St Madman's
Chapter one
Rita Skeeter had been working for Witch Weekly for about three months. They had taken her on grudgingly, simply because she was a recognised name and could write a half-decent article. So far she had only been given minor jobs, and had recently been asked to investigate into ex-celeb's; a sort of 'where are they now?' type thing. That morning her editor, Emmeline Emery had called Rita in to speak to her. Rita despised the woman, who always wore varying shades of brown- very off-putting- but nevertheless fixed a dazzling smile on her face and strode into her office.
Rita stormed out about ten minutes later, her face twisted with rage and her hands fisted at her sides. She reached her desk and promptly threw her numerous stacks of paper onto the floor and proceeded to jump on them. Having exorcised the majority of her anger she picked up the papers, dumping them carelessly back on her desk and threw herself down in her chair, chewing absent-mindedly on an acid-green quill.
Not him, anyone but him! He had been an egotistical moron when she had known him back in Hogwarts, and it was unlikely that he had changed much. She had avoided him as much as possible over the years, but now... now it looked like she wouldn't have much choice but to spend a lot of time with him. She had practically begged her editor to choose someone else for the task, but Emmeline had pointed out that there was nobody else willing to take it up- and Rita really was in need of a job, wasn't she?
But really, Gilderoy Lockhart! I mean, everyone knew where he was anyway; stuck in St Mungo's without any knowledge of who he was. Moron. Emmeline seemed to think that if he were exposed to some of the people he once knew, and told of the things he had done, perhaps he might start to gain his memory back? It sounded bloody stupid to Rita, but she knew there was no point in arguing.
It turned out that Emmeline had already contacted St Mungo's and told them of her idea. They had been more than a little reluctant to let him out at first, but having been assured that he would be staying with a responsible, and very sensible member of Witch Weekly's team, St Mungo's had finally agreed. Rita was sure that it had nothing whatsoever to do with a modest donation made by the magazine. Of course not.
She arrived early to collect him, and was shown to his ward. He smiled vaguely as she walked in and it was clear that he had no idea who she was. She fixed him with her glossiest smile and walked forwards, offering her hand to him.
"Good morning Gilderoy, may I call you Gilderoy? Smashing. I'm Rita Skeeter, we used to be acquainted though I don't believe you remember. We spoke a few days ago, I represent Witch Weekly, you're going to be staying with me for a few weeks." All this was spoken with barely a pause, and Rita stood staring unblinkingly at him, flashing her gold teeth in an enormous artificial grin. If Gilderoy found any of this slightly disconcerting, he didn't let it show. He took her hand uncertainly, then began shaking it vigorously.
"Yes, of course, lovely to meet you. I must say though, that outfit clashes terribly with my hair," he said, eyeing her vibrant purple jacket "I don't suppose you could see your way to changing it? Or at least altering the shade a little, perhaps lilac? It goes splendidly with my eyes, so they tell me."
Rita's grin wavered a little, but she rallied magnificently. "Oh you always were a tease. Come along now, we should get back to my flat so that we can get you all settled in," she said, taking his arm and leading him firmly towards the door.
The healer followed them nervously, reiterating the fact that he mustn't be allowed a wand, mustn't be left alone in a strange place, mustn't be exposed to too much magic, mustn't eat celery, the list went on and on.
Rita nodded, struggling to pay attention as every time they met another person in the corridor, Gilderoy insisted on stopping to speak to them.
"Hello, have you heard of me? Apparently, I'm quite famous you know, or at least I was. Would you like a signed photo?"
To Rita's distress, a lot of the people he stopped accepted his offer, so all in all it took them about forty minutes to make their way from his ward to the exit of St Mungo's.
Rita didn't live far from St Mungo's so she decided to use Muggle transport to get there with Gilderoy, as she couldn't very well Apparate. This turned out to be a nightmare as Gilderoy wanted to examine everything around him in detail. He tripped up the steps onto the bus, and then almost got trapped in the door as it snapped shut. He sat in his seat with an amused expression on his face, intently reading the adverts above the windows.
They reached their stop about ten minutes later and Rita had to pry Gilderoy out of his seat, practically dragging him towards the exit of the bus. They stepped off with Rita clutching his bags in one hand and his arm in the other. He stood and stared around him, watching cars moving along the busy street and birds wheeling and shrieking overhead.
"My flat is only a couple of streets away," she said briskly, and he turned to her grinning inanely.
"Marvelous," he said, striding off along the pavement. She hurried to catch up with him, grabbing hold of his cloak.
"No no, it's this way," she said in an aggravated tone, pulling him along behind her. He complied, simply allowing himself to be guided by her. They reached her building after about five minutes walking and much inspection of drains, lampposts, railings, crisp packets, and other such mundane items. She took her key out of her pocket and opened the door, motioning for him to follow. They climbed the three flights of stairs to her flat, as the lift was currently out of order and arrived, breathless outside her door. It was an inconspicuous dark blue with a polished brass number '6' on it. Rita unlocked the door and pushed it open, ushering Gilderoy inside ahead of her and following quickly, shutting the door behind them.
Her flat was fairly large; she had bought it whilst still working for the Prophet. They were standing in a large living room with several squashy- looking sofas, a glass coffee table, and a magnificent fireplace, that looked quite out of place in the modern room. Despite Rita's obvious expensive taste, she appeared to have very bad taste in decorating. The walls were an insipid yellow, contrasting horribly with the orange and pale- blue striped sofas. The drapes at the windows were long and heavy, falling from ceiling to floor and were made of a rich, deep blue velvet.
Rita directed Gilderoy towards one of the squashy sofas, disappearing for a moment into one of the other rooms to deposit his bags and returning a moment later.
"So," she said brightly "Can I get you anything?" It was early evening and the last threads of orangey sunlight filtered in, bathing the room in a sunset glow. Rita and Gilderoy sat on one of the sofas with several photograph albums spread around them. They were currently looking through Rita's photos from their last few days at Hogwarts.
In one particular photo, they both stood with a group of friends, shirts loose and black-and-yellow-striped ties undone and hanging limply from their necks. Rita and Gilderoy were at opposite sides of the image and kept shooting each other glares in between flashing dazzling grins at the camera.
Rita laughed at the others in the photo pouting or giggling and poking each other good-naturedly, however Gilderoy just looked down at it with a somewhat forlorn look on his face.
Suddenly, Rita was struck by just how alone he was. All his memories, all the people he had known, all torn away. She almost found herself feeling sorry for him, as he excused himself a few minutes later and went into his room. Almost that is, until he came out again straightaway demanding that she swap rooms with him, as hers was larger and he was tired of sleeping in a tiny single bed, and hers was a double.
Resisting the urge to throw one of her expensive- yet somewhat tasteless- vases at him, she just buried her face in her hands. Why me? She thought what have I done to deserve this? Unfortunately her conscience picked that moment to intervene, Well there was that business with Harry Potter, and all the other stories before that, it suggested Oh alright she snapped. I was only saying.
She was snapped out of her reverie as she heard an enormous crash from the kitchen, and ran to investigate what Gilderoy had done this time. She would be glad when this was all over and her report finished. Very glad.