It had been nearly four years since Dobby had seen his Lockharty-poo. Although, he supposed that nickname no longer fit. Gilderoy Lockhart was no longer his anything. The two had separated after a nasty fight following the revelation that Lockhart had been cheating with not one, not two, but three men. Since then, Dobby had had no desire to make contact with the man who had once been the love of his life. No, these days Dobby spent his days pursuing his dream of underwater basket weaving. Or, at least it had been his dream. Dreams often became bogged down by reality. Underwater basket weaving was not a lucrative business, and Dobby learned that quickly.

Dobby had been sitting on the corner of Diagon Alley for a few days now. It was bitter cold as Dobby, his arms wrapped around himself in pursuit warmth. Warmth that never quite came. Handmade baskets surrounded him. Some were missing handles, some had large holes where Dobby had forgotten to weave wicker together, others barely resembled baskets at all. Regardless, they all looked like absolute cow shit. People walked by, as if interested in purchasing one of his wicker baskets, only to make faces of distaste when they got close. No one had bought a single one of Dobby's baskets in weeks.

He sighed. He started gathering his wares together. Maybe he would have more luck elsewhere. As he began to do this, he heard sound of footsteps approach him.

"Nice baskets," said the voice that followed the footsteps "Are they for sale?"

He looked up and made eye contact with the owner of the voice. He had thought he recognized that voice. He had hoped he had been wrong. He was staring into the blue, brilliant eyes of a man he had hoped to never see again, a man he had hoped to forget. Gilderoy Lockhart. He looked older than he had before. Although that was to be expected, Dobby still found it strange. It seemed to have only been days ago that he and Lockhart had been in love, kissing in the sunlight, cradling in each other's arms as they slept. But time had passed, Dobby supposed.

"What are you doing here?" Dobby asked, he looked around "Where's Hagrid? You still with him?"

Lockhart shifted uncomfortably, hands deep in the pockets of his robes. He averted his eyes to the ground.

"No," he said "Not since you left. Dobby, I…"

"What? You love me? You want me back? It's too late for that, Gilderoy." Dobby no longer felt cold, now he felt hot like a fire was burning inside of him. Lockhart took a step back as Dobby shouted. His eyes still glancing at the cobbled street. He couldn't even look Dobby in the eye. Pathetic.

"I made a mistake. A big one, I know. I have spent every day of my life since then regretting it, Dobby. I'll be honest, Hagrid was fun but he wasn't you. He was never you."

Oh how Dobby wanted to believe him. How he wanted to jump up and wrap his arms around Lockharty-poo's neck and feel his lips against his own. Dobby never forgot how Lockhart's lips tasted of peppermint. Dobby loved peppermint. But no, those lips had been tainted. Those lips hadn't just been for Dobby. While they were together, Lockhart had kissed Hagrid, and Snape, and Dumbledore.

"A mistake? A mistake? Did you just happen to find yourself making out with Hagrid one day? Did you slip and fall on him with your lips pressing against his? Just leave, please."

"Dobby…you look like you're struggling. Please come home to Ufila and I. She misses you."

"How would you know that? Do you speak squirrel now?"

Lockhart straightened up and removed his hands from his pockets.

"Actually, I can. I'm trying to be a better father now, Dobby. Now let me be a better husband too, to you." Lockhart got done on his knees so he was looking Dobby straight in the eyes. Lockhart's eyes looked even more magnificent up close. Lockhart cupped his hand on Dobby's face. He rubbed away a stray bit of snow that had fallen onto Dobby's cheek. Dobby should have pulled away, but he didn't. Lockhart leaned in closer and Dobby didn't resist. Before he knew it, Lockhart's lips met his. God, had they always been that soft? He felt an intensity pulsing through him. He felt alive again. He felt like something in him had been asleep, dormant for years and Lockharty-poo had just awakened it. He felt his hands move up Lockhart's back and then up his neck. They eventually made their way to his hair, his beautiful blonde hair. Dobby couldn't help but run his hands through it, tousling it slightly.

Lockhart slowly pulled back to meet Dobby's eyes again.

"Come home," he said, his voice soft and gentle. Dobby seemed to have lost his ability to speak after that kiss. He only nodded, a smile meeting his lips. Together, the two of them walked off, baskets left abandoned. They were going home.

The End?