’s just… you know. Getting harder to wait every week.”
Vince nodded. “Hey, at least the elves outdid themselves with the Christmas desserts.”
“Yeah,” Greg grumped. “I just wish we could enjoy them privately.”
“Oh lighten up. We’re loitering. So they can be loitering.”
“Yes, but we always loiter. Once a week, anyway.”
“Greg.”
“I know, I know.”
“No, look - I think they’re finally leaving. …Yep, gone!”
“Thank the heavens,” Greg moaned, hurriedly reaching into his school bag. Vince followed suit.
Pulling on his glasses, Greg grinned as his friend's face swam into focus. “Merlin, Vince, is that a huge zit I see?”
“And what about you?” Vince demanded, adjusting his own spectacles. “I see two - and the beginnings of stubble!”
“We must be entering puberty,” Greg sighed, then grinned again, holding out his hand. “Merry Christmas, mate!”
Vince laughed, gripping his hand firmly. “It’s like you haven’t seen me for a week,” he teased.
“Yeah, I was getting pretty tired of fuzzy-blob you. Got the books?”
“Of course. Flip for it?”
“Nah, you choose.”
“OK. Wizard.”
“Foo.”
Vince laughed, handing Greg a battered book and opening a similar one of his own. “I just know you love the Muggle one.”
“Sure.”
“All right - ready?”
“Always.”
Vince squinted at the book in front of him. “Adjective,” he read out, “characterized by use of long words.”
“Sesquipedalian.” Greg shrugged lazily.
Vince whistled, reaching for a quill. “Yep. Fits.”
Greg looked down in turn. He snorted. “Creator of the sorcerer’s stone,” he read.
Vince sighed. “Flamel. That the best they got? Let’s see… His last theorem left everyone stumped.”
“Fermat. …First recorded example of an animagus?”
Vince fidgeted suddenly. “…Cliodna?”
“Oof, sorry, mate - second letter’s an E!” Greg announced triumphantly.
“Balls. Aesalon it is, then.” Vince grinned happily. “First punishment of the night, eh? What shall it be?”
Greg surveyed the table. “How about some trifle?”
“Oh - you’re a god!” Vince quickly bit into the spongy dessert. “Lefffee…” He swallowed before continuing. “Wrote the Heptameron.”
“Boccaccio,” Greg drawled confidently.
“Not even close!” Vince exclaimed. “One, two… nineteen letters!”
Greg cursed. “All right, what am I having?”
“Pudding.”
For several long moments the only sound in the Great Hall was that of two boys chewing.
“Vince,” said Greg after a while. “Remind me…” he made a grimace, “…why we do this?”
“Do what? Play blind crosswords weekly after dinner and eat sweets when we get questions wrong, often on purpose?” Vince smiled beatifically.
“No…” Greg looked away, suddenly pained. “You know.”
A carefully measured pause.
“…Ah. You mean, why do we all but shun our birthright IQs, and dumb ourselves down in the eyes of everybody around us, all so that we may fit into the two neat little boxes labeled Malfoy’s cronies?”
The boys’ eyes met and held for one…two… three long heartbeats. Suddenly Greg flared up, shooting out of his seat. “You don’t get to blame me!” he yelled. “You don’t dare! We agreed!”
Still their gazes held and Vince nodded, calm as ever, and ever more subdued. “Yes. And that is the essence of the matter, is it not? We agreed. Two years ago, when Malfoy was your first love, and you mine… we agreed.”
Still their gazes held.
Greg collapsed heavily, suddenly and painfully at a loss for words.
“…We could be great,” Vince whispered after a moment. “We could show everyone. Malfoy, the know-it-all Granger, Professor Snape… even our fathers. Instead we choose to be… disappointments.” He spat the word as though it were poison.
“No… no.” Greg shook his head, suddenly vehement. “We’re doing the right thing. We are safer, safer as idiots who are nothing to the Dark Lord. Safer for Malfoy, too… we watch his back more closely than he’ll ever realize. It is… better this way.”
“Perhaps,” Vince agreed. “Yet why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?”
The Great Hall was silent once more.
“Oi,” Vince muttered suddenly. “Greg… Weasley and Potter are peeking into the hall.”
“Bloody hell,” Greg groaned. “What are they up to? Hand me that dish, will you? The clean one.”
Brusquely, Greg transformed the dish into a mirror, shielding his actions from the entrance with his bulk. He tapped the mirror twice with his wand. “Entrance hall of Hogwarts, please,” he asked politely. "If it pleases you," the mirror answered in a tinny voice and flared to life.
“Um… I see cakes,” Greg reported after a moment.
“Cakes?”
“Cakes. Most likely chocolate.”
“Another Gryffindor scheme, then.”
“So it seems.”
“Nothing lethal, of course.”
“They are Gryffindors.”
“Flip for it?”
“Nah. Let’s let our wits decide. Get the next question wrong - eat the cake.”
Vince laughed. “I like it.”
“OK… Famous wizard Bertrum le Bliz reportedly had an affair with this young Muggle playwright,” Greg read out.
“Uh… Jonson,” Vince offered.
Greg grinned. “Nope.”
“Thought so. …Author of the The Passionate Pilgrim.”
“Marlowe.”
“Incorrect,” Vince intoned, pulling off his glasses. “Well… cakes it is.”
Greg followed suit grimly. “The ironic thing?” he griped. “We wouldn’t even have noticed the damned cakes without our glasses on.”
~*~*~
…To Harry’s and Ron’s utter amazement, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shoveling down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry had perched the chocolate cakes on the end of the banisters. When they spotted Crabbe and Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron hid quickly behind a suit of armor next to the front door.
“How thick can you get?” Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both keeled over backward onto the floor.
~*~*~
“Greg? Oi, Greg, you awake? Lumos.”
“Urrrrm…” Greg groaned and sat up, peering around him. “Yeah, I’m awake. We’re in a closet?”
“Yep.”
“Sleeping Draught?”
“Sleeping Draught. And our shoes are gone.”
Greg chuckled. “Positively nefarious.”
“I’m sure that’s not all there is to it,” Vince murmured.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Vince looked owlishly at Greg. “You answered your question incorrectly on purpose,” he said softly. “Shakespeare is your passion. You even chose a contemporary instead.”
Greg regarded him for a long moment. “You, too.”
“Yeah. Funny that both our answers were Shakespeare, no?”
“Yeah. Weird. Alohomora!”
The two boys padded reluctantly back to their dormitory.
“Greg. Why’d you answer incorrectly?” Vince asked after a moment.
Greg shrugged. “We are on the side of the light, Vince. We always have been, we’re too smart not to be. And Malfoy… he’ll come around. And Potter… well, Potter wouldn’t do something like this unless it is important.”
Vince sighed. “Yeah… I know.” He bumped Greg with his shoulder suddenly, grinning fiendishly. “I just wanted the cake! Chocolate’s my favourite.”
Greg laughed. “Pity the world, or else this glutton be, to eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee!” he delivered grandiosely.
“Oh that doesn’t even fit,” Vince grumbled.
“It half-does. Nothing is perfect!”
And suddenly they weren’t laughing anymore, instead staring soberly at the entrance to the common room.
“You ready?” Vince queried.
“Yes. Here we go again.”
~*~*~
“There you are!” Malfoy exclaimed as soon as they stepped through the door, theatrical as ever. “Did Pomfrey give you that medicine for your stomach, Crabbe? What took you so long?!”
Greg and Vince exchanged a look. “Yeah,” Vince answered quietly. “Yeah… she did.”