Dislcaimer: I do not possess any of these characters. J.K. Rowling thought them up. She also thought up many of these scenes, I'm just manipulating them to suit my authorial interests.
Author's Notes: My friend and I came up with this story after reading an editorial on Veritaserum that claimed that Snape was innocent. Ya, right. Dumbledore totally asked Snape to kill him. We both think that's total BS so we came up with the idea for this story and I'm executing it. Have fun!
Dumbledore was pacing around his office, apparently mulling over a new idea of his. On a pedestal a few feet away was perched Fawkes, watching his benefactor argue with himself over this recent enlightenment. Every few minutes the elderly headmaster would shake his head, causing his long silvery beard to shiver down its length, and mutter to himself.
"No that won't do at all! He could easily figure out what I was doing and stop me before I could get away."
Dumbledore's steady flow of mutterings continued through the late hours of night to the early hours of morning until, as the darkness was fading and the horizon emitted a faint pinkish glow, Dumbledore collapsed on his chair at his desk looking thoroughly disheveled, but rather smug, like he had finally figured out a way to conduct whatever activity he had been musing about all night.
"I think we might actually be able to pull this off," Dumbledore quietly said to himself "This just… might… work."
The headmaster of Hogwarts was not the only awake at such unreasonable hours. A student of admirable quality was bolt upright in his four poster bed while staring down at a rather old and worn sheet of parchment. This boy, or adolescent actually, with jet black hair just sat there unmoving except for his emerald eyes, that darted back and forth as if reading the same line of a book over and over again. For hours the young man stayed there watching that crinkly piece of parchment until finally he sighed and folded it, climbed out of his bed and opened his trunk to replace the map inside it. After he had closed the lid of the trunk and slid back into bed under his downy scarlet comforter, he said to no one in particular in the dark,
"I wish Dumbledore would tell me what's bothering him. He seems so distant these days. I'm sure I could help him figure out whatever his problem is. It must be really important if he spent all night thinking about it. I hope he calls me to his office to ask my opinion about it. I really want to help!"
And with that Good Samaritan statement, Harry promptly fell asleep.
It was late in the evening, almost 11 o'clock when Dumbledore summoned Snape to his office. The halls were deserted as the former Potions master, now Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, made his way through the dark corridors.
"I don't see what he means calling me like this to his office at this hour. It had better not be another one of those secret no-students-allowed after hours staff parties. I do not want to see Hagrid in a thong again. Even one of Weasley's potions would be more pleasurable to see that that. And who knew that Professor Flitwick could drink more than his weight in firewhisky?"
Snape arrived at the entrance to the headmaster's office and spoke the password tentatively. The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside to reveal the spiraling staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. Snape ascended the steps and climbed them slowly, straining his ears to hear any music or drunken laughter coming from the door above him. When he got level to the oak door he pressed his ear against it only to hear silence. No champagne bottles popping, no roaring laughter as Hagrid danced to Black-Eyed Peas, no drunken giggles or the sound of Sybil Trelawny predicting the doom of the whole school if they didn't drink the entire bottle of sherry she had brought with her in 3 minutes or less. So he straightened his sooty robes and knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal Albus Dumbledore standing next to Fawkes' perch stroking the birds gold and ruby plumage.
"You wished to me, Headmaster." Snape said to announce his arrival.
"I did indeed, Severus. I have another task for you, but one that you won't have to complete for several months." He stopped to look at Snape to see how he was reacting. When he saw that Snape was picking on an escaped thread, he went on. "I'm so sick of this. Of HIM! I need to get out, away!"
At this Snape looked up. Dumbledore had never acted like this before. He must really be frustrated to be talking like that. This was going to be a very interesting conversation. Snape felt like he was going to learn some things about Dumbledore that would make for satisfying black mail. Oh yes, this would totally beat thinking of new disgusting detentions for Potter and Weasley.
"Headmaster, you're sounding suicidal. What could possibly be making you so frustrated with life or… wait… who's 'HIM'?" asked Snape as he realized that Dumbledore was on his last nerve with someone, not life. "Is it the Dark Lord?"
"No, no, no. It's not him. I enjoy my little encounters with him. You see, I always win so it gives me a confidence boost! It's like with celebrities they wear a dress made of fabric that was made by underprivileged children in Mongolia or jewelry by women in Kenya so that they get good publicity which makes them feel like they've contributed to the world. When I beat Voldemort's sorry arse, it makes me feel like I've accomplished something. No, it's not Voldemort. It's HARRY!"