Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, of course.
A/N: This is just a short one-shot that came to me last night. I thought about hanging onto it and using it one of my future fics, but decided short and sweet was better. Enjoy.
Giving Him A Push
Snow silently fell outside the large stone castle, weighing down the strong pine trees' branches. Every now and then, a strong northern wind kicked up the fluffy white precipitation and caused it to magically swirl around the grounds, sprinkling against the castle's large stained glass windows.
Inside this large castle in the second-most tallest tower was an elderly wizard, white bearded and all, staring out of one of the largest windows onto the snow-covered grounds, as the sounds of hushed whispers echoed behind him in the large portrait-filled office. He had a pleasant smile, the kind that reminded a person of his or her grandfather, and had warm blue twinkly eyes, full of merriment and joy. His robes, eccentric as usual, were a deep crimson spotted with outlines of silver reindeer. And atop of his head was a simple bedcap.
At the sound of a soft knock against a nearby door, Albus Dumbledore sighed softly and glanced at it. With a flick of his wand, it opened and revealed a tall, lanky man dressed in pure black robes.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said happily. "Please, come in." He knew he didn't need to tell the younger man twice. "What can I do for you today?" He remained silent and waited for the response, recognizing the signs that whatever was on the younger man's mind required a lot of self-urging.
"I apologize for disturbing you, Headmaster," Severus began carefully. "However, I—"
His smile deepened inwardly instantly as he watched Severus struggle for the words. So that was what was on the man's mind. He should've known.
"You are here to change my mind about the requirement concerning the ball tonight again, yes?" he replied calmly. When Severus inclined his head a moment later, Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, I have made up my mind. The requirement stands."
"But, sir—!"
"No, Severus. There are no 'buts' about it." Dumbledore then stroked his beard slowly. "I understand your apprehension. I do. However, it is all in the spirit of International cooperation, a fundamental part of these games."
The younger man clenched his jaw tightly. "And if I become deathly ill?"
Dumbledore glanced over the rim of his half-mooned spectacles. "Then, I shall send Poppy to your rooms and heal you straight away." He chuckled when he heard Severus's resulting groan. "Now, my boy, it's not nearly as bad as you are making it out to be. I promise."
"You are forcing your staff into awkward situations!"
"Hardly. I'm merely requiring that you bring a date tonight."
"My point exactly, Headmaster."
"Now, come now. Nowhere have I stated that you must take said date back to your rooms after the evening is done. Just that for the ball portion that you mingle with another." Dumbledore then shrugged, his blue eyes wandering about the massive room onto his various knickknacks. "I would imagine that we will all need this—what did you call it earlier—useless activity to get through the dark and difficult times that lie ahead."
Severus groaned quietly.
"I'm sure if you would merely ask her, my boy, she would happily accept."
The younger man growled fiercely and whirled around, his long black robes billowing behind him. Clearly he did not believe Dumbledore's words. Without another word, Severus stormed out of the office, slamming the oak door loudly behind him.
Dumbledore sighed heavily in response and shook his head. Quietly, he walked towards his desk, stopping for a moment to run a finger affectionately down his phoenix's back.
"Oh, Fawkes," Dumbledore softly whispered. "When will that boy open his eyes and see?" He chuckled when the crimson phoenix trilled quietly and gave him the familiar 'I told you so' look. "Yes, yes, I know. Meddling in things I ought not meddle in, but truly they could be good for one another. If only he would open his eyes and see her."
Soon after sitting at his desk, he frowned. His mind had recently kept returning to the young man, broken and full of despair, that had begged Dumbledore to save his childhood best friend.
"I wish I were dead," a voice echoed in Dumbledore's mind, a memory from long ago.
"I wonder," he mused aloud.