The Other Side of Goyle

Gregory Goyle is not everything that he seems.

He seems rather unintelligent. He appears to be rather blank. He comes across as rather uncaring. This is what is expected of him. Goyle is a Slytherin, a Pureblood; he has a status to maintain and a reputation to upkeep. Gregory, thusly, does what is expected of him; he watches out for Draco, he says very little and he keeps his opinions and thoughts to himself. After all, no one cares what Goyle thinks. Goyle is just the crony that is always skulking around Draco Malfoy, the fat kid that is always stuffing his face, the idiot that can’t think for himself or even read.

It is probably a good thing that people cannot see underneath his façade. While his well-padded, oafish exterior presents a boy that is rather thick-skulled and shallow, what lurks underneath tells a very different tale.

Gregory Goyle is a very sad, lonely boy. He has no one to talk to – who would want to listen to that fat idiot, Goyle? He has no one to confide in – as if that stupid porky would have anything of any interest to say, anyway. He has no one to turn to – he’s a crony, so he is supposed to watching out for Malfoy.

But, oh, how he wishes he had someone – anyone – to unburden his mind to. How he wishes he had a friend - just one, simple friend.

There is no way that he can talk to Draco. Draco certainly doesn’t care - he is too indulged in himself to be concerned with anyone. Crabbe is no good to talk to, for he follows the same rules that Goyle follows. Gregory has tried talking to Vincent in the past, but to no avail. Pansy is just a pure bitch - she would spread whatever Goyle had to say around faster than a flying Firebolt. He doesn’t really know anyone else in Slytherin House to really place his confidence in.

So, Goyle turns to the only friend he does have, the only thing that doesn’t talk back at him, berate him, chastise him or snipe at him.

Food.

Food comforts him like a soothing hand rubbing on his back when he is upset. Food cheers him up when he is melancholy. Food brings him happiness, and happiness is like a drug to Goyle – he can’t get enough of it. Thus, food is his fix. He eats and eats, and he is happy. Goyle prefers sweet things to anything else. He loves how the sugar tantalises his taste buds and makes his mouth water. Goyle eats different saccharine delicacies - cream puffs, cupcakes, treacle tarts, trifle, chocolate and pudding - and he simply savours the taste.

As it slides down his throat, he feels a moment of satisfaction, a glimmer of happiness as he is distracted from his despondent, wistful thoughts. For that very moment that food passes his lips, Goyle is disconnected from his sadness and his pain. He can almost - almost - forget his dreary thoughts. It feels like everything, just for that split second, is going to be okay. It is momentary, however, so he is quick to spoon the next amount into his mouth.

But, like all drugs, there is an after effect; once his belly is full and there is no more food in sight to eat, Goyle feels guilt creep in on him. He suddenly realises how much he has consumed and reality sets in once again; he is still alone, he still has no one to talk to and he simply feels revolting. In fact, he hates himself much more once he has binged. The self-loathing is so undeniable that he sometimes steals away to his corner of the dorm, hides behind his drapes and silently cries into his pillow. It is at these very moments that he truly, truly wishes that he had someone to talk to.

**********

It is no different on this Friday night. Goyle is sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall with his fork clutched in one hand and he is hunched over his meal. He scrapes the last amount of fluffy white mashed potatoes on to his fork and spears it into his mouth, sits back and closes his eyes as the food passes over his tongue, washes over his gums and then slides down his throat. Goyle heaves a contented sigh and opens his eyes again, looks down at his empty plate and pushes it aside.

His chubby hands are quick to snatch cakes and scoop lumps of pudding on to a clean plate. Goyle hurriedly sets his plate down, takes up his fork and digs into the succulent desert. Each mouthful is simply divine; he loses himself for that split moment, chewing the food slowly, letting the sweetness seep out on to his tongue and trickle down his throat. A burst of happiness, as fleeting a strike of lightning, flashes into his mind and makes his heart feel lighter. Quickly, he scoops up another mouthful. Then another and another and another, until his plate is empty and his stomach feels close to bursting.

Goyle drops his fork on to the plate with a clink and sits back. He feels happy, he feels content, like everything is going to be alright. He licks his lips and glances down at his stomach. It is bulging out and feels uncomfortably tight. He frowns – the happiness is rapidly fading, being overtaken by guilt. It creeps into his mind as stealthy as a slithering python and wraps around his heart like a cocoon. Tightly, it squeezes; the fangs of guilt pierce his mind and the burden of his depression suddenly drops back on to his shoulders, towering over him like a huge bird of prey, like a vulture.

He places his hands on the edge of the table and pushes himself back from it. His chair makes a scraping sound as he stands and he swiftly turns and walks away. Goyle ignores Malfoy yelling at him to get his fat arse back to the table; he shuts out the happy chattering and the joyful laughter. The scent of food is now simply repugnant. He feels sick; he feels absolutely disgusted with himself. Why does he let himself lose control like that? Why does he do this every single time?

You fat, revolting fuck, he tells himself as he stalks down the dark, cold corridors. You stupid fucking slob. You are a fucking gluttonous pig.

A tear escapes his eye, rolls down his cheek and he dashes a chunky hand to his face to smear it away angrily. You are nothing but a fucking sloth. You are so fucking useless! he yells at himself in his head as he rounds the corner, wiping away another tear furiously.

He doesn’t see Professor Snape striding through the dimness, nor does he hear the teacher’s soft footfalls; he is too caught up in his anger and his self loathing to pay any attention. Goyle’s tear-filled eyes focus down on the stone floor as he walks forth and the moment he slams into Snape, he lets out a grunt of both surprise and annoyance.

“Goyle, watch where you are going,” Snape snarls.

“Sorry, Professor,” he mutters. He doesn’t want to talk too loudly, in case Snape hears the thickness of his voice, the telltale sign that he is crying.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” the Professor asks irritably, arching his brow and folding his arms over his chest.

“Nothing,” Goyle mumbles.

“Nothing?” Snape drawls.

“Yes, sir.” Goyle steals a glance up at the teacher, who is peering closely at him. He shouldn’t have; Snape has seen the tears on his cheeks.

Snape’s dark, beady eyes soften very slightly. He purses his lips and then says, “Come with me to my office, Goyle.” He doesn’t wait for an answer; he turns abruptly on his heel, his black garbs swishing around his ankles, and stalks away into the darkness, obviously expecting Goyle to follow him.

Silently, Goyle sidles after Snape. He pushes his hands into his pockets and keeps his face down turned. He feels foolish – Snape, of all people, has seen him crying. His stomach feels knotted up as he strolls forth reluctantly; what was Snape going to say to him? Is Snape going to tell him to stop being such a baby and grow up?

“Hurry up,” Snape growls as Goyle approaches. Goyle obeys and quickens his pace towards the door. Just before he crosses the threshold, he feels Snape slip a hand on to his beefy shoulder and give it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “In you go,” the teacher says quietly, almost gently.

Goyle can’t help but smile. Perhaps, he thinks to himself as he glances back at Snape thankfully and wipes another tear away from his cheek, I have found someone who will listen to me.

Snape squeezes his shoulder once more before ushering Goyle into the room and closing the door behind them.