(no subject)
Title: Slightly Mad
Song: I'm Going Slightly Mad
Characters, Pairing: Lockhart, Hermione/Ron
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Beta'ed by onlysayitonce. Thank you, m'dear! *hearts*
Dear Gilderoy,
How are you this week?
Two weeks from now it will be my daughter's sixteenth birthday and seeing that she is quite keen on adventure books, I have decided to give her a copy of Travel With Trolls. I know you must have a very busy schedule, but I still wonder if it would be alright with you if I sent the book for you to sign. I'm afraid I was down with Dragon Pox during your last book-signing a number of years ago and I wasn't able to attend.
I heard this from a dear friend of mine, and I think you will be pleased to learn that during those werewolf attacks in France they consulted with your books (especially Voyages With Vampires) and managed to vanquish the fiends with great success.
How is your new book coming along? I'm looking forward to reading it.
Yours,
Gladys.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Gilderoy finished reading the letter. The sun was high in the sky and he squinted at it through the window for a few minutes. He then looked away and was amused to discover he could see a dark, sun-shaped imprint in front of his eyes. He shook his head, making it dance blurrily and giggled. When the dark spot grew almost too faint to see, he did it again.
He took an apple from the fruit bowl on his bedside table and munched on it, still giggling occasionally, though now he was no longer sure what was so funny about the apple. Maybe the strangely shaped green stain on the peel. It did have a sort of funny shape to it. I love apples, he thought as he placed the core on the table and grabbed another apple from the bowl. He stood up and went to the mirror, to see if his hair was combed properly, shivering when a faint current of air tickled his bottom. A lock of hair had wandered away from his carefully set waves and curls and after much tucking and fussing, it was back in its place. Content with the result, he returned to his bed.
He opened the drawer and removed two photographs of himself. He went to the desk beneath the window and sat down.
A moment later, Gilderoy stood up again and closed the shutters, annoyed at the bright sunlight that poured in and blinded him. He sat back down, took the canary-yellow quill and signed his name on the photographs with a flourish. While he waited for the ink to dry, he went to check his hair in the mirror.
Gilderoy took the signed photographs and walked over to Frank and Alice's curtained-off corner. Mmmmmm, the apple was good. He threw open the curtain and gave them a bright smile that gave the sun a run for its money. "Good morning," he said and faltered. What were their names again? "Good morning, Dorothy, here's a signed photograph of myself! Sorry to keep you waiting, Mark, but the ink had to dry," he said, handing one photograph each, in which he sported a smudged, inky-black, loopy moustache.
Frank and Alice gave Gilderoy nearly-identical blank smiles and his own smile back at them was so bright it could've eclipsed the sun. "Yes, I know, these will be worth a lot of money someday, perhaps you could frame them and hang them over your beds."
Alice gave him a Honeyduke's Chocolate wrapper. "Yes, of course I will sign it for you, Miss Beatrice."
Which is exactly when Alice started shrieking and, unnoticed, Frank started shaking in his seat. "No need to fear, madam, I will not ruin your prized paper," Gilderoy shouted over the din. "In fact, I trust the value of this chocolate wrapper will increase a thousandfold. You will be able to take your whole family to a vacation in Bora Bora with the money you'd earn selling it."
Frank was now rocking back and forth, moaning, his arms wrapped around his own torso, Alice continued shrieking and the other residents of the room had their hands firmly clamped over their ears. Healer Miriam Strout rushed into the room, followed by two other healers, these ones tall, burly and male.
"There's no need to get so excited, madam, it's just an autograph, I can do more. I can do joined-up writing now, you know!" Gilderoy shouted at the same time that Healer Strout grabbed him gently by the arm and steered him back to his own bed.
"I think it's time for a nap now, dearie," she said to Gilderoy and waved her wand at him. A moment later, his eyes were closing and she was easing him back on the bed and covering him with his favorite duckie-blanket. He had wandered off to a child's room some time ago and refused to leave without the blanket. The child hadn't been too happy with the arrangement and the child's mother had hexed the healer.
Healer Tim had spent the rest of the week quacking loudly and refusing to get anywhere near a bed. Nowadays, every time someone mentioned ducks, Healer Tim's blood would drain from his face and he would start whimpering and rocking in his seat.
The other two healers had done a quick, effective job of calming the other denizens of the ward. They gave a sleeping charm to Agnes, Clara and Frank, but they had to give a more potent potion to Alice.
As they left the room, closing the door behind them, one of the tall healers told the other, "That's three Galleons you owe me, mate."
Healer Strout tried not to laugh too loudly, lest she distrub her patients' slumber.
A young woman with lots of bushy brown hair stood in front of Miriam, holding a thick book in her hands.
"Can I help you, sweetie?"
"Hi," she said, "I came to visit Professor Lockhart."
"Oh, are you a friend of his?"
The young woman looked slightly uncomfortable and annoyed, but nodded anyway.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow, he's resting at the moment."
"Oh, that's a shame. At what time can I visit him?"
"You can come in tomorrow at ten."
"Thank you," the young woman said and turned back.
"She looks awfully familiar, doesn't she?" Healer Strout asked nobody in particular and went to get herself some tea.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Mr. Lockhart,
When my seven year-old daughter, Amanda, saw that I was writing a letter to you, she rushed to her room, forbidding me to attach the letter to the owl's leg until she returned. An hour later she emerged from her room with her cheek (and clothes, thank Merlin for house-elves) smudged with paint and this gorgeous portrait of yourself.
Isn't my little girl talented?
Best wishes,
Veronica and Amanda Smethley.
Gilderoy was still admiring the painting when Healer Strout bustled in with the usual tray of potions hovering in front of her. She placed the tray on the writing desk. With a flick of her wand, the clutter on it simply moved to the side and she placed the tray on it. She then took a pinch of something out of a small jar and mixed it into one of the goblets, which started steaming immediately. It needed to be drunk as soon as possible, so she rushed to Gilderoy with the smoking goblet that was labeled FRIDAY and put it on the night-table, turning to look at the parchment in his hands. "Gilderoy! My goodness, did you draw this?"
"Yes, I did," he beamed at her.
"That is such a pretty drawing, my dear! Would you like me to ask Matthew to hang it up later?"
"Yes, but first I need to sign it."
"All right, dearie, but before that, I would like you to drink your potion, so you won't forget to, later."
Gilderoy slurped down the potion and handed the goblet back to the healer. "Put it on the tray, dear," she said as she tried getting the elderly man that now resided in the bed next to Gilderoy's to drink from the goblet that was clearly labeled 'MONDAY'.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
The door to the ward opened and the ward was flooded with the noise and bustle of the outside world. Nurses, healers and patients were all moving in a hectic and uncoordinated dance. Hermione Weasley stood in the doorway, blocking some of the view from the disinterested residents of the Janus Thickey ward.
"May I help you?"
"I came to visit Professor Lockhart," said Hermione.
"Oh, you were here yesterday, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, he's right over there," Healer Strout pointed. "He has just taken his potion, so don't mind if he seems a bit odd."
The old man smiled at Hermione in a way that made her feel deeply uncomfortable and she rushed past him, looking the other way. "Professor?" she called.
Gilderoy at first didn't answer, so she tried again. This time, he turned around, dazzling her with a smile that would've earned him Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award again, if the readers of Witch Weekly would ever fancy dashing young men high on Relaxative Remedy sporting deranged smiles.
"Hello, who are you?" he asked pleasantly enough after a few moments.
"Uh, Professor, my name is Hermione, I was your student at Hogwarts."
"Hermione... what a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman," Gilderoy sighed. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone as pretty as you," he continued, looking at her with slightly glazed-over eyes.
Hermione's blush spread down to her neck. "Um, well, thank you, Professor."
"No need to be so formal, miss Helen. Please, call me Gilderoy."
"Hermione," she corrected.
Gilderoy seemed to ponder this. "No, no, I'm quite sure my name is Gilderoy," he answered at last.
"No, I mean my name is Hermione."
"Oh, of course, how careless of me. Hera -" Hermione sighed. "- Will you marry me?"
"What? No."
"Why not? Am I not handsome enough for you?" he asked, rushing to the mirror.
"No, it's not that, I -"
Tears gathered in the corners of Gilderoy's eyes and Hermione went to stand beside him. He turned to face her, looking very vulnerable and fragile in his St. Mungo's issue gown.
She put her hand on his and with as sympathetic a tone of voice as she could muster, she said, "Gilderoy, I'm already married."
A tear slid down Gilderoy's cheek.
"I'm sorry. Listen, I have to go now, but I'll come back tomorrow."
"I love you, Hersilia" came the reply just as she closed the door.
"It's Hermione," she muttered.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Outside, the Muggle street was gloomy and cold. Hermione shivered and looked all around her. When she was satisfied that there was no-one there, she cast a heating charm on herself. She smiled as she felt the warmth spread through her body. A moment later, Ron joined her.
"He asked me to marry him."
"Should I pack my things and move out, then?" Ron asked, licking his fire-cream.
"I think so. But you still have time, we'll get married and then go on honeymoon to Tahiti for a few weeks."
They walked slowly, Hermione checking her to-do list and Ron finishing his fire-cream cone. When he was done licking his fingers, he turned and kissed Hermione, mashing her list between them.
"I love you," he said. "But I still think you belong in that ward with those people for visiting them voluntarily."
"You know I'm working on a cure. I'm already so close, Lockhart will regain his memory any day now."
Ron grimaced. "That just proves my point. Do we actually need him prancing about again?"
"Ronald Weasley! You're afraid of the competition, aren't you?" she smirked.
"What, you mean that ponce? I'm not afraid of him. I'm more concerned of ol' Vicky. Any day now you'll leave me for Krum's money, fame and good looks."
"Oh, of course. I'll set up a household with Viktor and Gilderoy as my servants. They'll walk around wearing nothing but a smile and while one of them serves tea, the other one will stand on all fours pretending to be a table," she replied, deadpan.
"Oooh, you perverted sexy vixen. Wait, what about me?"
"You will clean your fingers and accompany me to Gringott's."
Ron groaned. "Oh baby. I love it when you talk dirty like that. You know, if we weren't in the middle of errands, I'd take you to the bedroom for a bit of slap and tickle," he said.
Hermione laughed and walked on. Ron followed.
A few moments later, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. Meanwhile, in the Janus Thickey ward, Gilderoy Lockhart hummed to himself and took out a fresh pile of photographs to sign.
~Fin~
Song: I'm Going Slightly Mad
Characters, Pairing: Lockhart, Hermione/Ron
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: Beta'ed by onlysayitonce. Thank you, m'dear! *hearts*
Dear Gilderoy,
How are you this week?
Two weeks from now it will be my daughter's sixteenth birthday and seeing that she is quite keen on adventure books, I have decided to give her a copy of Travel With Trolls. I know you must have a very busy schedule, but I still wonder if it would be alright with you if I sent the book for you to sign. I'm afraid I was down with Dragon Pox during your last book-signing a number of years ago and I wasn't able to attend.
I heard this from a dear friend of mine, and I think you will be pleased to learn that during those werewolf attacks in France they consulted with your books (especially Voyages With Vampires) and managed to vanquish the fiends with great success.
How is your new book coming along? I'm looking forward to reading it.
Yours,
Gladys.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Gilderoy finished reading the letter. The sun was high in the sky and he squinted at it through the window for a few minutes. He then looked away and was amused to discover he could see a dark, sun-shaped imprint in front of his eyes. He shook his head, making it dance blurrily and giggled. When the dark spot grew almost too faint to see, he did it again.
He took an apple from the fruit bowl on his bedside table and munched on it, still giggling occasionally, though now he was no longer sure what was so funny about the apple. Maybe the strangely shaped green stain on the peel. It did have a sort of funny shape to it. I love apples, he thought as he placed the core on the table and grabbed another apple from the bowl. He stood up and went to the mirror, to see if his hair was combed properly, shivering when a faint current of air tickled his bottom. A lock of hair had wandered away from his carefully set waves and curls and after much tucking and fussing, it was back in its place. Content with the result, he returned to his bed.
He opened the drawer and removed two photographs of himself. He went to the desk beneath the window and sat down.
A moment later, Gilderoy stood up again and closed the shutters, annoyed at the bright sunlight that poured in and blinded him. He sat back down, took the canary-yellow quill and signed his name on the photographs with a flourish. While he waited for the ink to dry, he went to check his hair in the mirror.
Gilderoy took the signed photographs and walked over to Frank and Alice's curtained-off corner. Mmmmmm, the apple was good. He threw open the curtain and gave them a bright smile that gave the sun a run for its money. "Good morning," he said and faltered. What were their names again? "Good morning, Dorothy, here's a signed photograph of myself! Sorry to keep you waiting, Mark, but the ink had to dry," he said, handing one photograph each, in which he sported a smudged, inky-black, loopy moustache.
Frank and Alice gave Gilderoy nearly-identical blank smiles and his own smile back at them was so bright it could've eclipsed the sun. "Yes, I know, these will be worth a lot of money someday, perhaps you could frame them and hang them over your beds."
Alice gave him a Honeyduke's Chocolate wrapper. "Yes, of course I will sign it for you, Miss Beatrice."
Which is exactly when Alice started shrieking and, unnoticed, Frank started shaking in his seat. "No need to fear, madam, I will not ruin your prized paper," Gilderoy shouted over the din. "In fact, I trust the value of this chocolate wrapper will increase a thousandfold. You will be able to take your whole family to a vacation in Bora Bora with the money you'd earn selling it."
Frank was now rocking back and forth, moaning, his arms wrapped around his own torso, Alice continued shrieking and the other residents of the room had their hands firmly clamped over their ears. Healer Miriam Strout rushed into the room, followed by two other healers, these ones tall, burly and male.
"There's no need to get so excited, madam, it's just an autograph, I can do more. I can do joined-up writing now, you know!" Gilderoy shouted at the same time that Healer Strout grabbed him gently by the arm and steered him back to his own bed.
"I think it's time for a nap now, dearie," she said to Gilderoy and waved her wand at him. A moment later, his eyes were closing and she was easing him back on the bed and covering him with his favorite duckie-blanket. He had wandered off to a child's room some time ago and refused to leave without the blanket. The child hadn't been too happy with the arrangement and the child's mother had hexed the healer.
Healer Tim had spent the rest of the week quacking loudly and refusing to get anywhere near a bed. Nowadays, every time someone mentioned ducks, Healer Tim's blood would drain from his face and he would start whimpering and rocking in his seat.
The other two healers had done a quick, effective job of calming the other denizens of the ward. They gave a sleeping charm to Agnes, Clara and Frank, but they had to give a more potent potion to Alice.
As they left the room, closing the door behind them, one of the tall healers told the other, "That's three Galleons you owe me, mate."
Healer Strout tried not to laugh too loudly, lest she distrub her patients' slumber.
A young woman with lots of bushy brown hair stood in front of Miriam, holding a thick book in her hands.
"Can I help you, sweetie?"
"Hi," she said, "I came to visit Professor Lockhart."
"Oh, are you a friend of his?"
The young woman looked slightly uncomfortable and annoyed, but nodded anyway.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow, he's resting at the moment."
"Oh, that's a shame. At what time can I visit him?"
"You can come in tomorrow at ten."
"Thank you," the young woman said and turned back.
"She looks awfully familiar, doesn't she?" Healer Strout asked nobody in particular and went to get herself some tea.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Mr. Lockhart,
When my seven year-old daughter, Amanda, saw that I was writing a letter to you, she rushed to her room, forbidding me to attach the letter to the owl's leg until she returned. An hour later she emerged from her room with her cheek (and clothes, thank Merlin for house-elves) smudged with paint and this gorgeous portrait of yourself.
Isn't my little girl talented?
Best wishes,
Veronica and Amanda Smethley.
Gilderoy was still admiring the painting when Healer Strout bustled in with the usual tray of potions hovering in front of her. She placed the tray on the writing desk. With a flick of her wand, the clutter on it simply moved to the side and she placed the tray on it. She then took a pinch of something out of a small jar and mixed it into one of the goblets, which started steaming immediately. It needed to be drunk as soon as possible, so she rushed to Gilderoy with the smoking goblet that was labeled FRIDAY and put it on the night-table, turning to look at the parchment in his hands. "Gilderoy! My goodness, did you draw this?"
"Yes, I did," he beamed at her.
"That is such a pretty drawing, my dear! Would you like me to ask Matthew to hang it up later?"
"Yes, but first I need to sign it."
"All right, dearie, but before that, I would like you to drink your potion, so you won't forget to, later."
Gilderoy slurped down the potion and handed the goblet back to the healer. "Put it on the tray, dear," she said as she tried getting the elderly man that now resided in the bed next to Gilderoy's to drink from the goblet that was clearly labeled 'MONDAY'.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
The door to the ward opened and the ward was flooded with the noise and bustle of the outside world. Nurses, healers and patients were all moving in a hectic and uncoordinated dance. Hermione Weasley stood in the doorway, blocking some of the view from the disinterested residents of the Janus Thickey ward.
"May I help you?"
"I came to visit Professor Lockhart," said Hermione.
"Oh, you were here yesterday, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, he's right over there," Healer Strout pointed. "He has just taken his potion, so don't mind if he seems a bit odd."
The old man smiled at Hermione in a way that made her feel deeply uncomfortable and she rushed past him, looking the other way. "Professor?" she called.
Gilderoy at first didn't answer, so she tried again. This time, he turned around, dazzling her with a smile that would've earned him Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award again, if the readers of Witch Weekly would ever fancy dashing young men high on Relaxative Remedy sporting deranged smiles.
"Hello, who are you?" he asked pleasantly enough after a few moments.
"Uh, Professor, my name is Hermione, I was your student at Hogwarts."
"Hermione... what a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman," Gilderoy sighed. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone as pretty as you," he continued, looking at her with slightly glazed-over eyes.
Hermione's blush spread down to her neck. "Um, well, thank you, Professor."
"No need to be so formal, miss Helen. Please, call me Gilderoy."
"Hermione," she corrected.
Gilderoy seemed to ponder this. "No, no, I'm quite sure my name is Gilderoy," he answered at last.
"No, I mean my name is Hermione."
"Oh, of course, how careless of me. Hera -" Hermione sighed. "- Will you marry me?"
"What? No."
"Why not? Am I not handsome enough for you?" he asked, rushing to the mirror.
"No, it's not that, I -"
Tears gathered in the corners of Gilderoy's eyes and Hermione went to stand beside him. He turned to face her, looking very vulnerable and fragile in his St. Mungo's issue gown.
She put her hand on his and with as sympathetic a tone of voice as she could muster, she said, "Gilderoy, I'm already married."
A tear slid down Gilderoy's cheek.
"I'm sorry. Listen, I have to go now, but I'll come back tomorrow."
"I love you, Hersilia" came the reply just as she closed the door.
"It's Hermione," she muttered.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Outside, the Muggle street was gloomy and cold. Hermione shivered and looked all around her. When she was satisfied that there was no-one there, she cast a heating charm on herself. She smiled as she felt the warmth spread through her body. A moment later, Ron joined her.
"He asked me to marry him."
"Should I pack my things and move out, then?" Ron asked, licking his fire-cream.
"I think so. But you still have time, we'll get married and then go on honeymoon to Tahiti for a few weeks."
They walked slowly, Hermione checking her to-do list and Ron finishing his fire-cream cone. When he was done licking his fingers, he turned and kissed Hermione, mashing her list between them.
"I love you," he said. "But I still think you belong in that ward with those people for visiting them voluntarily."
"You know I'm working on a cure. I'm already so close, Lockhart will regain his memory any day now."
Ron grimaced. "That just proves my point. Do we actually need him prancing about again?"
"Ronald Weasley! You're afraid of the competition, aren't you?" she smirked.
"What, you mean that ponce? I'm not afraid of him. I'm more concerned of ol' Vicky. Any day now you'll leave me for Krum's money, fame and good looks."
"Oh, of course. I'll set up a household with Viktor and Gilderoy as my servants. They'll walk around wearing nothing but a smile and while one of them serves tea, the other one will stand on all fours pretending to be a table," she replied, deadpan.
"Oooh, you perverted sexy vixen. Wait, what about me?"
"You will clean your fingers and accompany me to Gringott's."
Ron groaned. "Oh baby. I love it when you talk dirty like that. You know, if we weren't in the middle of errands, I'd take you to the bedroom for a bit of slap and tickle," he said.
Hermione laughed and walked on. Ron followed.
A few moments later, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. Meanwhile, in the Janus Thickey ward, Gilderoy Lockhart hummed to himself and took out a fresh pile of photographs to sign.
~Fin~