#fall's microfics

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Anyways, would anyone be interested in reading it? Should I post it?

Many people were lost to the First Wizarding War with Voldemort, but Gilderoy didn't care about them, no. Peter Pettigrew didn't deserve to die. Gilderoy didn't deserve to lose him. He never had him in the first place. If only he had had more time. He just didn't have the guts to Ruin The Friendship.

or Gilderoy Lockhart visits Peter Pettigrew's grave to get some stuff off his chest.

I've reposted the microfic on my account again!! PLEASE check it out, for the sake of this stupid, heartbroken author🥲🥲

With love,

Part 1 of Marauders X Life of a showgirl songs. Gilderat--Gilderoy Lockhart POV-- word count 766

It feels weird  was the only thing I could think of as I stepped onto the graveyard. The rain was pouring down on the concrete path that navigates through the graveyard. I should’ve worn something appropriate, like at least a jacket, but I came as soon as I could, which was, apparently, not soon enough to change the fate.

His grave was easy to find, surrounded by a crowd of things, just like he used to be. Behind all of the half dying flowers and rain soaked cards, stood his name, in bold gold letters on the white marble :-

Peter Pettigrew

A loving son, loyal friend, Brave soul

“Mischief Managed”

I pushed away the cards and flowers a little and sat down in front of the grave. He hated the colour white I wanted to shout. But there was no point. There was not a soul dallying nearby. He cannot hear me, not that he would want to—He hasn't wanted to since the 6th year of Hogwarts. The rain was blinding me, I could barely make out the words on the stone, so I quickly mumbled the impervious charm and silence ensued in the graveyard. With the absence of rain, a heavily drenched red card caught my eye. I picked it up and turned it around to read the words “How terrible is it to love something that death can touch”. 

The words struck me down like lightning bolts, making my body wholly aware of the cold fog that had formed in the abrupt absence of rain. Shivers took over me but it was not just the cold air sticking to my wet clothes that caused it, it was the sharp load of grief. Suddenly I was hit with the realization—I would never get to see his soft blue eyes, hear his laugh or touch his sandy blonde hair. How could I ever accept this when I could still see him when I close my eyes?

Peter was trying to squint through the key hole of this random cupboard that he decided to hide us in, absent-mindedly muttering something about leaving some map behind, to see whether there were any prefects on the rounds.

“Oh Fuck! There’s someone walking around…Oooh Mrs.Norris is walking around. Yea, we should not risk it.” Peter declared as he turned to look at me.

“If you hadn’t challenged me for a race we wouldn’t be stuck in the dungeons in the middle of the night, breaking curfew.” I said as I glared at him.

“UM First of all this is as much your fault as mine, you accepted the challenge and second of all, we were already breaking curfew by half an hour before we started the race. So stop acting like I’m the problem!.” Peter finished in one breath.

The cupboard was eerily dark, it would’ve been hard to know where Peter was standing if I couldn’t make out his heavy warm breath near me, so I held up my wand and cast Lumos. Peter was, indeed, not standing very far from me, not that he had any choice—the cupboard was very small. The white light from my wand made him squint and then he widened his eyes as if he had just realised something. He immediately pushed me against the wall, making my wand fall down and the cupboard went dark again. 

“Are you trying to get us caught? Idiot!” Peter said, but his words didn’t make it to my brain. I was much too occupied with the fact that we were pressed against each other and I could practically taste his breath. He probably realised their closeness a beat after I did because he went quiet too. Then a thought crossed my mind and before I could take a step forward and act on it impulsively, I felt his hand on me. The warmth of his hand snapped me back from my daze, but I don’t know how long I stood there before I ran straight out of the cupboard, not caring about the prefects or curfews, leaving Peter, and hopefully that horrid impulse behind.

I opened my eyes, disappointed to find his grave instead of his brightly lit face, like that day in the cupboard. Tears started to fall down my cheeks, the warmth spreading throughout my face. I sat there for a minute or maybe an hour, lost in thoughts, past and regret.