Full of Stars

“Ugh! You’re horrible at this. Stop!” Draco demanded over the sounds of Pansy Parkinson slurping sloppily at his erection.

“Excuse me?” she asked after pulling back to glare up at Draco.

“You! You’re terrible at it. Your lips are limp, you hardly move at all and your tongue is flaccid. You suck how you fuck, like a dead fish. It’s not even worth rucking down my trousers for,” he hissed at her.

“Oh is that so? Someone else been sucking your cock better lately, Draco? I haven’t seen you with anyone. Goyle sucking you off now?” she chortled.

“Yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Asked and answered, Parkinson. Yes, it is so. Yes, someone’s sucked my cock better. Yes, Goyle sucked me off. And it was better. Perhaps you should ask him for lessons,” he said to her with an air of extreme arrogance.

“You know, my lips were just around your cock, you could call me Pansy,” she shot back as she stalled to comprehend the rest of what he’d said.

“I could, but that would imply that we were close. Which we’re not.”

“Excuse me?” now she was starting to get really upset with him. Not that these sorts of mindes wes with Draco were new. At least not lately they weren’t. Since the loss of his father to Azkaban, Draco had pulled back from everyone and become, if possible, even nastier than he’d ever been. “So… what… you’re a fag now? That’ll go over great with your parents, I think I’ll write them a letter.”

“Yeah? Good luck with that. One express mail to Azkaban, will it be? Or are you going to forward it on to my alcoholic mother who’s falling apart? Dear Narcissa, on top of your misery of losing your husband, your son found my slut hole too loose to fuck anymore and so he’s gone gay. Sincerely, Pansy Parkinson. Brilliant. Write it up. Please,” he growled at her.

“I’ve only ever been with you!” she wailed, now becoming upset and unnerved by his cruelty. “God, why… why do I do this to myself? Why do you want to hurt the people who love you? Do you hear me, Draco? I love you. Don’t… don’t say these things to me. Please don’t.”

In truth, he didn’t want Goyle any more than he really wanted Pansy. Of late, mostly what he wanted was to be left alone. Perhaps some occasional sex, but the burden of people’s expectations on him to love them back; to go out on that limb over and over again only to have them likely taken away was more than he could abide. “I’m not gay. I just don’t love you.”

“What?”

“Parkinson, either clean out your ears or leave. I don’t love you. I don’t think I ever did. Maybe… I don’t know. I just can’t… I can’t do this anymore. Every time you touch me I want to cut my prick off or flense the skin you’ve touched. Your voice echoes in my head like a braying sheep. Go away. Save yourself. Find a nice boy who’ll treat you well. Make a family and pop out kids like a Weasley. I don’t care. Just. Get. Away. From. Me,” Draco exclaimed as he reached down to put his now lifeless length back into his boxers and zipped his trousers.

“You don’t mean this. You can’t. I’ll come back tomorrow—“

“And I’ll have Goyle send you away—“

“It is him, isn’t it? You’ve gone faggish for that giant oaf—“

“No, no. A thousand no’s—“

“Then why don’t—“

“I can’t, Pansy. I can’t, just go! GO!” he shrieked, now he was starting to shake with his upset and finally on the verge of tears.

Hearing the commotion, Goyle came into the room. He looked dumbly from the girl back to Draco and then back again. “Sir?”

“Get her out of here,” Draco said as he turned back to glare at the wall, his fine mane of pale hair whipped around to one side of his face and he tilted his face into the curtain of hair as he bit his lip, trying hard not to sob.

“Come on, Pansy,” Goyle said quietly, offering his arm.

Draco heard a loud slap. “Parkinson, asshole,” she growled to Goyle.

If they discussed anything further as to why Pansy had slapped Goyle, Draco didn’t hear it. They were shortly out the door and the room again darkened with the closing of the exit. Sinking back down onto the bed, Draco again pulled up the message that was owled to him by an unfamiliar owl. From St. Mungo’s. Though his mother’s alcohol poisoning was certainly treatable, the message went on to read that she would be staying there indefinitely for exhaustion and that for now, the Manor would be closed up.

Reaching out for the last basket of goodies he’d received, he stroked the basket lovingly, as if It were the fine blonde strands of his mother’s hair. “I’m sorry, mum. I shouldn’t have come back to school. I should have been there for you,” he whispered to it. Although he knew that it wasn’t his father’s nor his mother’s wish that he languish there. And in truth, as crazy as she’d been getting, Draco hadn’t really in his heart of hearts, wanted to stay.

She would come to him in the middle of the night and slip into his bed. He would turn over and wrap his arms around her and comfort her, allowing her to cry on his chest. Then she would ask uncomfortable questions.

“Why did he leave?”

“He didn’t leave, mum. He was captured. It wasn’t his plan, I’m sure.”

“But still. Now I’m alone. What am I going to do?”

“You have to be strong. We’ll get him back. Just keep being strong until the Dark Lord gets back his power. Then he’ll call him back out. It will be all right,” Draco cooed.

“Why did it have to happen to him? Didn’t I love him enough?”

“I—“ And there again, Draco wouldn’t have answers. It didn’t have anything to do with love or caring. It was just something that happened. Draco could see that, but his mother couldn’t seem to see it. Eventually, as he held her, his mother would cry herself to sleep, only to repeat the performance the next night. It was all more than Draco could cope with. He had been almost dreading the end of term, going back home to that, but now it seemed he didn’t have a home to go to. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have family that would take him in, that wasn’t the point. Now that the option of going home was taken away, it was all he really wanted to do.

In the chaos of his churning emotions, he hadn’t noticed the door opening again. Had he known he wasn’t alone, he certainly wouldn’t have started to sob quietly to himself as he folded the note back up and slipped it into his nightstand.

“Draco?” Goyle queried. He’d never heard Draco cry, not really.

The blonde boy’s back stiffened for a moment, as he seemed to take in a few breaths to master himself. Then with much animosity, he slowly turned around to look at the boy, whose face was all in shadows. “What, Goyle?” he snapped.

“My, um… my mum heard… you know… with your mum and I’m, umm… sorry. She umm… you can stay with us if you want,” Goyle stuttered.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you Goyle? Going to assfuck me all summer? Oh no wait, you’re a bottom. Going to keep my prick warm?”

“Stop it.”

“Fuck you, I’ll stop it when I want to stop it, faggot.”

“Draco. I mean it stop it. My mum was just trying to be nice; I didn’t ask her to take you in. In fact, the way you’ve been acting, I’m not even sure I want you over,” he snarled as he moved out of the shadows, his face an expression usually reserved for Potter.

“Oh yeah, that’s great for you. You have a nice sane mum who can be nice to people. I have a dad in Azkaban,” he hissed as he stood up and railed back to punch out at Goyle. “And a mum gone crazy!”

Catching the small, pale palm in his hand with ease, Goyle manhandled Draco, laying his fingers on his wrist and twisting him around so that his arm was now twisted around his back. Leaning forward, he hissed down to the little prat, “Oh yes, pity poor Malfoy. He’s the only one with problems. The only one with feelings. He’s the only one whose father was sent away to prison. Poor little baby Draco. You think I’m too stupid to have feelings? To miss my father? The only difference is, I don’t take it out on the people I like. But maybe I should, huh? Since I want to be like you! Maybe I should start using people to get what I want with little regard for anyone else. And then when people ask, I can tell them how sad I am. Poor little Gregory, you should give him whatever he wants. His father’s in Azkaban!”

Leaning in, Goyle pivoted them both to face the bed and shoved Draco down, face first onto it, letting the blonde’s legs dangle off the edge of it. With little regard for the smaller boy’s comfort, he forced his own weight against him, nudging his erection between Draco’s ass cheeks. Angrily he whispered into Draco’s upturned ear, “Maybe I should be just like you. Take what I want.”

Draco had pressed the side of his face against the bed as he was lowered and his chest was heaving in a panic of pain and fear as Goyle crushed him down onto his soft feather bed. The velvet tickled his nose as he listened in terror to the anger and pain in Goyle’s voice. His eyes refused to blink, but stared at nothing in particular, seeming to fixate on the light coat of fuzzy dust that had seemed to collect on the dark material. “Don’t.”

Goyle cackled in his ear and slowly licked the side of Draco’s face. “That’s a word you hear a lot and don’t respect, isn’t it, Draco?” Goyle asked as he pulled his hips back and slid them forward against the soft press of Draco’s ass. “Don’t tell Pansy or anyone that I fancy you. Blew that one, didn’t you?”

Wincing, Draco closed his eyes now and felt the tears running hotly down his cheeks.

“Don’t love, do you, Draco? Only yourself. I was a fool to confide that in you. I should have known what you’d do with it. You used me, didn’t you? You had no intention—“

“Goyle! Stop it right now and get off of me. I’m not talking to you like this,” he snapped as his free pale hand shot out and scrabbled for anything to hit the larger boy with. His feet scrabbled for purchase against the floor, hoping to throw the boy off of him. But it was no use, the weight was too insistent, too crushing. And to make matters worse, Goyle simply pulled his arm a bit tighter. His shoulder felt on fire, as if he were going to rip it off entirely.

“Goyle!” he squealed finally. “Don’t, don’t do this! I do… I do care about you. I think I do love you I’m just-- I can’t. I can’t, you’re going to be taken away. It won’t matter what I do, things that I love go away! Father… now mother… the house… I’m slipping, Goyle. I just don’t want to take everyone with me,” he ended in an anticlimactic whimper as he pressed his face into the furry blankets, waiting for whatever Goyle was going to do. Probably strike him for being weak and pathetic, which is how he felt that the confession made him seem in his opinion.

“Draco…” Goyle said quietly after laying there for a moment letting the words resolve around him. Finally he pulled himself back up off of the boy and sat back on his own bed next to it. “I didn’t… I didn’t think you had feelings at all. I thought you were just this horrible person—“

“I am a horrible person, Goyle. I have to be. The war is coming and we’re all going to have to be horrible people.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Goyle. And you’re not that far off. I just know that—I know in my heart of hearts I’m not going to make it, Goyle. I thought at least I’d make it till the war started, but now—now I’m the head of my family. What feelings I have for you or for Pansy or for anyone won’t matter. I’ll probably have to take the Mark this summer. I’m proud to, don’t get me wrong. And I will fight my hardest to win. I just… I don’t see me making it through. And even if I do—“

“I’ll be there beside you, Draco. Just like I always am.”

“Goyle, as much as I love you and care about you… I’m just not gay. I thought about it, I tried. I… I really enjoyed you sucking me off, I just…”

“You’re not attracted.”

“No.”

“But you like Pansy?”

“Not really.”

“But she’s a girl,” Goyle pled.

“Yes, and there’s loads of boys you probably aren’t attracted to,” Draco answered.

“Right.”

“Right.”

They both looked down and there was a long and awkward silence that followed during which Draco started to idly toy with the untucked hem of his crisp white school shirt. Goyle cleared his throat and Draco looked up for a moment, hoping it was a sign of some sort of distracting conversation, but there was nothing. Giving a little sigh, he started to pluck at the lint on his bed covering.

“I’d still like you to come stay with me this summer. I guess it’s sort of a relief to know now. And we’re still… well… “

“My Goyle. You’re my Goyle,” Draco said, giving a faint smirk at his words before he looked down. “And I’d really like that. I hope mum will be better enough before summer ends. I miss her. I want to visit her when they’ll allow me to at St. Mungo’s.”

“Sure. Mum mentioned she’d go with you if you want. Since they’re friends and all. And I’ll go, too. You know… just if you need me, Sir,” Goyle said quietly.

“Thanks. I’d like that. You know whose fault this big mess is?” he asked Goyle smartly.

“Whose?”

“Potter’s. I say we get him on the train on the way home,” Draco said with his brightly cocky and vicious sneer.

“Good plan, Sir,” answered Goyle.

The End.

**

Of course, this leads eventually to the scene where Potter kicks their asses on the Hogwart’s Express. As Book 6 hasn’t been written, I’m clearly taking some liberties with the strength of Narcissa. But my plan was to keep it contained and as canon as I could, more of a side story to the ending of Order of the Phoenix.

The title was derived from one of my favorite songs by Turin Brakes, “Full of Stars.” Some of the dialogue in Chapter 2 pays homage to it. Check them out if you liked the story, and even if you didn’t, they’re a great band. Dedicated with much love to Jesse.