Gilderoy Lockhart and the Holy Grail

Some time later Gilderoy became aware of something warm and damp being rubbed against his hand. He opened his eyes to find Harry at his side, obviously scrubbing the dried potion residue from his skin with a moist cloth. Gilderoy was surprised to find that his hands, not to mention his feet, felt almost normal again. He could hardly believe it as he moved his fingers slightly.

Harry paused and chuckled at this before telling him, “Professor Snape certainly know his potions.”

“Indeed he does,” said Gilderoy, feeling a momentary surge of hope that everything, that all his wounds and injuries, even the most serious of them, might be put right again so easily.

Continuing at his work, Harry said, “This shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Then I’m supposed to offer you more left-over stew and some vitamin-fortified pumpkin juice if you think you can stomach it.”

“I think I could,” answered Gilderoy quickly. Despite having eaten only a few hours before, he was found that he was very hungry again and certain that he could eat anything offered to him.

Harry smiled in amusement at Gilderoy’s swift agreement as he moved to wash the residual potion from his feet.

“Then I’ll warm you up an extra large bowl of stew,” he said with a soft chuckle in his voice. “If there’s anything else you wanted...” offered Harry as he scrubbed away the thin, brittle layer of greenish-brown residue.

Hesitating for several long moments before making the request, Gilderoy glanced and said, “I know it’s silly of me, but could I ... could I please have a peek in a mirror?”

“A mirror?” repeated Harry, wiping his hands on his robes as he finished his task. “Are you certain about that?” he asked him anxiously.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Harry moistened his lips, obviously hesitating to answer the question, before moving closer to Gilderoy. “You do look rather terrible right now, but it isn’t anything that won’t go away in time,” Harry informed him with unusual tact for a wizard of his years.

“May I see for myself?”

Gilderoy held his breath as he waited for Harry to answer.

“I’ll see if I can find a small mirror. Tonks might have one, even though she’s not exactly the type to carry a compact,” Harry answered slowly and very thoughtfully. “I’ll ask her on my way down to the kitchen to get your dinner.”

Gilderoy knew that some might consider him vain. In fact, a number of the older and less charitable Healers at St. Mungo’s had informed him of this character trait on multiple occasions. Somehow it had never bothered him before, making him laugh or even blush instead of becoming cross or ashamed. He had been handsome and charming and had known these things about himself, even if he had known little else. Handsome, charming, and famous -- that suited him just fine.

Before, he couldn’t see what was wrong with that. Now that so much had been taken away from him, he found himself feeling differently. Those things weren't as important now. Not as important as the simple things, as being healthy, free, and alive. Of course, Gilderoy still wanted to be thought of as good-looking, and as charming too, but he wasn’t certain that those words could ever be applied to him again, especially the former. He could see how his bones struck out from beneath his skin, which was a sallow and entirely unhealthy color, and he could see all the marks and blemishes left upon him, all of the cuts, bruises, and burns.

Although he was grateful for being alive and free again, he was still very much afraid that he was ugly and would always be so.

When Harry returned some time later, Gilderoy saw that he had a small mirror, turned face down, on his tray as well as that extra large bowl of stew he had promised and a pitcher of what Gilderoy assumed from its cheery orange-yellow color to be pumpkin juice. He shivered with mild trepidation as Harry set the tray in his lap, taking the mirror from it as he did. Gilderoy wasn’t as certain that he wanted to see his own face as he had been before. Harry used his wand to light a couple of the lamps and make the room brighter before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Tonks and I had to take one off the wall and putting a shrinking charm on it, but I imagine it’ll do," said Harry, seating himself on the edge of the bed. “The real question is whether you want eat your supper now or have that look in the mirror first.”

“I had better look before I eat anything. I wouldn’t want to be sick on the linens or anything,” answered Gilderoy rather pragmatically.

“All right then,” said Harry, taking the tray and moving it aside before giving Gilderoy the small looking-glass.

Gilderoy took a deep breath and attempted to steel his nerves before lifting the mirror to have his look. His stomach twisted slightly as he saw his own reflection for the first time in nearly a month.

He could hardly believe what he saw. Sallowed skin with an underlying hint of jaundiced yellow, blood-shot eyes that were surrounded by raccoon-like dark circles, scruffy, sunken cheeks, parched and colorless lips, lines around his eyes and mouth, lines of pain that had not been there before, and smudges of fading purple and yellowish green from newer and older bruises, in addition to the incidental scrapes and lacerations from contact with the stone floor of his cell.

His first impression was that he looked like a badly reanimated corpse. Gilderoy choked back a sob of dismay and horror. Tears trickled from his eyes. Harry slipped the mirror from his trembling hands and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“None of that’s permanent, Gilderoy,” said Harry quietly. “You’ll gain back the weight and get your color back too. Snape could heal the bruises, put some salve on them, if you asked him to do it. The rest will clear up as you rest, recuperate, and heal.”

“But it’s so grotesque,” he whispered.

“Temporary,” said Harry, saying the word very slowly in hopes that it would penetrate. “Just temporary,” he repeated for him, squeezing his shoulder, massaging it gently. “You’ll be back to your old self in a matter of just a few months.”

“Weeks,” corrected a mellifluous voice from the doorway. “Gilderoy is a wizard, after all, and will heal at an accelerated rate. I’m surprised you still think in such Muggle terms, Potter.”

“Weeks?” questioned Gilderoy hopefully, perking up a bit at that.

“With proper care and treatment,” said Snape as he approached the bed, taking up a position at the foot of it with his arms crossed.

“Not so bad, eh?” asked Harry.

“I’ll still look ... like a monster for a while, though, won’t I?” he questioned hesitantly.

“You are hardly a monster,” snorted Severus with a derisive sneer.

“You’re an injured wizard who really should eat his supper before it gets cold,” said Harry in a much lighter tone than his companion used. “Think you can manage it?” he asked as he reached for the tray.

“Maybe a bit of pumpkin juice,” said Gilderoy, grateful for both their different sorts of kindness.

“Coming right up,” said Harry as he placed the tray on his lap again, managing to surreptitiously pocket the looking-glass at the same time.

“How are his hands and feet?” inquired Snape as Gilderoy took a full glass of juice from Harry.

“They seem to be much better. That potion really did the trick,” said Harry as they both watched Gilderoy sip his juice, which made him a bit self-conscious since he now knew exactly what they were looking at....

“Thank you,” said Gilderoy, looking up at Snape as he loomed over the end of the bed. He missed the momentary mirthful glimmer in Harry’s eyes as Snape raised his eyebrows. “For my hands and feet, I mean. For making them feel right and work right again,” he said, feeling slightly foolish and half-sorry that he had chosen to speak. He took another swallow of pumpkin juice to hide that.

“You are quite welcome,” answered Severus, and though his tone was slightly clipped, there was a second depth, a certain peculiar and almost deliberately disguised warmth to it. “If you are curious, I will have a regeneration potion ready for you in about six hours. It’s simmering now at a low heat...”

“Er, professor, I’m sure he doesn’t want to think about all that while he’s eating,” said Harry, pushing the stew closer to him on the tray and looking a bit disturbed.

Snape seemed to considered this and said, “Noted.”

Gilderoy felt his stomach give a mild twist, just a ripple of fearful dread, at the thought of what might be soon to come. Or rather, at what might not be. He flexed his fingers and knew that Severus could work wonders with his potions, but he did not know if the wizard could work miracles. And Gilderoy fancied that after the things that she had done to him, he needed a serious miracle in order to be put right again.

“It’s all right,” he managed to say, staring down at his tray.

“I’m returning to the laboratory. I trust you can manage looking after him, Potter,” said Snape before turning and walking quickly away, back through the door from which he had entered.

“Eat your stew,” urged Harry.

About an hour later, after Harry had cleared away his tray, with the pitcher empty and the bowl scraped clean, Gilderoy realized that he needed to pay a visit to the loo. He could see the half-closed door across the room and thought he could get himself from the bed, there, and back again, except that he knew how much it was going to hurt. He moistened his lips and, though he didn’t realize it, looked at Harry with an imploring expression on his face as the young wizard sat down beside him again.

“I ... need help with something,” he said quietly, trying to phrase his request in the least humiliating way.

“With what?” asked Harry with a patient, yet curious smile as he smoothed the blankets over Gilderoy’s legs.

“I need to pay a visit to the other room,” he mumbled, almost cursing himself as tears came to his eyes.

“Pumpkin juice goes right through you, doesn’t it?” quipped Harry with an impish sort of smile that was supposed to make him more comfortable. Just humor among blokes. Bathroom humor.

“I suppose it must,” Gilderoy replied.

Harry helped him out of bed more because Gilderoy didn’t want to tell him that he didn’t need assistance at that time than because he couldn’t have done without his help. He felt clumsy and awkward, and there were sharp stabs of pain as he moved, as his robe brushed across his batter chest, as the towel around his waist shift and rubbed against him, as he moved muscles that had been largely unused for a long span of time in order to walk. But Harry was there to shoulder some of the burden and ease him along when the pain made him shudder or his uncoordinated feet made him stumble.

“Not bad,” Harry congratulated him as they entered the rather spacious bathroom.

Gilderoy, having been previously preoccupied, had hardly noticed anything more about the room than the bath tub, but it was actually nicely fixed-up with fresh towels and such of a shelf by the tub, a sink with a cupboard above it, and a toilet in the corner, of course. Everything was a muted, mossy shade of green that gave the room a foresty appearance that he found himself liking quite a bit.

“Most of this is Tonks and Professor McGonagall’s doing. They were here while you were sleeping earlier and decided that the bath needed a woman’s touch. I expect they’ll be back to redecorate the bedroom at some point. Snape asked them to leave things alone for now,” Harry told him conversationally as he closed to the door and pointed Gilderoy toward the toilet. There was an undertone of nervousness that he was obviously trying to hide.

“So it didn’t look like this before when I had a bath?” questioned Gilderoy, making small talk as best he could as he tottered over to the corner, bracing himself against the wall as he walked.

“Oh, no, it was quite drab,” answered Harry.

Gilderoy glanced over to find that Harry had his back turned to give him some privacy. How long had it been since he had had even a modicum of that luxury? Sometimes he had felt that he hadn’t even had it in the hospital. But Harry was doing his best to give him that.

He removed his robe and hung it on a peg between the toilet and the sink, just within his reach without letting go of the other wall, which had probably been designed originally to hold a fancy towel or something. Uncinching the towel from around his waist and placing it carefully across the sink, Gilderoy tried not to look at himself as he sat down, his legs being unaccustomed to holding up his own weight as it was. Even after all the potions he had been given, the pain lingered, and behind the discomfort, a certain numbness, a loss of sensation that made him wonder if he would ever be completely well or whole again.

Gilderoy took an inward hissing breath as a slow trickle began. Squeezing his eyes closed, he rested his arms on his thighs and leaned forward slightly. The pain was not more than he could imagine, but it was more than he could easily bear. However, there was nothing for it. He could only grit his teeth together and wait.

“All right?” asked Harry uncertainly.

“Just need a moment,” Gilderoy replied through his clenched teeth.

Even when the pain didn’t immediately stop, he assumed that it would eventually. Until he noticed the blood and realized that he had started bleeding, he didn’t think anything in particular or unexpected was wrong, other than the obvious. But the rust-colored blood told him that something was definitely the matter. Gilderoy took a deep breath and wrenched his eyes from the sight, not knowing what he say to Harry for a moment.

“I seem to be bleeding again,” he said quietly as the pain muted to a dull roar.

Harry whirled around with an expression of worried surprise on his face. “A lot?” he questioned, taking an uncertain step toward Gilderoy.

Gilderoy glanced between his legs and said, “Not a lot. Just some.”

“I’ll get Severus. Will you be all right?” asked Harry quickly.

Just thought of being left alone caused a cold knot to form in the pit of his stomach. He hunched forward even more.

“Never mind. I’ll just signal for him,” said Harry, changing his mind as Gilderoy’s expression turned from one of discomfort and worry to one of abject fear.

Gilderoy shivered as he watched Harry draw his wand, open the door, and with a practiced and polished swish-and-flick motion, send a jet of silvery light into the bedroom and presumably beyond.

“He’s most likely down in the cellar, so it might be a few minutes,” Harry told him, closing the door again. “Does hurt very much?” he inquired with an expression of concern in his eyes.

“I’ve felt worse,” Gilderoy answered him candidly.

“I’m sure you have,” Harry acknowledged. “Look, if you think you’d be more comfortable, I can help you back to bed.”

“The blood might get on the floor and...”

“I’ll worry about that later. It isn’t even a concern,” Harry assured him, reaching for his towel.

“What if moving makes it worse?” Gilderoy didn’t want to acknowledge outloud that he was afraid moving would make the bleeding worse, not to mention the pain. He felt pathetic enough as it was.

“You’re right,” said Harry as he nodded in agreement. “I just wish I could make you more comfortable or do something for you.”

“You didn’t leave me. That’s more ... more than enough,” said Gilderoy quietly.

Before Harry could respond, the door to the bath was flung open, smacking him in the shoulder, extracting a noise of surprise from him and an expression of intense annoyance as Snape burst into the room with his wand drawn.

“What’s happened?” he asked hurriedly.

“He’s bleeding,” announced Harry, rubbing his shoulder and moving out of Snape’s way even as he glared at him.

Looking at Gilderoy, Severus seemed to relax just slightly, as though he had been expecting much worse.

“From where?” he asked as he put his wand away.

“Down there,” answered Gilderoy as he looked down at the floor in embarrassment. Unlike Harry, Snape didn’t mince words, and that made Gilderoy more acutely aware of his condition, of his helplessness and of his mortification.

“I think he means his cock,” supplied Harry in an effort to spare the other wizard embarrassment.

“That’s right,” said Gilderoy, leaning forward a bit so that his long hair half-hid his face as Snape loomed over him.

“I’ll need to examine you, so that I can stop the bleeding,” said Snape, bending down and attempting to move his arms out of the way.

“Professor, can’t you see you’re frightening him?” asked Harry in a very forceful tone.

“I would rather think it’s the bleeding that’s doing that,” Severus retorted, glancing over his shoulder at Harry. Turning back to Gilderoy, he asked, “Allow me to cast a Sanitizing Spell. Then I want you to try and stand up. Is that acceptable?”

Gilderoy swallowed and said, “Yes, but I’m not sure if I’ll be as steady on my feet as I ought to be.”

“I’ll help you. Now move your arms aside,” instructed Snape with a hidden layer of warmth underneath the crispness in his voice.

Gilderoy did as he asked, but braced himself as Severus cast the spell. Other than a slight breeze, as likely from the movement of his wand as the spell itself, he didn’t feel anything.

“Lean over my shoulder, if you need to, and keep your legs a bit apart,” he told Gilderoy as he hoisted him up with a hand underneath each arm.

As Gilderoy expected, he wasn’t as steady on his feet as before, but using Snape for balance, he managed to do what was requested of him. He closed his eyes as an acute spasm of pain rippled upward through his body. Snape’s hands were gentle, but even the smallest touch irritated damaged nerves and torn tissue.

“Well?” asked Harry after a few moments. “How bad is it?”

“Patience,” growled Severus as he continued to probe very cautiously.

The waves of pain made Gilderoy shiver and claw at Snape’s robes with his fingertips, though he tried not to squirm.

“He needs a trained Healer...” Harry began to tell Snape.

“That, he might, but at the moment he isn’t bleeding. It’s just old blood in his system getting out the only way it can. I think it’s safe to say that he’s had a very bad infection of either the kidneys, bladder, or possibly both. I’ll see if I can find a potion to help strengthen those organs,” Snape told him with a barely noticeable edge to his voice. Straightening and taking a more comfortable grip of Gilderoy to steady him, he added, “I know it must feel very uncomfortable nonetheless.”

“I’m ... I’m sorry to have troubled you then,” he said, gasping slightly from the pain, which was much more than mere discomfort.

Snape’s eyes softened for a brief instant and he said, “This can hardly be considered troubling me. Believe me. There are far more annoying and troublesome tasks to which I am forced to attend than making certain that you don’t bleed to death.”

Gilderoy shivered slightly as Harry wrapped the towel back around his waist and then put his robe over his shoulders. Snape helped him with the sleeves before cautiously slipping an arm around him to help him back to bed. Harry went ahead of them to freshen up the linens.

“Severus, did I ... did I by any chance know you? Before the accident and the hospital, I mean?” he questioned as Snape very patiently maneuvered him around the sink and toward the open door. The question had been on his mind for some hours, but he had been too afraid or given too many potions to give voice to it.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re both taking such good care of me,” he said with a sniff as tears came to his eyes, “that ... that I hoped ... that I thought maybe we had been friends or something once. Harry seems awfully familiar at times, and you ... you do too, but in a different way.”

“We were ... something like colleagues once. You were also one of Potter’s teachers,” answered Snape.

“Before I lost my memories?” asked Gilderoy a bit stupidly.

Snape gave him a bit of a look because of this and said, “That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?”

“What are you two going on about now?” asked Harry as they dawdled near the doorway.

“Nothing of any consequence,” answered Severus before Lockhart could say anything.

Gilderoy furrowed his brow slightly and continued to shuffle along toward the bed with Snape’s help. Nothing of consequence? They had both known him in his other life, and that was nothing of any consequence to Snape? Then he remembered that Snape had said he was a git. Well, Gilderoy had been told that by some of the older, mostly male, members of St. Mungo’s staff before, and it didn’t really bother him too much. Most of them, he had believed, had been jealous of his fame or good looks or merely joking with him. But knowing that Snape had known him and consider him a git and thought that knowing him had been of no consequence ... all of that put together was quite a blow.

“What’s the matter?” asked Harry as he helped Snape get him back into bed.

“Nothing,” he answered softly.

“If I am no longer needed here, I must return to my laboratory,” said Snape, watching for a moment as Harry tucked Gilderoy in and helped to make him comfortable.

“Of course,” Harry agreed with a serious expression in his eyes. “You’ve still several more hours of brewing before that potion is ready, haven’t you?”

“Potions,” Snape corrected, nodding nevertheless before he turned and strode purposefully from the bedroom.

“Did he upset you?” asked Harry, closing the bedroom door with his wand after the sound of Snape’s footsteps had ceased to echo in the hall.

“Er... not really,” Gilderoy answered uncomfortably as Harry leaned against the bed and looked down at him. He averted his own gaze with some effort. “He said that you had both known me before,” he admitted in a scarcely audible voice.

“What’s so bad about that?” asked Harry. Not wanting to confess to eavesdropping, Gilderoy just shook his head. “You’re not afraid that we’re still holding grudges about the things you did, are you?” he probed, gently combing and smoothing Gilderoy hair with his fingers. “Because that was a long time ago. A lot of things have happened since then. And besides, I don’t think Snape really cared that you were a fraud. He would have hated you no matter what.”

“I was a fraud?” asked Gilderoy with a slight squeak as he turned his head and looked at Harry with a confused and wounded expression in his eyes.

“I ... well, I supposed you’d been told about everything,” stammered Harry, removing his hand and regarding Gilderoy with almost equal confusion.

“The people at the hospital never told me much of anything about my other life. Except that I was famous ... I had my memories Obliviated in an accident ... and I had to stay at the hospital for my own good, even though ... even though I didn’t want to. Even though I only wanted to go home. I didn’t ... I don’t know where home is, but I just wanted out...” said Gilderoy, breaking down into tears as he spoke.

“I think I can understand that. Do you remember me visiting you two years ago?” asked Harry, seeking a way to make it better as he sat down next to Gilderoy.

Gilderoy furrowed his brow and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He was trembling as pent-up emotions came to the surface. He had a terrible memory. Ever since the accident, he supposed, though he imagined he had never had a very good one. He was forever forgetting things, which was one of the Healers’ many excuses for why he couldn’t be let out of the hospital. Did he remember Harry visiting him?

“I was with a boy with red hair and a girl...”

“With wide brown eyes and hair as bushy as the mane of a lion?” said Gilderoy as images of teenagers coming to his room surfaced in his mind. He had prattled on at them, so very glad to have the company, to see new faces, to talk to people, even children, who would pay attention to him.

“That’s right,” said Harry with a chuckle, stroking his curly golden hair as tears spilled over his cheeks.

“You were all awfully kind to me,” he said, sniffing again. “I wanted to leave so badly... I tried to sneak out a few times. They always caught me and took me back to my room. Said it was the best thing for me.”

“It was,” Harry assured him.

“But why?”

“You were safe there and had people looking after you.”

“But I wasn’t safe,” Gilderoy reminded him. “I don’t even know why I wasn’t or what anyone would have wanted with a once-famous ... lunatic with a bad memory, but even if they wanted me to be safe there, I wasn’t.”

“Gilderoy...”

“I’m so confused, Harry. I don’t know anything about anything, and I wish did, so that I could understand everything, but...”

“But?” Harry prompted patiently.

“I don’t think I ever will. I’ll probably live the rest of my life in this fog. Not knowing anything about stupid, simple things. Not even about myself. I don’t think the fog would be so bad, if ... if I just knew whether the rest of my life was going to be like what I’ve ... what’s just happened ... like all of that torture and awfulness, Harry. Even if I knew my past, and I wish I did have my memories, so that I could figure out why everything’s happening the way it, I’m not certain that it would answer my questions about the future and whether it’s going to be full of pain...”

Harry listened without interrupting him as he babbled, and Gilderoy knew that he was largely rambling, not saying anything important or consequential -- perhaps Snape had been right about him in the respect. The young wizard simply sat beside him with a pensive, but sympathetic expression in his green eyes and stroked his hair as though he were the youngster and Harry were old enough to be his father or something like that. He was glad to get all of that off his chest, no matter how inane it must have seemed to Harry.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry very simply and honestly. “I can’t promise you’ll never hurt again. I can’t promise you that everything will be all right. I can’t give you your memories back or let you see the future. I can’t even promise to keep you safe right now, although I’ll do everything in my power to see that you are kept safe.”

“Thank you,” whispered Gilderoy, grateful even for that, even for nothing more than the calming effect Harry’s gentle touch was having on him, even just for not being alone and having someone to listen to him.

“I know people with a lot of influence. And, well, I suppose that I have some myself now, though I’m not certain how much. I’ll try and find a way to keep you from going back to the hospital. If you’re sure that’s what you really want.”

“You would do that for me?”

“I would try,” said Harry.

“But why?” asked Gilderoy, nearly overwhelmed with gratitude, but not understanding why on earth anyone would offer to go to such lengths for him. Especially now.

Harry sucked his lower lip for a moment, framing his thoughts before he spoke. “Because it’s what I want to do, Gilderoy. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” he echoed.

“Are you still hurting or do you think you could sleep for a bit?” asked Harry, ending their conversation and smoothing Gilderoy’s hair one last time.

“I’m sure I could sleep. I feel horribly worn out,” he answered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before letting Harry tuck him in again. “You’re awfully young to be so kind,” Gilderoy murmured as he very carefully snuggled into the blankets.

“Got it all from Snape,” said Harry, cracking a smile, though Gilderoy glimpsed, or thought he glimpsed, an momentary expression of pain or sadness in Harry’s eyes.

Gilderoy chuckled and said, “Oh, of course, I’m certain that’s where.”

Harry left the bed, stretching as he did so, and said, “Good night then.”

Nearly as acute as any pain, Gilderoy felt a stab of panic as Harry stepped away from the bed in the direction of the door. He was going to leave him?

“Don’t go,” said Gilderoy.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. You can call out if you need anything. My bedroom is right across the hall from this one and...”

“Please, Harry,” he started to beg, “I’ll do anything you ask, just don’t leave me alone. They’ll come back for me. I know it. Please don’t go, Harry. Just tell me what to say or do, and I’ll do it. I promise.”

“Gilderoy, don’t,” he said quietly, walking back over and kneeling by the bed to be close to eye level with him. “None of that’s necessary.” Gilderoy sniffed and a tear rolled down his nose as he looked at Harry. “Ssshhhh... no more of that either, all right?” he said in a very low, comforting tone.

“I’m sorry. Just got scared...” he managed.

“There isn’t anything wrong with being afraid. How about if I stay until you fall asleep then?” asked Harry.

“All right.”

---