alisanne

Title: A Wrackspurt-Free Christmas
Author:

alisanne
Pairing(s): Gregory Goyle/Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy (if you squint)
Prompt: I'd love an 8th year fic, in which Goyle is withdrawn and mostly silent in the wake of the War. Luna, who sees the good in everyone, will do what it takes to draw him out of his shell during the hols. Not looking for anything high-rated here; just a sweet, fluffy fic with hints of romance.
Word Count/Art Medium: ~3200
Rating: PG
Contains (Highlight to view): *Recollection of trauma (canon based).*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for the 2013 round of

mini_fest in response to a prompt from

enchanted_jae.
Thanks to my darlings,

sevfan and

emynn, for looking this over for me. You rock! Thanks also to the mods who, as always, made this a stress-free fest. ♥
Summary: Greg learns to find the joy in Christmas despite the loss of his best friend.

~

A Wrackspurt-Free Christmas

~

The flames were hotter than anything Greg had ever felt before and they wouldn’t stop coming from the end of Vince’s wand. “Stop it!” he shouted at Vince, who looked panicked. “Put it out!”

Vince shook his wand, looking as if he was trying to concentrate, but the flames just kept coming.

As the flames engulfed his wand and ran up his arm, Vince shrieked, “No!” and before Greg’s eyes was consumed by the fire, which flickered higher and higher until all there was in the world was fire and heat and pain and ash--

“No!” Greg cried, sitting up in bed. He panted, trying to catch his breath. He could still smell the stink of burning flesh, taste the heat in his mouth, and it took him a moment to realise he wasn’t actually on fire.

The Slytherin dorm was quiet, although Greg knew his roommates were probably awake. Well, those of them who were left.

Blaise’s mother had sent him to France to finish his education. Draco was back at Hogwarts, but didn’t say a word unless spoken to. And the only person who ever spoke to him was Pansy.

Theo acted like he always did, and he’d never had time for Greg or Vince anyway, even when they’d been the ones in favour, the Carrows’ favourites.

I’m alone. All alone. Greg hung his head, taking gasping breaths as his heart finally slowed.

When Vince had been alive, Greg had never been alone. Inseparable since childhood, they’d grown up together. And now-- Greg held back a sob. He would have put up a Silencing Charm, but the only magic he’d ever been good at had been the Cruciatus Curse and he couldn’t do that anymore, not with the Ministry monitoring his wand. Not that that’d help me right now anyway.

Knowing there would be no more sleep that night, Greg pushed back his curtains and, pulling on his slippers, moved towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

Greg yelped, jumping several inches into the air. “Salazar’s tits!” he hissed. He bit his lip. That had been Vince’s favourite curse; he’d liked it even better than ‘fuck’ because it’d been his father’s favourite, too. Both men were gone now--

“If someone catches you out during curfew it’ll be more points lost.” Draco’s pale, pointy head was sticking out of his curtains. “Don’t leave the dungeons.”

Greg shrugged. What did it matter? Slytherin was on the bottom for points and would probably stay there for the foreseeable future.

Draco huffed. “Fine, on your head be it, then. Just don’t come crying to me when Theo hexes your balls off.”

“I won’t leave,” Greg muttered, turning away. Where would he have gone, anyway? It wasn’t as if any of the other Houses would welcome him, and Draco was right, no one gave anyone in Slytherin the benefit of the doubt anymore. Even Slughorn, who was supposed to be their advocate as Head of House, more often than not took the other side in disputes where Slytherins were involved.

Rumour had it that Snape would be returning soon, but Greg didn’t believe those anymore. Rumour had also said that the Dark Lord was going to win, after all.

The common room was quiet. It had always been a relaxing place for Greg, but these days no one lingered there, preferring to spend time either in the library or in their own beds. No one wanted anyone to suspect them of plotting anything.

The Christmas tree that they’d put up earlier, decorated in Slytherin green and silver, winked in the corner. With a sigh, Greg settled on the floor beside it, looking up at the fairy lights.

None of the Slytherins were planning to go home for the hols. Not even Draco. Mainly because very few had homes to go to after the Ministry’s Reparations Act had been enacted.

Greg’s stomach growled but he knew there was nothing he could do about that. Even the house-elves tended to ignore them these days. Everyone ignores us. I think they all wish we could disappear. Greg sighed, staring into the fireplace and its flames. And sometimes I do, too.

~

At breakfast the next day, Greg was exhausted. He’d ended up falling asleep on the floor in front of the fire in the common room, but had slept fitfully. He’d only woken up when Draco had nudged him with his foot and told him to clean up for class.

Class. Greg snorted to himself as he pulled on a jumper. Who was he kidding? He was terrible at magic, unless it was magic to hurt people.

“Eat something,” Draco said at breakfast, passing over a dish of sausages.

Shrugging, Greg took some, but just moved the food around on his plate. He’d lost quite a bit of weight since the war; somehow food didn’t seem as important without Vince to share it with. He was still deep in his miserable thoughts when Draco nudged him, making him wince. “It’s time for Charms,” he hissed. “Come on. We’re sure to get points deducted if we’re late.”

Charms class was subdued. As in all their classes, Slytherins said very little, and Greg was quieter than most. Vince had been the one who spoke when necessary, although really, they’d both preferred to let Draco speak for them when possible.

“...care to answer the question, Mr Goyle?”

Greg blinked at the professor, unsure of what to say or do.

“Not even a guess?” Flitwick sighed. “If you’re not going to even try, Mr Goyle, perhaps you shouldn’t be in this class. It’s obvious you have little interest in the topic at hand.”

Greg’s eyes widened. Charms was one of the few classes he’d been allowed to retake. His poor grades had excluded him from just about everything else. He wanted to protest, to refute what Flitwick was saying, but nothing would come out.

“I’ll tutor him.”

Everyone in the class turned to stare at the speaker. Flitwick blinked rapidly. “Ms Lovegood, that’s not necessary--”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Luna Lovegood gathered her things into her arms, moving over to sit next to Greg, who simply gaped at her.

Flitwick coughed. “Very well, as you wish. Now, on to passive charms--”

Greg was still wondering what the hell Lovegood was up to when class ended. She hadn’t said a word since sitting down beside him, but she’d taken copious notes.

“...expect twelve inches on passive charms by next week!” Flitwick called out as everyone gathered their things to leave.

Once in the hallway, Lovegood turned to face Greg. “I’ll see you in the library at six,” she said.

Greg blinked. “Um--” And before he could say more, she had skipped away, her long blonde pony tail bouncing as she moved down the hall.

“Well, looks like Greg has a girlfriend.” Pansy smirked.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now come on, we need to get back to the dungeons before someone attacks.”

Without a word, Greg followed his friends, but he did glance over his shoulder at Lovegood’s retreating back before he left.

~

“Where are you going?” Draco snapped when Greg started for the common room’s door.

Greg shrugged. “Library.”

“To meet his new girlfriend,” said Pansy. She glared at Draco. “Some people like girls, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up,” he hissed.

Accustomed to them arguing, Greg moved towards the door again. He slipped out just as Pansy was accusing Draco of being obsessed with Potter. Again. Greg rolled his eyes. Draco could be oddly blind about certain things....

When he got to the library, Greg hovered uncertainly in the door. He’d never actually been inside; books made him nervous. Looking around, he scanned for Lovegood, not seeing her.

Should’ve known, he thought, inexplicably disappointed.

Turning away, he almost ran smack into Lovegood, who was standing right behind him. “There you are!” she said and, clasping his hand, pulled him away from the library.

Gobsmacked that she was actually touching him, Greg followed obediently. “But...library--”

“Oh, I suggested we meet there because I figured you’d you know where it is, but I like to study elsewhere.”

“E-elsewhere?” Greg stuttered. “But--”

Lovegood just continued pulling him along, finally stopping before a set of large double doors. “Here we are.” Dropping his hand, Lovegood pushed open the doors and skipped over to a pile of books that sat on a table. “Empty classrooms are much better for studying.” She smiled. “Plus, Madam Pince doesn’t like it when people talk.”

“Oh.” Greg stood here, slowly clenching his hand into a fist to preserve the lingering warmth of her touch. No one had actually touched him in a long time.

“Come. Sit.” Lovegood gestured. “Now, what do you know about Charms?”

Slowly, Greg sat. “Dunno,” he muttered.

Lovegood nodded. “I bet you know more than you think you do. Let’s start at the beginning--”

~

His mind buzzing, Greg stumbled into the Slytherin common room one minute after curfew. Draco looked up from his book. “There you are! You cut it close.”

Greg grunted.

“Did you learn anything?”

Greg shrugged. Honestly, he’d learned more from spending a couple of hours with Lovegood than he had in years of ignoring professors in class. “Suppose.”

Shaking his head, Draco closed his book and stood. “Well if you’re going to socialise with Ravenclaws, make sure they know you need to be home early, all right? Books can distract them, and they’re not the ones with targets in their backs. Remember, people are just looking for an excuse to expel us. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” And with that, he left Greg standing alone in the common room.

Thoughtful, Greg watched him go. I didn’t know he worried about me.

~

Breakfast the next day was quiet. Even Pansy was subdued, not speaking to anyone. So when Lovegood skipped over to the Slytherin table, everyone there eyed her warily. “Are you ready?” she asked Greg, who simply stared up at her, perplexed.

“For what?” he finally asked when she didn’t just go away.

“Why, to work on your essay of course.”

“My--”

“Go on, then,” Draco muttered under his breath. “You’re calling attention to us.”

Unsure what to do, Greg shrugged and, standing up, followed Lovegood, who led him past tables of silent, suspicious students.

Once they were outside the Great Hall, she clasped his arm, pulling him towards one of the doors that led outside. Greg grew alarmed. “Where are we going?”

“Greenhouse Three,” was the cheerful reply.

“But it’s winter--” A gust of mingled wind and snow whipped the words from Greg’s mouth and, sputtering, he blindly followed Lovegood.

“I know,” she tossed cheerily over her shoulder. “But it’s quiet and no one will bother us there.”

The greenhouse was quiet, and Greg, after blinking the wet snow out of his eyes, realised it was warm, too. Lovegood, clearly accustomed to studying there, led him to a corner where a stone bench was located.

Settling, Lovegood patted the bench beside her. “I thought we’d go over some passive charms and then we can start on your essay--”

Within a couple of hours, Greg had written the best essay of his life, and with Lovegood’s help he’d even spelled most of the words correctly.

“Wonderful!” Lovegood pronounced. “Professor Flitwick will love it.”

Greg shrugged. In that moment he honestly didn’t care what Flitwick thought, he was more worried about Lovegood being upset.

Lovegood tilted her head. “You look tired. Why don’t you take a nap while I finish mine?”

Having never slept in a girl’s presence, Greg wasn’t sure he could, but the moment he closed his eyes he began to doze. His mind drifted for a while, lulled by the scratch of Lovegood’s steady writing.

...Vince’s face was melting into flames. “Help me!” he cried. “Help me, Greg!”

Gasping, Greg sat up, dislodging the parchments from his lap. They spilled onto the floor.

“Wrackspurt dreams?” Lovegood nodded sagely as Greg simply stared at her. “Those are hard.” Leaning forward, she gathered up his parchments and handed them to him.

Greg swallowed hard. “I dunno what Wrackspurts are.”

Lovegood patted his knee. “They’re the things that make us feel guilty, that upset us. Wrackspurts love war and strife.”

Recalling Vince’s melting face, Greg shuddered. “Definitely Wrackspurt dreams, then.”

“It’s easy to let those dreams affect you,” Lovegood said. “The only way to fight them is to try to remember that the things that happen in dreams aren’t real. What’s real is that people care about you.”

Looking away, Greg stared down at his hands. “No one cares about me,” he muttered. “Vince...Anyway, my only friend is dead and it’s my fault.”

“How?”

Greg’s head popped up and he stared hard at her. Her wide, blue eyes were guileless, inviting. Greg sighed and, for the first time, told another person about his nightmares. “I was the one who told Vince about Fiendfyre. It was the first time he’d ever been interested in anything to do with school, and Professor Carrow mentioned it to me one day, so I told him. And after that he wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Was that how he died?”

Greg nodded, gazing past her and out towards the snow-covered grounds. “We were helping Draco, and Vince wanted to test the spell, so he cast it and--” Greg sighed. “It was hotter than a regular fire. And it was like it was alive, like it wanted to take us all--”

A hand slipped into his and, startled, Greg froze.

“Fiendfyre has a mind of its own,” Lovegood said. “I’ve heard of grown wizards who got into trouble with it. Your friend made a mistake. Forgive him, then forgive yourself and try to be happy in your life. That’s the best way to honour him.”

Greg’s eyes went wide. “I don’t blame him--” But a moment later he realised he did.

“I would.” Lovegood squeezed his fingers gently. “He shouldn’t have done it, and he probably knew it. And you tried to tell him, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Greg whispered.

“So he made a mistake and it cost him. Don’t let his mistake cost you, too.”

“Why do you even care?” Greg asked, swallowing roughly.

Lovegood smiled. “Because you’re my friend.”

Greg’s throat closed and it took him a few moments to respond. “I’ve only ever had one friend,” he choked out.

Lovegood shook her head. “Silly, you have lots of friends. Here comes one now.”

Greg frowned, and had just opened his mouth to ask what she meant, when Draco rounded the corner in the greenhouse. “Are you all right, Greg?” he asked. His eyebrows went up when he saw their linked hands.

“We’re fine, aren’t we, Greg?” Lovegood’s expression was pleasant but Greg could feel her hand trembling.

Draco flushed as he looked at her and Greg’s eyes narrowed. What happened between them?

“Greg?” Draco said. “Is that true?”

“Yes, we’re fine.” Greg looked over at Lovegood, who had relaxed. “Almost done.”

Draco began to back away. “Take your time, just be sure to be back in Slytherin by curfew.”

“He cares about you,” Lovegood said once Draco had left.

“What did Draco do to you?” Greg blurted out.

Lovegood sighed. “I spent some time in the Malfoy Manor dungeons during the war. He was the only one who was kind to me, but it’s still hard.” She smiled. “You see? Even I have Wrackspurts.”

Hesitantly, Greg whispered, “Who helps you with yours?”

Leaning in, Lovegood kissed his cheek. “Why my friends, of course. Like you.” Standing up, she tugged him to his feet. Pulling out her wand, she Levitated all their books and parchments, packing them into a bag that she then slung over her shoulder. “But everything will all work out, you’ll see. Christmas is coming and Wrackspurts hate Christmas.”

“They do?” Unsure what to do, Greg just kept holding her hand as she dragged him back to the castle.

“Oh yes,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Anyway, I’m hungry. Shall we go to lunch? I do hope there’s pudding, don’t you?”

Greg smiled. “Yes.” He smiled all the way through lunch and dinner, and that night, for the first time since Vince had died, he slept peacefully.

~

Christmas day dawned clear and bright. Greg was up early and was the first of the students down to breakfast. Within a few minutes Pansy and Theo had arrived.

They settled in at the Slytherin table as usual. Greg expected that the other students who were staying over the holidays would all keep to their house tables, too, but when Luna arrived, she immediately disrupted that plan. Slipping into the seat next to Greg, she said, “I’m hoping for French toast. It’s my favourite.”

The Slytherins all exchanged looks and shrugged. Greg blushed as Pansy raised an eyebrow but when she didn’t say anything, he relaxed.

When Abbott, a Hufflepuff, arrived, Luna gestured her over. She didn’t disrupt things much, but when the Gryffindors arrived, they created a stir.

Potter led the way in, Granger, Longbottom and Weasley following closely behind. But when they headed for the Gryffindor table, Luna waved them over to Slytherin. “Won’t you come over here, Harry?”

Hesitating, Potter nevertheless moved closer. Draco, who walked in just after Potter, went rigid. Greg could see things were getting tense, but couldn’t see a way to fix it. Luna, however, knew just what to do.

Standing up, she walked over to Potter and his friends. After a hushed conversation, Granger, Weasley and Longbottom left the group and joined the seated Slytherins.

“Pancakes?” Theo offered Weasley the plate.

Weasley, after glancing at Granger, nodded. “All right.”

Meanwhile, Luna seemed to be having a stern chat with Potter and Draco, both of whom looked sheepish once she was done. When Potter turned and said something to Draco, then offered him his hand, the entire table seemed to hold their breath.

Without hesitation, Draco clasped Potter’s hand, and Greg exhaled.

“About time,” muttered Pansy.

“You’re not kidding,” said Granger, shocking everyone.

By the time Luna slipped back into her seat beside Greg, Potter and Draco had sat together at the end of the table.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Luna asked. “Happy Christmas, everyone!”

Everyone replied in kind, and soon people were chatting, albeit warily. Granger and Theo became engrossed in a conversation about Arithmancy, Pansy and Weasley were discussing Quidditch (Greg would never have predicted that the Chudley Cannons would be Weasley’s favourite team, too), and Longbottom seemed to be blushing a lot as he spoke with Abbott.

Luna rested her hand on Greg’s thigh, capturing his attention. “You see?” she whispered, leaning in close. “The Wrackspurts are almost all gone. They hate Christmas.”

Greg smiled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

~