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

Runaway Lovers

His body laid lifeless on top of his silk duvet. Lockhart still wore the same suit he had worn when Molly had last seen him in days ago. He had no motivation to change clothes, move around, eat, or even sleep. He just wanted to lay still and hope the world would go away on its own.

I wish I could stop thinking about her, was all that echoed in his mind as his eyes stayed fixated at the crown molding around the ceiling.

If he could simply obliviate himself, it could possibly solve his immediate problem. But he knew that the void within him would still be there. It was an emptiness that he felt for so long, being surrounded by people who seemed to care but only wanted his money, people who wanted to extend their five minutes of fame.

But that hole had begun to heal in Molly's presence. Her genuine nature and kindness helped him to believe that there was truly some goodness left in the world.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, rambled his thoughts as he continued to think of her.

He should have never told her how he felt. He should have never said those words, no matter how sweet they were to say. He should have just sat there and felt grateful to even have her in his presence. But it was too late. The joy of the moment over had took him. And before he could take back what he had said, she Apparated from his sight.

She's gone.

His body felt as though a herd of centaurs stampeded over him. He hadn't a care in the world, since the one woman he loved did not share his feelings in return. But his body gave a sudden unsettling warning, that if he didn't eat soon, it would cease to keep him alive. So, reluctantly, he moped out of bed and down the hall towards the kitchen.

Every step in his pristine house was a painful reminder of what one was and what could have been. As beautifully decorated the place looked, he knew Molly would have given it her extra special touch to make it more homey. As he walked passed the study, he remembered that it was the place where he finally broke through in their friendship after he defeated the boggart. As he looked along the floor, he remembered how Molly painstakingly brushed every ounce of dragon's blood along the baseboard to keep the roaches out.

And then, of course, there was the kitchen... Molly's domain.

"I can't do this," he mumbled before he turned on his heels and disappeared. The next thing he knew, he was standing at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, pulling up a chair.

The old barkeeper eyed the strange spectacle that sat at his table. "So what can I get you?"


Lockhart didn't have a clue as to what he would order in this less-then-classy establishment. So he pulled out a handful of Galleons and laid it out on the counter. "What ever is good and strong that I could buy with this."

The barkeeper picked up his money and bit into one of the pieces to verify that the money was good. He looked back to Lockhart and chuckled, "Looks like you have some female troubles. I got just the thing." The old man waved his wand to make a pretty crystal decanter appear. Lockhart brow rose slightly as he eyed the bottle, wondering how something so expensive could end up in a place like this. "It's a special whiskey - better then Fire whiskey. It's said to have been brewed by Goblins."

"Hmm. Sounds good enough." It was better then wiping out his memory himself. A few drinks of the stuff could take the edge off his heartache. So he poured himself a small shot of the liquor and saluted the bartender.

In one sip he started to feel all his worries slipping away from him.

"Gilderoy?" The silky feminine tone roused him from his drunken stupor. "Gilderoy Lockhart?" The sound was getting closer but his eyes had yet to focus on the subject standing in front of him. He had partly hoped that it was Molly coming to rescue him from his sad alcoholic existence. But from the shade of blonde around the person's head, he ruled out the possibility that it was his favorite red head.

"Miss?"

"Rita - Rita Skeeter." She had a polite but expectant look on her face as if she were ready for him to acknowledge her name. But Lockhart kept a dumbfounded expression, wondering why he had been woken. "I'm surprised to see such a prominent author in this....type of...establishment."

"Well, Miss Skipper, “ he was so drunk that he couldn’t keep his head still as he talked to her, “I'm not surprised to see a woman, such as yourself, with your bleached blonde tresses and overly done make-up in this cheap dump." His head fell hard back down on the table, leaving Miss Skeeter looking shocked and appalled.

"Female problems," muttered the old bartender who picked up the small shot glass from his drunken patron.

"Really? Do tell."

The next morning was more or less the same as before. Except the heart break he had been feeling was replaced with a resounding migraine. He was surprised to see that he was seated on the couch at his home in some new attire. He wasn't quite sure how he even got home or how he got dressed. But alas, he was there, and he was still alone, without her.


"I see you've woke." Miss Vandercamp, his publicist, entered his parlor with a tray of coffee. "Glad to see you've returned to the land of the living."

He returned her smile with the fake sense it was given to him. His publicist was one of those friends that he could count on. Friends who were riding the coat tails of his successes.

"I'm surprised to see you here. What brings you by?"

"Two things." She went to her small pocket purse and reached deep inside. She pulled out a thick manuscript and laid it on his coffee table. "Here's a rough draft of your latest book. I thought you might want to give it the once over before it goes to print."

Gilderoy smiled as he looked at the pages. All the hard work that he and Molly...well mostly Molly... had done were written within its text. He could feel the old feelings swelling inside him again as his headache moved back to his heart. Lockhart quickly tried to regain his composure as he fumbled through the pages, but could see that it was too late from the odd expression on his publicist face.

"Well you could have just owl'd this to me. You didn't have to come all this way," he tried to cover as he smiled sheepishly in her face.

"It was no trouble. Besides, there's something else." She went back to her small purse again, digging around a little more then pulled out a small news clipping to show him.

Gilderoy Lockhart.... Gifted author turned home wrecking gigolo


The picture that jumped out at him was less then flattering. As he could see, from his lazy demeanor and disheveled look, he was very, very drunk. "How did you get this?"

"Let's just say that I wouldn't be your publicist if I didn't have connections in the right places. The article hasn't gone to print yet. I told the editor to hold off till I spoke with you on this." Lockhart let out a sigh of relief as he slumped back in his seat. Yet he could tell from the way she sat up in her chair that the conversation wasn't over. "So, who is this Molly?"

He moved, jarringly, over to the coffee table to pour himself another cup of java. "No one. No one special." But he could tell by her piercing stare that she didn't buy his statement.


Her arms folded neatly in her lap as she casually crossed her legs. "Gilderoy, this is me you’re talking to. I'm your publicist, but I'm also your friend." He hated how she did that, laying out this pretense that she cared when she was just being nosey. "I can deal with the truth. I just need to know what I'm dealing with so I know how to respond if this goes to press."


He let out a deep sigh, seeing that she wasn't going to drop the issue. "She's just a friend."


"Who's married? That's what the article says." He was surprised to hear that and quickly brushed over the article again. There were a lot of things that it had said. A lot of sordid details that weren't quite true. There wasn't a whole lot that he remembered about the conversation. How he was able to say so much shocked the hell out of him. But there were some facts within the article that he couldn't deny.

The fact that he deeply loved Molly was very evident in the story.

He felt a bit embarrassed as he looked at Miss Vandercamp, who kept her inquisitive eye on her client. "Gil," he hated when she called him that, "we are days away before your latest book hits the shelves. This type of negative publicity can hurt your image as well as your sales -"

"Damn my image!" he yelled, slamming the paper onto the table. She looked rather surprised to see him so emotional. "I love this woman! This much is true in the article. So my image means nothing without her!"

After a few awkward moments of silence, Miss Vandercamp cleared her voice to speak. "Then consider this: Do you care enough about her image? Cause she will be dragged through the mud if this gets leaked out."


******


Later that day, he wandered the streets of Diagon Alley wondering what his next move should be. Miss Vandercamp said that she would try and deal with the situation as best as she could at the editors. But she couldn't say for certain if the article could be kept at bay without giving enough incentive to her contact to ditch the story. He could only hope that he gave her enough gold to have the whole thing squashed.

Yet he knew he had to get a hold of Molly to prepare her for the worst. If words got out to the public, then she would be submerged in media attention for being his love interest.

Her silence flustered him. Every owl he's sent got returned to him unopened. The Floo to her house was blocked. Even the Muggle mailing system had trouble delivering post to her address. He didn't know what else to do and he was so desperate to reach her since it was getting so close to press time.

"Excuse me," Lockhart said as he wandered aimlessly into another man's shoulder. As he looked to the man, he was greeted with by the uncomfortable feeling of familiarity as he recognized whom he ran into.

Arthur Weasley had been shopping with his young children, Ron and Ginny. "Gilderoy Lockhart. I recognize you from the pictures.... in my wife's magazines." As cordial as he sounded, Lockhart could hear the strain in his voice as he fought to stay polite in front of the children. The kids ran off to look at a near by display, leaving the two men to alone.

"It's good to meet you," Lockhart managed to say rather oddly, hoping he could avoid a fight. "She's told me many good things about you when she came to work for me."

Arthur nodded with a halfhearted grin. "Really?" he said sarcastically, but he was careful not to raise his voice any louder then between them. "Did she say how much she loves her family, her sons?"

"Of course, very much so," Lockhart smiled as he kept up the friendly appearance.

"And did she mention me... her husband?" Arthur eyes bore into him as his tone remained light but in control.

"Of course she-."

"And yet you still persisted." Lockhart tried to interrupt but Arthur beat him to the punch. "Don't play coy with me, Sir. I'm well aware of my wife's good looks. You're not the first nor would you be the last man who has ever fancied my wife."

True, but I seem to be the one who's made an impression on her." As soon as he said those words, he began to regret them. But Arthur didn't respond, even though he was within his marital rights to beat him down within an inch of his life. Arthur silent, deadly stare was threatening enough.

He collected his children from the window display and walked away, leaving Lockhart quaking in his shoes.

******

After immobilizing the garden gnome in her yard, Lockhart waited patiently outside her home to seize a moment alone with Molly. When Arthur went to work, he moved in quietly, trying to get her attention. He didn't have to wait long, since Molly made her way outside to hang the family laundry.

"Molly?" he whispered to her.

She turned to him slowly, looking frighten as if she had seen her own Bogart. "Mr. Lockhart? What are you doing here?"

"I had no choice but to come. You wouldn't respond to any of my letters that I've sent!" he pleaded with her as she quickened her pace to go back inside her house.

"But I'm home now, Mr. Lock-!"

"Please, don't call me that! You and I both know that we've come to far to go back to such formalities." He was able to grab hold of her arm and spin her around to face him. "Please listen to me." He kept her still long enough to explain about the impending article that might be released.

He could see from her expression that she was less than pleased to be put out on display for others to read about. He showed her the paper clipping and then stood back to wait for her tirade.

"You said all these things?" she said in disbelief as her eyes moved furiously over the page.

"Not everything. The only truth in that article is that I love you...and I'm a horrible, horrid mess without you." He could see her relent at his words by the way she blushed. She tried to move away from him again, but he was able to catch hold of her once more.

He felt alive, holding her in his arms, caressing her soft skin, feeling her so near to him. Her hair gave an intoxicating scent of lavender mingled with household cleaner. He was so taken by the highlights in her mane that he buried his face in her curly red flames, breathing in her exotic aroma like and heart patient on a ventilator. He was afraid he would die if he didn't keep hold of the moment. So in a desperate bid at love, he kissed her passionately, fearing the opportunity would never come again.

She fought against him, keeping a tight lip to his advances. But he was persistent. He swooped her to a more secluded area at the back of the house, by a willow tree, where he continued to shower her with his affections.

His body leaned into hers as her back rested against the tree’s bark. His hand roamed freely along her backside, sampling every soft ample curve of her womanly body. His teeth grazed gently against her neck before it returned to suckle her lips, savoring the sweetness from her mouth.
Molly eventually stopped fighting him as he felt her return his kisses.

His randy fingers removed her kitchen apron, revealing a more flattering pink cotton dress that was laced up at the front. His greedy hands then found their way underneath her dress as he gently caressed her thighs. His fingers slightly touched the smooth satin finish of her undergarment that it found underneath her petticoat. He was more than willing to remove them, but found himself hesitating in that moment.

She had already rejected his love at the special dinner he had planned for her, which left him devastated for days. If she rejected him again, in the position that he’s in, he knew he would be heartbroken forever. Despite having gotten this far with her, Lockhart did not want to become a man who would so boldly take a woman’s affections. And he wasn’t so foolhardy that he would risk his feelings twice.

So with his smoldering lips locked to her, he managed to whisper, “Molly, I want you more than anything. Please, let me show you. Let me prove to you my worth.” His mouth then nestled itself on her neck, trying to coax the right response from her. Soon enough he could feel her answer moaning its way from her throat.

“Yes, Gilderoy. Yes! ”

In an instant his hands removed the satin barrier between them. Lockhart then hoisted Molly to lay her gently on the soft grass beside the tree. He quickly scanned the area to make sure that they were truly alone. Once he was sure, he unsheathed himself and slid within her warmth.

He was gentle and purposely slow as he moved within her, giving her body a chance to adjust to another man loving her. He could see her skin blush beneath his palms with every gentle stroke he gave. He kept his loving eyes on her as he watched the various expressions on her face. He could see her bite down on her lip to hold back the joy that was trying to escape her. But he would bite back at it to relinquish her sounds of passion.

“Molly,” he would whisper over and over again. He loved the way it sounded as he moaned it out her name.

Soon the moment began to over take him as her hips began to move quickly with his. He felt as though he would lose his grip on her as his fingers slip from her sweaty skin. In one sweet lightning flash he found himself exhausted, resting himself comfortably between her bosoms.

He felt like a cherub resting on a cloud high in heaven.

As he felt himself come down to earth, he looked up to Molly’s restful face. "Molly, let's leave this place. If this article gets out, I don't want you to look like some kind of harlot. I'll keep you safe. And we'll have enough money to live anywhere we want."

"But my children?"

"We'll leave them with enough money so that they'll be taken care of." His mind worked furiously as worked his way up to the nape of her neck.

"But the kids... and... and..." She pushed him away, causing him to stop before he could go any further. He could tell from the concerned look on her face that it wasn't just her motherly instincts kicking in.

"Molly, I love you. And I know you feel something for me too. Do you think it would be fair for Arthur for you to have these feelings for me?"

She stumbled to her feet as she held herself against the willow tree, keeping some distance between them. "He's my husband! We have vows! I just can't... I can't just leave him like this!"

He was exasperated. He didn't know what else he could say. All he knew was how strongly he felt for her. She tried to walk away from him once more, but he got in her path and held her tightly against him.

She moved her head from side to side to try to avoid his passionate advances. But it was no use. He was able to plant his lips directly on hers, infusing them with all he was feeling from within his heart.

He could feel Molly tremble then fall limp in his arms. He continued to hold her tightly as he whispered, breathlessly in her ear, "I love you, Molly. I don't think I can love this way again. So, please don't make me leave without you."

******


He looked over his luggage to see if he had forgotten anything. But he suddenly realized that he had what he needed with Molly by his side. Lockhart prepared the finishing touches to his letter to his publicist letting her know what he has done.

"That should do it." He licked the envelope and attached it to his owl. "Make sure she gets it in the morning," he told the bird before sending it off.

He never felt so complete in all his life. He and Molly would run off and live out their happy days together. He had hoped to get a start on their brand new life now, but she insisted on taking care of some last minute things before they jetted off into their happily ever after. She felt it was the least she could do before she left her husband and children behind.

As he gave his baggage the once over again, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He couldn't help but to admire his features, especially when he looked so happy.

Prince charming has finally found his princess, he thought as he straightened his hair and flashed his pearly white teeth. Just as he was staring at his reflection, a ruddy old owl fell through his fireplace.

"What the devil?" He went to the bird and saw that there was a blank piece of paper attached to its leg. "Well, it looks like you're lost and your owner seems to be a bit forgetful sending you on a fool's run with no post attached to you." He put the bird in his owl's cage, then proceeded to the kitchen to throw out the parchment. But as he looked at the paper, his eye caught sight of something moving on the page.

Black ink swirled out from the center and started to form words at the heading.

"Gilderoy? Is that you?" From the feminine style handwriting, he guessed that it was Molly.
He picked up a nearby quill at his desk and wrote back, "My love, is that you?"
"Yes. I'm sorry to do this to you this way. I tried to explain before, but you were so... persistent. "
His heart reached an all-new low as he watched the words unfold in front of his eyes.

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