Location: The North Tower
Summary: An account of how a certain, smoulderingly handsome Fred Weasley began his courtship of the blushing debutante, the
Sybill Trelawney was sitting placidly in the North Tower, tutting over the horoscopes in Witches Weekly and enjoying a cup of chamomile tea when the door to the Tower was flung dramatically open, to reveal Fred Weasley leaning (in what he hoped was a suave and alluring enough pose) against the doorframe, the top two buttons of his shirt left open, his hair tousled and a red rose in his mouth.
Nearly dropping her cup of tea in abject horror, Sybill froze. Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, the blood drained from her face and she made a small choking noise. Dear. Sweet. Merlin. What WAS he wearing? Was that actually a ruffled shirt? And leggings?
"Ah, Sybill!" Fred strode over, snatching the rose from his mouth and dropping down to one knee. "Alas! That the trappings of fate should be so cruel! They draw me closer to you, and everyday I become more enthralled by your - your sheer beauty and perfection!" He removed the teacup and saucer from her hands and offered her the rose.
Unable to come up with a coherent response that didn't involve a blood-curdling shriek, she numbly took the rose and continued to gape. Damned journals! Writing never transmitted tone of voice! Why hadn't she remembered that?
She tried to recall, but for some reason all she could focus on were the horrendous boots and clashing leggings one Fred Weasley was clad in. What on Earth was he trying to look like?
"You are my Aphrodite, Sybill, my ethereal Goddess, the fragrant Dungbomb of my heart!" Fred continued. "Dare I hope to be your Adonis, the Romeo to your Juliet? Say you'll be mine, and let me sweep you off your feet and take you away from this lonesome tower! Sweet my love, accompany me to the Hallowe'en Ball!"
Sybill choked and snapped her mouth shut. Romeo to his Juliet? Was he going to poison her? Wait...no, that was more on Severus level.
Sybill considered, fairly heavily, the consequences of flinging herself out the window to her ultimate doom...versus living through more of this...but realized that death before Samhain whilst Venus was in the third house and Jupiter was rounding the second sigil was absurd and foolish.
"P-pardon?" was the most articulate reply she could manage.
"Is that a yes, Sybill?" Fred stared rapturously at Sybill and grapsed her hands so tightly that her numerous rings cut into her skin. "What's in a name?" Fred launched into the hastily memorised soliloquy he had taken from one of the books they had in the Muggle Studies Section of the library, by some bloke named Shaketeare. "That which we call a - a prose would by any other name stale and sweet!"
He had no idea what it meant, but apparently it was supposed to be romantic.
Was he quoting Muggle romantics now? Or rather...misquoting Muggle romantics now?
"Oh definitely...stale...though sweet," Sybill laughed uneasily and tried to pry her hand away from the amorous youth. "I know naught of this Hallowe’en night, though mayhap I arrive...hopefully unscathed in the physical or mental senses of it."
Yes! That was it! Confuse him and maybe he'll go away!
True...it never worked with Minerva, but there was a shot here. She should probably throw in some meaningless comments about the position of Neptune and Hydra along the horizon as well as the month and alignment of the stones.... She was about to spout those very things but was abruptly interrupted.
"Er - yes! That too!" Fred had no idea what Sybill was talking about, so he simply leant in closer and clasped her hands together more tightly. "Oh, Sybill, I have spent many a countless night pacing up and down my room, trying to pluck up the courage to confess my feelings to you! Do not spurn my affections, my dearest, dearest - sugarmuffin! I daresay it would break my heart!"
Sybill was certain this was how she was going to die.
The Sugarmuffin from one Fred Weasley had done it. It had done her in.
There was a sort of grim satisfaction in the fact that she would no longer fear battle with deatheaters, but the alternative was not happy. That one batched pet name would cycle through her mind while she slept, while she ate, and then one day--likely in the near future--they would find her dead in her reading room.
No medical witch or wizard knows why aneurysms happen...they would say. But OH Sybill knew.
"Yes! Yes! Yes I'll go! Now go," Sybill said hurriedly snatching her hand back. The window was looking more appealing by the moment.
You will?" Fred mistook the expression of utter horror and mortification on her face for ... something else entirely. "Ah, Sybill, love, duckie bird, my beauteous drago- er - butterfly! They could look far and wide and never find a happier man!" He clutched his chest and struck a dramatic pose.
Sybill could no longer resist the urge to claw her eyes. "Yes yes! Happy! Leave!"
However, Fred refused to budge despite the fact that she looked as though she would love nothing more than to stuff her crystal ball up his nose. "Say you'll be mine forever, Sybill!" he ploughed on breathlessly. "You cannot ignore the first flutterings of true love that whispers in your ear and teases your heart!"
"Actually," Sybill leaned on a table and looked away from him, "I think that's palpitations."
Why wouldn't he leave? Could she throw him out the window and get away with it? She could claim insanity? Explain the circumstances? Even an auror--hell, Moody would have chucked the boy out long ago.
"I hear the whispering now, Mr. Weasley! Perhaps I could hear it clearer if you were to leave me in silence to ponder over my ... feelings." Sybill shuddered.
"Let them hear us, love! I care not!" Fred threw out his arms and looked as though he was about to catch her up in a suffocating, life threatening embrace, but Sybill let out a small shriek and scuttled backwards, "Let them hear us as I speak of my undying passion for you, enough passion to fill voluminous tomes! Let them watch as I fall enraptured to your wonder and live for the beckoning of your fair hand towards me!"
The incident that followed as Fred Weasley attempted to capture the unbalanced Divinations teacher would be recorded thusly.
She 'swooned' from his honeyed words, and, in an attempt to save her from tumbling out the window he himself dove in for the catch. Due to a misplaced desk, however, he took a nasty spill and ended up stuck on the roof of the North Wing just below the tower and due to sheer dumb luck, barely missed the enchanted crystal ball that came hurtling murderously down towards him, much to Sybill Trelawney's intense disappointment.
The following was heard, though not taken into account.
"Are you alright!"
"SYBILL MY LOVE, MY SACCHARINE SUGARMUFFIN! I AM UNHARMED!"