‘It was a dark and stormy night when I first faced the Lethifold of Lochinvar. Its black, fearsome eyes, laden with doom, turned towards me, and right then I knew that if I didn’t act quickly, then I, too, would share the fate of so many others. It was unfortunate that at this time I had no wand, having lent it to a small golden-haired child who was struggling to master -’

“No, no, no,� muttered Gilderoy crossly. “That really doesn’t work. The Ministry will accuse me of assisting underage magic if I’ve given away my wand to a child.� He frowned, then after catching sight of himself in one of his mirrors hastily smoothed his brow. Wrinkles were not a good look, even on a face as handsome as his own. He picked up his lilac feather quill, dipped it in his lavender-coloured ink and crossed out the last sentence. Now that he thought about it, perhaps it would be better if he said his wand had been stolen... or maybe that he dropped it when climbing the mountain after the creature.

“Mountain! What am I thinking?� He clapped his fist to his head. “That was where I found the yeti. I need a different location!� He screwed up the parchment and then with a flick of his wand set it alight. Watching the flames lick round his words, Gilderoy rubbed his eyes. It was getting dark and writing into the small hours, by dim lamplight, was proving far more problematical than it used to. He pondered again his editor’s suggestion that he start wearing glasses. Perhaps he would look intellectual and they might enhance his forget-me-not blue eyes.

Wearily, he pulled out another sheet of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink. He hadn’t realised how much of his time would be taken up with teaching when he’d accepted the position at Hogwarts. He barely had time to attend to his hair in the mornings, let alone sit down and write. And marking all the homework ... He shuddered and stared at his right hand. A small bump was forming on the inside of his forefinger from where he’d been holding his quill. It looked unsightly; he would have to stop writing until the swelling subsided.

***

‘�Take me, Amir,� whispered Scarletta, her sparking blue eyes mesmerised by the liquid chocolate of his brown orbs as he stared down at her.

She gasped as he swept her into his arms and in one smooth movement carried her off to his Bedouin tent, laying her gently amongst the sumptuous red and gold cushions strewn on the ground.

As he stood proudly over her, Scarletta could not help but notice the way his flowing robes only seemed to emphasise his manly physique, and the strong muscular shafts of his thighs. Pulling out his wand, Amir flicked it lazily towards her, and she felt her clothes dissolve against her skin. She watched in awe as his robes soon suffered a similar fate and then he joined her on the bed of cushions. With only her pale pink silk camisole between her and his taut olive skinned body, Scarletta was soon quivering under his touch as Amir trailed his hand across her curves, with the expertise he would normally reserve for mastering his fine Abraxan stallions.

“Scarletta, my beautiful wife,� he murmured, “my loins are aflame for you. Come to me, my temptress, for I will not desist until you experience all the pleasures of our love.�

“Oh, Amir,� gasped Scarletta, her blonde curls spilling onto her satin smooth shoulders. “Make me yours, in the only way you know how.�

The End ’

“NO! NO! NO!� screeched Sybill. Feverishly, she turned the page, desperately searching for some more words, but with a whimper, she realised that she’d finished the book. In frustration, she threw the book across the room and vowed never to read another story from the ‘Saucy Sorceress’ series. “It’s not saucy,� she moaned. “Nothing happened and now ...� Gulping back a sob, she got up from her bed and paced the floor. She’d upset her pupils’ dream journals when she’d thrown ‘Love in the Desert Sands’ across the room and with a sigh, started to pick them up.

“Oh, Miss Johnson,� she muttered as she flicked through the pages. “Why are your dreams always about Quidditch? You’re young. You should be dreaming about love and be distracted by its thrall before it’s too late.�

Sybill straightened the journals back into their neat pile and then, with nothing left to do, slumped back on her bed. She had hoped reading would allow her to sleep, but the image of Amir entwined with Scarletta would not leave her mind as she tossed and turned. Reading and dreaming about love were no longer enough. She needed to experience all the ‘pleasures of love’.

The trouble, she knew, was that she barely left her cloistered set of rooms. She had her classes, taught her pupils, but barely spent time with the other professors, so never socialised. But then, she mused, the other professors, are either female, too old, or ... she shuddered ... Severus Snape.


Of course, there was this year’s Defence professor. She smiled softly, then hopelessly, to herself. Gilderoy Lockhart would never look at her. She was too shy, she was too plain, and she was far too inexperienced. But then ... Suddenly alert, Sybill Summoned the book.

‘Scarletta Delaney, a shy witch, fresh from school finds employment breaking-in Abraxan stallions for the Wizarding Emir Farouk Duchée. Within a matter of days, she has tamed the fiery creatures, bringing her to the attention of the Emir’s son, a man from whom no witch is safe.

Can she tame the Playboy Wizard Sheik of Arabia, with the same ease that she tames his Abraxan herd?’ Sybill read.

Perhaps all we need is a common interest, she wondered, but what could that be?

She was too tired to think now. Resolving to deliberate further in the morning, Sybill lay under the covers of her bed, closed her eyes and prayed for restful dreams.

Sliding, slipping around corners. Searching, seeking through the dark chamber. Damp, dripping walls. The snake slunk around her legs, coiling its body around Sybill’s, tongue lisping in her ear, ‘Sssssybill.’


“AGHHHHH!�

She woke, shrieking. The dream, which had seemed so vivid, was slipping away from her now. Shaking her head, as she tried to clear the clouds, Sybill fixed her gaze on the window, where the grey light of dawn was starting to filter through her lilac curtains.

On her bedside cabinet were her own dream journal and a dog-eared copy of the dream interpreter she used for her NEWT level students. Sybill flicked through the pages wearily, but she didn’t need to read the entry under snakes, or water, or dark, moist places. She wiped her sweating hands on her flannel nightdress and wondered how it would feel to have another’s hands on her. Making her quiver as he trailed his fingers ... introducing her to hitherto unknown pleasures ... calling her ‘temptress’.

“Oh, Amir,� she said, her breath coming out in short gasps. “Why aren’t you real?�

***

“Godric, you have no idea what that bloody man has asked me now,� grumbled Charity Burbage to Septima Vector in the staff room.

Sybill didn’t look up and gave no appearance of having heard a word, knowing that Charity would whisper if she thought she was being overheard.

“By ‘bloody man’, I assume you mean Gilderoy,� Septima replied, raising one carefully plucked eyebrow.

“Yes, I do. Honestly, the nerve of the man!�

“I did warn you not to get friendly with him. He’s so self-obsessed; I’m surprised he lets anyone who could possibly be competition in the looks department near him.�

Charity laughed. “Oh please, that was the furthest thing from my mind. After that debacle with poor old Quirinus last year, I just thought being friendly was the least we could do for the new Defence professor. I didn’t know he’d turn out to be such a -�

“Prat,� finished Septima as she drained her coffee cup. “So, what has Luscious Locks asked you now, then?�

“Ughh!� Charity levitated her mug and Septima’s to the sink in the corner, and then grabbed another biscuit. “He wants help with a book, or something.�

“Oh -� Septima paused, looking thoughtful. “What’s he paying you?�

“Nothing.� Charity sounded scathing. “He seems to think helping him is reward enough.�

“I hope you told him where to go.�

“Not yet. I mumbled something about being busy - which is true. I have all these essays to mark.�

“I’ll leave you to it, then, Charity,� Septima said, standing. “I need to get to class, anyway. Look, how about a drink tonight in Hogsmeade? You can successfully keep out of his way in the Three Broomsticks.�

“Mm, sure,� Charity replied as she picked up the first roll of parchment from her bag. “A drink would be great.�

Waiting until Septima had gone, Sybill gave a small cough. Charity carried on marking, so she coughed again ... and then again.

“You should go and see Poppy, Syb,� Charity muttered. “That cough sounds nasty.�

“No, it’s nothing. I just ...� Sybill faltered as she ransacked her brain, trying to think how to broach the subject of Gilderoy. “I have that book of yours, Charity. I’m so sorry, but it fell out of your bag and I picked it up meaning to return it but then, last night, I started reading and -�

“What book?� Charity asked, looking bemused.

“’Love in the Desert Sands’,� sighed Sybill. “Marvell-�

“Oh, that tripe. Don’t worry about it. I confiscated it off Miss Chang. Silly girl should stop reading romantic tosh in my lesson or she’ll never pass the end of year exam.�

“Yes, yes, utter tripe,� murmured Sybill. “Shall I return it to Miss Chang?�

“Only if you don’t mind her reading it when she should be reading tealeaves,� Charity snorted. “Otherwise, I’d throw it in the nearest bin.�

There was a silence. Charity went back to her marking, while Sybill struggled to think what to say next. She had no classes that afternoon and realised she had nothing to do. And nobody to do nothing with. She gave an audible sigh and slumped back in the chair.

“Is there a problem?� Charity said finally.

“Little bit out of sorts,� Sybill admitted and edged her chair closer, wondering if she could confide in the Muggle Studies teacher.

Taking the hint, Charity pursed her lips, placed her quill on the table and sat back in her chair. “Do you need to talk to someone, Sybill?�


Licking her lips, Sybill leant forwards. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, Charity, that’s all. And it occurred to me that I might be able to help you out of your little problem with Professor Lockhart.�

“Who? Oh ... yes, Gilderoy. There’s no real problem. He needs someone to transcribe his notes. I’m not prepared to give up my free time to help him, that’s all.� She sighed. “I do hate being rude to people, but that man is so thick-skinned, I can’t see how I can get through to him unless I’m extremely blunt!�

“I could help,� Sybill suggested faintly.

“Doing what? I don’t think reading his palm and telling him to stop pestering me will work. That man is only going to listen to what he wants to hear - and that’s only if it’s about himself.� Charity shook her head irritably and picked up another essay.

“I don’t mind offering to help him with his work.�

Looking up from the parchment, Charity stared at her, open mouthed. “Why would you do that?� she whispered, and then she blinked. “No, I’m not going to ask. Sybill, if you could get him off my back, then I’ll be eternally grateful. Anytime you want a favour, all you have to do is ask.�

Sybill smiled, a touch bemused. There was nothing she wanted from Charity- not now she had her chance. Leaning forward, she patted the Muggle Studies teacher on the knee. “Think nothing of it, my dear. I can see your aura needs cleansing - perhaps some relaxation with dear Septima will help restore it to its natural colour.�

Charity made a noise which sounded very much like a strangled laugh, but then she stopped and asked, “I’m curious, Sybill. What colour is my aura?�

Sybill smiled vaguely. “Usually a delightful pale yellow, which reflects your sensitivity and optimism. But I’m seeing confusion and shades of grey, a sign of pessimism.�

“I doubt anyone could remain cheerful after the attacks on the Muggleborns,� Charity replied sharply. Then she sighed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you. It’s been a very hard year. I’m trying to teach tolerance to a bunch of students who aren’t at all interested, but merely think Muggle Studies is a soft option, and all the while this creature is roaming the corridors.�

“Yes ...� Sybill bit her lip, feeling guilty. “It is disturbing. I have gazed into my crystal ball daily, and tried asking the spirits, but to no avail. There are some things beyond even their knowledge,� she replied, sighing.

“Too right,� she thought she heard Charity murmur, as she returned to her marking. Her shoulders were shaking – out of regret she could not be as useful, no doubt. Deciding to leave, and not embarrass Charity further, Sybill rose from her chair and announced she was returning to her classroom.

Although she knew none of the students who had been attacked, and hated Mrs Norris (who for a cat was remarkably ugly and unspiritual), the thought that the creature could attack a ghost had left her shaken.

No one is safe, she thought, clasping her hand to her chest and feeling her heart throb beneath her pink lace shawl.I cannot die without knowing love. Oh Gilderoy, you might be my last chance!


***

Gilderoy chuckled when he heard the knock at the door. He had known all along that Charity would be unable to resist the invitation. Of course, she’d said no; it was all part of the game these witches played. Just as it was part of the game for him to keep asking. He would offer her a glass of wine (small, he didn’t want her getting too tipsy), smile charmingly at her, and then they’d get down to it. It was inconceivable that she’d refuse him. His exploits were far too thrilling.

And to be a part of his new book would be so exciting for the poor darling. She’d be un-credited, it was true, but the knowledge of having played the role of stagehandling his ever-spiralling success would mean far more to dear Charity than fame.

He threw a side-glance in the mirror, assumed a charming smile, and called, “Enter.�

The door creaked open. Gilderoy turned his head, ever so slowly, and then froze. “Professor Trelawney, what brings you here?�

She cleared her throat and pulled her shawl close around her. Gilderoy frowned slightly (then stopped when he remembered the wrinkles) as she stepped into the room.

“I am expecting someone,� he said, switching off the smile because Sybill Trelawney in her hideously shapeless robe, thick glasses, and long beads was not someone he needed to waste smiles upon.

“I’m afraid, Professor Lockhart,� she replied, her voice strangely croaky, “that Professor Burbage is ... unavailable. But I wondered if I might be of assistance.� She coughed again, swallowed, and then gave him a timid smile. “I understand you need someone to assist you with your writing. I ... Well, during the dark days before I gained employment here, when no one believed I had ‘the Sight’, I was a secretary with the Ministry.�

At that, Gilderoy stopped thinking of ways to get rid of her, instead saying, “Go on.�

“Shorthand, longhand, typing. I have all my old skills, Professor, should you wish to avail yourself of my services.�

“This isn’t a paid position, you understand,� he said carefully. “Although there might be a small remuneration once the book is published. A one off payment, perhaps.�

“Oh, Professor, I wouldn’t dream of charging you. This is ... an act of friendship ... that is all,� she replied. Under her huge glasses, her eyelashes fluttered alarmingly at him, but Gilderoy was used to women using their charms on him. He smiled winningly.

“Call me Gilderoy,� he said as he gestured to the sofa by his hearth. “Tell me, Professor Trelawney, do you know much about my work?�

“I’ve read every single one of your books, Gilderoy,� she murmured. “You have led such an exciting life ... and so brave.�

“Yes.� He smirked. “I have, haven’t I.� Then, with a wave of his wand, Gilderoy Summoned his latest manuscript. “Professor Trelawney -�

“Call me Sybill.�

“Sybill?�

“It’s my name.�

“Ah, yes, of course it’s your name. Sybill, what I am about to tell you must remain a secret. I hope I can count on your discretion.�

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, of course you can, Gilderoy.�

“Only...� he paused for dramatic effect and quirked one eyebrow. “My next book is about my search and defeat of the Lochinvar Lethifold.�

“Oh Gilderoy, how thrilling! But when did this happen? You have only just returned from your year with the yeti.�

“Ah ...� Gilderoy felt his eyelid twitch. The fact that he hadn’t actually defeated the Lochinvar Lethifold yet shouldn’t make any difference, as he hadn’t defeated the other creatures in his tales either. But because he was tied up at Hogwarts this year, it had seemed prudent to make a start on his next book, then all he needed to do was to wait for any old wizard to defeat the blasted thing, and Robert really was your mother’s brother!

He patted her on the arm. “I’m not one for boasting, Sybill. This happened last summer, right after I returned from the Pyrenees. But for various reasons,�(he made a mental note to think of some,) “I haven’t been able to tell the newspapers yet.�

“Pyrenees? I thought you discovered the yeti in the Himalayas,� she interrupted.

“Pyrenean Pygmy yetis,� he muttered through gritted teeth. “Extremely vicious! I haven’t written about them, yet, either!� He moved around, crossing his legs and half turning away from her. “If you would like to help me, Professor Trelawney, then I should tell you now, that incessant chatter only interferes with my creative process. If you wish to be of assistance." He trailed off, leaving her in no doubt of his disapproval if she interfered with his creative process.

“Oh, I do, I do,� she pleaded, her eyes imploring.

He smiled wintrily. “Very well. Then we shall begin. I shall retell my story whilst you take notes.�

“Yes, yes,� she replied, scrabbling for a wad of parchment and a quill.

“I think you should be aware, Sybill, that sometimes the events get muddled in my mind, so I may change certain details. Fighting these Dark creatures takes its toll, you know, and the trauma occasionally alters my perception - for a while at least.� Ha! That will stop her complaining when I make changes in the final version.

“I quite understand,� she whispered. “Your aura, Gilderoy, is a quite magnificent orange. A strong indicator of creativity. I understand that your artistic energies must not be disturbed, so I will speak no more.�

Orange! Gilderoy shivered. He’d never liked the colour, but at least she’d stopped speaking now and appeared eager to help. He reclined on the sofa, summoned a stool to rest his feet on, and began to speak.

“It was a dark and stormy night when I first faced the Lethifold of Lochinvar ...�


It was a little after eleven when he finished speaking. Glancing at his clock, Sybill realised she’d been in his quarters for nearly three hours. Lifting her glass of water to her lips (and wishing Gilderoy had offered her something stronger), she finished the last drops and settled the glass down on the table. Beside her, Gilderoy was smiling, but with a sigh, she realised it wasn’t aimed at her, but rather his reflection.

“If that is all, Gilderoy, then perhaps we should call it a night,� she murmured.

“Goodness, gracious me,� he declared. “Is that the time? Oh, and we never got the chance to discuss my fourth encounter, which was by far the most dangerous.�

“Really,� she said, feeling a touch weary. Gilderoy had been talking non-stop all evening. His idea of a discussion was where he talked and she nodded. But ... he did have quite beautiful hair and a charming smile... if only he would turn it on her. She sighed as she stood up, far more audibly than she’d meant to, and perhaps he noticed.

“Dear lady, I am quite forgetting my manners. Would you care for a night-cap?�

“Oh!� Sybill sat straight back down and smiled warmly. “A small sherry would be lovely.�

As he handed her the glass (a very small measure, she noticed with disappointment), their fingers touched. He turned away, seemingly unaffected, but Sybill could not stop a delicious shiver running up and down her spine. Her hand was trembling, the sherry slopping over the rim of the glass and then she went rigid.

“Salazar’s monster lurks deep in the chamber. Salazar’s-� Sybill’s head fell forward onto her chest. She gave a gasp, then sat up straight.

“Sorry, Sybill, I didn’t quite catch that,� Gilderoy was saying as he walked back from another room holding a glass of Firewhisky.

“I didn’t say anything,� she replied. But there was something odd going on. She hadn’t touched her sherry, yet felt curiously light-headed.

Is this what love is like? she thought, swallowing a giggle as Gilderoy sat back on the sofa and lent towards her.

“Sybill,� he murmured.

“Yes, Gilderoy.� He was so close now, and all she could see were his perfect lips as they curved into a smile.

“Which of my adventures is your favourite?�

She felt a lurch of disappointment, even when he tapped her playfully on the arm, and took a gulp of sherry before replying dully, “Voyages with Vampires.�

“Ah, one of my most perilous encounters. And there was so much I could not share,� Gilderoy said and gave her a wink. “Would you care for another sherry, Sybil?�


Sybill licked her lips nervously and held out her glass to him. He was not asking her to leave, and he really was a fascinating man. She could listen to his melodic voice all night. “Tell me more, Gilderoy.�

***

The snake slithers around the darkened chamber, walls moist, oozing evil. Sybill stands alone, clad in white, her hair loose and falling to her waist. Around her, she sees forms, unmoving. Stepping closer she shies back in horror as the form grins back, its face a mask of death.

For the fifth time, Sybill woke, her body drenched in sweat. The dreams were becoming clearer, and yet still remained distant in her mind as soon as dawn broke. All she could recall was herself in a white dress. White - the colour of purity. Even her dreams mocked her now.

She had visited Gilderoy every night that week, helping him as he put together his book. And although they ended every session with a drink and Gilderoy telling her more of his adventures, he had done little more than wink at her.

Sliding out of bed, and pressing her feet firmly on the ground, Sybill padded across to the sink in the corner of her room, and splashed some water on her face. She lifted her head to stare at her face, then shrieked.

“Who are you?� she demanded of the woman in the mirror.

The black haired woman shook her head and mouthed one word.

“Snape!� Sybill exclaimed. “What do you mean? I ... no, ... I cannot go near the man. He despises me.�

The woman shook her head impatiently and mouthed another word.

“Bas ... something?� Sybill asked. In this dim light, the woman’s mouth was difficult to read. Sybill shook her head. “I’m sorry, I really cannot understand what you’re saying. Can’t you speak up?�

“Sybill,� whispered a voice.

“AGHHHH!�

The face in the mirror disappeared. Sybill shrank away, then heard the voice again and a knock at the door.

“Sybill, it’s Charity, are you okay? Only you were talking in your sleep.�

Slowly her senses returned to her and taking a breath, she called out that she was fine. When she heard Charity walking away, she stared back into the mirror, but the woman had gone.

It was a dream, she thought sternly, and closed off the thought that the woman's face had been strangely familiar. I should never have eaten the macaroni cheese last night.



She dressed with more care that morning. It was Valentine’s Day, so for once she wanted to join the staff for breakfast. Gilderoy had hinted that he had something special planned, and despite knowing that any hopes of a gift from him were futile, she couldn’t help but dream. She had sent him a card, a small tasteful one, with orange hearts to reflect his aura. But as Sybill entered the Great Hall, and heard Gilderoy declaring he’d received forty-six cards, smiling across at both Charity and Septima, she slunk away. No doubt, he’d be making plans with the both of them tonight. A cosy tête a tête a tête - a ménage a trois. She shuddered. She may be inexperienced, but she had heard of these things, and Gilderoy, she was sure, was a very virile man.


Her third year pupils were annoying that morning. Usually quite well behaved, the Ravenclaw girls were very giggly, caught up in the day and unable to concentrate on anything unless it concerned their future husbands. Sybill frowned at them and made more predictions about death, but they would not focus at all on the crystal balls in front of them. The last straw was when she started to tell them about the Grim, and there was a loud shriek from the far corner.

“Miss Edgecombe and Miss Chang, I presume you have something to share with the class,� she snapped.

“Uh ... no, Professor,� Marietta replied nervously, but Sybill had already seen her hand grasping something from Cho.

“Give me that!� she ordered as she strode towards them.

Sulkily, Marietta handed the item to her.

“A lipstick? You disrupt my lesson to discuss a lipstick. Really, I expected better of you both, especially you, Miss Chang. You have always seemed such a gifted pupil, but this triviality is beneath you.�

“It’s not just a lipstick. It’s charm -� blurted Marietta.

“Shut up,� muttered Cho.

Sybill raised her eyebrows, but said no more. She pocketed the lipstick and then dismissed the class.

She thought no more about it until later that day in the staff room. It was the end of lessons, and Charity was once again sitting with Septima, the pair of them bemoaning another Valentine’s day where their pupils had their minds on anything but lessons. As Sybill approached, Charity hailed her.

“Syb, what exactly did you take from Marietta Edgecombe? She and Cho Chang had faces as long as sin today. It wasn’t another trashy book, was it?�

Sybill frowned, and then she remembered. “It was this,� she replied, and delving into her pocket, she pulled out the lipstick. “’Veela Allure.’�

Septima laughed as she took it from Sybill’s hand. “No wonder Miss Chang was annoyed. This is one of those Charmed lipsticks. They’re spiked with an Entrancing Charm, and they cost a fortune.�

“Oooh, interesting.� Charity took it from Septima and pulled off the lid. “How do they work?�

“You apply it, like a normal lipstick, and pucker up. I think it has to be freshly applied, or something. I’ve never needed one,� Septima said dryly.

“Ladies,� Gilderoy’s voice reached the three of them. Sybill shrank back as he approached and watched as Septima and Charity exchanged glances.

“Gilderoy ... how ... nice you look,� Septima replied, her eyes flickering up and down his ensemble, “in your lilac robes.�

“I like to make an effort,� he said breezily. “So, Charity, you never gave me your answer.�

“Sorry ...� Charity looked confused and then flushed. “Ah, about tonight. No, I’m sorry, Gilderoy, but -�

“I won’t accept a no this time,� he interrupted, his teeth glinting as he smiled.

“You’ll have to,� Charity said. “I have plans.�

“Another night marking?� he asked sympathetically. “Charity, you need to give yourself a break.�

“She’s coming out with me, actually,� Septima said smoothly. “We have a double date with a couple of Puddlemere United players. Sorry, Gilderoy, but well, they’re only in town for a few days.�

Sybill noticed his mouth tightening, but then he chuckled and swept his hair back. “Another time, perhaps,� he replied, then backed away, still smiling.

“Puddlemere!� Charity exclaimed, and burst out laughing. “Septima, how do you think of these things?�

“First thing that popped into my head,� she replied. Then standing up, she yawned and stretched. “We should go out, though. No good sitting in here moping.�

“Mmm, true.� Charity joined her, and together they left the staff room, discussing plans for the night.

Sybill watched them go, then stretched her hand out and picked up the lipstick. ‘Veela Allure’, she read, and wondered ...



“Yes!� Gilderoy snapped waspishly as someone knocked on the door. Then, when the person didn’t answer, he pointed his wand at the door making it fly open.

Merlin, what does she want? he thought when he saw Sybill crossing his threshold. “I’m not planning on writing tonight,� he informed her, hoping she’d get the message and leave immediately. As Charity had turned down his invitation, (poor deluded fool to be so enamoured of a Quidditch player) he’d decided to touch up his roots and attend to his nails. Hands were so important, he always thought, and he had a rather annoying hangnail, plus the bump on his finger was still visible.

But Sybill did not leave. Instead, she stepped closer. She started to speak, but he couldn’t make out the words; all he could see were her lips moving - her glorious, deep-pink, luscious lips.

“Oh my word, Sybill. How wonderful to see you,� he said, and taking her hand, he pulled her towards him, crushing his mouth to hers.


She hadn’t thought this would work. In fact, she hadn’t believed it would work, for surely no lipstick could really contain an Entrancing Charm. But as she stepped into his room, she felt her lips tingle and knew that something was about to happen.

Then Gilderoy, darling Gilderoy, handsome, intelligent, courageous Gilderoy looked at her properly and in one smooth movement pulled her towards him. And then his lips were on hers. And then she felt his hands around her waist. And then she felt herself melt in his arms.

“Gilderoy,� she cried. “Let me be your temptress.�

“Oh Sybill,� he growled, his hand now plunging inside her shawl, his brow feverish as he rained kisses on her shimmering lips.


Should it be like this? she thought as she felt his hand fumble under her shirt and heard his breath coming out heavy and rasping. In her fantasies, his lips had been tender yet firm, but Gilderoy’s mouth was slobbery, his tongue interrupting her sighs as he pressed himself against her. His left hand slipped downwards cupping her bottom. But instead of quivering in pleasure, she felt a shudder run through her. With his hair out of place, she could see dark roots near his scalp and a bald patch noticeable now that she was close. She stopped running her hands through his hair, scared that more of it would fall out.

She pulled away. “Perhaps we should have a drink first,� she said, prevaricating.

At her words, he tried to pull himself together, seeing the sense in delaying this madness, taking it slowly so he could give himself up to the full pleasures of the flesh. “Shall we take this to the bedroom, Sybill?�

He saw her gulp. Poor dear, she is so nervous.

“Let’s ... um ... stay here,� she replied.

“Ah, the chaise-longue, an excellent idea,� he whispered, and pushed away the thought that his back would suffer in the morning. Steering her towards it, he resumed kissing her, running his hands gently up and down her body. She shivered and gave a small moan.

This was it. This was what she had been waiting for. This was what her dreams of snakes, and chambers, and moist dripping walls had been preparing her for. The message potent in its eroticism, it was hardly Gilderoy’s fault that he was no Amir. He was a man and he desired her.

What a shame I no longer desire him.

At that, she misted over.

“Salazar’s monster lurks deep in the chamber. Set free by an innocent, it can only be stopped by one whose bravery matches his loyalty.�

“Aghh!� Gilderoy dropped his hand from her breast and sat back. “I’m sorry, Sybill, what was that?�

“Salazar’s monster lurks deep in the chamber. Set free by an innocent, it can only be stopped by one whose bravery matches his loyalty. Salazar’s-“

“Ohhh- kaaay,� he replied, edging away from her as her mouth still moved, spouting words of dread. Her lips were not as pink now, and they weren’t shimmering either. As he looked at her, he wondered what had come over him. She wasn’t a bad sort, old Sybill, but when he thought of all the young, nubile witches who would battle their own banshees to sleep with him, he was rather pleased she appeared to be having a funny turn.

“Salazar’s monster lurks deep in the -�

Her head lolled forwards, and then she snapped awake.

“Sorry, Gilderoy, where were we?� she murmured vaguely.

“I think we should call it a night, Sybill. You seem overwrought.�

“Do I?� She glanced around the room, her eyes flickering over the forty-six, or was it forty-seven, Valentine’s cards. The one she’d sent was not on show, tucked behind a garish card strewn with lilac hearts. Then she turned her gaze to the professor edging warily away from her. “Yes, I am rather tired,� she agreed. “An early night and some cocoa would be beneficial, I feel.�

He shuffled to his feet, gesturing to the door, whilst his hand hovered near her back, unwilling - it seemed - to touch her. “Thank you for all your help this week, Professor Trelawney. But I fear I cannot trespass on your time any further.�

“Oh yes, Professor Lockhart. I think we’re finished, too,� she said, sighing.

As she wandered her way back to her rooms, she sighed, but not with regret. She’d thought Gilderoy so wonderful, so handsome, the one who could complete her.

But perhaps it was better not to know.