His Muse: A Wizarding Tale about a Desperate Housewife by mrsmcclnt

Epilogue: To His Muse.

He watched from behind the curtains in the back room of Flourish and Blotts as the stage hands prepared the area for his autograph signing.

Today's the day, he thought as he saw the fan frenzy inside and out of the shop as spectators gathered around to see the man behind the books - Gilderoy Lockhart.

"This is your greatest work yet, Gilderoy," said Miss Vandercamp, who had seated herself at a table, multitasking his schedule.

"Well, of course it is, dear. It’s about me. How could it not be?" He picked up his copy of Magical Me and smiled at it. The cover smiled back at him. After all the books he had written before, he knew this book would be a surefire hit. Already literary critics were calling it a bestseller. And, from the look of the line forming around the store, he knew he would reap well from the profits.

As the crew put the final touches to the area, Lockhart gave himself the once-over in the mirror. He truly loved the way he looked when he was happy. He loved it even more when he wore his favorite forget-me-not blue dress robes, which matched perfectly with his eyes.

"Such a handsome devil you are," he told his reflection. He hadn't felt this giddy since…. He brushed off the memory before he could deeply reminisce about the past.

On cue, he strode through the curtain into a wave of applause and adoration. He gave his most humble smile to the warm reception as he bowed to the crowd. He smiled and bowed some more before taking his seat as the designated table. His pictures continued to work the crowd as he proceeded to sign his books.

Yes, this is the life, he thought as he pulled out his peacock quill. He could feel the intensity of love and respect focused on him. Every woman came to him, some trembling, some screaming, all saying the same things: "We love your work!" or "You’re such a great writer!" or simply "I love you!" All and all, he was never short of compliments from his fans.

He looked up and smiled periodically between signatures. Every now and then, a bulb would flash to capture his pearly whites and wavy blond locks. He could hear the sighs from across the room as young woman stood just to watch him sign his books.

This was, indeed, the life.

He had the love of his adoring public, the money was still rolling in from his previous book sales, and he was still as handsome as ever. What more could he ask for? Except.... Again, he promptly brushed the notion from his mind before he could stroll down memory lane.

After an hour or so of signing, his hand began to ache. He was about to stop when he heard a childish, rude remark, and about him. As he looked up, he noticed the boyish face of some freckled, redheaded boy just across the room. Something about the boy looked oddly familiar, but before he could put his finger on it, he noticed the boy's companion.

The lightning bolt scar on the young lad's head was unmistakable. Lockhart knew instantly who he was.

"It can't be Harry Potter?" But indeed it was. The crowd gave way for him to get a clearer view. His luck couldn't have gotten any better. This was his golden opportunity to solidify himself within the literary community. There weren't any authors to date who had ever had a picture with the Boy Who Lived. And here, on this day, the child had walked into his shop, right into his hands.

It was like a leprechaun handing him his pot of gold and the rainbow to boot.

Lockhart proudly strode up to Harry Potter and clasped onto his shoulder. He smiled as the photographer flashed several pictures of the famous pair. Lockhart made sure the best possible shots had been taken before he announced his new teaching position at Hogwarts. And then, before he relinquished the boy, he handed him all of his literary work to make the moment extra special for him and the crowd.

He was sure to be on the front page of every wizarding paper after this event. Yes, today is the day, he said to himself amongst the crowd's pandemonium.

As he made his way back to his table, his attention caught the sight of the redheaded boy again. Something about the boy's features reminded him of a similar chap he had run into some years ago in this same area of Diagon Alley.

"It can't be her son?" he muttered under his breath as he watched him join up with a group of young people, one of whom was a girl who had the same familiar features. But he brushed the memories out of his mind again, refusing to lose himself in them.

Ever since that fateful day, his heart had a tendency to toy with him every time some ginger came across his path. For a while, it seemed as though every redheaded creature was somehow related to her. Of course, in his practical mind, that couldn't have been possible, but his heart would fool him every time, leaping out whenever he saw someone who looked almost like her. So he trained himself not to think about such things, indulging himself in his work instead.

Yet still, there had been moments when his heart would betray him.

"Hello, Mr. Lockhart." A sudden chill grabbed hold of him. He spun around. And again, his heart turned on him as he caught sight of his love, Molly Weasley. "It's so nice to meet you in person."

Her voice was so kind and sincere as she spoke to him. She stood nervously amongst the crowd. He was stunned. His eyes quickly looked over her features, memorizing every detail of her face. She hadn't changed. She was still kind after all these years. Her demeanor was humble as she wore some patched up Muggle like clothes and a hand knitted sweater. Her smile was still beautiful, probably even more beautiful than before since he hadn't seen her in awhile. There was a little soot on her nose, possibly from traveling by Floo. But that small bit of dirt seemed to enhance her beauty rather than besmirch it.

Lockhart quickly took hold of Molly's hand and placed a kiss upon it. His lips curled into a smile as he felt how smooth and soft it still were after all these years. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he finally managed to say after marveling her gentle touch. His words made her blush and had her in a fit of girlish giggles as he returned her smile with his. Yes, truly a pleasure, he thought as he drank in her beauty. "So nice of you to come to my signing!"

"Well, I am a fan of your work, sir. A big fan." And he could honestly tell that she was just that - a fan. She smiled like all the others who stood and waited for him. Her smile was just a wide as theirs. But, as he looked her over, still smiling his charismatic smile, there was a part of him that hoped she knew how much more she meant to him. How much more than a fan she really was.

But how could she know she meant the world to him?

~*~*~*~*~

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" cried Arthur Weasley as he kneeled beside his unconscious wife. Lockhart tried to move in to get a good look at Molly, but Arthur quickly aimed his wand at him.

"It wasn’t my fault! I wasn’t the one who-!"

"You stupid idiot," Arthur seethed. "ALL OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT! You, with your good hair and flashy smile! YOU, with all your money and supposed good intentions! YOU! ALL YOU! What, did you think you could just waltz in and charm my wife into leaving her home and children?" Arthur quickly got to his feet, keeping his wand targeted on his enemy. "Did you think all your dazzle and good looks would make Molly leave her family behind?"

"It wasn't like that!" Lockhart managed to say weakly as he backed away from his lover's husband.

"Have you no shame? No respect for another man's marriage?" Lockhart didn't know how to answer that. All he could do was look terrified as Arthur kept his wand trained on him. "WELL? ANSWER ME! HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR MY MARRIAGE?"

"I LOVE HER, ARTHUR!" Lockhart yelled. He was resolute in his emotions, looking at the man firmly in the eye, as he confessed to him. "It had nothing to do with you. Nothing personal. I just fell in love with Molly."

Arthur gave a strange, sarcastic cackle before responding. "Nothing to do with me?"

Suddenly, red sparks flashed in Lockhart's direction from Arthur's wand. Luckily, Lockhart's quick (yet clumsy) reflexes had him move out of the way to take cover by a nearby tree.

"NOTHING TO DO WITH ME? I am her husband! SHE IS MY WIFE! It has EVERYTHING to do with me!" Arthur looked enraged, turning a deeper shade of crimson as he stared, menacingly, in Lockhart's direction.

"I have loved and protected her for many years. I have loved, raised, and protected our children since the day they were born! All I do, from sunup to sunset, I do gladly for them - OUR family! And you thought you could walk in and take my place?" More red sparks flew in Lockhart's direction. He managed to dodge Arthur's volleys before falling flat on his face, at a distance from the man.

But Arthur kept coming for him, moving slowly in his advancement as his anger continued to mount.

"I have known Molly for most of her life and loved her for just as long. I knew I wanted her to be my wife from the moment I met her. And you just picked up a fancy for her -"

"It is more than a fancy, sir!" Lockhart said defensively. "Molly was never a fling for me, and I've never treated her as such! We share more than a bond. I love her and I know she loves me in the way we made love!" As soon as he said it, he wanted to take the words back.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. At first, he stuttered as he tried to call Lockhart a liar. But something within Lockhart's conviction gave Arthur reason to pause. Lockhart could see his eyes quickly move back and forth as if he was trying to process a mountain of data. Lockhart could tell he was finished when he saw the blood drain away from his face, leaving Arthur looking white and demented.

"You… made love …to my wife?" If there was ever a case for temporary insanity, Arthur Weasley was clearly justified.

For a moment, Lockhart thought his fear had left him temporarily deaf, because Arthur clearly looked like a man screaming, yet no sound came from him. Lockhart looked up to the sky, searching for the full moon, as Arthur looked very deranged. Lockhart wondered if Molly had neglected to tell him her husband had been bitten. But, to his honest surprise, there was no moon that night.

Arthur's anger made him look inhuman. No longer was he the strong husband, defending his honor and family. What stood before Lockhart was a man completely engulfed by hell's jealous fury. From head to toe, Arthur was a blood stained red. Even his eyes were bloodshot, filled with hatred, as his veins bulged from his neck, fueling his need for vengeance. He stood there, silent but deadly. He didn't even utter a word as he raised his trembling wand.

Yet Lockhart knew what spell Arthur cast...as the spark, this time glowed green.

Everything moved in slow motion as the bolt thundered towards Lockhart. It moved so slowly that he could even see his life flash before his eyes. In a weak and feeble attempt to defend himself, Lockhart fired a red spark in Arthur's direction. But he feared his attempt fell short, as he felt himself fall to the ground, causing his aim to veer off course.

"Goodbye, cruel world," Lockhart said softly before he crashed to earth. But, strangely enough, he was still alive.

As he looked to his feet, the old familiar garden gnome was propped up against him. Just then, he heard a thud, as if a heavy body had hit the ground. Arthur Weasley lay unconscious. Apparently, Lockhart's wayward shot had ricocheted off a nearby wash bucket and landed square in Arthur’s chest. Arthur landed awkwardly next to his still unconscious wife.

"Thank you?" Lockhart said to the gnome. Part of him wondered, as he looked at the thing, if it had meant to save him or sacrifice him for the family's sake. In any case, he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

As Lockhart looked between the two bodies, a heavy burden settled upon him as he realized the mess he had caused. There was no way Molly would leave with him now. She hadn’t been going to leave with him anyway, but he had been too blind and desperate to see that. The fear of being alone had overtaken his rationale.

But there was no way he could leave her in this mess he’d made. The truth was out there, and he knew Arthur couldn't love his wife the same way ever again, not after what he knew. Molly would be devastated but still determined to save her marriage. Lockhart would be condemning Molly to a life of heartache and suffering, leaving her with a husband who might never be able to forgive her for her one time sin.

There was only one thing he could do. With a wave of his wand, Lockhart wiped Arthur's memory of him. Never would the man know the trouble Lockhart had caused within their marriage.

Once the charm was complete, Lockhart turned his attention to Molly.

He knelt down beside her to cradle her body in his arms. He was relieved to see no harm had come to her, as he could feel her breath on his face. He gathered all he could from the moment, savoring the sweet embrace for the final time.

"I now understand, Mrs. Molly Weasley, that there isn't any room in your life for a man like me, who has so much love for you." He swallowed hard to keep his trembling heart together. "And I now understand that your heart is simply too full with the love of your family to ever have room for me." His tears trailed down his cheeks, washing onto her face as he tried to keep himself sane while trying to say goodbye. He took a deep breath as prepared to Oblivate her memory. "But if you can keep some bit of me in the back of your mind, just a small bit to remember something of me by, then maybe my heart can manage to go on without you."

It was done. All the research, the laughs, the special dinner, and the passionate way they had made love, all gone from her. If she could remember anything, it would be his brilliant bright smile, which she would think came straight from a dream.

Lockhart managed to move their bodies onto a swing at the back porch of their house. He conjured a blanket and laid it over them, making it look as if they had spent a relaxing evening together under the stars.

Without fanfare or notice, he walked away, leaving his one love behind.

~*~*~*~*~

"Mr. Lockhart?" He was startled to hear her voice again as he returned from his reverie. Her eyes still beamed brightly at him, clueless to their connection. "Mr. Lockhart, could you sign these for Harry Potter?" Molly gave him the stack of books he had presented to Harry earlier.

"Certainly, my dear. Anything for my fans.” He smiled brightly to her even though his soul was tearing itself apart. His peacock quill appeared in his hands as he quickly got to work autographing the books. One by one, he would graciously hand them back to her, his smile never failing him even though his heart had given out moments ago.

As he got down to his last book, he noticed something odd in the way the book felt in his hands. As he looked at the front cover, he realized why.

Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests.

It was the book that had changed his life forever. The book that had brought true love into his life. After he had left Molly at the Burrow, the book had been released only days later. It was another stunning success, citing its popularity amongst housewives and house elves in the wizarding community. The work even managed to top the Daily Prophet's bestsellers list.

But Lockhart had opted not to do any promotional work on that book. At the time, it was too painful to do any press on it. When Miss Vandercamp was able to confirm that the scandalous article was being dropped, Lockhart set off on a long journey, visiting banshees, chasing ghouls, hanging out with hags, and other various creatures. From his travels, his next bestselling books would spawn.

But he had never looked back on Household Pests.

"Something wrong?" Molly asked as she noticed how he paused at that book.

Lockhart quickly cleared his throat, as he recovered, “Nothing, my dear. I’m afraid that the day has been a bit long on me." He quickly turned to a page to emblazon his signature on it. But as he opened up its bindings, his eye caught a phrase that he hadn't seen since he wrote it.

To my muse

It was his secret dedication to her. The woman who had consequently motivated the great works in his life. His fingers gently brushed over the letters as if he were trying to touch her, the woman who he knew could not remember him. He lowered his eyes as he tried to hold himself together.

"She must have been a great woman to inspire such a good book,” Molly said softly as she watched him sign his name.

His eyes quickly shot to her. He wanted so desperately to take her in his arms and tell her everything. He wanted to curse the heavens for having her so close to him, yet so damn far. But it was no use.

What was done was done. He couldn't change time, nor would he want to. The damaged had been to great.

He took a deep breath as he stifled the bittersweet emotions threatening to expose him. After dotting his "i" and crossing his "t," he handed the book back to her and mustered, with all his strength, another smile.

"She was a very good woman, indeed."

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