The Sugar Quill
Author: Lady Narcissa (Professors' Bookshelf)  Story: Dallying with Diviners  Chapter: Default
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dallying with diviners

dallying with diviners

Disclaimer: Sibyll Trelawney and Gilderoy Lockhart are © JK Rowling, WB, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and whomever else owns them. I only took them out for a stroll.

This story ©2004 by Lady Narcissa. Rated 'Purely Silly.’

Author’s Note: I don’t know what got into me: what made her so absolutely clueless? Sibyll, Sibyll, Sibyll. (Actually, Heidi asked for a Trelawney/Lockhart fic so I felt compelled to acquiesce.)



Sibyll Trelawney admired the way her emerald-green scarf wrapped twice around her neck, but still managed to float behind her like a benevolent dove. Stifling a yawn (she really needed to get more sleep, but…), she drifted into the study that she and Gilderoy Lockhart had shared for the last year.

He was at her Louis-XIV gold-scroll desk, quill in hand, writing away.

'What are you working on, dear?' she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

'Sibyll, Sibyll, Sibyll. You're supposed to…'

'Know these things.' She finished the sentence for him, smiled dreamily, and wandered over to Gilderoy's desk. She wanted to kiss him on the cheek and brush that blonde glistening hair out of his eyes. And so she did, and uncharacteristically, he covered up the parchment.

Now, usually the man with the Five Times Award-Winning Smile was only too eager to share his work, so Sibyll was taken aback (yes, she was a seeress, but that didn't mean she was always on) when his brilliant smile faded and he tucked the parchment away with great haste. 'Sibyll, Sibyll, Sibyll… let's… go for tea. A stroll. Tea.'

And then Gilderoy did something very odd indeed: he locked the drawer to his desk.

One doesn't need to be a diviner to know that's out of character, Sibyll thought. But she shrugged off her feeling of foreboding—after all, she'd been told time and again that her tendency to see the bleakest aspect of any situation was actually downright annoying—and took the hand he offered. When he leaned forward she removed her spectacles and puckered her lips, but was rewarded with little more than a peck on the cheek.


She'd read tea leaves later. But now, she was on the arm of the man who held the Order of Merlin, Second Class. And he was a real catch.



The day had been oddly unsettling for Sibyll. They'd had tea and walked and strolled and done a little bit of shopping, and looked at the Dream Dictionary (autographed copy) in Flourish & Blotts, and lunched at The Leaky Cauldron. Summer holiday was certainly less stressful than the school year with all the ungrateful students and their sniggering. She had an Inner Eye; she came from a long line of diviners. They actually had the nerve to laugh at her behind her back—as if she couldn't tell! She knew everything that went on in their pathetic little brains.

Much to her chagrin, Gilderoy had a meeting with his publisher that evening; Masquerading with Mermaids was due for publication in another few months. Sibyll wandered their quiet flat, padding about on bare feet. The emerald neck-scarf had long since been abandoned; most of the usual jewelry lay on the bureau top instead of gracing her swanlike form.

And then she remembered: her beloved had locked something up in his desk earlier. What was he hiding from her? As if he could hide something, the poor dear—he was so easy to read. He was going to surprise her with something. But if she was to live up to her reputation, she needed to know what it was. After all, the Inner Eye wasn't always particularly obliging. Sometimes she could See, but other times she couldn't. And at the moment Sibyll couldn't See what he'd been working on so hastily.

That's where a wand came in handy. She pulled her wand (11 inches, hazel, unicorn tail hair) out from her belt-loop and tapped it to Gilderoy's desk. 'Alohomora.'

Silly dear; he didn't even know how to seal a desk. Of course, he wasn't the one who could foretell the future: he didn't know she'd be breaking into his desk and reading his private papers. Sibyll shivered involuntarily; it wasn't really breaking in. It was being informed so that she could impress him with her abilities! After all, he'd done nothing but praise those self-same abilities for the entire year they'd been together. With quivering hands she opened the drawer and pulled out the parchment… no, the sheath of parchments… and turned them over.

Sibyll Trelawney gasped. There, on the front parchment, were the words

Dallying with Diviners

My Year with a Seeress, by Gilderoy Lockhart

From the Lockhart Adult Book Series

Ooh! This would be a gift for her, no doubt… Sibyll turned the parchment over and began to read.

Note from the Author: This past year has been a lovely exercise in research. As one of the more experienced wizards in the publishing world, I thought it imperative to inform my readers exactly what it's like to live in the clutches of a Diviner. How do you think it feels to have all of one's thoughts bared to the one he's chosen to study? It's been a good exercise in self-control. I took up the challenge on a dare to see if I could cause a Seeress to believe that I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin Second Class, Five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, was in love with her. As if I would bare my soul to one so caught up in herself!

It all started when…

Sibyll slammed the papers down on his desk. What was this? The entire past year—the luscious, decadent, love-filled past year—had been nothing but an experiment to him? Oooh, just wait until that no-good, lying, callous, white-toothed, golden-haired… bastard got home! She'd give him a piece of her mind, and he could put that into his book and write it!



In a fit of rage she'd torn up the entire manuscript and left it in a pile on his desk. Hours later (when he still hadn't returned) she'd made herself several very stiff brandy drinks—capped off by half a bottle of Ogden's­—and gone to bed, no longer caring what he thought when he got in.

A jovial 'Oof! it's dark in here, by Merlin's beard!' woke her from her groggy slumber at about four in the morning. Gilderoy lit the tip of his wand and wove into their bedroom, giddy with excitement over something. Sibyll no longer cared what it might be; she only knew that she'd give him some fodder for the next version of the manuscript… if only her head would stop swimming. She sat up.

'Oooh.' There was an uncomfortable throbbing between her temples; she fumbled for her eyeglasses and clutched at her forehead. Note to self, she thought, don't mix Ogden's with too many brandies. File for later.

'There's my precious little mantis!' Gilderoy cooed. He sat on the side of the bed and kicked off his boots, then waved the air in front of his nose. His smile had never seemed quite so… grotesque before. 'My goodness! Has someone had a bit too much firewhiskey? Sibyll, Sibyll, Sibyll…'

'Don't you Sibyll me!' she snapped, 'You… you… you insufferable prat! ooooooooooh…. my head.' She sank back into the pillow and despite her desire not to burst into tears, she burst into tears.

'Sib…' Lockhart broke off, then brushed his hair back and pointed his winning smile at her. 'What makes me an insufferable prat, tonight of all nights? My publisher says that Masquerading with Mermaids is destined to be a best-seller! Sibyll, Sibyll. I know I'm home late; don't be cross!'

Sibyll rubbed her running nose with the back of her hand and sobbed. 'It's not that you're home late!'

Gilderoy smiled, but it was a perplexed smile; he'd had a few glasses of Ogden's himself. 'Then what is it, my little…'

Sibyll sat up sharply. 'Don't you dare call me your little mantis ever again! I saw it, Gilderoy! I saw your manuscript.'

He looked completely befuddled. 'Masquerading with Mermaids? I'd show it to you any time.'

'No!' Her voice was hoarse with whiskey-dryness. 'Not Masquerading with Mermaids, you berk! Dallying with Diviners! I read it… I read the introduction… oh, Gilderoy, how could you?' She covered her glasses with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. The sobs turned rapidly into hiccoughs but Sibyll Trelawney didn't care how she sounded or how she looked.

Lockhart looked around impishly. 'Oh… that.'

'Yes, that! I thought… I thought you loved me! How could you?'

Gilderoy stood up, surreptitiously (he hoped) gathering up a few of his belongings, shoving them into his pockets. 'Sibyll, Sibyll, Sibyll.' He flashed her that award-winning smile of his; Lockhart's eyes fell on his Order of Merlin certificate. He picked it up and held it in his arms as if it were a sleeping baby, then tucked it safely under one arm. 'I'm a writer. And what better to write about than that which we've experienced?' He reached over and took off her eyeglasses, then wiped the tears from her eyes. 'Now, now. You've had an upset. Just lie back and sleep it off; you'll feel better in the morning. Shh, shh, shh. Sibyll, Sibyll, Sibyll.'

'I hate you,' she whispered, but once her head was nestled against the pillow and her eyes closed, she couldn't fight sleep (or Ogden’s) any longer.



In the morning hour between 5 and 6, Gilderoy Lockhart hastily gathered up all of his belongings and packed them in his trunk. He swept the fragments of Dallying with Diviners into a box to salvage later; the melody in the background was Sibyll Trelawney's hung-over snoring. When he was satisfied that he'd packed everything that was his, Lockhart tiptoed back into the bedroom he'd shared with the sleeping seeress for the past year. He lifted his wand to her temple.


After all, he was rather gifted at memory charms. Whistling, he levitated his trunk in front of him as he made his escape. Another triumph for the five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, he told himself.

The morning had dawned bright and full of promise. He wove down the lane, a jaunty skip in his step. Life was good.

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