Holding a Torch For Gilderoy Lockhart

Friday went well, and Miriam woke in her bed with a muscular, good-looking man beside her for the first time in ages. "Told you to wear the black dress," the mirror whispered as she walked passed to use the washroom.

Oscar insisted on taking her out for breakfast, and just as in the night before with dinner, he took her to a comfortable and tasteful Muggle restaurant. Mid of the range prices and good servers and excellent food. They argued about Quidditch, Miriam being a devoted Pride of Portree fan.

"No no no!" she laughed. "I'm telling you, Tutshill doesn't have a chance against the spawn of Catriona McCormack! No offense, you being a Chaser and all, but Meghan McCormack is going to crush you!"

"Is that so?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes," Miriam said with finality. "Sorry. You just can't beat those Quidditch genes."

"I agree. My father, uncles and grandfather all played professionally," Oscar said with another grin.

"But not your mother?"

"Never mind..."

By the time they'd finished breakfast and said good-bye, they had another date the next week.

"You disgust me with your happiness," Dearborn said on Monday. "I'll have you know I had a crush on Oscar back in first year. You didn't even know he existed."

"I vaguely remember him almost killing our entire Potions class in third-year. Do you mind terribly?" Miriam asked, a little worried.

"What? About that straight boy? Pah. I've fallen in love."

"With who?"

"Gilderoy, of course," Dearborn said, nodded towards the man who happened to be playing with his own nipples. "Look at that: he's beautiful, curious, and won't remember in the morning. What more could I want?"

"Gilderoy?"

Dearborn smiled. "He finally noticed I'm pretty, too."

"He thinks your pretty? Is this a new symptom to you think? Is he slipping into delusions? Is he maybe going blind?"

"If you're going to abuse me, to insult the love of my life, I'll be taking a break."

"Cow!"

*

With March came the start of the professional Quidditch season. Miriam dragged Pippa and Dearborn to the opening game of the Tornadoes against the Wimbourne Wasps. Oscar led the team to a resounding 600-260 victory, scoring twenty-seven times.

"I'm so jealous," Pippa said.

"Me too. It's just wrong," added Dearborn.

"Things not working out with Gilderoy?" Miriam teased.

"Let's never speak of that again, shall we?"

That night, Oscar took her to a Muggle cinema, where they watched what Miriam heard one man whinge was "a chick flick." Oscar seemed bored out of his mind, but happy to hold Miriam's hand while she sighed after the leading man.

"Fancy a drink at the Three Broomsticks?" Oscar asked as they left the cinema.

"Uh?" Miriam grunted, transfixed as she was by the poster for the movie they'd just watched. "Oh. His name is Brad Pitt."

"Grand," Oscar growled. "Drink? Three Broomsticks? Then, my place?" he finished with a wink.

"Grand," Miriam echoed leading him into the now dark alley they had Apparated to. Before he could Apparate, though, she pushed him up against the brick wall and kissed him hard. "Just trying that out with a fully-grown man," she said happily.

"Done it with a few midgets, have you?" Oscar said.

"Something like that," Miriam said, covering her slip with a laugh and a 'pop'. Grateful for a few moments reprise to collect her errant thoughts- she had been thinking about Sirius- Miriam took a deep breath of the spring evening air and waited for Oscar. "Hey, funny thought," Miriam said when Oscar Apparated to her.

"What's that?"

"Let's skip the pub."