Professor Trelawny & Professor Smalley

A/N: The next installment in our series of horror. Mua ha ha. Now I am going to take a page out of Kerichi's book and shamelessly plug my other stories. GO READ THEM! And while I'm at it, go read Kerichi's, too. And why don't you make the world a better place and review? Oh by the way, Professor Smalley is a character from Kerichi's fic 'Simply Irresistable'. Fortunately, his ending is a little more happy in this fic than in hers!

"Aaah yes," the maiden garbed in fuschia velvet robes and large Chevy Chase-ish glasses said psuedo-wisely. "The yellow worm indicates your deep feelings for someone very close to you, and I mean non-platonic feelings, as in towards the opposite sex." Saying this the professor who was currently channeling her inner Oompa-Loompa said, shooting a significant glance towards a certain teacher's pet with hair like a mulberry bush. She went on, "And the earmuff," she stopped momentarily to smother a smirk, "To the side indicates that your frequent squabbles with said person are just a way to relieve your, shall we say, feelings, of a certain nature, towards each other."

Patting the two poor blushing teenagers lightly on the heads as she walked off, whistling innocently 'Love Is in the Air' and looking for all the world as if she had retreated into her own cosmic world. As she made her ghostly way out of the great hall she stopped occasionally at the seat of a poor, unsuspecting student, pausing only long enough to say a quick, "Beware of the Twinkies, for they are destined to go straight to your thighs." Or in one case, upon seeing one poor brunette girl with a distinctly piggish nose falling prey to the charms of a boy who she personally thought looked more like an albino than a sex god, and who she had seen snogging a certain ruby-haired maiden just the night before she stopped. Sniffed the air and said, "I sense a disturbance in the air." And, turning to the couple said faintly, "He's cheating on you."

She left behind the scandalized gasp, and then a second later, the sound of a smart slap on a cheek, chuckling merrily, oblivious to the curious eyes of one Professor Smalley who was watching her with great interest.

Dropping her glasses as she stepped past the Runes classroom she bent down to retrieve them. As she bent down to retrieve them her hat fell off of her head and she stumbled forward. Muttering a few choice words under her breath she turned back to pick up the hat, straightened up, and came nose to nose with Professor Smalley.

"Sybil, I trust the day is treating you well," the first man Trelawnyhad talked to in a great while besides her students and Dumbledore, said.

Eyes already magnified by the large glasses grew owlish as she hurried to reply.

"I- er, yes, thank you. Have you checked your star chart lately," Venus and Saturn are aligned, Scorpio's should be careful around simmering cauldrons. Would you happen to be a Scorpio? Aquarius?" She was stammering she realized. But she found suddenly that she seemed to have inherited an inability to speak. Why the last time she had felt like this around a boy- 'Man,' she corrected herself mentally. 'Professor Smalley is most definitely a man.'- had been in fifth year. That time when she had finally gotten the chance to talk to that hunky Peter Pettigrew.

"I happen to be a Capricorn myself," the swarthy professor with the delectable mustache said.

"Stubborn and single-minded, but also romantic and tender," she recited quickly without thinking. Then mentally dashed herself on the head she a thought entered her head. 'Fool! Trelawny you stupid arse, he'll think you're flirting with him!'

'And who's to say you aren't?' She quickly shoved the misbehaving voice in her head down.

He smiled genially, than asked, "May I ask what your sign is?"

"Cancer."

"Ah, loyal, loving, and thrifty."

"You read horoscopes," she asked skeptically.

"I personally don't, but my younger sister insists on reading them to me every month from Witch Weekly." 'He has a sister! Wonder if she would like me. . . Stop! What have we talked about? DON'T THROW YOURSELF AT GUYS!'

"I see, how old is your sister," she managed to say calmly.

"20."

"Such a nice age, I loved being 20," Trelawny reminisced.

"Nice? It's hardly a nice age! I can hardly keep the boys off of her and you're telling me it's nice!"

The bell signaling the next class rang through the hall and Trelawny jolted back to reality.

"I must go, goodbye," she said, turning and taking a few quick steps in the other direction. But then she stopped, suddenly struck immobile.

Though her inner alarm bells were clanging furiously, she turned around and raised her eyes to the professor's.

"You wouldn't be interested in a crystal ball reading would you? I need an example for the sixth year class. I'm afraid they have gotten a bit tired of me."

"I would be delighted, when?"

Heart fluttering at his easy smile, she managed to say, "Tomorrow, if that's not too soon. Last class of the day."

"I'll be there," he promised.

A wide grin broke out on her face, and her eyes danced to a tune all their own. She stood, rooted to the spot smiling goofily at him.

And stood.

And stood.

Suddenly a student jostled past her, bringing her back to reality.

"Oh," she exclaimed.

"Goodbye, 'till tomorrow," she said over her shoulder as she hurried down the hall.

"'Till tomorrow," Professor Smalley murmured, a small smile on his face as he watched the witch progress down the hall.


The next day crawled by at the pace of a snail- literally, for some snot-nosed third year had hexed her, and for a full two hours she could move no faster than a snail. Thankfully, it wore off by the last class of the day.

Professor Trelawny sat demurely on a pillow in the front of the class, watching her class out of hooded lids. She moved only once to flick her wand quickly, sending a chair scooting out from underneath a misbehaving sixth year, sending him flat to his arse.

She looked up and saw Professor Smalley hurrying through the door. His dark hair was ruffled ever-so-adorably, and his robes were open, revealing muscular shoulders. And oh, how muscular they were. . . So what if she had a fetish with shoulders? It was perfectly normal!

"Sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly, my last class got out a bit late."

"Perfectly alright," she said. Then turning to class she said, "Class, we have a demonstration today, take your seats. Ah, Mr. Creevey watch out for that chair."

Paying no heed to her warnings, sure enough Colin Creevey's chair turned into a giant pin on contact and promptly pricked him on the arse.

Waiting for the gales of laughter to die down she invited Professor Smalley to sit down next to her, in front of the crystal ball. As he bent down to retrieve a pillow, she took the opportunity to subtlety chance a quick look at his backside. So what if she happened to have a fetish with backsides, too? There was nothing wrong with a healthy interest!

He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped up in mortification, she'd forgotten she had still been looking at his arse! Damn, subtlety had never been her strongpoint.

She widened her eyes in a look of innocence, daring him to say something, but his eyes only danced and a faint smirk traced his lips. She scowled and turned to the crystal ball.

She placed her hands on the crystal ball.

"Class, please pay attention! When looking into a crystal ball, one places their hands over the crystal ball, and the person who desires to find out what is it the ball places there hands on top of the ball as well. Remember, only the person who the ball is in possession of can see inside the ball. Turn to page 105 in your textbooks for more information."

She turned and murmured to Professor Smalley, "Place your hands on the crystal ball please."

He placed his hands over hers. Directly over hers.

Her mind whirled. 'He didn't have to put his hands on hers, there was plenty of other surface area on the crystal ball for his hands! His hands weren't that large.' She looked at his hands. They were. She stifled a sigh, grudgingly admitting her fetish over hands. 'So did it mean anything? Surely if he really hadn't wanted to touch her he could have found some way not to. So that's the only answer. He hadn't chose not to touch her. What did that mean?'

Her eyes focused out, but was brought back to reality when the ball under her hands grew warm. Looking into it, she was suddenly glad that only theone in possessionof the ball could see inside of it.

A woman with large eyes and frizzy hair, wearing midnight blue robes with small crescent moons on them stood next to a larger man. His large hands held her own, and she must have said something amusing, for he smiled. And when he smiled, it was like he was devouring her. Or at least promising. Then he bent down to kiss her.

"What do you see," he prompted, looking deeply into her eyes.

Flustered she remembered stuttering something out about a pink furry bunny rabbit and a field of daffodils before snatching her hands away and pretended that she hadn't just seen the two of them snogging in a bloody classroom. In the bloody divination classroom. And she was wearing the Same. Bloody. Robes. As right now.

"Class dismissed," she said, rather higher pitched than usual.

She went around the classroom tidying it up and taking as much time as she could. When she turned around and found him still there she wasn't sure if she felt excited or scared.

"I thought I might help you clean up, since the rest of my day is painfully empty. And though the stack of papers that need grading in my chambers are very tempting, a lovely witch like you presents a bit more enjoyment. Is that alright?"

"Y-Yes, absolutely fine."

They spent a few quiet minutes, each working on the opposite side of the classroom, for which she was very grateful.

"Are you going to tell me what you really saw in the crystal ball," his deep voice asked from behind a stack of pillows at the other end. Sticking her head out from behind her own stack of pillows she answered innocently, "You might contemplate getting your hearing checked. I'm certain I already told you what I saw."

He strode quickly across the classroom. She scurried away, mentally hitting herself for every step as she did so. But it was a hopeless battle. For every step she took back he took two forward, and eventually she knew she would hit the wall. She planted her feet and stood her ground, hoping he would back off. He didn't.

"You expect me to believe that? Pink fuzzy bunnies and daffodil fields," he said incredulously.

"Er-" was all she managed. The next minute the candles in the wall flickered and went out, leaving the room in darkness. She hadn't realized that darkness had fallen over the castle, and she instinctively reached for his hand.

Generously ignoring said gesture- in words- forhis eyes mocked and asked the question that she could see clearly even in the dim light. Are you afraid of the dark?

"You didn't really need my help today did you," he asked softly, deterring her attention away from the lack of light pervading her senses at the moment.

"What are you suggesting," she answered, eyes narrowing dangerously as she stood up on her tiptoes to better look him in the eyes.

"This," she was faintly aware of him saying, rather smugly she thought. But she wasn't sure, because the thought fled her head like algebra does on the last day of school, as his lips touched her. She'd always expected nothing more from kisses than a symbolic meaning. Like to confess your love. Or to show how much you care. She'd never expected, despite all the romance novels she had read, that the kiss would be this unexpectedly delicious.

And it was. Very, very, very, very, very, delicious. It was like hot fudge sundaes and a hot shower after a grueling day all at once. Plus, the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach felt rather nice, too, in a weird way.

Breaking away- the bugger, he wasn't even out of breath (she would have to discuss this with him later. Either he had unnaturally large lungs, or he had been doing a lot of kissing lately)- he looked calmly at her. Apparently he felt no need to explain why he was looking at her, or say anything.

"What," she demanded, albeit a little rudely.

Ignoring her brusque voice he said, "You know, Sybil," shivers traveled down her spine, as they did every single time he said her name. "I read in a book once, that Capricorn and Libra were soul mates."

A/N: Mua ha ha. Well- whoever's still reading this story, (Hello- knock knock! Anybody there? Helloooooo) first of all, sorry for the hiatus, and second of all, how'd you like the latest installment? We've given you guys a break from the obscure and sickening couples, but we can't let you turn into wimps! So ladies and gentlemen, prepare your barfbags! Mua ha ha. . . .

I don't think all the horoscope information is right. But at least the thing about Capricorn and Libra is. Courtesy CosmoGirl magazine though, so how reliable can those airheads be? But the point is- LEAVE A REVIEW!