The past few months had been a haze; people had filtered in and out of his room with recognisable smiles, but the memory of their faces was a blur. He couldn't even remember how he had gotten to be in the white washed room. Any form of mirror had been avoided, so the man didn't even know what he looked like. With a large amount of effort he turned over, focusing on the rectangular photo frame which was on the bed-sit beside him. It had a moving picture of a young man, handsome, riding some kind of broom like in a fairytale who was clad in royal blue robes which were decorated by a proud raven. Written in the corner was "I brought this to help you remember LM", and even with that the picture made no sense. He wondered for a moment if that could have been him: but how could someone so proud end up in a place so terrible - and so he had assumed that the man photographed was this allusive 'LM'.
He was forced out of his momentary lapse and pushed back into the real world. The woman who had spoken his name was a young nurse, with sleek black hair. She was beautiful, he had told her this, but she had only ever responded with a bashful smile. "That man left you a new pen and fresh piece of parchment." Her voice was so kind, and as she placed the items on a tray in front of him he couldn't help but grin. 'LM' the man strikes again. Time and time again Gilderoy had asked that she describe what the man looked like, but she simply retorted with "He'd prefer to remain anonymous". Anonymous. Anyone who had meant anything to him at some point was 'anonymous' right now. Within 2 months he'd had 5 women as well as one plucky male try to convince him they were his significant other: along with 18 daughters, 4 sons and a long lost aunty. He sighed and picked up the quill, dabbing it into the ink and robotically writing his name out in elaborately joined up handwriting. He didn't really remember how to write anything else, he also didn't have the foggiest why his name had been so eagerly perfected. There was a feint memory of people asking him to sign things. As if he was some man of importance or power.
"Marlene, I don't want to be here anymore." There was a trace of desperation in his voice; despite how weak he felt, Gilderoy knew that staying cooped up in these four walls wasn't helping. "And I want to meet him. LM."
There was an awkward pause where Marlene pondered over the possibilities, but to his dismay she shook her head. A few black strands fell loose of the tight bun she had pulled them into, which framed her face and illuminated her crystal blue eyes. She also seemed familiar, like he knew her mother, or someone very close to her. He stared at her few a few moments longer before dipping the quill back into the ink and placing it onto the parchment, allowing his hand to trace out other words. Each one as elegantly written as the last, every line a fluid movement. Effortless. Though after a sentence he had to put the quill down, the nurse had left, and much to his annoyance he had forgotten how to spell the world 'please'.
Feint screaming could be heard down the halls, along with some loud thumping. He was used to it. Gilderoy was in a safe ward, as he was not a danger. Over the months Marlene had taught him about magic, though had never enlightened him to the fact he was a wizard himself. That's why he presumed he was in this ward: he was a 'muggle', caught up in some crazy wizard affair. Put further down the ward were the dangerous patients; wizards and witches with no grasp on their powers, who didn't appreciate that the staff members were only trying to help. His eye lids fell heavy, but he wasn't allowed to sleep.
Another nurse had entered. He had long golden locks and piercing steel coloured eyes, which always regarded him with some sorrow. Pity. This nurse had only been caring for him for the past month; he had only ever attended to Gilderoy alone and had never actually spoken his name. The long list of enigma's continued. First LM. Then the nurse. "How are you feeling?" The words were phrased politely, his tone and posture all pointed towards someone with extreme etiquette extreme wealth. Lockhart weakly pushed himself up, causing the ink well on his lap to fall and spill onto the floor, he muttered a profanity before returning his gaze to the blonde attendant.
"I'm fine. I just want to know who I am. Who you are."
Gilderoy sighed, leaning back and brushing his hands through his hair. "It's lonely when you can scarcely remember your name." This much was true. After all, no parents had come to claim him. No woman with proof of marriage...No friends. This was why he could not have been that energetic man within the photo frame that man would have friends, Gilderoy was completely alone, a loser which no one would dare to claim. He could feel his eyes gloss over, and much to his surprise the attendant had quickly swooped in to dry any threatening tears and offer a warm hug. Lockhart felt himself sink into the familiar warmth, "My only friend doesn't even care for me enough to show his face. LM. It's a sick joke."
At that the nurse pulled away and looked into his eyes. Gilderoy almost felt guilty, it seemed as if he had hurt the man's feelings (although on the surface he was as cool-faced as usual, his eyes were the true mirror of his thoughts). "Maybe he is just scared?" The male found himself laughing at the nurses suggestion.
"Scared? Scared I won't remember him?!"
At that the nurse nodded, adjusting himself slightly on the bed to prevent him from slipping. They'd never carried the conversation on for this long before, and so Gilderoy was beginning to find not knowing his name a real pain. "A real friend wouldn't be scared. He doesn't know what it's like to have everyone sniggering behind your back, without you being able to even fight back because you can't remember why they are doing it in the first place. He hasn't got a long line of people lining up to see him all full of expectations, when all you can do is write your name and mutter some profound apology. It's horrible. It's scary, it's lonely and it's horrible!" He tried to push the nurse away from him, but his arms felt too weak to do anything significant.
With his arms in the air the nurse took advantage of him, grabbing both of his wrists and pushing them into the headrest of the bed. Within seconds their lips had collided. Gilderoy was shocked, but it felt almost natural to kiss back, and brought awash feelings of nostalgia. Memories of school. Memories of this nurse, of his friends back then. The kiss ended much too soon, and before Lockhart could object the man had stood up and left the room. Curious fingers lifted up to his lips, tracing the now moist surfaces, all the while his brain trying to sort through all of the flashes of images which had pounded into his mind during that moment. "You still don't get it. Do you?" He looked up at Marlene, who had entered the room with her wand held lightly within her hands. Her fingers were toying nervously with the tip and a light rose blush teased at her cheeks.
"Thats him. LM. Lucius Malfoy. Your lover."