A Gilded Cage

by LJlashlarue

Gilderoy Lockhart had to come from somewhere. Here is the true story.

Title: "A Gilded Cage"

Author: Lash_Larue

Rating:R for language, sexual references, not explicit

Word Count: 7200

Characters and/or Pairings: Lockhart/others

Summary: All that glitters may be all that there is. The creation of Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award.

Warnings: Mild bad language, sexual references

Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling

"A Gilded Cage"

"Here is your son, Mrs. Lockhart," announced Apprentice Healer Smith as she handed the swaddled infant to her. "Usually we cover their heads, but I simply could not bear to hide those glorious curls, just look at that hair!"

Olivia Lockhart looked, and when she saw her son he became the only thing in the world.

"He's so beautiful!" Olivia exclaimed.

"Indeed! Every mother thinks so, of course, but I'm forced to agree in this case. I have to say that I don't think it's fair for a boy to have hair like that, not to mention those eyes and eyelashes. I'm afraid I'm jealous," Smith admitted.

"Well of course you are. Who wouldn't be?" murmured Olivia.

"Have you thought of a name, then?"

"My husband wanted to use the name he got from his father, but of course 'Nigel' is completely unsuitable for this little angel," Olivia replied.

"Well, I'm sure something will come to you soon enough. I simply cannot get over that hair; it's like the gilded helm of a king. See how it shines!" Smith gushed.

"Yes, it is…" Olivia whispered as she stared into the blue eyes.

"The gilded helm of a king,"/i she pondered. i"Gold of kings – what is that cloth – the cloth of kings? Cor something… of… corduroy - cord du roy – gild du roy – Gilduroy? No – too French sounding, that's not quite right…"

"His name is Gilderoy – Gilderoy Lockhart. Do you understand, darling? Your name is Gilderoy," Olivia cooed, and then she frowned abruptly. "Oh, he seems to be all wet!"

"Darling, must you dress him in such frilly clothes?" Nigel Lockhart asked his wife. "Half the people who see him think he's a girl."

"They're just not used to such beauty," Olivia said dismissively, "and he's only three. Besides, where is it written that one has to wear ugly clothes simply because one is male? You mark my words; girls will be lined up deep for my Gilderoy!"

"The way you're going, it won't only be girls," Nigel thought as he returned to his paper. "And he's her Gilderoy right enough. I never get a minute alone with him. But I can't deny he's a comely child, Merlin knows where he got those looks. Certainly not from her, though the hair is similar. Olivia does have beautiful hair."

"Do you know, Nigel, I think I might just enter him in one of those "beautiful child" competitions the Muggles have.

"What on earth for?"

"Aside from fun, they give cash prizes!" Olivia explained excitedly.

"One can't make a living from one's looks," Nigel said resolutely.

i"One can if one's looks are extraordinary, and my Gilderoy's are,"/i Olivia thought. "As you say, dear," she said aloud. "I simply shan't tell him, then. The money won't matter, but the experience will help him to make the most of his gifts. What Nigel doesn't know won't hurt him."

It wasn't long before other mothers simply left without entering when they saw the Lockharts, mother and son, in the queue. It wasn't simply that the child was beautiful, though he undeniably was, but that he positively shone in the spotlight as if it seemed wholly natural to him for people to stare. Some few thought that he was conceited, but most just found him charming.

Eventually even Olivia tired of the inevitability of Gilderoy winning these affairs, and at the age of six Gilderoy retired from competition. It was about that time that he became interested in flying.

"He'll get hurt. I won't have it," insisted Olivia.

"He's a wizard, and a Lockhart to boot, Livy, flying is in his blood," Nigel countered. "Besides, he'll have to take Flying at Hogwarts, and we can't have him going in with a disadvantage, now can we?" Time had taught Nigel Lockhart how to turn his wife's obsession with their son to his own ends on occasion, though in this instance he was extremely cautious never to say the word "quidditch" in her hearing.

"It's only a training broom anyhow, dear. It won't go high enough or fast enough to be truly dangerous, and I'll be right with him," he persuaded. "We can't keep him in a cage all of his life."

"Very well Nigel, you are after all his father, and I suppose that it is proper for you to have a hand in his instruction. But do be careful, won't you?"

"Nice of you to admit that he's my son, Livy," Nigel Lockhart thought. "You'd think as much as you dote on this one you'd like another, but you've shown bugger-all interest in trying since he was born."

"Yes dear, I shall," was what he said aloud, and he took Gilderoy by the hand and took the floo to a wizard park, grateful that his wife could not bear to watch.

"Now then son, just hold your hand over the broomstick and say "up", as if you mean it."

Gilderoy obeyed, and the broomstick leapt into his hand as if it too was a victim of his charm.

"Well done lad!" exclaimed Nigel, and his excitement mounted as it became apparent that Gilderoy took to flying like a kneazle to gnome-chasing.

It was the best time he had ever had with his son, and it was only blunted a small amount when Gilderoy called a halt because he thought that his lips might be getting chapped.

"I did well, didn't I father?"

"First rate my boy," assured his father, "we'll make a seeker out of you yet!" Hand in hand, father and son strolled towards the building that housed the floo connections. A thought occurred to Nigel.

"I would never countenance deceiving your mother, Gilderoy, but it might be all to the good if we kept the quidditch thing between us men, right?"

"As you say father," Gilderoy agreed. He knew full well that his mother would never approve of him playing quidditch, and he already was beginning to feel a bit wearied by her concerns. She should know that he would never do anything that would damage his looks; that would be unthinkable. Besides, it might prove useful to have something to hold over his father's head, just in case.

"There's a good lad," said Nigel in relief. He scarcely noticed Gilderoy shifting so that his hand landed on his son's shoulder rather than his head.

"Not the hair, father," he thought irritably, "never the hair."

While the Lockharts were not exactly wealthy, they were very well off. Nigel was a successful solicitor and prided himself on giving his family the finer things in life And so while working class wizarding families normally handled the early education of their offspring themselves, children of privilege went to prep schools. And of course only the best would do for Olivia. Happily in this instance, Nigel felt the same way, and so the choice was easy. They scheduled an interview for Gilderoy at "Mayhem's Magical Mentoring", which place proudly displayed the motto – "Moulding Magnificent Magical Minds."

"Well Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, I am pleased to inform you that we will be delighted to have your son attend. He did quite well on his tests, and is really an engaging child." This glad (but expected by Olivia) news was delivered by none other than Madame Mayhew herself. "I must say that I have seldom seen a child who carries himself with such confidence, he's quite the young gentleman."

"Thank you Madame Mayhew," Nigel responded, "that is most gratifying. We trust that young Gilderoy will be a credit to this institution."

"They should get on their knees and beg to have him," thought Olivia, but she contented herself with smiling blandly and nodding. She had no doubt that Gilderoy would do splendidly, with her to guide him.

Gilderoy had no trouble in charming his classmates, and they seemed only too happy to socialize and study with him. At his mother's suggestion, Gilderoy sought help from the brightest of his fellows on homework and projects, and they, flattered by his attention, were only too happy to oblige.

By his third year he seldom did anything but copy over the work given to him by his admirers in his distinctive handwriting, and to punch up the prose on essays and book reports. He got extremely high marks on any assignment with a literary component, and in fact enjoyed writing. He took pride in his wordsmithery, and thought it quite fair that others supplied the nuts and bolts of the papers.

"They benefit as much as I," he felt, "I show them how to elevate their own work, and they save me some of the drudgery. It's quite generous of me, actually."

It was in his fourth year that a problem appeared.

Quidditch.

Nigel had vigorously encouraged Gilderoy to try out for the Youth League team, and Olivia had just as vigorously opposed it. In the end, it was Gilderoy who made the decision.

"It means a lot to father, Mum," he had explained, "and, after all, he does provide very well for us. Never fear, I know how to look out for myself. I can't spend my life wrapped in cotton, now, can I?" He flashed the grin that he had perfected after countless hours in front of a mirror, and it worked even better on his mother than it did on his classmates. He had no intention of sustaining any damage to it.

That did turn out to be more of a problem then he had imagined, for even the mild bludgers used in the Youth League could crack a tooth. Gilderoy had naturally sought the position of seeker, because he saw it as his proper place, soaring high above the sometimes brutal play of the chasers, beaters, and keepers, perched to stoop like a hawk and carry his team to victory. His undeniable flying skill had made the coach think it was natural for him as well, and things were going fine until a close encounter with a bludger.

"That is simply not on," Gilderoy thought, "not on at all."

The coach showed him various techniques for avoiding bludgers, but Gilderoy came up with his own plan and stuck to it. If a bludger showed any interest in him, he pointed his tail twigs at it and sped off. The fact that his father had provided him with a very fine broom made this tactic effective insofar as avoiding collisions was concerned. It did not, however, go over very well with the coach. Aside from his bludger problem, though, he made a pretty fair seeker, and his father was thrilled.

Thrilled enough to make a generous contribution to the athletic fund, which Gilderoy had no hesitation in pointing out to his coach.

"Bugger it," thought the coach, "it's not like this is the world cup then, is it? And the little ponce won't be here forever."

Gideroy made it through the season without injury, and even managed to catch the snitch a few times. He also contrived to get a lone "A" rather than his usual "O's and E's", and so he reluctantly informed his father that he would have to forgo quidditch in future to concentrate on his studies.

"After all, father, I realize that my education is quite expensive, and I feel honor bound to do my best by you," he explained when he informed his father of his decision.

Nigel was disappointed, but proud of his son for being so responsible.

"Well played, Gilderoy darling," his mother whispered to him.

"I never play, mother," he countered, "I plan."

Gilderoy worked his plan marvelously throughout the remainder of his prep career, and the only member of staff happy to see him go was the quidditch coach/flying instructor, who thought him a manipulative little swot.

"He'll catch his tail in a crack one day," the coach thought, "but I have to admit that he's a treat for the eyes." The coach moved the plaque back over the charmed viewport into the locker room and headed to his private loo. "Part of me will miss the boy…"

Gilderoy carried his plan with him to Hogwarts, but soon found that more would be expected of him, both by the Professors and his fellow students.

"Kiss you?" a stunned Gilderoy asked Marilyn Pennyfeather.

"If you want my help in History of Magic, yes," insisted Marilyn.

Gilderoy considered this. Marilyn was an unlovely girl, with bad skin and stringy hair. This didn't matter at all to Gilderoy, who never expected anyone to measure up to his personal standard of beauty anyway. No, it was more the matter of the kiss itself. Gilderoy realized that he had never even considered such a thing, beyond a dutiful peck on his mother's cheek now and again. His roommates in Ravenclaw all seemed obsessed with kissing a girl, or girls, but Gilderoy wasn't fussed about it. Still, as it was nothing to him he saw no harm in it, and Marilyn was head and shoulders the best of the year in History, a subject that Gilderoy found unworthy of his attention. He intended to make history, not re-digest it.

"Very well then," he agreed, and he leaned towards her cheek as he pursed his lips.

Marilyn was having none of that, and she turned her head and pressed her lips firmly to his.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," he thought as he considered the sensation, "her lips are quite chapped though." He deftly intercepted the hands that were headed for his hair and took a step back. "I trust that secures our bargain then?" he asked Marilyn.

"Oh. Yes! Yes! I'll have the paper for you by breakfast," promised Marilyn as the color flooded her face.

Gilderoy knew that the stakes had been raised, and he knew that he had to be careful, as he could see that the incident had meant much more to Marilyn than to him. Indeed, that evening in his dorm room he was bombarded by questions from his roommates. To his credit he steadfastly refused to kiss and tell. Frankly, he did not enjoy this sort of attention, because he was not the main subject of interest.

"Did you touch her boobs?" asked Fernald Davies.

"Really Fernald," Gilderoy replied coldly, "have you no manners at all?"

The other boys eventually gave up, but Gilderoy resolved to be more discreet in future. Of course, in true Gilderoy fashion, it was a most ostentatious discretion. He became much more open in his attentions to those who could help him, walking to class with his "study partners" as he termed them, bringing treats to study sessions, and giving free rein to the Lockhart charm. He kept working on his smile.

Marilyn occasionally demanded a kiss from him, but by and large she contented herself with being seen with him. Besides, he had been most firm that any kisses were to be kept strictly confidential.

"It is simply not good form to flaunt one's intimate moments, don't you see?" he had informed her.

Smitten as she was, she agreed, and clutched her secret to her bosom. In time she realized that she was not the only one with such a secret, but he was still beautiful, and she got to be seen with him, and he treated her very well. Marilyn took what she could get.

Gilderoy had no real need of help in Charms, which was by a mile his best subject apart from flying. He did cultivate a friendship with a fellow Ravenclaw in that class, however. A fragile looking boy named Russell. Russell was as taken by his attention as anyone else. Russell was also brilliant, and made the difference between an "E" and an "O" for Gilderoy.

Though his plan had required modification, Gilderoy got through his first year at Hogwarts in pretty good fashion. Except for Transfiguration.

"This is the most beautifully written essay on the Theory of Transfiguration that I have ever read, Mr. Lockhart," Professor McGonagall told him in her office.

Gilderoy relaxed, he had been unaccountably nervous when he received the summons for a conference.

"Thank you Professor, that is most gratifying," he said with a smile. (He said everything with a smile, having found that it then mattered much less what he said.)

"It truly distresses me to have to give you a "D" on it," McGonagall told him.

"A 'D'!" blurted Gilderoy. "But you said it was beautifully written!"

"Indeed, and if the assignment were for a creative writing class it would garner an 'O', beyond doubt. There is however, no information in it whatsoever Mr. Lockhart. It is merely an extremely well written opinion piece, no reference to conservation of energy, no reference to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, nothing."

"But I mean to say, Professor, why on earth would I be interested in Transfiguration? What about me needs changing?"

"I shall make you a list," McGonagall replied, "I expect more from you in future. Dismissed."

"He's a prat, Rolanda," McGonagall said wearily as she poured a scotch and then settled onto the couch beside her lover.

"He can fly though," amended Hooch, "and he is some kind of beautiful."

"You're not going straight on me, are you dear?" McGonagall asked from beneath an arched brow.

"Finish your drink and we'll check on that," Hooch said as she began unfastening her robes.

"Bottoms up!" Minerva saluted as she tossed off her scotch.

In second year Gilderoy had a new special friend, and fortunately it was one no more interested in going public than he was.

"Let me touch it or no paper," Reginald declared.

"Why on earth would you want to touch it?" Gilderoy asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You'll see, it will feel good, I promise," Reginald encouraged.

Somewhat to Reginald's chagrin, Gilderoy didn't respond very well, but he put it down to nerves. Gilderoy resolved to look into the matter further, on his own, at the earliest opportunity, for it did feel rather good. He just didn't think that Reginald was a fair match for him, and so it was more annoying than anything else.

He scraped an "A" in Transfiguration, and resolved to drop it as soon as possible.

The end of second year was a relief to him, and he spent the break working on a new plan. The year had been more stressful than he liked, and he was leery of what might be demanded of him in future.

"So, Gilderoy," Nigel asked as they waited for the train that would take him to his third year at Hogwarts, "do you think you'll have a go at quidditch this term?" Nigel was taking advantage of Olivia's absence to broach the subject; she had a cold and didn't want to give it to her son.

"I don't really think so father, I find that I have little time for anything but study. Hogwarts is rather more difficult than Mayhew's."

"Yes, I understand that, but there is more to school than just grades, son. I'm proud of you for applying yourself, but do try and find time for a bit of fun. Besides, quidditch is an excellent means of exposing yourself to new things, and meeting new people. Well, here's the train, have a good term, my boy!"

Gilderoy thought it likely that he would be exposing himself more than he'd really care to this term.

It was on the ride to school that he received the note that made his remaining years at Hogwarts a bit easier.

"Mister Lockhart, please do me the honor of joining me in my compartment for a small start of term fete. Sincerely, Professor Horace Slughorn"

Potions was one of his better subjects, as he found it useful. He already had developed several effective hair potions, and was working on some skin creams that showed promise as well. He also knew that Slughorn had many acquaintances among the movers and shakers of the magical world, and so he eagerly accepted the invitation.

Slughorn's eyes lit up at the sight of the golden-haired boy, "Merlin, there's a beautiful young man," he thought. "Mr. Lockhart, how good of you to come," he greeted the newcomer. Gilderoy was introduced all around, though he knew and was known by sight to most of the others. They were all sixth or seventh years though, and so he had not formally met them.

A dark haired Slytherin girl cast an appraising gaze upon him, and for the first time Gilderoy felt a stirring in his loins that had nothing to do with himself.

"Ah, Bella," Slughorn said, "this is Gilderoy Lockhart, a promising potions maker and the newest member of our little group."

"Charmed," Bella greeted him politely, while all the while making him feel that she was conferring a favor on him by acknowledging his existence. It was a wholly new feeling for Gilderoy, and he did not care for it at all.

"One to steer clear of, but now I understand about wanting to touch breasts. Those breasts, at any rate," Gilderoy thought.

"He might make a snack," Bella told herself, "but there's not enough substance there for a meal. I'll not waste my time."

Already this year Lockhart's luck had improved.

Gilderoy's inclusion in the Slug Club spared him much of the taunting that the older students were wont to give out, as the smarmiest of the upper classmen were members as well. It also had the benefit of Slughorn himself helping Gilderoy with his studies.

For a time Gilderoy feared that Slughorn would demand some intimate interaction as payback, but it developed that he was really interested in helping him.

"You can go far my boy, you just have to put yourself out there," Slughorn assured him.

Gilderoy was able to secure help with his work by accompanying a rather plain Ravenclaw sixth year girl on Hogsmeade trips, and sitting with her in Madame Puddifoot's. Rachildis was extremely gifted, but very conscious of her very ordinary looks. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement for them, and it did reduce the carnal demands of his other study partners, for the two of them appeared to be genuinely attached.

"We both know that we don't have a future together, Gilderoy," Rachildis admitted over tea one afternoon. "We each fill a need for the other, but I'll be going to Beauxbatons next year. In any case there is no real affection between us, but I would like to have sex before I go abroad. Would you accommodate me?"

Gilderoy considered: he could agree and rise in the esteem of his roommates, for even though she was plain, she was female, and a sixth year, and sex was sex. Even if he waited until next year to admit it, (and as a gentleman he would) word would get out. He also had to admit that he was rather curious himself. Ever since meeting Bellatrix on the train he had wondered about the mysteries that lay between the thighs of woman. And finally, he really did like Rachildis. He respected her intelligence and pragmatism, and she had never made any uncomfortable demands on him unlike some of his past study partners.

"I would be honored," he said with a credible amount of sincerity.

They found a secluded bower in the woods and made a fairly comfortable place with their cloaks.

"I believe that it is usual to start with kissing," Rachildis said as she loosened a few buttons on her blouse. By now Gilderoy knew where the noses went, and though plain, Rachildis had very nice skin and her lips were not chapped at all. In point of fact they were quite soft and warm, and her bosom was quite soft and warm, and the mystery between her thighs was impossibly soft and hot, and deliciously wet and slippery, and Gilderoy found that he did not have to feign passion in the least.

"I thought that there would be more to it," Rachildis admitted, "but I thank you for your efforts."

"We can have another go," Gilderoy encouraged, somewhat chagrined, "perhaps we just need practice."

"No thank you, I'm sure you did your best," she replied as she straightened her rumpled clothing. "Anyway, we need to get back to the castle."

Gilderoy spent the rest of the year hoping for a repeat performance, but none was forthcoming.

His grades however, were quite good. Rachildis was even smarter than she was soft and hot and wet.

Fourth year was not his favorite. He found, much to his amazement, that he missed Rachildis sorely, and though he had no lack of study partners, it was Professor Slughorn who aided him the most.

"In fame lies your fortune lad," Slughorn told him one evening, "you're bright enough, but so are many others. It is your beauty that sets you apart, yet beauty is fragile and fleeting. We must seek a path to notoriety for you. Something spectacular, but in the meantime we must keep your marks up. A pity you didn't connect with the Black girl, but I suppose that she was a bit old for you. She has sisters, you know."

Gilderoy did know, and Narcissa Black made very interesting things happen inside his trousers, much as her sister had, but Lucius Malfoy shrank that right up.

"Stay away from her, Lockhart," he hissed, "or your face won't be so pretty anymore. Do we understand each other?"

"Indeed we do," Gilderoy informed him, "pray think no more of it, and accept my best wishes for a long and happy life with her."

There were other fish in the sea, but aside from Narcissa Black, none of them did much for him. Apart from the Ravenclaw keeper that is. Gilderoy found Matthew Knox to be absolutely fascinating.

"So strong, and yet so graceful, just look at him fly…" mused Gilderoy.

Knox was also supremely dim for a Ravenclaw, and Gilderoy offered to help him with his studies. Knox accepted, but showed no sign of offering anything in return, so Gilderoy quickly tired of him.

Potions was his best subject, and that year he had a breakthrough on hair potions. With Professor Slughorn's help he set about trying to secure a patent.

Unfortunately, a patent was registered on the process in France first. It was then that he recalled that Rachildis had suggested it to him.

"I'll just chalk this year up to experience and put it out of my mind," he resolved.

Fourth year was not his favorite. Not at all.

"Quidditch," whispered his father as he hugged him goodbye for his fifth year. Olivia had made the trip this time.

"Be careful of yourself darling," advised Olivia.

"He's not porcelain, Olivia," sighed Nigel.

"Look at his skin and repeat that," she snapped.

Things were not great between the Lockharts, Mr. and Mrs. In fact they separated soon after, and Gilderoy found himself a bit at loose ends on the domestic front. It is hard to live up to the expectations of one's parents. It is even harder to do so when they are not together. Gilderoy resolved to try it anyway.

"Quidditch," said Slughorn. "I hear you were a fair seeker in prep school. You're a damn fine flyer and your house could use you this year. This could be your ticket, lad."

He didn't want to, but he could see the wisdom in it. Knox was gone, and the new captain was a girl who found Gilderoy rather attractive. He resolved to give it a try.

Things went well, for there were no bludgers during the tryouts, and there was no doubting his skill as a flyer. Not to mention that those shockingly blue eyes were extremely keen. Coupled with the top of the line broom his father had sent him, Gilderoy had no trouble making the team.

Fiona Marsh, as his captain, was too proper to demand anything from Gilderoy, and he did nothing to encourage her. Gilderoy actually enjoyed being on the team, and he worked hard. He managed to catch the snitch in their first match with Hufflepuff. Their seeker was ill, and Lockhart just shadowed him and used his superior skill and broom to take the snitch away at the last moment.

Gryffindor was another story. The Potter boy was a marvelous seeker, and when a bludger grazed Lockhart's shoulder and turned to have another go, Gilderoy reverted to the tried and true method of pointing his tail twigs at it and fleeing. Potter had the snitch before Gilderoy could return to the pitch, and Fiona was not too pleased.

"What the hell was that, Lockhart?" she demanded in the locker room after the game. The rest of the team fled, lest some of the rant slop over on them.

"It's worked for me before, Fiona. I can't help it if our beaters couldn't keep Potter off the snitch."

"You're a coward, and you're off the team," Fiona spat.

"Look Fiona, I'll admit that I didn't perform up to expectations, but anyone can have an off day, right?" He flashed his very best smile, and Fiona's face flushed. "Let's talk this over at Madame Puddifoot's tomorrow, all right? We're still in the running, if Slytherin beats Gryffindor, and we beat Slytherin, we're in. Please Fiona, give me another chance."

Fiona was serious about quidditch, but she was also a teenager with raging hormones, and Lockhart set every last one of them ablaze. Reason was no match.

"Okay, we'll talk, but you're buying," she said grumpily.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Gilderoy said smoothly.

Gilderoy had owled ahead, and a very elegant tea was waiting for them at Madame Puddifoot's.

"You see Fiona, when I was playing in the Youth League; I sustained a terrible injury to my face from a bludger. I was months recovering, and that near miss brought it all back. But I'm on top of it now, it won't happen again."

"There is no sign of an injury," Fiona replied.

"No, I was most fortunate to receive excellent care, but my mother was traumatized by the event, and it sort of rubbed off on me. She and my father have divorced, and I am perhaps too sensitive to her needs. Trust me Fiona; I won't let you down again. I do love my mother, but there are other women in the world who are important to me," he unleashed his 'sincere' look, one that he had been working on for some time, and saving for a special need.

It worked.

"Okay then, but don't make me regret this, Gilderoy. I want a career in quidditch, and captaining the championship squad will help."

"This may not be the best time, but have I ever told you how lovely your eyes are?" Gilderoy asked her.

"No, and I'm not stepping into that, either. If we win the Cup then we can talk about a personal celebration. I'm on thin ice keeping you as seeker; I'm not going to make it worse by having sex with you. Unless we win, that is," she replied with a smile of her own.

"Deal," he responded. "Here, try some of this skin cream I whipped up, it's wonderful at preventing wind burn. And I think you'll really like this lip balm as well."

Gilderoy hated chapped lips and dry skin.

"Professor Slughorn, you know Duggan McLemore, don't you?" Gilderoy asked him the evening after Slytherin had trounced Gryffindor. The allegations of bludger tampering could not be proved.

"Indeed I do! Greatest seeker of the age, and he bears more than a passing resemblance to you. At least until you get close. Frightful damage from bludgers. Sad to say he was forced into retirement when his play became too reckless even for quidditch," Slughorn informed him.

"Do you think you could arrange a meeting with him for me? I'd like to talk seeker technique with him."

"Certainly my boy, but just you be careful, Duggan has an eye for the lads, you know!"

"Even better," thought Gilderoy. "Thank you Professor, would you care for some candied pineapple?"

"You want me to do what?" McLemore demanded.

"I want you to hide in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts until I fly in, and then I want you to fly into the match and catch the snitch and return it to me there," Gilderoy explained again

"Why should I?"

"I understand you favor boys," Gilderoy said bluntly, "do you find me attractive?"

"You're fuckin' beautiful, and you know it," McLemore answered.

"Then name your terms," Gilderoy told him.

"I win this match for you, as you, and you strip naked and let me blow you," McLemore replied, knowing that the boy would back out.

"Done," said Gilderoy, and McLemore felt a lurch in his pants.

"Suppose they realize it's not you?" he asked.

"I'll cast a glamour on you that should fool anyone. I'm a dab hand at charms, some of them, anyway. Just be sure and make it spectacular, this will be my last match," Lockhart instructed.

"Right then, I'm looking forward to you, sweetmeat."

Gilderoy was not comfortable with this arrangement, but he knew that he was no match for the Slytherin seeker, not if there were bludgers involved. And with Slytherin, bludgers were sure to be involved.

"This is for all the gemstones," Fiona told her team, "there is no tomorrow, nor tomorrow night, unless we win." She stared meaningfully at Gilderoy.

"Ravens for the win!" cried Lockhart, and the team echoed him.

Ravenclaw got off to a good start, scoring three early goals, but then the bludgers showed up. A near miss saw Lockhart blazing towards the forest, the bludger turned at the boundary. Lockhart did not.

"Hurry!" he told McLemore, and the greatest seeker of the age rocketed into the sky with fire in his eye and wood in his shorts.

Fiona was steadily cursing Lockhart while resolutely denying Slytherin a goal, but whoever caught the snitch would win. The Slytherin seeker went into a dive, and a roar went up from the crowd, a roar that redoubled when a blue and silver blur with golden hair rocketed onto the pitch, inverted, and going so fast that the tail twigs were aglow. This Godlike figure scooped up the snitch neatly, did a high speed lap around the pitch while ostentatiously displaying it, and then disappeared straight up into the blue.

The crowd went wild. Fiona slid around a bit on her broom.

"Be on time, sweetmeat," said McLemore as he dismounted and handed Gilderoy the snitch, "I've just made you a bloody legend."

"I keep my word," Gilderoy said shortly, and he mounted his broom and left.

Moments later, he drifted casually back onto the pitch reclined lazily on his broom, the snitch held easily between his thumb and forefinger. The Ravenclaw team buried him, as the spectators, even some Slytherins, went absolutely berserk.

"This is my finest hour," thought Gilderoy, "pity there's no repeating it."

"You'll see me tomorrow, Gilderoy," Fiona whispered into his ear as she gave him a congratulatory hug.

With some difficulty, Gilderoy disengaged from his teammates and fans, promising to see them at the celebration. He did indeed keep his word.

"Are you satisfied with my performance, lad?" asked McLemore when Lockhart returned to the forest.

"Indeed, I wish I could have seen it," admitted Gilderoy.

"Just you wait, lad, you'll like this even more. Now why don't you shed those robes and lie down?"

It was different from his encounter with Rachildis. Not so soft, harder and more demanding. However it did reach a part of him that his encounter with her had not.

"Now then lad, just you get on all fours and old Duggan will show you summat else," rasped the man as he smeared saliva onto his erection.

"I beg your pardon?" Gilderoy asked in confusion.

"Time to give up that sweet arse, boy!"

Gilderoy wasn't confused for long, he was no naïf.

"That wasn't our agreement," he protested.

"Well it is now, and you'll give it up or I'll tell the world about our little deception," McLemore said as he pointed to a concealed camera. "You'll like it boy, now spread yer cheeks for Duggan."

Gilderoy suspected that he might really like it, but it wasn't part of the deal, and as he stuck strictly to his agreements he expected others to do the same. He could not at the moment figure a way out of it though; he could neither outfly nor overpower McLemore. If he had just asked, Gilderoy might have gone along out of curiosity, but Gilderoy did not like being dictated to, and he was simply outraged that the terms were being violated, not to mention his person.

"Perhaps I can charm my way out of - " Obliviate!" cried Gilderoy.

The next issue of the Prophet had an interview with famed seeker Duggan McLemore, who said that he had witnessed the Slytherin/Ravenclaw match, and declared that Gilderoy Lockhart's performance had topped anything he had ever done, and that Lockhart was the greatest seeker he had ever seen.

"YES!" screamed Fiona as she trembled beneath Gilderoy. Gilderoy found Fiona even hotter and wetter and slipperier than Rachildis, but his thoughts were of a ruined face and much coarser skin as he came. Fiona's year, however, was complete.

"It's a shame you're giving over quidditch my boy," Slughorn said as he reached for a piece of candied pineapple, "although I do share your opinion that it's hardly fair for you to compete with amateurs. It's quite noble of you, really. Do share, have you figured out what you're going to do with your life?"

"Yes indeed professor, I certainly have. Tell me; don't you know a freelance dark creature hunter or two? I plan to dedicate my life to the eradication of the dark forces," Gilderoy explained.

"A noble goal and I'll be happy to put you in touch with some experts in the field. And if you don't mind a bit of advice, I'd pursue those hair and skin potions you've developed, they're really marvelous! You don't want to cage yourself in at your age."

"Perhaps not, but Duggan showed me what is possible if one merely rewrites the rules a bit. It's not much different than what I've been doing all along, and it hurts no one, really. If I am to be caged, the bars may as well be gold, and 'sic transit gloria mundi'."

"Right then, let's just do a bit of revision for your OWL's, my boy," Slughorn said heartily.

Gilderoy spent much of his break traveling, and making the acquaintance of several of Professor Slughorn's friends of the adventurous sort. They were all quite taken with the lad, and agreed to take him on as an apprentice.

Their experience with dark creatures had in no way prepared them to deal with overweening ambition and ruthless drive wrapped in the skin of an angel.

Gilderoy went back to school looking forward to the year, though neither of his parents was there to see him off. By this time they took no chance of encountering one another if they could help it. Gilderoy thought them both fools, but he had had his fill of trying to mediate things between them. He however, had his future mapped out, and so he felt no pressure at school this year.

His OWL's had been gratifying, led by O's in Potions and Charms. (Luckily, tooth-whitening had been on the test. No-one could best Gilderoy at those sorts of spells.)

He had wisely elected not to sit the transfiguration OWL.

Sixth year was a breeze, and Gilderoy concentrated more on building up his contacts than anything else. He also refined his cosmetic potions, trying to come up with a patentable process, and spent a good deal of time with students who had influential parents.

He wound up with his foot in many doors, and spent his break outlining several books he that intended to write, and keeping in touch with the witches and wizards who would fill those pages for him.

It was his favorite year at Hogwarts, and he regarded it as a well-deserved break before he buckled down and seized fame by the scruff.

Gilderoy decided to leave early in his seventh year, reasoning that his career as an adventurer and author did not need NEWT's, and realizing that there was no way to smile his way through them. He decided to stay through the Christmas ball though, for one last grand appearance.

"I say there, please excuse me," Gilderoy said to the younger student.

"Yes?" she replied.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gilderoy Lockhart," he said with his very best smile.

"I know who you are," admitted the girl.

"Oh, well then, that saves time. As you have no doubt heard, I am leaving at the break to pursue my career in fighting the dark forces, wherever they may appear. Be sure and keep an eye out for my books. Now then, I'm sure that this will come as a surprise to you, but I, Gilderoy Lockhart, famous seeker and seventh year Ravenclaw prefect, am inviting you, a fifth year Gryffindor, to accompany me to the Christmas ball!" he said magnanimously.

"I am indeed surprised, Gilderoy. Tell me, how did you come by that unusual name?" the girl responded.

"That's rather interesting, really," he enthused, "you see, when I was born, the healer told my mother that my hair was like "The Gilded Helm of a King", and mum just took it from there!"

"I see," replied the girl, "did you also know that it means 'son of the redhead' and 'servant of the king'?"

"Well, no, actually I didn't. I suppose I've always taken my mother's words as gospel," admitted Gilderoy.

"That's always a risk, parents being what they are, but I've no doubt she meant it," the girl assured him. "If I may be so bold, why ask me? You've not spoken to me before."

"Well frankly, it's because we would make such a striking couple, you see, and I'd like to leave on a high note. My golden hair and your flaming red, your green eyes and my blue, your ruddy freckled complexion and my alabaster skin, we'd have to coordinate our outfits carefully of course. I'll take you to my robe-maker. At my expense, naturally," he said generously.

"A tempting offer, but I must refuse," the girl replied.

"But why? Surely you can see how lovely we would look together?"

"Indeed I can, but it would be mere sham. You see, the thing about gilding is, it's not even skin deep. I need more depth in a companion; I don't want to be a pet bird displayed in a gilded cage. But I wish you well, Gilderoy Lockhart, famous seeker and seventh year Ravenclaw prefect." She bowed and swept away.

"And I wish you well, Lily Evans of the flaming hair and high standards," he thought as he watched her walk away, "but we can't always choose our cages, gilded or no."