Confrontation

Late Night Visit

“How could I not notice you, Sybil?” Professor Lecter purred at the witch as he sat in her cushion strewn living room, sipping a glass of sherry as the Divination Professor looked at him with dreamy eyes, “You are quite noticeable. Especially your lips. Your lips are exquisite. I have a very strong desire to taste them. So strong…I almost feel I can’t help myself.”

”You do?” Trelawney said, her voice becoming husky.

Sybil had been quite surprised when there was a knock on her trap door at one in the morning. She had been sleeping sprawled on the couch, still inebriated from her sherry consumption when she became aware of the sound. Groggily, she felt about the floor for her glasses and put them on, then pulled her wand out from under the cushion her head was resting on and rose, approaching the trap door cautiously.

“Who is it?” she hissed.

“It is Hannibal, Sybil. Forgive the lateness of the hour and my forwardness…but I simply must see you…speak to you,” Professor Lecter replied in his soft voice.

Hannibal? Had he felt the stars drawing them together? Had the power of destiny moved his heart and drawn him to her side? Yes. Yes. The Powers that Be had brought him to her for a night of love and passion…the Fates had finally drawn the thread of romance, the main strand missing from her life. She practically ripped the trap door off its hinges opening it and letting the muggle in. It didn’t matter Lecter wasn’t a wizard…he had another kind of magic that worked on her.

She invited him in and poured him a glass of sherry, and he told her he felt an attraction to her, a very carnal hunger that he couldn’t restrain himself from. Sybil felt as if she would burst into flame as his soft voice touched her heart…not to mention another lower area. It had been quite some time for the witch. Years.

Sybil was more than ready to play catch up. She rose unsteadily from the mound of pillows she rested on and moved to the couch, sitting beside Lecter.

“Tell me more about my lips,” she breathed.

“They are extraordinary, Sybil. The food of the gods,” he said softly, his oddly-colored eyes resting on her mouth.

Sybil sighed and pursed her lips. Lecter licked his own as he looked at them. Not yet. Not yet. There was something else he had to do first.

“Look into my eyes, Sybil. I want you to completely relax…cast off the cares of the world,” he said hypnotically. Sybil’s enlarged eyes met his through the thick lens of her glasses. She felt herself relaxing deeply.

“Good. Good,” Lecter said, his voice dropping lower, “Listen to the sound of my voice…it is the only sound that registers, the only sound that matters. My voice alone, Sybil. Listen and let it take you over.”

”Yes, oh yes, Hannibal,” she breathed, the muggles voice taking precedence above all else.

Lecter tapped his glass on the coffee table top lightly.

“What do you hear, Sybil?” he asked her.

“Only you…you,” she breathed, her eyes glazed.

“You will do what I say without question,” Lecter intoned.

“Without question,” Sybil breathed, swaying towards him. She was under now.

Lecter studied her mouth.

“Sybil, the world is full of pain, so much pain it can become unbearable. And you have felt pain, the pain and ache of loneliness, years and years of loneliness. I am going to take that pain away…take all pain away,” he said softly, reaching into his robes pocket and drawing a very sharp thin filleting knife, the bottle of healing potion, a large plastic bag, neatly folded and a smaller clear bag. He set the potion and plastic bags on the table.

“You will feel no pain. No pain at all,” he said.

“No pain,” Sybil replied dreamily.

“Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them,” Lecter said.

Sybil did so.

He stuck the tip of the knife into her forearm and cut a small line. Sybil never flinched. She felt nothing. Lecter ran his finger over the thin line of blood that oozed from the wound and stuck the tip of it in his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss as he swallowed down the sweet, metallic taste of it.

“Good. Good. Now you will remain very still,” he breathed, putting down the knife, picking up the healing potion, uncapping it and dabbing a bit on his fingertip then drawing it across the small wound. It healed immediately.

“Yessss,” he whispered, placing the open bottle down on the table then picking up the plastic bag and shaking it out. He tore a hole in the bottom of it, then slipped the bag over Sybil’s head and drew it down so it covered her body, leaving her head showing. He pushed her hair back and picked up the knife.

“Poke out your lower lip,” he said softly.

Sybil obeyed him. He caught hold of it and pulled it out farther.

“No pain,” he breathed as he placed the knife flush against the edge of her mouth and carefully went to work.

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A/N: Brrrrrrrrrr! Lecter in his element. As a psychiatrist, hypnosis is most likely a skill he has. It's not magic, but it works.