Unforeseen
Disclaimer: Sybil Trelawney/Dobby? Yes, of course J K Rowling would write something like that. Hahahaha.
AN: Er… yes… it's Sybil/Dobby… um… you'd better read it… and review.
It was Dobby's turn to tidy the North Tower.
Dobby had heard a lot of gossip in the kitchens, and had listened particularly carefully to any involving the mysterious Divination teacher, Sybil Trelawney.
Dobby had never cleaned Professor Trelawney's tower. He wondered what it would be like. It surely wouldn't be dusty, thanks to the other house-elves, would it? What was it like? Dobby's curiosity had been arrested.
The classroom was dimly lit and very hot, but Dobby, who worked in the kitchens, was used to intense heat. The incense created a romantic, slightly dizzying smell.
There were footsteps behind Dobby and he shrank into the shadows. House-elves should not be seen.
The well-discussed Professor Trelawney was incredibly thin for a human. She looked to Dobby like a very tall, very thin house-elf, although that might just be wishful thinking.
Dobby watched her drift over to a shelf of crystal balls and lift one down. Her jewellery jangled, which Dobby found oddly calming. She sat down at a table and placed the ball in front of her. Dobby edged closer.
Professor Sybil Trelawney watched the fascinated house-elf edge closer. His green eyes watched her dark brown hypnotically.
He moved closer, his ears flapping gently. What was his name again? He was new… Dobby, that was it. Dobby.
His nose was very long, like a broomstick, and his fingers were even longer. Sybil wondered if he played the piano.
One long finger gently took a strand of her frizzy hair. She tried to lean back inconspicuously. That felt lovely…
Dobby moved forward ever so slightly, and Sybil, unable to resist the temptation any longer, whirled round, catching him up in her arms. She sat the elf on her lap and stared at him. He stared back, eyes wide and terrified.
And, with a snap of those over-long fingers, he was gone.
Dobby was horrified when Professor Trelawney appeared in the kitchens and asked for him. He crept forward, cringing and shame-faced. She'd seen him! House-elves should never be seen! He'd have to punish himself, later.
He quietly followed the Professor up to her tower, trying to make his mismatched socks as unnoticeable as possible. She looked… strange. Not furious, exactly, but did Sybil Trelawney get furious?
Dobby's ears drooped as they reached the tower. Anything could happen to him here, and nobody would know, or even care. He was just a pathetic house-elf who'd been seen. It wasn't fair.
They climbed up the ladder into the Divination classroom, and Dobby fearfully followed the Seer into her private quarters.
Sybil heard Dobby gasp and she wondered whether he was so horrified by the mess. Mind you, it was quite bad – even she had to admit. She couldn't remember what colour the carpet had been originally – a deep purple, perhaps, or a misty blue – but now it was a dirty brownish-grey, where it was still visible. That was the price of banning house-elves from her quarters for three years.
The curtains round the walls shivered as she passed, and Dobby's movements matched them. He was scared out of his wits, she thought, but the prospect of tidying her bedroom might help him relax. After all, he was a house-elf.
The mismatched pair finally reached Sybil's bedroom and Dobby stopped walking. Of course, that might just have been because the mess was so bad that he couldn't have walked any further if he'd tried.
"I was wondering," Sybil sighed, "whether you could help me tidy up.
Dobby's eyes lit up.
Dobby wasn't sure how long he'd been tidying, but it didn't really matter anyway. And Sybil was helping him – Sybil Trelawney, the aloof Divination teacher, on her hands and knees scrubbing the newly-revealed red carpet! The mess was too awful to use a Scourgify Charm.
As Dobby made the bed, he looked around. He was, unbelievably, finished. "Dobby thinks there is no more work to do, Professor," he said, breathing the incensed air deeply. It was incredibly romantic, there was no denying it. And he loved it.
Professor Trelawney smiled warmly, a genuinely happy smile. "I am certain you are tired, Dobby. You may use my bed." Her tone brooked no argument, and Dobby noted that she had abandoned any mystical talk.
Dobby tried to argue, anyway. "But, Professor, Dobby could not do that!"
Her eyebrows raised in a very elegant and sophisticated way. "Excuse me?"
"Dobby is sorry, Professor," Dobby whimpered and lay back on the bed. He was soon asleep.
When Sybil woke up in bed the next morning, Dobby was already awake and his fingers were entwined in her hair. That was unpredictable. She smiled, savouring the feeling, and closed her eyes.
"You know," she murmured, "I'd have thought you'd scream when you found me in bed with you, but you seem delighted." Her smile widened. "You're so unpredictable. I like that."
"Dobby is happy to be with you, Professor, and Dobby likes you to be different."
"Sybil will do."
"Yes, Pro- Sybil."
Sybil sighed, wondering whether it was time to abandon the prospect of speech. Not quite yet. She decided. "Why don't we make some use if this bed?" she suggested.
Dobby's eyes flicked upwards. "Oh, yes!"
Dobby smiled gently at Sybil's sleeping face. She was beautiful and – oh, bliss - she thought the same of him!
His fingers caressed her smooth, pale skin and her long eyelashes flickered. She squinted up at the house-elf.
"Dobby?" Her glasses had been discarded somewhere near the wardrobe, next to her earrings. Dobby brought them to her.
"Thankyou, Dobby."
The two relapsed into silence, lying side by side in the double bed.
Sybil seemed to feel an urge to speak. "You doknow, Dobby, that I love you?"
Dobby's ears froze, and his mouth dropped open. He shook himself mentally. "Dobby loves Sybil too." He grinned.
Speech was, from that moment on, unneeded, as each indicated to the other how much they were appreciated.
Later, he would have to punish himself, but, at the moment, Dobby's only worry was that his nose was too long.
AN: Well?