Fic: Children of Hope (1/4)
Title: Children of Hope
Author: airmidm
Rating: R
Characters: Greg Goyle/Tracey Davis
Claim/Card: Ten of Swords
Word Count: Total:10,322; Chapter One: 2,947; Chapter Two: 2,135; Chapter 3: 2,826; Chapter 4: 2,414
Warnings: The epilogue doesn't exist for me so this is EWE. There is mention of numerous character deaths and slight gore. There is also foul language, mentions of drug and alcohol use, Potter bashing (extensive), plots to take over the world... in other words, it is a Slytherin fic. ;)
Summary/Card interpretation: Crushing defeat brought about by idle intellectualism divorced from reality. (Which is portrayed by the end of the war with Voldemort and The Battle of Hogwarts.) Sadness and desolation in the aftermath of a catastrophic and total collapse. (Greg, specifically, how he deals with the end of the war, and the loss of loved ones.) A decisive conclusion brought about through the swift and merciless application of overwhelming force. (The aftermath of the war and what is necessary in order to preserve as much of the Wizarding World as possible.) This card also gives us a glimpse of hope. ;)
Greg and Tracey dealing with the aftermath of the final battle, to include the loss of one of their best friends and the total destruction of their world.
A/N: Greg and Tracey call each other Val and Maeve, nicknames from childhood. According to the Lexicon, the Goyle family is likely from Northern Ireland and I've gone with that supposition when I write Greg. Also, there is frequent references to The Little Prince as according to the 'canon' jandjsalmon and I have created when writing this pairing, it was their favourite book growing up. A big thank you for the hand holding and Beta goes to jandjsalmon!
Greg stared dully around the Great Hall. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around all that had happened today. Watching Vinnie die right in front of him was quite possibly the worst thing he'd ever seen. He'd done everything his father had instructed for the past seven years and yet here he stood lost, alone, and with every ideal he'd been fed disproved in one fell swoop.
He backed further into the shadowy corner not really wanting to garner the attention of another Ministry official. He'd been interrogated already and only the lack of a Dark Mark on his arm had saved him from immediate transfer to a Ministry holding cell. He scanned the room wondering where Tracey was and if she had done as he asked and hidden during the battle. Oh Merlin, what if she didn't? What if she's gone just like Vinnie? The panic clawed at his chest, restricting his breathing. He wouldn't couldn't think like that and stay sane.
"Greg? Val?"
He whirled at the soft voice. Maeve, was all he could think. Reaching out for her, he carefully positioned her between himself and the wall, his hands running over her checking for wounds. "Are you unhurt? Did you hide? They didn't interrogate you did they?"
She smiled up at him slipping her hand into his and squeezing lightly. Her tight curls all askew, there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and her robes were a mess. Her smile, though, was enough to reassure him.
"I'm fine. Blaise tucked me away in some ratty cupboard for the entire thing and he kept them away from me. We saw you," she whispered, her voice breaking, "when those nasty Aurors were questioning you. Only B's reminder that it would make matters worse if I interrupted kept me from you this long. Are you okay?"
Greg looked over his shoulder even as he gathered Tracey into his arms, his eyes finding their friend through the mass of people. The silent thank you caused Blaise to smile wryly. Turning back to Tracey, he held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Will you come with me when they release us?"
Tracey snuggled into him, her arms wrapping about his waist. "Of course I will."
He felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted when she softly added, "I go where you go. After today I don't know that I want you out of my sight again."
"Mister Goyle."
Loathe as he was to release Tracey, Greg did so at the sound of Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice. The Auror had been the one to interrogate him and Greg wasn't looking forward to what the man had to say this time. Turning slowly, he tucked Tracey behind his back and ignored the poke in the ribs she gave him. "Auror Shacklebolt."
The man glared, hard. "I have a few more questions for you before I can allow you to leave the grounds."
Greg sneered and only the tiny hand on his back stopped him from nastily retorting. He bit the inside of his cheek and collected himself before saying, "I believe I've answered everything, and under Veritaserum, Auror Shacklebolt, what could you possibly need from me?"
The man looked weary and it took what felt like years to Greg to say. "I need to know, honestly, if you know where your mother is."
Greg barely registered Maeve's gasp of surprise. He was too busy reining his reaction in, he couldn't, no he wouldn't let this Auror see how disconcerted he was by the question. His mum was safe at Stone Walk, behind wards even the Dark Lord himself couldn't break. Wasn't she? Tracey leaned fully into his back, the only anchor he had currently. His face was that patented Slytherin mask when he said, "She is usually at home."
Shacklebolt looked regretful when he said, "I need you to come with me."
"Why?" Tracey demanded, stepping around him with a scowl on her face. "Why should he? What exactly do you need of him now? Why can't we just go home?"
Greg sighed, wrapping his arm about her waist. "Explain," he said shortly, not liking that Tracey had garnered an Auror's attention.
"We found a body," Shacklebolt admitted, "out on the grounds. We believe it is your mother. Narcissa Malfoy tried to identify the body but was unable to do so."
Greg stilled as the man's words truly registered. "Explain yourself," he demanded, before his sense of self-preservation kicked in.
"I can't go into detail," Shacklebolt said pompously before adding in a slightly kinder tone, "We don't know anything more at the current time."
"Why are you doing this?" Tracey spat, leaning fully into Greg's side, lending him her silent support. She could feel him tensing up the more this idiot Auror talked. "Haven't we been through enough already?"
"Maeve," Greg said warningly. "I'll go with Auror Shacklebolt." He leaned down to whisper, "Please stay with B until I get back."
"No," she said, shaking her head and gripping his arm. "I'm going with you. No arguments."
Sighing, he could only nod. He knew better than trying to dissuade her once her mind had been made up. He raised his head, finding Blaise in the crowd. There was no chance he would take Tracey back out onto the battlefield without B there as backup, there were just too many risks. To lose her now wasn't an option he was willing to consider. Blaise's eye narrowed as he excused himself from the people he was talking to and he wound through the crowd.
When Blaise joined them, the expression on his face clearly said 'what the ruddy hell is going on', but Greg wasn't comfortable with fully answering him just yet. His simple, "We've been asked to identify a body," would have to be enough.
"Mo Rós," he whispered as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Tracey's ear. "I want you to stick close to B if anything happens."
She nodded, leaning back against his chest. "I think we should go. That is if Auror Shacklebolt doesn't object to Blaise's presence."
The Auror turned on his heel and marched off toward the doors, his displeasure of Tracey's derisive tone was clear in the stiff set of his shoulders and haughty tilt of his head. Disgusted that the man thought they would follow like meek little sheep, all three stood there and waited for realization to strike. Shacklebolt reached the doors before he stopped and with a shake of his head, turned back toward them.
"If you three would accompany me we can end this little charade of pleasantries soon enough."
"Now that you've asked nicely," Blaise quipped, motioning for Greg and Tracey to move ahead of him.
Once the four of them had emerged from the castle and were away from everyone, Shacklebolt stopped them again, his gaze meeting Blaise's. "You know, Blaise, you don't always have to be a smart arse. Callista would flay you alive if she heard you stirring up trouble like this."
"What trouble?" Blaise asked haughtily. "And do you dare tell her about my disrespect? I thought you wanted to keep your relationship a secret, Kingsley."
Greg's eyes shot wide. What the fuck was this? Kingsley and Callista? Since when. How?
"Your mum and Shacklebolt?" Tracey muttered disbelievingly. She looked Shacklebolt in the eyes. "Isn't that a bit dodgy for an Auror?"
Shacklebolt laughed lightly. "It was Callista and Blaise's confidence in your true allegiances that has kept both of you from full interrogation by the Wizengamot and a stint in Azkaban while you wait for aforementioned interrogations."
He sobered, turning to Greg. "Listen and listen well, young Master Goyle. Callista contacted me in the midst of battle to alert me that she'd arrived at Stone Walk only to find your mother missing. Frantic, she, the family that serves yours, and the house elves searched every last bit of your properties."
"What?" Greg interjected faintly, not even fully comprehending the massive search that would have been. The island alone would have- should have- taken hours and that wasn't taking into account all the international properties. "Callista lead the search?"
"Yes," Shacklebolt replied, his voice dropping to a soft but confident murmur.
Tracey slipped one hand into his and wrapped her other arm around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She knew just as well as he did that if Callista hadn't been able to find his mum than she truly had been taken. There was just no way that she would flee anywhere but one of their properties. She would never, ever worry Greg like this intentionally.
"But-" he said haltingly, taking a deep breath before trying again, gathering every last bit of his reserves to appear as disinterested as possible. Appearances were everything after all. He had to get to Stone Walk and talk to Con about this. "But, the elves and the McManus' should have protected her."
"There was no hint that anything was wrong, according to Callista. Even she didn't sense anything was amiss until the house elves couldn't find your mother."
Why didn't I die instead of Mum or Vinnie? Haven't I sinned just as much as Vinnie? I know I have more stains on my soul than Mum, an innocent in all of this. Her only crime was marrying my bastard father. Why them? Why? Why? Why?
"Let's just get this over with," Blaise interjected, startling Greg out of his thoughts.
Greg sighed, not missing the worried expression on Tracey's face. He would do his best to reassure her. "Yes, we should get this over with. Lead the way, Shacklebolt."
The group tromped across the battlefield, winding through the small groups of people doing the exact thing they were, identifying loved ones that had fallen. Greg was merely trailing after Shacklebolt, Tracey's hand tucked into his. He was beyond caring what anyone thought - if anyone noticed. He wasn't certain that he could deal with another blow today of all days. Too much, too fast, was all he could think.
They stopped, just inside the tree row, in a small glade that would have looked peaceful if it weren't for the ravaged body sprawled in the middle. Someone, and Greg was betting on Shacklebolt, had covered it with a cloak. He dropped Tracey's hand, stepping forward and crouching down. With a deep breath, he pulled the cloak down only to feel his throat closing and his chest tightening painfully. Narcissa wouldn't have been able to identify her, but Greg sure as hell could. The necklace that she'd not removed since the day of his birth was barely visible through the blood and gore that used to be his mother.
"It's her," he finally managed to whisper, blinking rapidly to clear the gathering tears from his eyes.
"Are you certain?" Shacklebolt inquired gently.
"I have to ask," he added hastily. "It is procedure."
"It is Mrs. Goyle," Tracey said firmly, her voice cracking with emotion, moving to stand behind Greg and laying her hands on his shoulders. "What more do you need from us? Greg shouldn't have to be here. He should be at home, mourning."
Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "I understand. Blaise, escort Miss Davis and Mister Goyle to his home. I'll contact Callista so that she can make all of the arrangements. I will also be blocking my associates from contacting any of you."
Greg looked up through his fringe, the tears streaming down his face though he didn't rightly care about appearances just now. "How will you manage that? Won't that lot just assume she was a damn Death Eater and work at ruining her good name?"
"I won't let them. I know you loathe me on principle, Master Goyle, but you must trust Callista's judgement of my character. I will handle the situation."
Blaise crouched down beside him. "You know Mum and Cissa will protect you like mother dragons, Greg. Let me take you and Trace home."
"Please, Val," Tracey whispered. "I don't want to be here anymore."
Greg stood slowly, pulling Tracey close to his chest once he'd turned away from his mother's body, unable to do more than bury his face in Tracey's curls. "How? We can't Apparate."
"I've a Portkey," Blaise assured him. "Mum sent me one long ago in case I needed to get out of a bad situation. We can Apparate from The Vale."
"All right," was all Greg could manage in his currently numb state. He barely registered Blaise's hand on his shoulder or the crushing feeling that signalled Apparition. He was too lost in his pain to care.
Author: airmidm
Rating: R
Characters: Greg Goyle/Tracey Davis
Claim/Card: Ten of Swords
Word Count: Total:10,322; Chapter One: 2,947; Chapter Two: 2,135; Chapter 3: 2,826; Chapter 4: 2,414
Warnings: The epilogue doesn't exist for me so this is EWE. There is mention of numerous character deaths and slight gore. There is also foul language, mentions of drug and alcohol use, Potter bashing (extensive), plots to take over the world... in other words, it is a Slytherin fic. ;)
Summary/Card interpretation: Crushing defeat brought about by idle intellectualism divorced from reality. (Which is portrayed by the end of the war with Voldemort and The Battle of Hogwarts.) Sadness and desolation in the aftermath of a catastrophic and total collapse. (Greg, specifically, how he deals with the end of the war, and the loss of loved ones.) A decisive conclusion brought about through the swift and merciless application of overwhelming force. (The aftermath of the war and what is necessary in order to preserve as much of the Wizarding World as possible.) This card also gives us a glimpse of hope. ;)
Greg and Tracey dealing with the aftermath of the final battle, to include the loss of one of their best friends and the total destruction of their world.
A/N: Greg and Tracey call each other Val and Maeve, nicknames from childhood. According to the Lexicon, the Goyle family is likely from Northern Ireland and I've gone with that supposition when I write Greg. Also, there is frequent references to The Little Prince as according to the 'canon' jandjsalmon and I have created when writing this pairing, it was their favourite book growing up. A big thank you for the hand holding and Beta goes to jandjsalmon!
Greg stared dully around the Great Hall. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around all that had happened today. Watching Vinnie die right in front of him was quite possibly the worst thing he'd ever seen. He'd done everything his father had instructed for the past seven years and yet here he stood lost, alone, and with every ideal he'd been fed disproved in one fell swoop.
He backed further into the shadowy corner not really wanting to garner the attention of another Ministry official. He'd been interrogated already and only the lack of a Dark Mark on his arm had saved him from immediate transfer to a Ministry holding cell. He scanned the room wondering where Tracey was and if she had done as he asked and hidden during the battle. Oh Merlin, what if she didn't? What if she's gone just like Vinnie? The panic clawed at his chest, restricting his breathing. He wouldn't couldn't think like that and stay sane.
"Greg? Val?"
He whirled at the soft voice. Maeve, was all he could think. Reaching out for her, he carefully positioned her between himself and the wall, his hands running over her checking for wounds. "Are you unhurt? Did you hide? They didn't interrogate you did they?"
She smiled up at him slipping her hand into his and squeezing lightly. Her tight curls all askew, there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and her robes were a mess. Her smile, though, was enough to reassure him.
"I'm fine. Blaise tucked me away in some ratty cupboard for the entire thing and he kept them away from me. We saw you," she whispered, her voice breaking, "when those nasty Aurors were questioning you. Only B's reminder that it would make matters worse if I interrupted kept me from you this long. Are you okay?"
Greg looked over his shoulder even as he gathered Tracey into his arms, his eyes finding their friend through the mass of people. The silent thank you caused Blaise to smile wryly. Turning back to Tracey, he held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Will you come with me when they release us?"
Tracey snuggled into him, her arms wrapping about his waist. "Of course I will."
He felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted when she softly added, "I go where you go. After today I don't know that I want you out of my sight again."
"Mister Goyle."
Loathe as he was to release Tracey, Greg did so at the sound of Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice. The Auror had been the one to interrogate him and Greg wasn't looking forward to what the man had to say this time. Turning slowly, he tucked Tracey behind his back and ignored the poke in the ribs she gave him. "Auror Shacklebolt."
The man glared, hard. "I have a few more questions for you before I can allow you to leave the grounds."
Greg sneered and only the tiny hand on his back stopped him from nastily retorting. He bit the inside of his cheek and collected himself before saying, "I believe I've answered everything, and under Veritaserum, Auror Shacklebolt, what could you possibly need from me?"
The man looked weary and it took what felt like years to Greg to say. "I need to know, honestly, if you know where your mother is."
Greg barely registered Maeve's gasp of surprise. He was too busy reining his reaction in, he couldn't, no he wouldn't let this Auror see how disconcerted he was by the question. His mum was safe at Stone Walk, behind wards even the Dark Lord himself couldn't break. Wasn't she? Tracey leaned fully into his back, the only anchor he had currently. His face was that patented Slytherin mask when he said, "She is usually at home."
Shacklebolt looked regretful when he said, "I need you to come with me."
"Why?" Tracey demanded, stepping around him with a scowl on her face. "Why should he? What exactly do you need of him now? Why can't we just go home?"
Greg sighed, wrapping his arm about her waist. "Explain," he said shortly, not liking that Tracey had garnered an Auror's attention.
"We found a body," Shacklebolt admitted, "out on the grounds. We believe it is your mother. Narcissa Malfoy tried to identify the body but was unable to do so."
Greg stilled as the man's words truly registered. "Explain yourself," he demanded, before his sense of self-preservation kicked in.
"I can't go into detail," Shacklebolt said pompously before adding in a slightly kinder tone, "We don't know anything more at the current time."
"Why are you doing this?" Tracey spat, leaning fully into Greg's side, lending him her silent support. She could feel him tensing up the more this idiot Auror talked. "Haven't we been through enough already?"
"Maeve," Greg said warningly. "I'll go with Auror Shacklebolt." He leaned down to whisper, "Please stay with B until I get back."
"No," she said, shaking her head and gripping his arm. "I'm going with you. No arguments."
Sighing, he could only nod. He knew better than trying to dissuade her once her mind had been made up. He raised his head, finding Blaise in the crowd. There was no chance he would take Tracey back out onto the battlefield without B there as backup, there were just too many risks. To lose her now wasn't an option he was willing to consider. Blaise's eye narrowed as he excused himself from the people he was talking to and he wound through the crowd.
When Blaise joined them, the expression on his face clearly said 'what the ruddy hell is going on', but Greg wasn't comfortable with fully answering him just yet. His simple, "We've been asked to identify a body," would have to be enough.
"Mo Rós," he whispered as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Tracey's ear. "I want you to stick close to B if anything happens."
She nodded, leaning back against his chest. "I think we should go. That is if Auror Shacklebolt doesn't object to Blaise's presence."
The Auror turned on his heel and marched off toward the doors, his displeasure of Tracey's derisive tone was clear in the stiff set of his shoulders and haughty tilt of his head. Disgusted that the man thought they would follow like meek little sheep, all three stood there and waited for realization to strike. Shacklebolt reached the doors before he stopped and with a shake of his head, turned back toward them.
"If you three would accompany me we can end this little charade of pleasantries soon enough."
"Now that you've asked nicely," Blaise quipped, motioning for Greg and Tracey to move ahead of him.
Once the four of them had emerged from the castle and were away from everyone, Shacklebolt stopped them again, his gaze meeting Blaise's. "You know, Blaise, you don't always have to be a smart arse. Callista would flay you alive if she heard you stirring up trouble like this."
"What trouble?" Blaise asked haughtily. "And do you dare tell her about my disrespect? I thought you wanted to keep your relationship a secret, Kingsley."
Greg's eyes shot wide. What the fuck was this? Kingsley and Callista? Since when. How?
"Your mum and Shacklebolt?" Tracey muttered disbelievingly. She looked Shacklebolt in the eyes. "Isn't that a bit dodgy for an Auror?"
Shacklebolt laughed lightly. "It was Callista and Blaise's confidence in your true allegiances that has kept both of you from full interrogation by the Wizengamot and a stint in Azkaban while you wait for aforementioned interrogations."
He sobered, turning to Greg. "Listen and listen well, young Master Goyle. Callista contacted me in the midst of battle to alert me that she'd arrived at Stone Walk only to find your mother missing. Frantic, she, the family that serves yours, and the house elves searched every last bit of your properties."
"What?" Greg interjected faintly, not even fully comprehending the massive search that would have been. The island alone would have- should have- taken hours and that wasn't taking into account all the international properties. "Callista lead the search?"
"Yes," Shacklebolt replied, his voice dropping to a soft but confident murmur.
Tracey slipped one hand into his and wrapped her other arm around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She knew just as well as he did that if Callista hadn't been able to find his mum than she truly had been taken. There was just no way that she would flee anywhere but one of their properties. She would never, ever worry Greg like this intentionally.
"But-" he said haltingly, taking a deep breath before trying again, gathering every last bit of his reserves to appear as disinterested as possible. Appearances were everything after all. He had to get to Stone Walk and talk to Con about this. "But, the elves and the McManus' should have protected her."
"There was no hint that anything was wrong, according to Callista. Even she didn't sense anything was amiss until the house elves couldn't find your mother."
Why didn't I die instead of Mum or Vinnie? Haven't I sinned just as much as Vinnie? I know I have more stains on my soul than Mum, an innocent in all of this. Her only crime was marrying my bastard father. Why them? Why? Why? Why?
"Let's just get this over with," Blaise interjected, startling Greg out of his thoughts.
Greg sighed, not missing the worried expression on Tracey's face. He would do his best to reassure her. "Yes, we should get this over with. Lead the way, Shacklebolt."
The group tromped across the battlefield, winding through the small groups of people doing the exact thing they were, identifying loved ones that had fallen. Greg was merely trailing after Shacklebolt, Tracey's hand tucked into his. He was beyond caring what anyone thought - if anyone noticed. He wasn't certain that he could deal with another blow today of all days. Too much, too fast, was all he could think.
They stopped, just inside the tree row, in a small glade that would have looked peaceful if it weren't for the ravaged body sprawled in the middle. Someone, and Greg was betting on Shacklebolt, had covered it with a cloak. He dropped Tracey's hand, stepping forward and crouching down. With a deep breath, he pulled the cloak down only to feel his throat closing and his chest tightening painfully. Narcissa wouldn't have been able to identify her, but Greg sure as hell could. The necklace that she'd not removed since the day of his birth was barely visible through the blood and gore that used to be his mother.
"It's her," he finally managed to whisper, blinking rapidly to clear the gathering tears from his eyes.
"Are you certain?" Shacklebolt inquired gently.
"I have to ask," he added hastily. "It is procedure."
"It is Mrs. Goyle," Tracey said firmly, her voice cracking with emotion, moving to stand behind Greg and laying her hands on his shoulders. "What more do you need from us? Greg shouldn't have to be here. He should be at home, mourning."
Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "I understand. Blaise, escort Miss Davis and Mister Goyle to his home. I'll contact Callista so that she can make all of the arrangements. I will also be blocking my associates from contacting any of you."
Greg looked up through his fringe, the tears streaming down his face though he didn't rightly care about appearances just now. "How will you manage that? Won't that lot just assume she was a damn Death Eater and work at ruining her good name?"
"I won't let them. I know you loathe me on principle, Master Goyle, but you must trust Callista's judgement of my character. I will handle the situation."
Blaise crouched down beside him. "You know Mum and Cissa will protect you like mother dragons, Greg. Let me take you and Trace home."
"Please, Val," Tracey whispered. "I don't want to be here anymore."
Greg stood slowly, pulling Tracey close to his chest once he'd turned away from his mother's body, unable to do more than bury his face in Tracey's curls. "How? We can't Apparate."
"I've a Portkey," Blaise assured him. "Mum sent me one long ago in case I needed to get out of a bad situation. We can Apparate from The Vale."
"All right," was all Greg could manage in his currently numb state. He barely registered Blaise's hand on his shoulder or the crushing feeling that signalled Apparition. He was too lost in his pain to care.