Who Wants to Live Forever

Who Wants to Live Forever

A Series of Vignettes

#6: Holding On

"How do you do, Miss? I'm Gilderoy Lockhart, and let me say I will enjoy teaching you during your seventh month here."

Sibyll blushed a bright red. "Professor Lockhart, I teach Divination here at Hogwarts."

"This fair vision before me is old enough to teach? I shall never believe it. Your name, oh fair one?"

"Sibyll Trelawney."

"Well, Sibyll, call me Gilderoy. After all, we shall be colleagues this year. Will I see you at supper this evening?"

"No. I don't come down to eat with the whole school very often."

"Then I shall come to eat with you tonight. You can read my leaves afterwards to see if I have a long future ahead of me." He flashed her the smile that had won so many awards, and bowed to her.

Gently, she raised him from his bow. "I'm in the North Tower. I'll see you at seven. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have classes to teach."

"Until this evening then, oh glorious one." He turned and climbed a set of stairs, and Sibyll stared after him. The Inner Eye had said nothing about this turn of events. She smiled to herself, and headed back to her tower to begin her first round of classes.

Evening came, and Gilderoy showed up at her door promptly at seven. She had expected that he would forget about their arrangement, and was pleasantly surprised to see him at her sanctuary. Sibyll invited him in, and exclaimed loudly, "How gorgeous!" to the bouquet of flowers he produced from behind his back.

She ran her fingers along the petals, feeling the velvet of the rose petals, and the slight waxy feel of the lilies. She conjured up a vase and set the bouquet inside it. She then led Gilderoy to her sitting room, which often doubled as her dining room when she wasn't eating in her office. The house elves were just finishing laying out for them the same type of meal that was being eaten in the Great Hall.

Sibyll took a seat on one of the cushions strewn about the table, and motioned for Gilderoy to follow suit. He settled himself right next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. She blushed deeply, and picked up her fork, beginning to eat. Again, he followed her lead, and soon they were talking about what it was like to teach at Hogwarts, and what he could expect from some of his students.

Soon, the food was gone and the plates were gathered up by the house elf that had remained. He left a bottle of wine and two goblets. As soon as he was gone, Gilderoy opened the bottle and poured the wine into the goblets, then handed one to Sibyll.

Smiling, she accepted it, and then got up and moved to her chesterfield. He followed, sitting closely to her once again. She took a deep sip of the wine, hoping to mask how nervous he was making her. Gilderoy seemed to make no notice of the shaking in her hands, he just blithely continued their conversation. She answered when she needed to, at first, but was soon drawn deeply in by his words. So much so that she hardly gave it a thought when he kept refilling her glass.

Sibyll was startled when she felt his hand upon hers. She looked at him, which was all the invitation he needed. Taking her glass from her hand, he set in on the table alongside his own. Then he leaned forward and captured her lips with his own. Panicking slightly, Sibyll tried to break the kiss, but he just deepened it, pressing his lips harder against hers.

Finally, he ended the kiss and looked at her. She was breathing harder, and her cheeks were slightly flushed. Without waiting to see if it was okay, he kissed her again, putting his arm around her and bending her back to lay on the chesterfield.

Sibyll was startled by his actions, but even more so by the fact that she was enjoying his kisses. They made her feel loved, special, something she hadn't felt in a long time. So, she gave herself up into the kisses, thinking, 'I'm being kissed by Gilderoy Lockhart. How many women can say that?' So lost in his kisses and her thoughts, she didn't notice one of his hands creep from her waist to her neck and begin to undo the row of buttons that held her robes closed.

The feel of his hand on her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple, brought her straight back to awareness. She struggled to sit up, pushing his hands away from her. "No, Gilderoy, we can't. I hardly know you," she breathlessly said, as she pulled the front of her robe closed.

Slowly, he nodded, moving away from her. "I'm sorry if I was too forward with you, Sibyll. May I call on you tomorrow for supper again?"

"Of course you may," she responded before actually thinking about it. "Seven, again?"

"Sounds wonderful. I'll just show myself out, then." He stood, then picked up her hand, gently kissing the back of it. "Until tomorrow, my dear." He then walked out the door.

***

The evenings passed quickly, each ending in a more and more passionate kiss. Finally one night, three weeks later, she let him continue further. Always before when he'd tried to touch her, she'd push his hand away, he'd end the kiss, and they would call it a night.

This night, when he put his hand to her breast, she didn't try to brush it away. He broke the kiss, and looked into her eyes questioningly. Smiling, she nodded, and he resumed his kiss, his hands hurriedly undoing the buttons of her robes. She felt him push the robes off her shoulders, and heard them fall to the floor in a soft hiss, forming a small pool of fabric around her feet, giving her an almost 'Birth of Venus' look, the cool air lapping at her bare flesh.

As though she weighed nothing, he picked her up, and she vaguely heard him ask where her bedroom was. She languidly pointed in the general direction he needed to go, and soon she felt him softly lay her on the bed. Sighing, she gave herself over to him completely.

***

The next morning, Sibyll woke up feeling sore and let down. She had heard tales when she was in school of the awkwardness of the first time. Since no one ever looked twice at her during her Hogwarts years, she'd never had that first experience. So sex had become more and more romanticised in her thoughts. Sibyll built up in her head the beauty that would be her first time, the perfection of it.

Last night had shattered those carefully constructed illusions. While Gilderoy hadn't been rough, he also didn't think about giving her pleasure or release. Oh, she knew that one was supposed to climax, and Gilderoy certainly had, but she had been left at the precipice, waiting to be driven over the edge into the waiting abyss.

And now, he wasn't even here with her. She hadn't heard him leave during the night, and his absence hurt her deeply. Drawing the covers up to her chest, suddenly ashamed to be naked in her own bedroom, she softly began to sob. She was so focused on her feelings of abandonment and loss that she never heard the house elf enter her room until she spoke to her.

"Miss Trelawney, your breakfast is getting cold, and I've come to clean your room." At the house elf's words, Sibyll slowly lifter her head from the cradle of her arms, looking blankly ahead at the wall. "Miss, is you all right? Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Sibyll shook her head no, and then pushed the covers off her, rising from the bed. "Burn the sheets, Lozzy. I never want to see them again," she softly said as she pulled on the clothes she would wear to her classes that day.

"Yes, Miss, right away." Lozzy began to strip the bed, pulling off the coverlet, blankets, and sheet. As she was removing the fitted sheet, Lozzy noticed the spots of blood on it. "Is you hurt? Maybe you should be seeing Madam Pomfrey."

"No, Lozzy! I'll be fine as soon as I get to my classroom. Just take the sheets and be gone!" The house elf did as she was told, leaving Sibyll alone in the room. "Maybe I should shower before my first class, get the last lingering remains of him off of me before I teach," she mused aloud as she made her way into her sitting room. There in the table was a vase filled with poppies, with a note sitting next to it. She hurried over and picked up the note, and saw that it was from Gilderoy. Opening the envelope, she began to read:

'Dear Sibyll,

I'm sorry I took off so fast last night. I had forgotten that I had a person coming in to serve detention with me. I hope I didn't upset you. I'll see you tonight at seven.

Love,

Gilderoy"

Sibyll softly smiled, then picked up a piece of toast, quickly eating it before making her way to her classroom, humming to herself.

***

If her students noticed anything, it was that their Divination professor was more spacey than normal. No one knew, or cared for that matter, that she was seeing Gilderoy. There were other things on everyone's mind, and that included Albus, who was so quick, usually, to defend those he'd rescued.

The affair was still continuing on into December, and showed no signs of cooling off, at least to Sibyll's untrained eyes. Every day she found herself more in love with Gilderoy, while he seemed to love her back. Everything was perfect, and then came Boxing Day.

For Christmas, Gilderoy hadn't gotten her anything, but that was all right, he didn't have to give her anything but his love. Sibyll had, on the other hand, given him what she believed to be the most precious gift of all - the news of his impending fatherhood. She still wasn't entirely certain, but she had always been regular with her cycle, and she'd missed November's and December's. When Gilderoy had heard the news, he smiled, though Sibyll never noticed that the smile didn't reach his eyes and that his embrace was suddenly stiff and stand-offish. She was deliriously happy, and she knew that he would be too, once he got used to the idea.

That's why Boxing Day came as such a shock to her. Gilderoy had appeared at her door, early in the afternoon. She'd invited him in, but he refused, thrusting a velvet drawstring bag into her hands. "That should be enough to see it through Hogwarts," he said coldly, staring contemptuously at her stomach. "I think it's better if we not see each other any more, people might start to talk, and I don't want that kind of talk attached to my name. Besides," and here he went for the jugular, "you were only a conquest to me. Have a nice life, Sibyll." He then turned and left, while she continued to stare after him, unable to think of anything she could say to stop him.

Her tears came, fast and furious, like a sudden summer storm. She closed the door to her rooms, and ran down the stairs, into the Great Hall, and then out into the garden, tears clouding her vision, causing her to stumble more than once, but never fall. Once outside, she let the sobs come, not trying to hold them back any longer. She never noticed the other person in the garden with her until they spoke.

"Come now, Sibyll. Things cannot be that bad."

"Oh, I didn't see you here, Minerva. I'll leave if you want." Sibyll turned to go, only to be stopped by Minerva's hand on her arm.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't tell you. You'd think worse of me than you already do," she managed to gasp out as the first sharp pains began to knife at her stomach. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, so intense that she doubled over from it.

"Sibyll, what is wrong?" Minerva asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice.

"Get me to Madam Pomfrey, quickly please, Minerva," she said, the pain and terror stark in her voice.

Minerva conjured up a stretcher and laid Sibyll on it gently. She could not help but notice the blood that was left on the ground and that Sibyll had passed out from the pain, and a sudden knowledge of the situation gave wings to her feet. She levitated the stretcher and quickly ran into the building, the stretcher following her. Pulling out her wand, Minerva froze all the stairs and took the quickest route to the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey answered at the first set of rappings on her door. "What's wrong, Minerva?"

"It's Sibyll, Poppy. She's losing her babe."

"I didn't know she was pregnant. Or married for that matter."

"Neither did I, but here she is. Help her, Poppy."

"I'll try my best, but I make no promises."

And try she did to get Sibyll out of labour. She tried everything she knew and had been taught, but it wasn't enough. Sibyll still lost her baby. Poppy cleaned Sibyll up and put a low healing spell on her.

"She'll stay asleep for another few hours, healing physically. I don't know how she's going to be emotionally, though. Do you have any clue who the father was?"

"I have one guess, and that's our resident Lothario. I knew Albus shouldn't have ever hired him."

"Why would you think Gilderoy is the father?"

"I-I have my reasons," she briskly said, not willing to tell Poppy that one night, during her hall prowling, she'd overheard Gilderoy talking into the fireplace in the staff room with his cronies, laughing about how he was using Sibyll. Yet the few times that Sibyll had come down to lunch, she'd seemed so happy, and Minerva hadn't wanted to destroy that. They had enough between them without adding that to the mix. "I'll check on her before dinner tonight." She then walked out of the room, fighting back tears of her own. 'As if having petrified students wasn't enough,' she thought as she made her way to her room.

Sibyll didn't wake up that night, nor the next. On the 28^th, she opened her eyes, and touched her stomach. As soon as her hand made contact, she knew that she had lost the baby. Silent tears coursed a path down the fine lines of her face and onto her pillow. She knew that she still loved Gilderoy, that she was holding on to her memory of the love she had for him. But she also knew she could wait until the sun refused to shine and he still wouldn't love her. "Besides, who waits forever, anyway," she whispered. In that moment, her heart hardened towards him, and she vowed to never let him hurt her again.

***

The months passed, and she healed, though she was never quite the same. After the holidays, she'd given Gilderoy back his money, telling him of what happened. He had seemed remorseful, but she wouldn't listen to what he was saying to her, so she never really knew how he felt about losing his child. And yet, through it all, she held on to the hopes that one day, she would find someone to love her for herself.

***

And in St Mungo's, there now resides a patient who can barely remember his name, why he was famous, or his time in school. He recalls nothing except the vague notion that once upon a time someone loved him enough to want to have his child. It is this memory of love that keeps him holding on.