There are few things more unnerving in life than being stared at by Aurora Sinistra for half an hour straight.
And yet, there she was, sitting among the last stragglers in the Great Hall after the dueling demonstrations, her eyes fixed on me with the unblinking intensity of an astronomer observing a dying star.
Escape, as it turned out, was impossible.
"Well," I began with a smile I hoped was disarming, "it seems we have… business to discuss, my dear Aurora. Perhaps in my office? It's, ah, considerably closer than the Astronomy Tower."
Her expression didn't change. "That will do."
She followed me out without a word. The way she moved, silent and steady, gave the distinct impression I was being escorted to my own execution. Students passing us in the corridor wisely flattened themselves against the walls. Even Peeves retreated after one glance at her face.
Once inside my office, I gestured gallantly toward a chair. "Please, make yourself comfortable! Tea?"
"No, thank you," she said coolly, settling in. I poured on the charm anyway. "Don't mind if I do."
Then, clapping my hands, I called, "Pipi!"
The little house-elf appeared with a pop, beaming. "Yes, Master Lockhart, sir!"
"Tea, Pipi. Strong. And be generous with the sugar, if you please."
As the elf vanished again, I sank behind my desk and began fiddling with quills, books, and the general state of my nerves. When the tea arrived, I stirred in sugar cubes. One, two… ten… perhaps twenty. I lost count somewhere around fifteen.
Aurora sat perfectly still, watching me with that placid expression that somehow made me more nervous than a Howler from my publisher.
I sipped the tea and promptly burned my tongue. She waited until I was midway through another awkward gulp before saying, in her calm, even tone,
"I know about your relationship with Rosmerta."
I choked.
Hot tea shot up my nose, and I coughed violently, spluttering over the desk. "You, you what? I swear it's not what you think!"
She raised a hand. "Don't bother lying, Gilderoy. I'm not angry."
I blinked, mouth half open. "You're… not?"
"No," she said simply.
I stared at her. She wasn't reaching for her wand. She wasn't hexing me. This was highly irregular. "I see," I managed, dabbing my chin with a napkin. "That's… unexpected."
Her eyes softened slightly. "I've been corresponding with Rosmerta for nearly two months now. We've become friends."
That did not help my nerves.
"She never told me about your… situation," Aurora continued, "but she didn't have to. The way she spoke of you when I asked, the fondness in her tone, the way her eyes softened, it was too obvious."
I swallowed hard, searching for something, anything to say. "You… aren't mad?"
"Oh, I'm mad, all right," she said, her tone sharpening just slightly. "But not for the reason you think."
I froze. "Ah."
"I'm angry because you hurt her feelings. The past two weeks she's been miserable. She tries to hide it, but the sadness in her eyes… well, even you might have noticed, had you been looking."
I opened my mouth, but she silenced me with a glance.
"I'll admit," she went on, "I tricked her. I told her I already knew about you two, even though I didn't have proof. She confirmed it herself. She said you'd ended it for my sake."
That, at least, brought a sliver of relief. I exhaled slowly. "Ah. Yes, well, noble sacrifices are something of a specialty of mine."
Aurora ignored the remark. "Did I ever tell you that I have two mothers?"
That was not the direction I expected this conversation to go. "I, pardon?"
"My father had two wives," she said calmly. "His second wife, my mother, got along with his first splendidly. They raised me and my brother together. It isn't unheard of among the old magical families. But you won't hear it discussed outside certain circles."
I blinked, unsure whether this was an anecdote or a trap. "Fascinating," I said carefully. "So… multiple marriages are, ah, accepted in some circles?"
She inclined her head. "Among influential houses, yes. Politics often dictates it. In Lucius Malfoy's case, for instance, he married into the Black family, one of the oldest in Britain. Taking another wife would have been an insult. Now, with the Blacks gone in all but name, he could take another, though from what I know, Narcissa would probably murder him before he finished the proposal."
I couldn't help but chuckle nervously. "Yes, quite the deterrent."
"Do you see now," Aurora said softly, "why I don't mind your… other attachment? What matters is honesty and respect. If you truly wanted to marry both of us, it wouldn't be impossible."
I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
She smiled faintly. "You'd need to start your own magical house. Not simple, of course. You'd need a seat in the Wizengamot, and the only way someone like you could get one is by earning a First Class Order of Merlin."
"I, wait, are you…?"
"Then," she continued, overriding me smoothly, "you'd need the support of three magical houses with seats in the Wizengamot, or the sponsorship of one ancient house with multiple seats."
She stood then, her robes whispering softly. "So you'd best start working on that Order of Merlin, Gilderoy. I won't wait forever."
And with that, she left, calm, composed, not even looking back.
I sat there, dumbfounded, staring at the door long after it closed.
"…Did I just get proposed to," I muttered, "or assigned a political career path?"
Pipi popped in beside me with another cup of tea. "Master Lockhart want more sugar, sir?"
I slumped back in my chair. "Yes, Pipi. Make it thirty this time."
…
Later That Night.
I leaned back in my office chair, the last of my fan mail fluttering into neat piles on the desk. Normally, this was the highlight of my evenings, rereading letters full of adoration, devotion, and (occasionally questionable) marriage proposals. But tonight, even the most flattering compliments about my "dazzling blue eyes" and "golden curls" couldn't lift my spirits.
Because all I could think about was Aurora Sinistra. Merlin help me. The woman is terrifying.
I let out a long sigh and rubbed my temples. The memory of our little "conversation" replayed itself in painful detail. The calm tone, the polite smile, the way she disarmed me with words sharper than any hex. And that parting line, "start working on that Order of Merlin."
I still don't know if that was a proposal or a death sentence.
Honestly, I don't know what unsettled me more, that she'd found out about Rosmerta without either of us saying a word, or that she didn't seem angry in the way I expected. No shouting, no tears, no hexes. Just that quiet, knowing look and the kind of composure that made me feel like I was back in school and hadn't done my homework.
I dropped my quill and groaned. "Women are dangerous," I muttered. "Absolutely lethal. And infuriatingly fascinating."
And then, oh, Merlin forgive me, my mind wandered to the part where she said it wasn't unheard of for wizards to have more than one wife.
I couldn't help it; a grin tugged at my lips. "Two wives…" I murmured. "Rosmerta and Aurora. Fire and ice. Tavern warmth and starlit elegance." I leaned back, imagining it. "That would be… quite the education."
Then I chuckled and shook my head. "And probably the end of me. One woman's already a full-time occupation. Two might require divine intervention."
But then again, if anyone could manage it, surely it's me. Gilderoy Lockhart. Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. The man who has written more bestselling books than any other wizard, the man who has risen through the ranks by pure charm and wits. Surely handling two women couldn't be harder than subduing a pack of Cornish pixies.
…Could it?
I sighed again and ran a hand through my hair. "Focus, Gilderoy," I told myself. "The Order of Merlin first. Wives later."
The whole thing sounded terribly bureaucratic; Wizengamot seats, family endorsements, political nonsense. Ugh. I've always preferred heroic deeds to paperwork. But then a thought slithered into my mind, smooth and perfect: the Basilisk.
That little matter lurking in the school's shadows, deadly, mysterious, headline-worthy. If I played this right, if I was seen doing something about it, well… I could already picture the Prophet's front page: "Professor Lockhart Saves Hogwarts!" That would certainly get me noticed by the Order of Merlin committee.
I smiled at the thought, feeling a rush of energy return. "Yes… the Basilisk. A touch of danger, a pinch of glamour, and a generous helping of Lockhart charm. That'll do it."
Then, of course, came the question of influence, I'd need support from the great wizarding families. But as luck (or genius) would have it, I had access to their heirs every day. Malfoy, Bones, Longbottom… all under my tutelage. A bit of charm here, a flattering remark there, and I could have their parents eating out of my perfectly manicured hand by year's end.
I caught my reflection in the glass frame beside me, smirked, and raised my teacup in salute.
"To Gilderoy Lockhart," I said aloud, "future Order of Merlin, First Class recipient, savior of Hogwarts, and possibly the most exhausted husband in British history."
I took a sip, grimaced, it was cold, and set the cup down with a laugh.
Honestly, it's absurd, all of it. Basilisks, politics, women who might be proposing marriage through threats, but that's life when you're Gilderoy Lockhart.
The world is full of monsters and magnificent women. And me? I fully intend to make both my legacy.
…