Summary: One shot. Dumbledore is racing against the clock. Everything is resting on his shoulders. Failure was not an option. If he did not beat time, all would be lost.
Albus Dumbledore—One Shot
Betrayal is Like Sucking on a Lemon Without the Drop
The old man was far from young but athletic, his feet pounding on the hard, stone floor. His breathe came out hard and gasping revealing how hard he was pushing himself. He knew that if he did not hurry all would be lost. He knew everything was resting on his shoulders' he could not fail. He would have disapparated to his destination but his enemy had stolen his wand during their last battle mere minutes before. He could see it now, the place where the final battle would be fought and he would win without regret. He heard a bell and pushed himself harder, faster.
The grass tickled his toes; in his rush he was not able to worry about clothes. His thick, wool bedrobes were full of his sweat and he stumbled, his legs weak from the stress put on them. The door was only a few steps away when he spotted him, his thin hair blowing in the small breeze coming from an open window.
The man stood at the front of the room in front of a counter, his hand holding what devours Albus' mind completely. Dumbledore stopped a moment to watch in shock as the man he had always thought to be his student, his friend, betray him. The traitor handed the man behind the counter a few bills before turning to leave. As he turned, he noticed the grim and…..unseemly looking headmaster staring at him with a look of shock and betrayal on his face. The traitor smiled at the old man before passing over his wand and disapparating to Merlin knows where. Albus could not hold himself up any longer and his bum hit the floor with a silent thud.
"How could you, Remus? How could you, you traitor?" he whispered with tears in his once warm blue eyes. The man behind the counter walked over to the old man and squatted, speaking the words precisely as though he were speaking to a young child, "I expected you would turn up so I saved a bag for you. Don't cry. It's alright. Everything is okay, your lemon drops are right behind the counter." At those words, Dumbledore began bawling as he cried out, "Bless you! Bless you!"
On that day in late December inside the warm store by the name of Honeydukes, Albus Dumbledore lost a friend but, at the same time, gained something that friendship could never even attempt to give: lemondrops.