J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Written for the Inspired by a Title Challenge by Slytherin Head.

Song: Let it Be, by the Beatles.

Goyle walks down a hall, lost in the endless corridors and stairwells of Hogwarts, trying to find someone, anyone to point him in the right direction.

They all just think that because I'm Gregory Goyle that I should know where the Great Hall is, because they have food there.

After a few more minutes, maybe hours, he sees a blonde girl walking down a stairs ahead of him.

"Hey!" he grunts, running rather slowly over to the girl, whom he now sees is Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Gregory," she greets, "Lost, are you?"

He cannot do anything but nod, not because he is in love or anything, but because he is shocked.

She wants to help me, even though everyone else hates the Slytherins!

And most importantly, She called me by my first name! No one does that!

"Looking for the Great Hall?" she asks him.

"Y-yes," replies Goyle, staring at her feet. "Where are your shoes?"

"Taken by the nargles, I suppose," shrugs Luna, leading him around a corner.

"But your feet," he presses, "What if you step on a rock or something, doesn't it hurt?"

"You get used to it. Perhaps a gnome will bite one of my feet and cure them."

"Cure?" he repeats, "What do you mean?"

Goyle looks at the bottoms of her feet as they walk, and his eyes widen.

"Luna!" he exclaims, "They're all bruised! You need to got to the hospital wing!"

"It's the nargles' will," she says, "Just let it be."

He doesn't know how he is suddenly so full of life, but he continues his ranting.

"No, Luna. You can't just hurt yourself like this, it's...it's just sick!"

His eyes cannot help but stare at her feet.

She attempts to distract him by saying, "You have a lot of wrackspurts around you."

He doesn't care, this is all just so strange to him but he doesn't care.

Goyle takes off his shoes, stopping in his tracks. "Wear mine."

Luna backtracks, walking over to him. "I couldn't do that."

"You can."

"They would get stolen."

"Then I'll steal someone else's for you."

"You're insane."

"I'm insane?" he questions.

"Okay," she replies.

"I am?"

"I meant 'Okay' as in, I'll wear your shoes. But only until I find mine."

"Okay."

"Scourgify," she says, pointing her wand at his shoes and cleaning them.

"Good idea," he says.

"You just don't know how to let things be, don't you?"

"Only for you," he replies.