Many thanks to Jordi for beta'ing and for the title too :)

Subject: Muggle Music

Task: Write a Western!AU

Additional Prompts: (Object) Guitar, (Phrase) Girl of the Night, (Object) Cowboy Hat
New Year's Resolution: Write 50 One-Shots; One-Shot for every genre

Writing Club: The Old West. Write a Western!AU

Word Count: 2069

Chasing Skeeter

Gilderoy sat under a tree, strumming his guitar lightly as tumbleweed rolled by. The wind whistled quietly in time with his playing whilst the sun began to set. His song was one full of lament for his lost home, money and, worst of all, the woman he had loved who had taken it all from him.

He sighed and placed his guitar down beside him. How had his life gone so wrong? He had gone from being a popular, sought out poet to a has-been in the blink of an eye, upon his half-truths being exposed by his ex.

The sound of hoofs galloping across the hard road into town caught Gilderoy's attention. He glanced up and saw a beautiful young woman. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled—not even the light breeze in the air had blown a hair out of place. She wore what he assumed to be a floor length red dress decorated with white flowers. She was a vision, and Gilderoy was transfixed. He had never seen anyone so beautiful… not even his ex could match her beauty.

Gilderoy reached out for his guitar and began to strum on it once again with the beginnings of a new song, inspired by this vision, when the wind blew a poster towards him. Instinctively, he reached out and picked it up; he was greeted by an image of this gorgeous woman in red, and above her was one word: WANTED! His eyes widened with disbelief when he saw the amount being offered as a reward. Such an amount could get him back on his feet and provide him with a more than comfortable lifestyle.

It would also be the best chance he would get to be seen as a hero once again, and for legitimate reasons too.

~o~o~o~

2 Years Later

Gilderoy gave the people of Godric's Hollow his signature pearly white grin as he rode into town on his magnificent, black haired steed.

He tipped his hat towards one of the many beautiful ladies who were swarming out of the saloon, the shops, and their homes, all to get a look at him—the hero who was renowned for his ongoing feud with the notorious criminal Rita Skeeter.

In the last two years alone, he had successfully captured her in several different towns, but every time she had somehow outsmarted the sheriffs and their officers and managed to escape again. In doing so, she consistently avoided justice.

If his intelligence was correct her current target was the good town of Godric's Hollow, and she was already causing quite a stir there. He would have to do the local sheriff and officers' jobs for them again and capture her, and it wouldn't come as a surprise if she escaped their custody, again!

The problem most law enforcement officers had pointed out was that she was a master of disguise and so, even though they knew what she looked like, they never recognised her when they encountered her around town.

Idiots! Gilderoy thought to himself. He could recognise her in an instant. There was no mistaking those piercing and inquisitive green eyes.

He dismounted his horse and guided it over towards what appeared to be the local stable.

"Make sure he is fed and watered," Gilderoy instructed, handing over the reins to the stable boy. "Tell your boss that I will settle my debt in a couple of days."

The stable boy silently nodded his head, his mouth slightly open in awe, and Gilderoy turned on his heel and began making his way towards the local sheriff's office.

He briefly wondered which moron they had leading the law enforcement team here as he pushed open the door and entered the building.

"Officer Dawlish," Gilderoy said, surprised to see this bumbling idiot here—then again, after what had happened in Appleby earlier in the year, the man would have needed another job. This moron was the reason Rita had escaped custody there. "Could you point me in the direction of your sheriff? I believe he will be requiring my assistance."

"That would be me," Dawlish answered. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"As you might be aware, Officer Dawlish—"

"Sheriff Dawlish to you, Mr Lockhart," he corrected.

"As I was saying, you might be aware that Rita Skeeter is still at large," Gilderoy said. "I have it on good authority she is terrorising the poor community of Godric's Hollow. Naturally, given my expertise on her, you will be grateful for my help. And here I am, ready and willing to catch her—again."

"I appreciate your offer, Mr Lockhart," Dawlish replied, visibly tense over Gilderoy's dig at him. "However, my officers are more than capable of handling the situation. As you may remember, I have also had dealings with her in the past."

"One encounter, and let her slip right through your fingers," Gilderoy retorted fiercely. "If you want her caught, you need my help. Sooner or later, you will realise this. When you change your mind, you can find me at the Sleeping Lion Saloon."

"I will keep that in mind, but I can assure you, Mr Lockhart, that I won't need your help," Dawlish told him. "You can leave the way you came in."

Sheriff Dawlish barely registered Gilderoy's exit as he returned to filling out the most recent arrest report for Alastor Moody—a war veteran turned petty thief. A man whom, despite his list of minor crimes, Dawlish had some sympathy for. No man should ever be in his situation—especially after serving his country.

"Bit coincidental, isn't it?" a gruff voice asked from behind the cell bars. "Skeeter turns up, and that moronic so-called hero turns up a couple of days later."

"What are you trying to say?" Dawlish asked, turning to face the worn out looking man in the cell

"I'm just saying all might not be as it seems, and your buddy Lockhart there might not be the hero everyone thinks he is," the war veteran replied.

"Lockhart might be a moron, but he's not clever enough to be a criminal," Dawlish replied, returning to his arrest report. "He is just a very lucky individual."

"That must be some luck he has on his side," Moody commented. "Just keep in mind what I said. Back in the war, if there's one valuable lesson I learnt it is this: trust no one."

Dawlish's put his pen down and frowned at the paper in front of him as his mind began to churn. Memories he didn't even know he had, of the night when Skeeter had escaped custody whilst he was on duty, came to the forefront of his mind.

Could Moody have a point?

Was there more to Lockhart than met the eye?

~o~o~o~

Gilderoy sat on the porch of the saloon, watching the building across the road. If Rita went by her usual M.O. her next and final hit would be the local bank.

The sun was slowly setting and they were just closing up for the day. It would only be a matter of time before she showed her beautiful face.

He leant back in his chair and lowered his hat, hiding his distinctive, handsome face from anyone who might pass by. The darkening sky could only do so much for someone as recognisable as him.

It was less than an hour later when he heard the gravel quietly crunch. Fully alert, his eyes zoned in on the figure who was now crouched in front of the bank's double doors. One of Rita Skeeter's trademark tricks was picking locks.

He waited until she had entered the building before making his move. A conviction couldn't stand if she wasn't caught in the act. Although, with Officer Dawlish running the town, the chances of her being held long enough to go to trial were very slim.

Gilderoy rose from his chair and descended down the steps which led up to the saloon entrance. He glanced left and right, checking to make sure no one was around attempting to beat him to the reward for Rita's capture.

Seeing that the street was completely empty, he hurried across towards the bank and slipped inside after Rita.

He made sure to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible as he walked across the marble flooring towards the back of the bank where he knew the vaults were, from his visit earlier in the day.

"Rita Skeeter, fancy seeing you here," Gilderoy said, approaching the woman who was currently stuffing her bag full of jewels from a vault.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, isn't there a girl of the night you should be keeping company?" Rita asked as she pulled out another drawer.

"There's a bounty on your head, Rita," Gilderoy told her, smirking. "And where there's a bounty you will always find me… especially where you're concerned."

"And don't I know it," Rita commented. "I suppose this is the point where you 'take me in', but you know I'll escape again."

"That's what I'm counting on," Gilderoy said, winking at the woman he shared a sometimes flirtatious relationship with.

~o~o~o~

"You know you can't hold me," Rita taunted the law enforcement officer she remembered from Appleby. "It's only a matter of time before I slip through your fingers—again. And won't you be an embarrassment."

Rita laughed quietly to herself as she glanced at the clock. It wouldn't be much longer now.

She noticed that soon-to-be former Sheriff Dawlish yawned, blinking furiously to fight the desire to sleep. He rested his head on his hand and leant on his desk. A smirk crossed her lips when his eyes closed and he began to snore.

Rita moved towards the small window of her cell, removing her white headscarf. Next, she tied it to the bars and twisted it round so it hung out for her partner to see.

Barely five minutes later, the door to the sheriff's office opened.

"That was quick," the familiar, sultry voice of her partner whispered as he grabbed the keys to her cell. "I thought he would have at least learnt something from last time."

The man inserted the key into the door and twisted it, embracing her as soon as it swung open.

"He did," the voice belonging to Dawlish said as he lifted his head and grabbed his gun. "Gilderoy Lockhart! I knew there was something not quite right about you. Always turning up at just the right time. Always collecting the reward money. And then she always escapes the very same night. It was all just a little too convenient."

Gilderoy slowly clapped his hands. "Well done, Officer Dawlish, you caught us. So, what are you going to do about it?" he asked. "You're not man enough to shoot."

Dawlish's eyes narrowed. "Watch me," he said, pulling on the trigger of his gun, the bullet grazing Gilderoy's arms. "Now if you don't want one in your chest, I suggest you both get in that cell."

Rita and Gilderoy glanced at each other, having a silent conversation about their next move. Rita's hand reached around Gilderoy's back and pulled the gun out of his holster.

"You will let us leave," she commanded, pointing the loaded gun at Dawlish. "Unless of course you want a bullet in your chest. Put the gun on the floor and kick it towards us."

Dawlish did as he was instructed, and winced as Gilderoy picked up his gun.

The sheriff hung his head in shame as he walked towards the cell and entered it, closing the door behind him.

"What's your plan now?" Dawlish asked. "You can't carry on with your con. Before the end of tomorrow, every county's law enforcement will know your scam. You'll both be wanted."

"He's right you know, Gilderoy," Rita sighed. "There's only one thing we can do. Let's kill him!"

Gilderoy nodded his head and pointed the gun at Dawlish. "Together," he said, his eyes glistening with excitement.

"Together," Rita agreed, raising her gun as well. "3, 2—"

BANG!

BANG!

The bodies of the two criminals falling to the ground stunned Dawlish, and he pushed the cell door open. His eyes moved from the bodies to the doorway where he saw the figure of the man he had arrested and let go the day before—Alastor Moody.

"I told you," Moody said in a gruff voice. "Trust no one."