Sybill/Minerva
Some people, Minerva McGonagall was sure, actively tried to be infuriating. For the way in which Sybill Trelawney floated through the world on a cloud of self-righteousness could not be anything other than clever design.
"For the last time, Sybill," the former witch hissed, "you can not claim a moral victory in chess!"
Sybill looked indignant.
"I like to think that my pieces enjoyed the game more," she explained, "and that's what counts."
"No it bloody well isn't!" Minerva said, physically feeling the annoyance building up inside of her.
"Well, why did you ask me to play then?" Sybill asked, crossing her arms.
Minerva sighed an angry sigh. She wasn't exactly sure now.
"I had some stupid idea it could be fun," she said, "I won't be making that mistake again!"
"You're so narrow-minded," Sybill scowled.
"And you're so completely insufferable," Minerva shot back.
"Blinkered."
"Spacey."
"Uptight."
"Flighty."
"Bossy."
"Cryptic."
"Have dinner with me."
"What?"
Minerva was stunned into silence. The seer repeated the statement.
"Have dinner with me," her voice was calm and a little hesitant, but there was definitely no question in it.
Minerva stared at her; the same curious inkling that convinced her to invite Sybill to play chess appeared in her chest.
"Can there be moral victories in dinner?" she asked with a small, teasing smile.
"No," Sybill replied with a laugh.
Minerva took a deep breath.
"Alright," she replied.