Who: Draco and Gellert Where: Tailor's back room When: Monday afternoon What:Friends Acquaintances sometimes need favours to get away from other friends Status: Incomplete
He should've known better.
Goyle had been following him around for the past three days, voice booming about this or that, never shutting up, as though the man simply couldn't figure out how to work his brain-mouth filter, saying everything that went through his mind. Draco didn't care about half the stuff Goyle insisted on talking about, as loud as humanly possible. Very often, what came out of his mouth was embarrassing in its stupidity, in its simplicity, or in its subject matter. Sometimes all three. The rest of the time, Draco just couldn't get him to shut up, which was equally frustrating.
Even the sound of his hammering couldn't drown him out because unfortunately, Goyle had figured out how to speak louder when there was noise.
For three days, Goyle had been following him around like this and today, he'd finally been free, Goyle stuck at home with a terrible sunburn from, you guessed it, spending so much time outdoors with Draco who had the presence of mind to use sunblock. Perhaps it had been cruel of Draco not to offer some to Goyle, but nothing could teach a lesson better than pain.
And now Goyle was in pain and rather than leaving him to his own devices, Draco had offered the man aloe.
And then guess what happened.
Goyle came to find him where Draco had told him he would be, had talked about how much the sunburn hurt as he had applied the stuff (because Draco still couldn't get him to go away with the pot of aloe) and had then asked, of all things, that Draco help him apply the aloe to his back.
All. While. Yelling.
Draco had asked him on numerous occasions if he had a volume dial, but Goyle hadn't understood (naturally) and had remembered for about the span of thirty seconds to speak a little quieter whenever Draco had asked. And then reminded. And reminded. But the instruction never stuck for very long, Goyle's propensity to speak SO MUCH LOUDER coming to the surface at every new thought that struck him. Which was, unfortunately, surprisingly often.
After lots of asking (and begging, let's be honest), Draco finally accepted to put the aloe on the spot Goyle couldn't reach, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking (and not really looking at what he was doing, himself, very much uninterested in looking at Goyle's naked back).
He'd hoped, in vain, that Goyle would then leave, but he hadn't. He was still following him around the house as he worked, telling him about how much better it felt with the aloe but that it still hurt when his shirt touched him wrong...
Draco's head was pounding and he wanted to knock Goyle unconscious with his hammer. Instead, he claimed he had to go to the loo and ran for dear life, taking refuge in the tailor shop.
"Gellert," he called, in something like a stage whisper, taking frantic looks through the windows to make sure he hadn't been followed. He'd asked for it, really he had, but he still needed a break. "Gellert, I need to hide. Are you here?"