Chapter 1 : Goodness, Gracious!
| ||Rating: 12+||Chapter Reviews: 13|
Background: Font color:
I straightened my orange bow tie once again and sprayed a pump of Circe’s Lustful Lavender perfume into my mouth. It wouldn’t do to have dragon breath today. Not that I had dragon breath. People of my beauty and genius did not have dragon breath. But, you know, just in case.
I took my time, and yet went fast as I walked down the stairs in the float-y sort of waltz of a walk that I have perfected, so as not to step on my robes. They’re made of pure silk. And pure silk does not look good with black footprints all along the bottom.
“Go get her, Lock!” the nearest portrait of myself shouted as I twirled about, showing off the various angles of my outfit for their approval.
“Looking good, Roy!” Another shouted.
That was the nice thing about having pictures of my beautiful self everywhere – it was magnificent for my self-esteem.
“Thank you, thank you!” I called over the raucous roars of all the other portraits joining in. “Please, no applause.” I bowed low in thanks. I had to be the best supporter of me ever. “Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have a lady to woo.”
With that I swept out of my office and into the drafty corridors of Hogwarts Castle, my silk robes billowing out behind me like an air balloon floating in the breeze. This was a lot different from the way Snape’s robes billowed. His were all black and trailed behind him like the wings of a giant bat or even worse, thestral. He was scary and menacing. I was light and approachable. Well, not really. Most were scared off by my celebrity, the shy little things.
I made my way towards the staff room, the portraits and students whispering as I stalked past. Was it possible that my failure had gotten around so fast already? Did everyone know? Were they – Merlin forbid – laughing at me? Well, I’d tell them.
“Excuse me,” I said, marching up to the nearest pair or giggling teenagers. “But it is not nice to whisper. And you know what? I can whisper too.”
This, apparently, made the two girls giggle louder. It was infuriating! How dare they mock me? I am Gilderoy Lockhart! No one laughs at me – not now – not ever.
“DETENTION!” I roared, jumping and pointing at the two menacing children. They recoiled from me, and one of them looked close to tears. Suddenly, I understood why Snape was so mean and menacing all the time. It was fun.
“You’re mean!” the nearest child cried.
“You’re mean!” I mocked in my best impersonation of a whiny teenage girl voice. It was surprisingly accurate.
The girl with the bushy red hair glared up at me from beside her crying friend. I glared back, arching one of my eyebrows challengingly. She too cocked her eyebrow, but it said I’m-going-to-get-you. Then she kicked me in the shin. Hard.
“Merlin, Morgana, and Circe! Merlin, Morgana and Circe!” I cried, jumping up and down on my uninjured leg while holding my injured one. The two girls giggled harder and raced off down the hallway to escape my inevitable wrath.
My leg was throbbing. Why was it that little children always aimed for the shins? It was as if they knew that one would forget their misdeeds if they hit in such a sensitive spot. I was going to have a bruise! I wondered if students had ever kicked Snape before. Probably not. He would have hexed them. Or locked them in the dungeon. Or done something equally as evil. They were afraid of him, the greasy haired git.
I was still hopping up and down and crying out to the ancient masters of magic and sorcery when the odd old caretaker Filch came hobbling by with the monstrosity that he affectionately calls a cat, Mrs. Norris.
“Eh, Professor,” he wheezed, “what are yeh doing?”
I was so startled to see him there, let alone talking to me that I lost my balance mid-jump and tumbled over into the nearest statue of armor, which promptly smacked me over the head with its giant shield. I fell into an attractive heap on the floor, cowering in the fetal position with my hands over my head. The corridor was spinning and I felt as if my brain had been cleaved in half.
“Are you all right, Professor?” the stupid caretaker asked. How idiotic could the man get? Of course I was not okay! I had just been hit over the head with a hundred pounds of ancient iron! I was not okay! I was in pain! Incredible amounts of pain! If he was smart at all he would go and fetch the matron. Or at least let me die with some dignity, on the floor, alone. Alas, Gilderoy Lockhart is not a man to be embarrassed, or emasculated, so I stood up on shaky legs.
“I am fine,” I responded coldly, cringing as my voice cracked and tears sprung into my eyes.
“Er, right,” the simpleton said, stroking the matted fur ball in his arms. “Now, like I said before, what are you doing jumping around the corridor, if you don’t mind me asking’?”
“I was practicing a new dance move,” I answered icily, adjusting my silken robes. “The Kicked-In-the-Shin-Hop is all the rage these days. Didn’t you know? You really should try it.”
I was going to kill Argus Filch. I took a deep, steadying breath and controlled the impulse to grab my wand and Obliviate his memory of the entire ordeal.
“Do you have somewhere to be, Professor?”
“Ah, yes, in fact, I do,” I answered, thankful for an excuse to leave. I had forgotten about my mission anyway. It was ten times more important than arguing with the ancient caretaker. I spun on the spot and marched down the corridor before realizing that I was going the wrong way. Again, I spun and took off down the corridor in the right direction, doing my best to ignore the not so subtle snickering of Filch.
I made it all the way to the door of the staff room before collapsing on the floor. My leg and head still really, really hurt. It was best to rest up before going into the lion’s den.
I thought back to the last time we had met.
“Lockhart!” she screeched, banging on the door to my office.
“Ah, Minerva, so nice to see you,” I smiled, opening the door a crack to let her see my brilliantly white teeth and irresistible smile. “What can I help you with today?”
“Did you open a cage of Cornish pixies in front of Second Years, only to flee when things got out of hand?” she asked, her olive colored eyes flashing dangerously.
“Of course not, Minnie! I would never do such a thing. I was merely letting them test their skills,” I replied, batting my eyelashes seductively.
“Then why, pray tell, was Neville Longbottom hanging from the tail of the dragon skeleton this morning?”
“Was he really still up there?” I asked, mortified. I needed to do a better job cleaning up after such catastrophes.
“You knew?” she yelled, throwing open the door with surprising force for such an old woman and storming into my office. “You knew he was up there and you left him? Poor Mr. Longbottom was up there all night!”
“Now, look, Minnie,” I soothed, taking some control over the situation and ushering her into a chair, “Mr. Longbottom asked to be left up there. He seemed delighted with the idea. Thought it was a good joke is all.”
“Gilderoy Lockhart,” she said very seriously, shooting me her Death-Glare-of-Doom, “you are the vilest man on the face of the earth.”
The rest of our conversation I didn’t remember. I had gotten stuck at the “vilest man on the face of the earth” part. No woman had ever said that to me before. Most of my encounters with women involved some form of screaming and the occasional bout of fainting. The idea of a woman not finding me attractive, or at least worthy of attention, well, it was unprecedented. It was unheard of. And I was pretty sure it was illegal in at least five countries.
From that moment on, I had made it my personal mission to find Minerva McGonagall and make her fall in love with me. I could not, and would not, let the old bag ruin my reputation as all around ladies’ man. I would make her fall in love with me, or die trying. I seriously hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to the latter.
Now that the pain in my leg and head were starting to subside I shakily stood to my feet and dusted off my clothing.
“How do I look?” I asked the nearest portrait, straightening my orange bow tie and running a hand through my golden locks.
“Like a poofter,” the portrait answered grumpily.
“Perfect,” I sang, twirling around in a circle to get into the zone.
I skipped happily to the door and gave the password to the statue.
“I am here!” I announced to the room at large as I swept majestically through the door. Many faces turned to look up at me, before shaking their heads and turning back to their work. Poor souls. It was obvious they were envious of my superior form and looks. Most of the teachers at Hogwarts were, sadly, not beautiful people.
I spotted Minerva lounging at the head of the long table, a pipe between her lips and a quill in hand as she graded papers. I made my way quickly, yet discreetly over to her until I was standing directly before her. If she noticed I was there, she didn’t look up or acknowledge my presence in any way.
I decided to jump right into what I was going to say. It made no sense to dawdle over small talk. She didn’t seem like the type of woman who appreciated the fine art anyway.
“Minerva,” I said, getting down on bended knee, and grasping one of her wrinkled hands in mine. She looked down at me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion and surprise. “I am ever so very sorry about what happened to Neville Longbottom. It was entirely my fault and I take full responsibility.”
“Is that all you have to say?” she asked her voice devoid of any emotion.
“No,” I answered, turning on my woeful and wistful voice that seemed to make women melt, “what I’m really here to say is that I am in love with you, Minerva McGonagall. You’re the apple of my eye, the light of my life, and the wind beneath my wings. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and sweep you off of your feet.”
I gazed lovingly up at her with my big, ocean blue eyes. She seemed to be at a loss for words. That was a very good sign.
“Is that so?” she asked, somewhat breathlessly.
“It is so, Minnie,” I replied, squeezing her hand.
Suddenly I found myself blasted backwards through the air. I crashed through the staff room doors and hit the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.
Goodness, gracious! That woman wanted me.
A/N: I had terrible fun writing this one-shot. Gilderoy Lockhart may just be one of my new favorite characters. Please leave me a review. Thoughts, favorite quotes, constructive criticism, whatever. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
Other Similar Stories
by R a v e n
by Harriet T...
The Story Of...