Chapter Three: Seeing

For the next few weeks, Sybill slept in Minerva's office. Many times she would wake with troubling nightmares of doom or darkness – some looming catastrophe or other such nonsense. Minerva would console her to the best of her ability. In fact, she spent nearly all her free time taking care of the woman. She became almost settled with the idea that she would have to get up practically every night, sometimes more than once, and see to it that her colleague fell back asleep.

Sybill was losing it. Not only was everything clamouring down upon her like the Dark Lord himself swooping up a bird in his fist, but now she had to think of Minerva. She had always thought, until recently, that Minerva's soul was dry, like the Granger girl's. Yes, she went to her, when she thought she had nowhere else to go, but the fact that Minerva let her sleep, night after night, on her couch, and then came to her aid in the middle of the night… It was perplexing.

After countless nights of their strange routine, Minerva realized she felt sorry for her colleague. It was still a bunch of hogwash to her, but she could tell the woman believed every word she uttered. She began to see herself, finally learning that Sybill did not enjoy at all the things she spoke of or thought she saw. She didn't understand. In all the years she had known her, she always thought the woman enjoyed being that way; but when Sybill bled tears into her good pillows each night, she knew it was not so. When she had a rough night, she held her close. She had never thought that they might be friends, but she was beginning to feel for her colleague.

Still, it did vex her a little. There was a tiny part of her that nonetheless thought it an act.

"Sybill," she called one night before going to sleep. She was in her dressing gown already, and her hair hung in a long slate plait, evidence of just how last-minute her decision was. She made her way to her emerald chair.

"Y-y-yes, Minerva?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something, and I want you to take great care when you answer. I wouldn't want to distress you any further. Why is it that you did not – why do you – you never seemed so upset over your…visions before."

Sybill looked at her strangely. Why was she asking her this? Didn't she think she was a fraud?

"I – the things I See have put a larger burden upon my heart since – since –"

Minerva had hoped it would be that, and not some answer that was complete nonsense. At least, in a way, it made sense. Sybill had launched into soaking her pillows again, and Minerva felt a small jab of guilt.

"Mi-Minerva, I-I…."

"Shhh…" Minerva patted her back soothingly.

Sybill pulled away from her delicately and looked at her, handkerchief in hand. Minerva's blue eyes looked at her in a way they never had before; there was uncommon kindness in them – at least, uncommon towards her. Tears plunged down her cheeks, searing her eyes and freezing her lips. Why was it that her prediction about Minerva never came true? Why was it that her visions had failed her there, the once place she longed for them to succeed? Was she only capable of making truthful predictions if they were unhappy ones? Though she and Minerva had never gotten on well, she had always anticipated the day when that particular vision would come true. She didn't want to only See black; she wanted light.

She blew her nose, and wiped her face with the clean side of the handkerchief. She Saw into the older woman's eyes, an echo of what she had said to her the night they met filling her head.

"You will find what you want someday. What your heart seeks dwells somewhere unexpected."

Sybill's gaze rested on Minerva's own once again, and she could feel very old magic as it drifted between them. The aura of the ancient magic filled her, and the turmoil that usually resided in her ebbed a little. She waited a few moments, and tried to let it envelop her. The more the magic took hold of her, the more she understood. Perhaps, was this one prediction waiting for something – waiting for her? It took hold of her, and drew her closer to Minerva. She quickly caved to its allure, and placed her hands wildly, somewhat ungracefully, onto the woman's cheeks and kissed her.

Minerva, thrown off balance, was briefly immobilized, but then backed away.

"S-Sybill," she reprimanded.

"I – M-Minerva, I-I'm sorry."

She blinked at her from behind her large glasses, and just as Minerva was about to respond, she was doing it again. Minerva pulled away once more. "I- I thought you said you were sorry."

In a flash, Sybill reached up her hand and rested it alongside Minerva's temple to her cheekbone as she moved closer to her. "Y-yes… Not –" she spied the magic, and took control, much as she had the first day the Umbridge toad had asked her to predict something for her. "– not really,"

She stroked Minerva's face, in an odd, but gentle way, and Minerva could feel it all over. "I-I'm twenty years older than you. I have wrinkles and… and…" Sybill's fingers slid to the bottom of her cheek, a place where she was even more aware of her age showing. "The spaces… in-between the lines… are of such beauty… and the eyes… window to the soul… tell me more than I need to know, but everything I want…"

She leaned into Minerva, and made a quiet stroke with her lips.

She did not move away. She almost. She almost pulled away, but something in her held on. She felt the deep magic take hold over her – the same that had made it so that she heard Sybill scream all those nights ago. She almost kissed her back, but was too terrified. What a laugh! Minerva McGonagall, terrified – what would any of her colleagues say if they heard of her being a coward? Before she could change her mind, Sybill pulled away. The two stared at each other, but said nothing for a few minutes.

Finally, Minerva broke the silence and cleared her throat. "Hmmm…. Yes… Uh… Goodnight, Sybill," she said nonchalantly, and recoiled to her room.