**So I'm starting a little contest for those interested. Some of my chapters will have lines from songs as their titles, because those songs inspired me while updating. So, if you can correctly guess the song in a PM to me, then I'll send you a special private sneak peek at the next update before anyone else. First correct answer only, PM only, and also it will only be a sneak peek(about a paragraph or two, possibly three, depending on the difficulty of the song and/or the length of the update – my own personal judgement, no trying to get me to make it longer because you think you got gipped!) – not a full update, and be warned, it may only be a day or two ahead of time. Don't worry, though, if I mess up and don't give you a proper peek (at least 150-200 words and a full day's advance), you can PM me, and I'll give you another go. Good luck! Cheers, February Elizabeth McKenzey
Chapter Eight: Really Shouldn't Miss You
Minerva lay on her back, staring up at the plain ceiling that Sybill would have called boring. It should need colour – or something else unnecessary, no doubt. Minerva could practically hear her talking her ear off about interior decorating... The woman was nonsensical it drove Minerva up a wall. How was anyone supposed to get through to her? She sighed. She really wished that pest were there now. She was completely vexed with herself about that; about the fact that she wasn't there, and about the fact that she wanted her so excessively.
Ashen and blue snowflakes wafted into the tower and made their way toward Sybill's bed. They landed gently in their usual places and drowned out her personal features. A line of flesh cracked in her skin, and spread. Sybill was awakened by the sound of a soft moan once again. It had become accustomed at this point. She was almost glad she did not have classes to attend to, for even her most favoured students were bound to think her completely mad if they saw her. Though she knew it would be there, every night when she woke, she would get up groggily and walk over to her mirror. She almost fell over at the sight of the wrinkles that covered one side of her face. The wavy grey locks fell past her shoulders on the same side, but still she never noticed the difference in her eye colour. In the morning, the apparitions were gone again. She stared at herself once they'd disappeared, waiting to see if they would suddenly rise up again, but nothing happened. Sybill had no earthly clue what was going on. She decided to make tea.
Minerva dreamt and remembered everything that happened that night.
Minerva felt herself laughing once more and Sybill clambered in after her. She had not laughed like that since she was young. Sybill bent over her, grasped her hand, and looked intensely into her eyes. It startled Minerva, and brought her out of her reverie. She sat up quickly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed; her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird's. What on earth was she doing? Sybill looked at her curiously from a side angle, no more than a single small whimpering-like sound emitting from her lips... her slender lips... Why did Minerva feel like her eyes saw every bit of her soul right then and there? It wasn't; she didn't. She couldn't. Minerva just stared at her. She could feel the magic surge between them, rising up; if she resisted any longer, Sybill's head might explode from the intensity with which she was gazing at Minerva. She looked down; her head wasn't clear if she looked at the younger woman. She had to be rational. She'd already made enough mess tonight. Sybill reached out a hand to her chin, pulled her close, and kissed her. Oh, God, Minerva thought, and fell back into the woman's lips once again.
Sybill pushed her tenderly into the bed, and leaned her body close to her. Her skin smelled sweet and light (Minerva had refused her any perfume on the grounds that she didn't like and she wore too much of it anyways), and she moved her lips down on to Minerva's neck, which made her shiver. For over an hour, Sybill made her body feel like it was half on fire and half frozen at the same time. She was touching Minerva in places where she'd never been touched by a woman, even though she'd always known she was gay. Before she knew it, Minerva was reciprocating every caress and every kiss.
Minerva was awake long before she needed to be. She stared at her ceiling for what seemed an endless time. She knew she had to stop thinking about her, but she couldn't make herself do so. Once a thought of Sybill entered her brain, it grew and manifested itself, slithered into every coil and every inch of her, overrunning her, overpowering her, until she was no longer herself anymore. She was like a creature who liked to fantasise about its own demise, save that her fantasies only ended in death when Voldemort should have killed either one of them. Rather, those were her nightmares.
Every logical part of her told her that this was her own fault, that she put herself where she was. Still, she could not help herself. She imagined the curves of Sybill's body hugging her tightly, closing up her inner wounds. The long threads of her kinked hair falling loose from her ponytail and landing softly on Minerva's cheek; her copious graceful thighs grazing against Minerva's more slender ones... She could go for hours dreaming her entire life away; she envisioned how things could differ if it were possible for them to be together – if they weren't colleagues, if they weren't 16 years apart... if Minerva weren't so damned cruel... She felt like she didn't deserve to miss her, but she did. Her alarm went off, and she slowly got up, dressed, and made her way to the Great Hall.