Entry tags:

*fic, 2010, snape, sybill

Special delivery for lordhellebore
Title: Vulnerable
Author:
Recipient's LJ name: lordhellebore
Pairing(s): Severus Snape/Sibyll Trelawney
Rating: PG-13
Summary Both of them are vulnerable. Set during Deathly Hallows.
Word Count: ~1600
Warnings/Content: A little bit of groping and angst. Implied past slash.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am not making any money from this story.
Author's notes: lordhellebore, I loved your list of pairings and almost couldn't decide which one to write, but this one jumped out at me so I went with it. I sincerely hope that it is to your tastes. Thanks very much to my betas and to the mods for their hard work running this fest.



The Headmaster's office was eerily quiet after Dumbledore died. Even Severus, who usually preferred the silence of his quarters to the noisy din that was the Great Hall, could hardly stand to be in the room at times. Every rustle of paper was magnified, and every gust of wind against the glass panes reminded him of the air whipping through the branches of the Whomping Willow. He'd never felt that the office belonged to him anyway, but sometimes the feeling grew so powerful that he could not bear to remain in the room.

He paused at his bookshelf, skimming the rows of spines with one finger as he searched for the right title. He'd moved his books to the office so he would have them at hand, but he'd not shelved them among Dumbledore's collection, which remained, untouched, in their own bookcases on the other side of the room.

"...Bellows, Litany, Dage..." He muttered the authors' names under his breath, fingers alighting briefly along the top of one leather-bound text before moving on. Finally, he found the title he was looking for and removed it from the shelf.

He started to move back to the desk, but before he could, he caught sight of the book next to the one he had removed. It was small and red, a book of poetry. Carefully, Severus removed it from the shelf and brushed a thin layer of dust from the top. On the inside cover, in small plain script, were the words Property of R.J. Lupin.
Severus closed the book and held it for a moment before replacing it on the shelf next to an old herb catalog. His hands were shaking slightly, and he willed himself to take a deep breath. He needed some fresh air.

He pulled on his robes, tucked the potions text under his arm, and headed down to the professors' break room for a pot of tea.

*****

"...few people realize how important the placement of furniture can be in a room. Why, I arranged this room myself, to protect against evil spirits..."

Severus set his tea cup on the table and turned to the next page in his book. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Flitwick studiously ignoring him as he brewed a fresh pot of tea. He stood stiffly, back straight and shoulders squared, as he carefully measured out tea leaves. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker over to the table and back again.

"For instance, that armchair used to be in the far corner. The corner! Of course, I moved it..."

Severus sighed and looked up from his book. Sibyll was sitting across from him, sipping from a small ivory teacup painted with pink roses. She was swathed, head to toe, in shades of shimmery green, and her hair had been pulled back from her face with clips in the shape of dragonflies. When she looked up at him, blinking rapidly in her excitement, her magnified eyelashes flapped like tiny feathered wings against her cheeks.

"I tried to move this table closer to the wall, but someone moved it back." She fingered her wand as if she had half a mind to move it once again. "I suppose it's fine the way it is," she conceded.

Severus didn't mind Sibyll the way he way he used to. When she wasn't contriving visions and predicting the imminent deaths of every living soul in the castle, her presence was remarkably tolerable. After Dumbledore's death, he had no friends in the castle, and Sibyll was one of the few that didn't appear repulsed by him. He wasn't entirely sure why she always sought him out, particularly at tea time, but he couldn't pretend that he minded the company. He had thought that he would be prepared for the isolation, for the looks of disgust and thinly veiled anger from the people he respected most, but he was wrong.

Flitwick levitated his tea tray in front of him as he exited the room, casting a swift glance over his shoulder before he disappeared.

No one wanted to have tea with a soothsayer and a murderer.

Severus looked back down at the book in front of him, trying to find his focus again. Sibyll was blessedly silent for the moment, picking lint from her robes. Severus found his place in the text and sipped his tea as the minutes ticked away in companionable silence. He'd missed this – reading quietly with someone absorbed in his or her own task. Somehow, Sibyll always seemed to understand this about him and seemed happy to distract herself.

After a few moments, he drained the last of his tea and was considering getting up for another. However, before he could decide, Sibyll reached across the table and snatched the cup from his fingers.

Immediately, Severus knew what she was going to do. His hand shot out, grabbing her bony wrist. "Sibyll," he said warningly. He must have been holding her more firmly than he'd realized, because she let out a small, startled sound and looked up at him with wounded eyes. He loosened his grip and released a frustrated sigh. "Sibyll, give me the cup."

"This is a good cup for reading," she told him, holding the cup snugly between the palms of her hands. "I've seen you use it many times. This makes a significant difference, you know. Most people don't realize this, but it's true. Also, oolong is a good choice. Much easier to read than white or green--"

"Sibyll," Severus growled.
"Right, right. Now, you must give me a moment. The Inner Eye does not always work in time with our own schedules." Severus started to stand, but she grabbed his wrist and held him with surprising force. "Just a moment..."

Severus cursed silently and lowered himself back down.
The process seemed to take forever. She peered down at the cup, turning it over and over in her hands and squinting down at it. Finally, she shook her head, and her glittery yellow earrings swung wildly, tangling in her hair.

"Oh, this is not a happy cup," she told him.

Severus did not even bother rolling his eyes. "Astute as always."

Sibyll was too absorbed in her task to notice the irony in his voice. "I see a dark past, shrouded in mystery," she continued, as if he had not spoken. "An unhappy childhood, an adolescence stained by loneliness and regret. An adulthood spent yearning for redemption!"

Severus glared at her. "Most impressive." He stood to leave, but she was not finished.

"There is more!" she exclaimed, standing to block his path. "You have lost much in recent years...many that you care about." She paused at this, her expression confused and almost tender. "And I see a cross. You are carrying a great burden, one that you keep very close to you. Heavier than anyone can imagine." She twisted the cup and cocked her head to the side. "And there is a shield..."

Severus wanted to move, but he felt frozen where he stood. She blinked several times and looked up at him, her eyes wide. Carefully, she set the tea cup on the table, then reached up and removed her glasses, letting them dangle from the chain she kept around her neck. Her eyes were softer this way, smaller. She wasn't pretty, but there was something about her translucent skin and pale eyelashes that made her seem almost delicate. Fragile.

"She will be vulnerable, after I am gone."

"I wish you would not--"

"It is not a possibility, Severus, but a certainty. Now, you must listen. You are certain he does not know about her?"

"He does not."

"I am sure you have succeeded. You must do everything in your power to make sure that she stays at Hogwarts, no matter what transpires. If he finds out and she--"

"He will not. I will make sure of it."

Severus was hardly aware that Sibyll had moved before he felt her pressed up against him, her thin arms wrapped around his shoulders. Before Severus knew what had come over him, his hand was sliding over the back of her neck and she was lifting her chin and pressing her lips to his.

It had been a long time since Severus had kissed anyone. Years since he had been crowded against his office door, teeth scraping along his jaw, ink-stained fingers working the buttons of his trousers. Severus felt a familiar pressure in his chest, a long-dormant flicker of heat in his belly that flared when Sibyll opened her mouth under his, her tongue searching tentatively for his. He felt her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, a loose strand of hair brushing his throat. She twisted her fingers in the collar of his robes and cupped his face with one hand.

Abruptly, Severus pulled away, eyes snapping open to meet hers. She gazed up at him, dazed but calm, her lips parted and swollen. "Thank you, Severus," she said quietly. Then she smiled softly, kissed him on the cheek, and swept out of the room.

Severus stood still for a moment, then glanced down at his teacup, saying a quick cleaning spell without looking at the clumped leaves.