Happy Birthday, Albus
Deep into the night of Albus Dumbledore's 157th birthday, the very old man eased himself into his favorite armchair, which was nearly as old as he was, and picked up Filius Flitwick's present. Filius' gift was a first edition of "The Great Gatsby", written by a wizard the two aging men had known in the early part of the century. "Imagine my shock," Flitwick had exclaimed, waving his hands animatedly, "when I saw that in a window during an outing in muggle London! Apparently Fitzy made quite a name for himself in the muggle world. Although, it's not that surprising. The poor man could hardly hold a wand, much less use it!"
Flitwick had only been one of some 20 guests, but his present represented the entire spectrum of gifts given. He'd received a book or two from every single guest, running to gamut from "Top Twenty Transfigurers" from Minerva, to "Hippopotahorse: A Cry for the Repeal of the Ban on Experimental Breeding" from Rubeus, and "Constant Vigilance!: The Memoirs of Mad-Eye" from the author himself.
Looking hopelessly at the gigantic stack of books, Dumbledore sighed forlornly. Year after year his friends and colleagues continued giving him books, and only books. Not that he didn't like books; quite the contrary. Reading was Dumbledore's favorite activity, and he had a thirst for knowledge that was never quenched. But.....it was getting to be too much of a good thing. Albus had over 10,000 books, all of which he had read at least once.
There was only one person who refrained from giving him reading material, but, like usual, he was absent from the festivities. "Not that it was much of a party," Dumbledore muttered without malice. Actually, Dumbledore had never been so happy to be ignored. Since the defeat of Voldemort (a scant three weeks ago), there seemed to be a celebratory party every night in Hogwarts, so the Headmaster's birthday had been a thrown-together thing, with only his closest friends attending. The one close friend missing, and the one who hadn't shown his face at any celebration since the defeat, was Severus Snape.
Snape had holed himself up in his room, only venturing out of them to teach his N.E.W.T. potion classes. Though he had not intruded upon the younger man, Albus suspected that Severus had suffered a great deal more than anyone realized during the last battle. While Harry Potter had been heroically battling the Dark Lord, Severus was battling any Death Eater who came close to the two titans. Duel after Duel after Duel had to have left some impact upon the man, but Albus knew for a fact that he had not visited the infirmary.
Albus sighed again, this time in worry. He counted Severus among his very best friends, right up there with Minerva and Rubeus, and he hated to see his friend suffer needlessly. But, and this was the cause of his sigh, he also knew that he could not force the other man to do anything.
Suddenly he shook his head to rid himself of his dark thoughts, and tried to focus once again upon his book. He didn't get very far, for when he had just been getting into the novel a voice came from his fireplace. "Headmaster?" It inquired hesitantly.
The Headmaster treated the apparition with a bright smile and said, "Ah, Severus, what can I do for you?"
Stiffly, the Potions Master said, "I was just wondering if it were too late for me to give you with your birthday present?"
"Of course not, Severus," exclaimed Dumbledore with a chuckle. "The aged require very little sleep, and I must count myself most firmly in their ranks."
"Indeed, Headmaster." Said Severus, a touch sadly. There was a brief pause before Severus said, "I think I'll walk to your rooms, sir. I'll see you shortly."
Without waiting for a reply, Snape disappeared from the Headmaster's fireplace. Dumbledore gently put down "Gatsby" and leaned back in his chair, wondering what Severus had bought him this year. The old man always awaited with great anticipation the Potions Master's gifts at Christmas and on his birthday, for Severus was the one person who never got him books. Albus thought that it was because Severus dealt with the same problem: Snape had a book collection that any bibliophile would envy, and it grew with every holiday.
Though Dumbledore's madcap sense of humor was well known and well documented, few in the wizarding world would believe that, when the mood struck him, Severus Snape could match his mentor point for point. And as Dumbledore flat out refused to ever give a book as a gift, a unique kind of exchange had developed between the two men. It had started innocently enough the year after Snape had started teaching, when the younger man had given the Headmaster a simple biting tea cup; a gift that had brought tears of mirth to Albus' eyes. From then on the gifts had become increasingly weird, to the point where Albus had given Severus an exact replica of the outfit Neville Longbottom's boggart had worn four years prior. Dumbledore had included a short note that read, "Severus- I've heard through the grapevine, as they say, that you look fantastic in this."
That had been at Christmas, and Albus had been awaiting his friend's retaliation with great anticipation since then. Personally, Albus thought that Severus would get him something along the lines of a muggle walker or maybe even a wheelchair. Albus chuckled at the idea, but those images brought up darker, lingering thoughts he'd been trying to ignore.
A sharp, solitary rap at the door, rid the old man of all his fears, and he called out "Come in, Severus!" in a loud, hearty voice.
The door opened slowly, and Severus slipped in, favoring Albus with a smile so uncharacteristic that less knowledgeable wizards would have suspected Polyjuice Foul-Play. But the Headmaster knew better, and he silently motioned for Severus to sit down. The dark-haired man was holding a small, rather lumpy package, wrapped with plain brown paper, completely dispelling Dumbledore's earlier guesses about it's identity.
"I was wondering when you'd come by," said Albus, giving the younger man a faux suspicious look.
Severus grinned, and replied, "Ah yes. If you were to put any stock into what the students are saying, then I've been sulking in my room, thinking up a way to bring the Dark Lord back to us."
"I suspect it's something much more sensational....." prompted Albus.
"Of course. In reality, I'm contacting all pureblood sympathizers and am in the process of becoming the next Dark Lord." Severus managed to get this far with a straight face, but cracked a smile as he thought of his next statement. "My minions, I've decided, will be known as Sevvy's Super Cool Guys"
"Sevvy?" Asked Dumbledore, with a raised eyebrow.
Severus nodded instantly, and said with a grin, "Yep, that's my 'Dark Overlord' name. Pretty good, isn't it?"
Albus' eyes glinted with humor, but he managed to deadpan, "It strikes terror into the very soul."
Snape nodded again, saying, "That's what I thought."
Both men chucked for awhile at the thought of a Dark Wizard named Sevvy, and then fell into a companionable silence. After a few minutes, Severus suddenly blurted, "It's hard to believe that he's actually gone, isn't it?"
"Who? Sevvy?" Asked Dumbledore, still chuckling.
Severus fixed Dumbledore with a look usually reserved for particularly dense first years and said, "Don't be obtuse. I meant Vol.....The Dark Lord" Even though he knew the Dark Wizard was dead and gone, Severus still felt a certain fear in saying his name. It brought back too much pain, both physical and emotional.
Dumbledore, who knew perfectly whom Severus was talking about, fixed Severus a with a similar look that the younger man had actually endured as a dense first year, and said, "Don't think that just because I'm getting older that you've got the upper hand in the smarts department, Severus." Then, to show Snape that he was speaking in good fun, Albus grinned again and said, "I've got secret talents you can't even begin to imagine, kid."
Severus bristled a little at being called kid, but let it pass. Instead, he gazed at his friend, waiting for his thoughts on the subject breached earlier. Dumbledore, after a little bit of silence, sighed and responded, "Yes, Severus, it is odd that Voldemort is finally out of our lives. It's almost as if we don't have a purpose anymore."
Severus nodded ruefully, but said nothing. Which was unfortunate for Albus Dumbledore because, in the silence, the thoughts and feelings that he'd been trying to restrain broke through the emotional dam he'd built for him self. Albus was 157 years old, which was ancient even for wizards. A very few managed to live past 150, and they are usually intellectuals who spend their entire lives studying or testing, like Griselda Marchbanks. Active wizards like Dumbledore hardly ever lived past 130.
The wizened wizard had been holding onto life, through sheer will, to see the defeat of Voldemort all the way through. And.....now that his fight was over, he could feel his strength slipping away. He didn't know how long he had left, but he knew it wasn't going to be too protracted. 'I almost wish I had taken Nicolas up when he offered me some Elixir of Life all those years back...' thought Dumbledore wryly.
Severus noticed his friend slipping deeper and deeper into melancholy. The old man had a deep frown on his usually cheerful visage, and a slightly slumped look to his usually postured frame. Hating to see the man he cared so much for in such a state, especially on his birthday, he pulled out his present to lighten the mood. "Well," he exclaimed, offering up the lumpy package to Dumbledore, "I didn't come here to ruin your birthday! I came here to give you a well deserved gift."
Even though he could sense the forced cheer that his friend was exuding, Dumbledore gracefully took the gift with a grateful smile and began to open it. Albus made quick work of the wrapping paper, and quickly revealed Severus' gift; nothing more than a pair of unadorned, grey woolen socks.
At first, Dumbledore didn't know what to say. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed at his gift; so disappointing to some, but meaning the world to him. Finally he found his voice, and looking up at his young friend, vision blurred through tears, managed to choke out, "Thank you, Severus. I don't think-" here his voice broke for an instant, but was quickly recovered "...I don't think you quite understand how much this means to me."
Severus was silent for a moment, before looking his friend straight in the eyes and saying, "No, Albus.....thank you. For everything. I shudder to think where I would be today without you. I just.....I want you to know that, that I care for you like a father."
Severus' eyes bore into Dumbledore's, desperate for the older man to understand what he was trying to say. And finally, the Headmaster did. He looked back at Snape, and understood that the man across from him understood. He understood his fears and, unfortunately, felt the same way. In that moment, nothing needed to be said. Hours worth of dialogue were passed within one look, and they both felt at peace and closure afterwards. Dumbledore realized, a little late, that he should respond to Severus' statement, or at least try to. "I.....uh.....Thank you again, Severus."
Snape nodded, knowing that that was all that needed, and stood up quickly. "I really must be going, Albus. I shall see you tomorrow....." The Headmaster nodded absently, but made no verbal reply. After waiting for a couple of seconds, Severus made his way to the exit.
Before Severus was even out of the room, Albus had picked up his copy of "The Great Gatsby" again. 'I'll promise myself one thing,' thought Dumbledore, clinging to the novel as if it were his mortal soul, 'I will at least finish this book before I depart upon the next great adventure. I'll at least accomplish that.....'
Dumbledore was so focused on his thoughts that he did not notice that Severus had not left. "Albus?" Inquired Snape from the doorframe.
Albus looked up, surprised, and asked, "Yes, Severus?"
Severus swallowed, and said in a voice that was a touch thicker than his usual one, "Nothing.....just....Happy Birthday, Albus."
Dumbledore rewarded Snape with a smile that was almost like his old one, and said, "Thank you, Severus. Thank you for everything."
Severus swallowed again, and left without another word or look, not wanting his mentor and friend to see him break down. He walked quickly, at almost a run, to his private chambers, not knowing that what he's just heard would be the last words Albus Dumbledore would ever speak to another living thing.
The next morning, Dobby the House Elf, on his routine morning cleaning of Dumbledore's quarters, discovers the body of the Headmaster peacefully sitting in his favorite armchair with his chin resting gently upon his chest, and his hands folded upon a newly finished copy of "The Great Gatsby".
The End
Deep into the night of Albus Dumbledore's 157th birthday, the very old man eased himself into his favorite armchair, which was nearly as old as he was, and picked up Filius Flitwick's present. Filius' gift was a first edition of "The Great Gatsby", written by a wizard the two aging men had known in the early part of the century. "Imagine my shock," Flitwick had exclaimed, waving his hands animatedly, "when I saw that in a window during an outing in muggle London! Apparently Fitzy made quite a name for himself in the muggle world. Although, it's not that surprising. The poor man could hardly hold a wand, much less use it!"
Flitwick had only been one of some 20 guests, but his present represented the entire spectrum of gifts given. He'd received a book or two from every single guest, running to gamut from "Top Twenty Transfigurers" from Minerva, to "Hippopotahorse: A Cry for the Repeal of the Ban on Experimental Breeding" from Rubeus, and "Constant Vigilance!: The Memoirs of Mad-Eye" from the author himself.
Looking hopelessly at the gigantic stack of books, Dumbledore sighed forlornly. Year after year his friends and colleagues continued giving him books, and only books. Not that he didn't like books; quite the contrary. Reading was Dumbledore's favorite activity, and he had a thirst for knowledge that was never quenched. But.....it was getting to be too much of a good thing. Albus had over 10,000 books, all of which he had read at least once.
There was only one person who refrained from giving him reading material, but, like usual, he was absent from the festivities. "Not that it was much of a party," Dumbledore muttered without malice. Actually, Dumbledore had never been so happy to be ignored. Since the defeat of Voldemort (a scant three weeks ago), there seemed to be a celebratory party every night in Hogwarts, so the Headmaster's birthday had been a thrown-together thing, with only his closest friends attending. The one close friend missing, and the one who hadn't shown his face at any celebration since the defeat, was Severus Snape.
Snape had holed himself up in his room, only venturing out of them to teach his N.E.W.T. potion classes. Though he had not intruded upon the younger man, Albus suspected that Severus had suffered a great deal more than anyone realized during the last battle. While Harry Potter had been heroically battling the Dark Lord, Severus was battling any Death Eater who came close to the two titans. Duel after Duel after Duel had to have left some impact upon the man, but Albus knew for a fact that he had not visited the infirmary.
Albus sighed again, this time in worry. He counted Severus among his very best friends, right up there with Minerva and Rubeus, and he hated to see his friend suffer needlessly. But, and this was the cause of his sigh, he also knew that he could not force the other man to do anything.
Suddenly he shook his head to rid himself of his dark thoughts, and tried to focus once again upon his book. He didn't get very far, for when he had just been getting into the novel a voice came from his fireplace. "Headmaster?" It inquired hesitantly.
The Headmaster treated the apparition with a bright smile and said, "Ah, Severus, what can I do for you?"
Stiffly, the Potions Master said, "I was just wondering if it were too late for me to give you with your birthday present?"
"Of course not, Severus," exclaimed Dumbledore with a chuckle. "The aged require very little sleep, and I must count myself most firmly in their ranks."
"Indeed, Headmaster." Said Severus, a touch sadly. There was a brief pause before Severus said, "I think I'll walk to your rooms, sir. I'll see you shortly."
Without waiting for a reply, Snape disappeared from the Headmaster's fireplace. Dumbledore gently put down "Gatsby" and leaned back in his chair, wondering what Severus had bought him this year. The old man always awaited with great anticipation the Potions Master's gifts at Christmas and on his birthday, for Severus was the one person who never got him books. Albus thought that it was because Severus dealt with the same problem: Snape had a book collection that any bibliophile would envy, and it grew with every holiday.
Though Dumbledore's madcap sense of humor was well known and well documented, few in the wizarding world would believe that, when the mood struck him, Severus Snape could match his mentor point for point. And as Dumbledore flat out refused to ever give a book as a gift, a unique kind of exchange had developed between the two men. It had started innocently enough the year after Snape had started teaching, when the younger man had given the Headmaster a simple biting tea cup; a gift that had brought tears of mirth to Albus' eyes. From then on the gifts had become increasingly weird, to the point where Albus had given Severus an exact replica of the outfit Neville Longbottom's boggart had worn four years prior. Dumbledore had included a short note that read, "Severus- I've heard through the grapevine, as they say, that you look fantastic in this."
That had been at Christmas, and Albus had been awaiting his friend's retaliation with great anticipation since then. Personally, Albus thought that Severus would get him something along the lines of a muggle walker or maybe even a wheelchair. Albus chuckled at the idea, but those images brought up darker, lingering thoughts he'd been trying to ignore.
A sharp, solitary rap at the door, rid the old man of all his fears, and he called out "Come in, Severus!" in a loud, hearty voice.
The door opened slowly, and Severus slipped in, favoring Albus with a smile so uncharacteristic that less knowledgeable wizards would have suspected Polyjuice Foul-Play. But the Headmaster knew better, and he silently motioned for Severus to sit down. The dark-haired man was holding a small, rather lumpy package, wrapped with plain brown paper, completely dispelling Dumbledore's earlier guesses about it's identity.
"I was wondering when you'd come by," said Albus, giving the younger man a faux suspicious look.
Severus grinned, and replied, "Ah yes. If you were to put any stock into what the students are saying, then I've been sulking in my room, thinking up a way to bring the Dark Lord back to us."
"I suspect it's something much more sensational....." prompted Albus.
"Of course. In reality, I'm contacting all pureblood sympathizers and am in the process of becoming the next Dark Lord." Severus managed to get this far with a straight face, but cracked a smile as he thought of his next statement. "My minions, I've decided, will be known as Sevvy's Super Cool Guys"
"Sevvy?" Asked Dumbledore, with a raised eyebrow.
Severus nodded instantly, and said with a grin, "Yep, that's my 'Dark Overlord' name. Pretty good, isn't it?"
Albus' eyes glinted with humor, but he managed to deadpan, "It strikes terror into the very soul."
Snape nodded again, saying, "That's what I thought."
Both men chucked for awhile at the thought of a Dark Wizard named Sevvy, and then fell into a companionable silence. After a few minutes, Severus suddenly blurted, "It's hard to believe that he's actually gone, isn't it?"
"Who? Sevvy?" Asked Dumbledore, still chuckling.
Severus fixed Dumbledore with a look usually reserved for particularly dense first years and said, "Don't be obtuse. I meant Vol.....The Dark Lord" Even though he knew the Dark Wizard was dead and gone, Severus still felt a certain fear in saying his name. It brought back too much pain, both physical and emotional.
Dumbledore, who knew perfectly whom Severus was talking about, fixed Severus a with a similar look that the younger man had actually endured as a dense first year, and said, "Don't think that just because I'm getting older that you've got the upper hand in the smarts department, Severus." Then, to show Snape that he was speaking in good fun, Albus grinned again and said, "I've got secret talents you can't even begin to imagine, kid."
Severus bristled a little at being called kid, but let it pass. Instead, he gazed at his friend, waiting for his thoughts on the subject breached earlier. Dumbledore, after a little bit of silence, sighed and responded, "Yes, Severus, it is odd that Voldemort is finally out of our lives. It's almost as if we don't have a purpose anymore."
Severus nodded ruefully, but said nothing. Which was unfortunate for Albus Dumbledore because, in the silence, the thoughts and feelings that he'd been trying to restrain broke through the emotional dam he'd built for him self. Albus was 157 years old, which was ancient even for wizards. A very few managed to live past 150, and they are usually intellectuals who spend their entire lives studying or testing, like Griselda Marchbanks. Active wizards like Dumbledore hardly ever lived past 130.
The wizened wizard had been holding onto life, through sheer will, to see the defeat of Voldemort all the way through. And.....now that his fight was over, he could feel his strength slipping away. He didn't know how long he had left, but he knew it wasn't going to be too protracted. 'I almost wish I had taken Nicolas up when he offered me some Elixir of Life all those years back...' thought Dumbledore wryly.
Severus noticed his friend slipping deeper and deeper into melancholy. The old man had a deep frown on his usually cheerful visage, and a slightly slumped look to his usually postured frame. Hating to see the man he cared so much for in such a state, especially on his birthday, he pulled out his present to lighten the mood. "Well," he exclaimed, offering up the lumpy package to Dumbledore, "I didn't come here to ruin your birthday! I came here to give you a well deserved gift."
Even though he could sense the forced cheer that his friend was exuding, Dumbledore gracefully took the gift with a grateful smile and began to open it. Albus made quick work of the wrapping paper, and quickly revealed Severus' gift; nothing more than a pair of unadorned, grey woolen socks.
At first, Dumbledore didn't know what to say. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed at his gift; so disappointing to some, but meaning the world to him. Finally he found his voice, and looking up at his young friend, vision blurred through tears, managed to choke out, "Thank you, Severus. I don't think-" here his voice broke for an instant, but was quickly recovered "...I don't think you quite understand how much this means to me."
Severus was silent for a moment, before looking his friend straight in the eyes and saying, "No, Albus.....thank you. For everything. I shudder to think where I would be today without you. I just.....I want you to know that, that I care for you like a father."
Severus' eyes bore into Dumbledore's, desperate for the older man to understand what he was trying to say. And finally, the Headmaster did. He looked back at Snape, and understood that the man across from him understood. He understood his fears and, unfortunately, felt the same way. In that moment, nothing needed to be said. Hours worth of dialogue were passed within one look, and they both felt at peace and closure afterwards. Dumbledore realized, a little late, that he should respond to Severus' statement, or at least try to. "I.....uh.....Thank you again, Severus."
Snape nodded, knowing that that was all that needed, and stood up quickly. "I really must be going, Albus. I shall see you tomorrow....." The Headmaster nodded absently, but made no verbal reply. After waiting for a couple of seconds, Severus made his way to the exit.
Before Severus was even out of the room, Albus had picked up his copy of "The Great Gatsby" again. 'I'll promise myself one thing,' thought Dumbledore, clinging to the novel as if it were his mortal soul, 'I will at least finish this book before I depart upon the next great adventure. I'll at least accomplish that.....'
Dumbledore was so focused on his thoughts that he did not notice that Severus had not left. "Albus?" Inquired Snape from the doorframe.
Albus looked up, surprised, and asked, "Yes, Severus?"
Severus swallowed, and said in a voice that was a touch thicker than his usual one, "Nothing.....just....Happy Birthday, Albus."
Dumbledore rewarded Snape with a smile that was almost like his old one, and said, "Thank you, Severus. Thank you for everything."
Severus swallowed again, and left without another word or look, not wanting his mentor and friend to see him break down. He walked quickly, at almost a run, to his private chambers, not knowing that what he's just heard would be the last words Albus Dumbledore would ever speak to another living thing.
The next morning, Dobby the House Elf, on his routine morning cleaning of Dumbledore's quarters, discovers the body of the Headmaster peacefully sitting in his favorite armchair with his chin resting gently upon his chest, and his hands folded upon a newly finished copy of "The Great Gatsby".
The End