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