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rarepair_shorts
Pairing: Harry Potter and Gregory Goyle
Prompt: without warning
Rating: PG-13 ; Foul language, consumption of alcohol by minors, minor sexual situation
Word Count: 935
Summary: All Harry wants is a normal adventure. None of that dying nonsense.
Author's Notes: Starts summer before fourth year.
Link to Prompt Table: http://neuroballoon.livejournal.com/1492.html
Harry decided it was high time for an adventure. Not the life-threatening, shit-your-pants adventure of yesteryear (which was actually just last year), but the kind that you wanted to tell other people about, the kind you wanted to remember. So, the summer before his fourth year, Harry slipped away from the Dursley’s, army duffel over his shoulder and wand shoved down the back of his pants.
He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, and yes, he did recognize this as irresponsible, but hell, he’s only almost fourteen – don’t kids get to be a little reckless?
As he stepped out of Diagon Alley and back into London, extra cash stuffed in an old wallet, he felt exhilarated.
Then, he was knocked over.
It happened quite suddenly and he hadn’t the faintest idea where it came from, but he knew he was suddenly pulled up rather firmly by his arm and he was running – why am I running? – beside a boy around his age who was rather red around the face.
He knew this boy.
“Goyle! What the hell?” Harry’s voice was breathy and high.
“Shut up! Run!”
And so, Harry ran. He glanced over at Goyle and noticed some random items falling from the pockets of his jean jacket. Ah, got caught nicking. They turned sharp corners, stumbled down flights of stairs, and sprinted in front of oncoming cars.
“Fuck! Hurry!”
They minded the gap and squeezed past the doors just as they were shutting. Ah, the smell of piss, sweat and cologne, the best type of air to be gasping into your body like a suffocating fish. Once they’d returned from their dual moments of asphyxiation, the boys leveled a steady glare at one another.
“Potter.”
“Goyle.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Right.” Harry said, sighing and scratching his belly. Then, “What are you doing here?”
“Here?”
“Yeah, here, in, you know – “
“Oh.” Goyle tilted his head back a bit. “Just, ah, wanted to get away from home.”
“Ah… same here.” Harry smiled in a pinched sort of way as he rocked from the balls of his feet to his heels. “Where are you heading?”
“Suppose back home. You?”
“Eh… not the faintest idea.” Harry said, realizing the hitch in his plan.
“Well, eh… you can come on with me. Or whatever.” Goyle said this with a red face. He cleared his throat and looked away.
“Uh… well… I mean, uh, I don’t see why not…” Well, except maybe the fact that Goyle helped antagonize him for the past three years. “Why?”
“’Cause, “ Goyle shrugged and looked at his feet, “my parents left for Denmark a couple days ago, staying with my grandparents and… I dunno. I don’t like being there by myself.”
“What about Malfoy or Crabbe?”
“Malfoy’s in France and Crabbe’s a wanker.”
“Uh…”
“Fuck it – never knew ol’ Potter’d be too much of a pussy to stop by for some damn tea. Whatever.”
Goyle glowered and crossed his arms over his chest, leaving Harry to bristle.
“I am not a pu – “
“Bollocks. You’re a complete nancy.”
Harry fumed for a minute, completely missing Goyle’s brief smirk, then he said, “Fine then.”
Sometime later Harry found himself sitting in a squishy chair in Goyle’s bedroom, locked in another glaring contest with the boy. Harry figured that was all right, at least he wasn’t being harassed or anything. Sometimes, though, he really had something against his pride. I mean, how else would I end up in a Slytherin’s bedroom? Harry blushed at the thought.
Goyle left for a moment, and then came back with a bottle of firewhisky, a deck of cards, and two glasses.
“That doesn’t look like tea.”
“’Cause it’s not, tosser.”
He flicked a boom box, and Harry recognized Suicidal Tendencies – he liked the song, but he couldn’t place it.
“All right, the rules: pull an Ace and we down our glasses. Take a two and we have to take two drinks, a three and three drinks, a four and four drinks, a five and the other drinks, a six and you make a rule and I have to follow or I drink, a seven and you say something you’ve never done and if I’ve done it, I have to drink, eight is sentences, which is where we go back and forth with words to try and make up a sentence, and whoever fucks up drinks, then if you pull a nine you have to rhyme and you drink when you fuck it up, ten I forgot, Jack we both drink, Queen you refill my drink, and with King you make up more rules. Right?”
“Right… you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“I’m trying to get me drunk too.”
For a moments Harry paused – this was insanity – then his thirteen almost fourteen year old brain said ‘fuck it’ and pulled a card. It was an Ace.
Sometime later Harry and Goyle were a bit rosy in the cheeks. Without any warning, Harry was suddenly on something large and cushy, while something much bigger than he was stretched out across his body with their face in the crook of his neck and their mouth just below his ear. Oddly enough, Harry found that he didn’t mind – never in his life would he admit it, but he liked be with someone built so much larger than him, what with Harry and his mop of hair that seems too big for his head, and Goyle with his crew-cut and pierced ear.
Harry can’t remember how he ended up nude, but hell, he didn’t really mind.
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Date: 2009-06-25 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 06:45 am (UTC)