in an igloo and raise Malamutes. Whatever. Goyle would be on hand to provide assistance if it was within his power to do so.
On the subject of Pansy, however, Goyle disagreed with Draco on principle. He couldn't help it.
Before breakfast, Goyle had walked with Pansy to the Astronomy Tower because she apparently had news to tell him that was of an 'extremely sensitive nature'. From past experience, this could have been anything from what Millicent had told her about some other girl Millicent had found snogging in the Greenhouses on Friday evening, to what latest Parkinson asset Pansy's drunkard of a father had just gambled away.
They passed Professor Flitwick coming down the curved, stone staircase and he reminded them that the Tower entrance would be shut in half an hour.
Pansy assured him that she wouldn't need nearly that long because she was a fast talker. Flitwick had had Pansy in his Charms class for seven years and knew this to be true. He waved them off on and continued on his patrol.
Goyle wondered what this latest gossip was. She didn't seem so eager to share it, so much as eager to unburden herself.
The wind was chasing its tail at the Tower and Goyle resisted the urge to wrap and anchoring hand around Pansy's upper arm. Lately she seemed slight enough to be blown away by a summer breeze. She had lost all her puppy fat sometime in their sixth year and had remained as slim as a reed. Goyle didn't mind her either way. He figured he'd still be crazy about her even if she had two heads and a hump.
"Draco's shagging Hermione Granger," came the revelation, delivered at top speed. Her eyes were shiny with angry tears.
Goyle folded his arms. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!" she snapped, and then gave him an apologetic look, which managed to be no less snippy.
"I mean, this isn't just gossip, Gregory. It's fact. I saw them in the Infirmary early this morning. The horrid cow looked like she'd spent the night with him."
"What was Draco doing?" Goyle asked. He had more intelligent questions in his head, but it had never been his habit to voice them. Better to let events unfold and make silent, private confirmations.
Pansy tensed her jaw and scowled down at the forest canopy. "Holding her like she was a permanent cure for bad hair days."
"I see."
She turned sharply to him. "Do you? I don' t! I know Draco' s been out of sorts since last year, but this? Lusting after the Mudblood is one thing, but going out with her is quite another."
"They're going out?"
"Oh, trust me. They're going out," Pansy nodded.
"How do you know that?"
"He won't even hold hands with other girls he sees, what the hell would make him want to curl up in bed with one he most likely isn't getting it from regularly?"
"Do you think Potter knows?"
Pansy looked contemplative now. Though Goyle would describe it more as 'scheming' . This was how she usually looked, and it was a definite improvement on angry and heartbroken.
"No, actually I don't think he does. Interesting."
"This will complicate...things," Goyle said, he scuffed his shoe, back and forth against the stone.
"It won' t. Draco can be trusted." Pansy was adamant, though she was nodding a bit too vigorously as she said this, as if that would help ease her doubts. "He knows where his loyalties are."
Goyle too, had his doubts. If what Pansy was describing was to be believed, then there was a bit more than mere lust at work. If Draco cared for the girl, then relying on Draco's sometimes questionable common sense was perhaps not the wisest option for any of them.
But one did not disagree with Pansy Parkinson without facing repercussions. Besides, they only had about fifteen minutes of privacy left on the Astronomy Tower and it was much too beautiful a day to spend with an angry, upset, Pansy.
And so, Goyle agreed. There would be plenty of time later for dealing with Draco Malfoy.
"I trust Draco too," Goyle informed. "I trust him with my life."
It was not a lie.
**
Diagon Alley was bursting at the seams. It was not the best time to schedule an important, private meeting with Borgin and his recommended Fida Mia expert, and yet, by the same token, it was.
It was the eve of the International Cauldron Makers Guild Convention and every cauldron manufacturer who had had the good sense to book a spot three months in advance was currently in