Holding a Torch For Gilderoy Lockhart

"Never again, Pips." It was February now and Pippa was trying to convince Miriam of the perfection of her newest candidate.

"It can't have been that bad. He was so pretty!" Pippa said in exasperation. "Since when are pretty men allowed to be boring?"

"I'm going to get a cat."

"No! Cats are the last resort of spinsters. If you buy a cat, soon I'll give up too, and then we'll be sad old women with no man to amuse ourselves with but Dearborn," Pippa said. "Buy a dog."

An involuntary shiver ran down Miriam's spine. "Nope. Had a dog once. Took over the entire bed and had terrible table manners," she quipped. "Snored too, and never stopped sniffing at my crotch." All true.

"You had a dog?" Pippa asked. "When?"

"Back when I was married."

"Really? I don't remember-"

"Healer Horeshound, please return to the Magical Bugs Ward. Healer Horeshound-"

"Coming!" Pippa shouted. The PA system cut out immediately. "See you after work, Miri?"

Returning to her own ward, Miriam toiled the afternoon away trying to elicit a response from Frank Longbottom. Since the summer, when he had begun, briefly, to draw pictures, Miriam had desperately tried to re-engage him in an activity. Anything, really. Too see her former Head Boy, laying on the bed, his mouth moving silently, was worse then ever. Alice at least came round when visitors came; Frank didn't.

"Healer Strout?" a timid voice came from behind her. Turning, Miriam saw one of the Wards Apprentice Healers. "Your shift is over now," the girl continued.

"Thank you, Helen."

"Elenor, Madame Strout," the girl corrected.

"I'm sorry, Elenor. See that Gilderoy doesn't get you up against the wall again, alright?" Miriam said in her motherly voice. "If he does, just put a body-bind on him. If he gets worse, we'll have to send him to a different ward."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ready, Miriam?" Dearborn called. He'd already changed out of his hospital robes and into-

"Dearborn? Are those leather trousers?" Miriam asked, choking back her laughter.

"That's right," he replied, striking a pose. "Linus is on the prowl tonight."

"Thanks for the warning."

"Come on, Miri, play a bit tonight," Dearborn said. "Hey, I know! Get that little dress of yours, and we'll go prey on the Muggles!"

"No!" Miriam said a bit too quick. Dearborn quirked a brow at her, but she didn't want to admit that her 'little dress' made her look like a giant walrus. "Preying on Muggles is out tonight."

"Why?"

"'Cause Pips is coming, of course. You remember what happened last time?"

Dearborn groaned. "That poor man."

"Yeah. So, let's collect her."

Pippa had less success hiding her laughter at Dearborn's trousers. "There is no way I'm being seen at the Cauldron with those," she laughed. "No way! My mother will hear of it, and then my cover- that you're my boyfriend- will be blown."

"Why did you tell your mother that, anyway?" Dearborn asked.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Pippa shrugged. "Anyway, either you change or we go somewhere else."

"Where though?" Miriam asked.

"The Three Broomsticks?" Dearborn suggested. "I've some mates live in Hogsmeade. Wouldn't mind calling them out for a night."

"Sexual mates, or real mates?" Pippa asked.

"Merlin, save me from the vamps," Dearborn moaned as he Apparated away.

"Did he just suggest I'm easy?"

"Actually, from the tone, he seemed to think it an established fact," Miriam replied. "Interested in which sort of mate he meant?"

"Oh yeah," Pippa said, a very vamp-like grin on her face. "Let's go."

As it turned out, Dearborn's mates were straight, and more than happy to spend the night out drinking with an old Ravenclaw friend.

"Wait, wait," Sebastian- whom Pippa seemed to be curled around- said. "You're Linus's boss?"

"Yep. Complete power over his life. He makes me angry, and no more leather trousers for Dearborn," Miriam said with a drunken laugh.

"Hey, that's not so," Dearborn protested, but was drowned out by Pippa's shout to Rosmerta for more drinks.

The night carried on, and Miriam had to admit, by the time she'd finished her eighth or ninth drink, that Dearborn had some pretty fantastic looking mates. Especially this Oscar fellow, with his arm round her shoulders, trying to explain what a Hawkshead Attacking Formation was.

"What do you do again?" she asked.

"He plays Chaser for the Tornadoes," Dearborn answered for him.

"Oh." She sighed. Quidditch players were hot. "Continue."

"Oi!" Pippa roared. "Look, Miri! It's my favourite man in the world!"

"Right now, Oscar is my favourite man in the world," Miriam said, smiling up at the blonde. Is he blushing? Aww...

"It's Snape!"

"Snape?" The entire table groaned.

"No..." Miriam moaned, too drunk to engage in an insult competition with the greasy lout. Indeed, he was making his way over to their table, an ugly smirk on his face.

"Hello, Severus!" Pippa said brightly. She was the only person Miriam had met who could stand the git. Two summers ago, she'd tried to set the two of them up, but Miriam had put her foot down. "How are you?"

"Good, Philippa. And you?" he asked, giving her what possibly passed for a smile.

"Excellent, excellent. Your remember my mates, Dearborn and Miriam?"

Snape sneered. "Hello Dearborn, Black."

"Strout," Miriam bit out. "It's Strout."

"That's right. Slipped my mind," Snape jeered.

"Pips..." Dearborn warned, grasping Miriam's hand before it could reach the wand in her pocket. "Perhaps you could go to the bar, get some drinks?"

Pippa smiled at the table and escorted Snape to the bar.

"Ohh, Dearborn!" Miriam said excitedly. "I have a bet!"

"What?"

"I bet you fifty Galleons and a week of on-call duty that you can't get Snape drunk and naked."

"No bet," Dearborn said in disgust. "That has to be the most revolting thing I've..." he trailed off politely as Pippa returned.

"Severus couldn't stay. He was just picking some wine for a date he's got tomorrow."

"Yuck."

"Be nice."

"Yuck," Miriam said.

"You be nice, too."