Fic for curia_regis
Author: miss_morland
Recipient: curia_regis
Title: The Wizard and the Warlock
Pairing: Gilderoy Lockhart/Severus Snape
Rating: G
Word Count: 1613
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart decides to try his hand at literary fiction.
Author's Notes: Dear curia_regis, I hope this is to your liking. My grateful thanks to K. for the beta, and to the mods for their patience!
Once upon a time, there was a handsome wizard. So fair was he that people came from near and far to marvel at his beauty. His teeth were shining white, his smile most charming. His golden hair was always silky, never greasy or lifeless. His face was a flawless blend of strong, chiselled, masculine yet perfectly-arranged features, a bright complexion and spotless skin. His body was strong, but lithe, his hands lean and graceful. His voice was rich and musical, and he had an absolute pitch. He could play the violin, the trumpet, the bagpipe, and the harpsichord, and play them all like a seasoned musician. He spoke seven languages. There were rumours that he was the heir of Godric Gryffindor, and he was well-loved throughout the land, for he was as courageous and gentle as he was fair...
Gilderoy paused, then put down his quill, frowning. Something wasn't quite right.
As brilliant as this opening was -- really, who could possibly not get hooked straight away? -- there was something missing. Something... important. Something vital.
The story needed a conflict.
People liked conflicts, drama, and danger; he'd discovered as much years ago. Although anyone would be content to hear about Gilderoy's holiday at the beach, they'd always be twice as thrilled if he added a sea monster into the mix (one dead by his own wand, of course). A werewolf on the run made a picnic in the forest more interesting. And a conflict of some sort would surely make the reader even more invested in Gilderoy's protagonist -- but it had to be the right sort of conflict.
Deep in thought, Gilderoy twirled the quill between his fingers. People liked conflicts, all right. Strange as it was, they also liked to read about unlovely things. Ugly, disgusting, downright creepy things...
He sat upright in his chair as inspiration struck him. Of course! That was the conflict, right there.
Gilderoy bent over the parchment again, eagerly. The story needed a conflict, so what better than to introduce it in the form of a character who would not only satisfy the public's desire to read about ghastly things, but who'd also make a striking contrast to Gilderoy's protagonist, the handsome wizard?
He let out a laugh of sheer merriment as he remembered that there was no need to invent a horrible character from scratch. Art imitated life and life imitated art, and life had provided inspiration for Gilderoy's villain, right under his very nose!
Summoning one of his favourite tools of the creative process, a goblet of elf-made wine, Gilderoy gave a contented sigh. Not only would the story be brilliant, but he'd make art out of -- indeed, immortalise -- a personage who certainly could never otherwise have hoped for such an honour. It was enough to make the most hardened reader cry.
***
"I'm telling you, he's stalking me!"
Severus glared at the Headmaster and the Deputy in turn. Sadly, neither of them seemed impressed, so Severus got to his feet and started pacing about the almost-deserted staff room, wringing his frustrated hands.
"It is not something I'm imagining," he continued, pointing an accusing finger at Minerva McGonagall, who simply kept sipping her tea, an eyebrow raised. "It's been going on for days! He's there when I leave the class room. At dinner, he keeps staring at me. I am positive I saw him following me to my quarters last night. It's intolerable! You must do something, Albus."
Albus looked as if he were suppressing a chuckle, damn him. "Now, now, Severus, I'm sure there is nothing sinister about this. After all, Professor Lockhart is a new addition to the staff. Perhaps he is just trying to observe you, so as to learn from your methods."
"Hah!" Severus snorted. "As if that buffoon thinks he can learn anything. I have never met anyone with an ego like his."
"Fair point," said Minerva, draining her tea cup and placing it daintily on the table. "Perhaps you are quite right and there is something behind this." She shrugged, smiling archly. "Perhaps he has taken a liking to you, Severus."
"You mean..." Severus felt himself go pale. "No. No. You can't be serious."
Albus and Minerva looked at each other, then at him. Both of them now seemed to have problems keeping a straight face. Severus scowled, once again asking himself why he'd chosen to confide in these two. True enough, they were his superiors, but they seemed to think his problems were something to be laughed at.
Well, he'd give them something to laugh at!
"If you are right," Severus spat. "Then it might be a case of sexual harassment. And then you'll have to do something about it."
"Why don't you find out?" Albus suggested mildly. "Next time this happens, simply try confronting Mr. Lockhart. I'm sure there will be a solution to this."
"Indeed," said Minerva, her eyes glimmering like a cat's. "Hopefully an amicable one. I'm sure that Albus and I will be happy to watch over the proceedings."
"In your dreams," Severus snarled, stalking out of the staff room to the sound of their laughter.
Those smug old Gryffindors were going to pay for this! And so, he swore to himself, rubbing his hands menacingly, was Lockhart.
***
But there was one who did not love the wizard, and who looked with unfavourable eyes upon his beauty, his virtue, and his pure heart. The dark warlock, who lived in a cave under the sea, hated everything that was good and noble about the wizard, and sought to destroy him, and to this goal he laboured many a day and night between his bottles of potions.
This warlock always wore black, for his heart was as black as the night and black as his scowling eyes. His hair was black, too, and lank with lack of care. His teeth were yellow, and when he smiled, it was always in a sour, unpleasant manner. Never had anyone heard the warlock laugh.
The wizard felt sorry for the warlock and wanted to help him, but the warlock shied away from the wizard's friendship and nourished the hatred in his heart. And then one dark night...
Gilderoy reread the snippet, nodding to himself. Not bad. Not bad at all. Taut with suspense, and very vivid -- he could imagine it all as if he himself were there. Yet he couldn't help feeling there ought to be something more to the descriptions of the warlock. Some kind of depth, perhaps, or at least some motivation. Motivation was important.
Envy was the obvious one, for how could anyone not be envious of the wizard? But perhaps it was too obvious. People liked their stories to make sense, but they also liked their small, well-prepared surprises. The trick was to find something that both made sense in the story and that the reader hadn't already suspected.
Looking at his watch, Gilderoy discovered it was almost time for lunch. This was perfect, because it meant Severus would soon be done with the fifth years, which again meant that he would be available for Gilderoy's observations, all the way from the dungeons to the Great Hall. Perhaps some more surveillance for the sake of inspiration would help loosen up the writer's block.
Putting a bit of parchment and a quill in his pocket just in case he noticed something of true importance, he cast a quick grooming charm and set off.
***
Severus had locked the classroom door and walked about twenty feet when he noticed. The feeling was familiar, old and clammy and just as unpleasant as ever: the feeling of being watched.
Drawing his wand, he spun around. When he realised it was just that idiot Lockhart, he sighed, both relieved and annoyed. At least most of the students had left, so perhaps this was not the worst time or place for a confrontation, after all. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, striding towards Lockhart, assuming his most threatening look.
Regrettably, Lockhart seemed unfazed. "Ah, Severus," he said, smiling in that thoroughly smug manner of his. "So good to see you."
"Don't play any games with me," Severus hissed, stopping right in front of him. "I know you've been following me."
Lockhart studied him through hooded eyes. "Hm, perfect," he muttered. "That tone... Just what I need."
The words made Severus freeze. "Listen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'd like it to stop." He stared Lockhart in the eye. "Just what, exactly, is it you want --"
"Yes!" Lockhart's face broke into an alarming grin. "That's it. Of course. You want me!"
"I -- WHAT?!" Severus spluttered.
"Of course," Lockhart beamed, clapping Severus on the shoulder, making him jump. "It's the perfect reason for all your dislike, all your gloominess, even your envy... Ah, wonderful." He pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and scribbled something on it. "The readers will love it."
For once, Severus found himself lost for words. The sheer outrage had taken almost all of them. "What readers?" he choked.
Lockhart grinned again, tapping on his nose. "That's for me to know and for you to find out. But never fear, Severus!" he called, turning and striding merrily along the hallway. "I will make you immortal!"
Severus stood there, staring after him. He'd rarely felt more defeated in his life.
To think that this was what came out of a confrontation with Lockhart --!
He shook his head, a very strange and not entirely unpleasant feeling starting to make itself known in his stomach.
At least this was something he'd not tell Albus and Minerva.
Recipient: curia_regis
Title: The Wizard and the Warlock
Pairing: Gilderoy Lockhart/Severus Snape
Rating: G
Word Count: 1613
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart decides to try his hand at literary fiction.
Author's Notes: Dear curia_regis, I hope this is to your liking. My grateful thanks to K. for the beta, and to the mods for their patience!
Once upon a time, there was a handsome wizard. So fair was he that people came from near and far to marvel at his beauty. His teeth were shining white, his smile most charming. His golden hair was always silky, never greasy or lifeless. His face was a flawless blend of strong, chiselled, masculine yet perfectly-arranged features, a bright complexion and spotless skin. His body was strong, but lithe, his hands lean and graceful. His voice was rich and musical, and he had an absolute pitch. He could play the violin, the trumpet, the bagpipe, and the harpsichord, and play them all like a seasoned musician. He spoke seven languages. There were rumours that he was the heir of Godric Gryffindor, and he was well-loved throughout the land, for he was as courageous and gentle as he was fair...
Gilderoy paused, then put down his quill, frowning. Something wasn't quite right.
As brilliant as this opening was -- really, who could possibly not get hooked straight away? -- there was something missing. Something... important. Something vital.
The story needed a conflict.
People liked conflicts, drama, and danger; he'd discovered as much years ago. Although anyone would be content to hear about Gilderoy's holiday at the beach, they'd always be twice as thrilled if he added a sea monster into the mix (one dead by his own wand, of course). A werewolf on the run made a picnic in the forest more interesting. And a conflict of some sort would surely make the reader even more invested in Gilderoy's protagonist -- but it had to be the right sort of conflict.
Deep in thought, Gilderoy twirled the quill between his fingers. People liked conflicts, all right. Strange as it was, they also liked to read about unlovely things. Ugly, disgusting, downright creepy things...
He sat upright in his chair as inspiration struck him. Of course! That was the conflict, right there.
Gilderoy bent over the parchment again, eagerly. The story needed a conflict, so what better than to introduce it in the form of a character who would not only satisfy the public's desire to read about ghastly things, but who'd also make a striking contrast to Gilderoy's protagonist, the handsome wizard?
He let out a laugh of sheer merriment as he remembered that there was no need to invent a horrible character from scratch. Art imitated life and life imitated art, and life had provided inspiration for Gilderoy's villain, right under his very nose!
Summoning one of his favourite tools of the creative process, a goblet of elf-made wine, Gilderoy gave a contented sigh. Not only would the story be brilliant, but he'd make art out of -- indeed, immortalise -- a personage who certainly could never otherwise have hoped for such an honour. It was enough to make the most hardened reader cry.
***
"I'm telling you, he's stalking me!"
Severus glared at the Headmaster and the Deputy in turn. Sadly, neither of them seemed impressed, so Severus got to his feet and started pacing about the almost-deserted staff room, wringing his frustrated hands.
"It is not something I'm imagining," he continued, pointing an accusing finger at Minerva McGonagall, who simply kept sipping her tea, an eyebrow raised. "It's been going on for days! He's there when I leave the class room. At dinner, he keeps staring at me. I am positive I saw him following me to my quarters last night. It's intolerable! You must do something, Albus."
Albus looked as if he were suppressing a chuckle, damn him. "Now, now, Severus, I'm sure there is nothing sinister about this. After all, Professor Lockhart is a new addition to the staff. Perhaps he is just trying to observe you, so as to learn from your methods."
"Hah!" Severus snorted. "As if that buffoon thinks he can learn anything. I have never met anyone with an ego like his."
"Fair point," said Minerva, draining her tea cup and placing it daintily on the table. "Perhaps you are quite right and there is something behind this." She shrugged, smiling archly. "Perhaps he has taken a liking to you, Severus."
"You mean..." Severus felt himself go pale. "No. No. You can't be serious."
Albus and Minerva looked at each other, then at him. Both of them now seemed to have problems keeping a straight face. Severus scowled, once again asking himself why he'd chosen to confide in these two. True enough, they were his superiors, but they seemed to think his problems were something to be laughed at.
Well, he'd give them something to laugh at!
"If you are right," Severus spat. "Then it might be a case of sexual harassment. And then you'll have to do something about it."
"Why don't you find out?" Albus suggested mildly. "Next time this happens, simply try confronting Mr. Lockhart. I'm sure there will be a solution to this."
"Indeed," said Minerva, her eyes glimmering like a cat's. "Hopefully an amicable one. I'm sure that Albus and I will be happy to watch over the proceedings."
"In your dreams," Severus snarled, stalking out of the staff room to the sound of their laughter.
Those smug old Gryffindors were going to pay for this! And so, he swore to himself, rubbing his hands menacingly, was Lockhart.
***
But there was one who did not love the wizard, and who looked with unfavourable eyes upon his beauty, his virtue, and his pure heart. The dark warlock, who lived in a cave under the sea, hated everything that was good and noble about the wizard, and sought to destroy him, and to this goal he laboured many a day and night between his bottles of potions.
This warlock always wore black, for his heart was as black as the night and black as his scowling eyes. His hair was black, too, and lank with lack of care. His teeth were yellow, and when he smiled, it was always in a sour, unpleasant manner. Never had anyone heard the warlock laugh.
The wizard felt sorry for the warlock and wanted to help him, but the warlock shied away from the wizard's friendship and nourished the hatred in his heart. And then one dark night...
Gilderoy reread the snippet, nodding to himself. Not bad. Not bad at all. Taut with suspense, and very vivid -- he could imagine it all as if he himself were there. Yet he couldn't help feeling there ought to be something more to the descriptions of the warlock. Some kind of depth, perhaps, or at least some motivation. Motivation was important.
Envy was the obvious one, for how could anyone not be envious of the wizard? But perhaps it was too obvious. People liked their stories to make sense, but they also liked their small, well-prepared surprises. The trick was to find something that both made sense in the story and that the reader hadn't already suspected.
Looking at his watch, Gilderoy discovered it was almost time for lunch. This was perfect, because it meant Severus would soon be done with the fifth years, which again meant that he would be available for Gilderoy's observations, all the way from the dungeons to the Great Hall. Perhaps some more surveillance for the sake of inspiration would help loosen up the writer's block.
Putting a bit of parchment and a quill in his pocket just in case he noticed something of true importance, he cast a quick grooming charm and set off.
***
Severus had locked the classroom door and walked about twenty feet when he noticed. The feeling was familiar, old and clammy and just as unpleasant as ever: the feeling of being watched.
Drawing his wand, he spun around. When he realised it was just that idiot Lockhart, he sighed, both relieved and annoyed. At least most of the students had left, so perhaps this was not the worst time or place for a confrontation, after all. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, striding towards Lockhart, assuming his most threatening look.
Regrettably, Lockhart seemed unfazed. "Ah, Severus," he said, smiling in that thoroughly smug manner of his. "So good to see you."
"Don't play any games with me," Severus hissed, stopping right in front of him. "I know you've been following me."
Lockhart studied him through hooded eyes. "Hm, perfect," he muttered. "That tone... Just what I need."
The words made Severus freeze. "Listen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'd like it to stop." He stared Lockhart in the eye. "Just what, exactly, is it you want --"
"Yes!" Lockhart's face broke into an alarming grin. "That's it. Of course. You want me!"
"I -- WHAT?!" Severus spluttered.
"Of course," Lockhart beamed, clapping Severus on the shoulder, making him jump. "It's the perfect reason for all your dislike, all your gloominess, even your envy... Ah, wonderful." He pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and scribbled something on it. "The readers will love it."
For once, Severus found himself lost for words. The sheer outrage had taken almost all of them. "What readers?" he choked.
Lockhart grinned again, tapping on his nose. "That's for me to know and for you to find out. But never fear, Severus!" he called, turning and striding merrily along the hallway. "I will make you immortal!"
Severus stood there, staring after him. He'd rarely felt more defeated in his life.
To think that this was what came out of a confrontation with Lockhart --!
He shook his head, a very strange and not entirely unpleasant feeling starting to make itself known in his stomach.
At least this was something he'd not tell Albus and Minerva.