A Sorta Fairytale

by Drama-Princess and She's a Star

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of the brilliant J.K. Rowling. The assorted songs that we'll use in here (because what's a fairytale without being a musical fairytale?) aren't ours, either.

Author's Note: She's a Star. Drama-Princess. Never, ever leave them in a room together. This happens.

...And they weren't even in a room together. A MSN conversation proved to be enough.

Terrible things happen. Truly terrible things.

But don't let that discourage you from reading this, or anything. It's actually quite brilliant.

Honest.

Chapter One: Once Upon A Time...

Albus Dumbledore winced and sank deeper into his chair as another crash sounded from behind the door. He felt rather foolish as muffled shouting leaked through the door. It had been over a decade since he'd first employed Severus Snape and Auriga Sinistra to work at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and yet he still hadn't learned not to leave the pair of them alone in a room together. Something was bound to wind up broken. (He hoped that it wouldn't be the pink coffee mug covered in yellow daisies. He'd always been rather attached to that one.)

"How dare you, you . . . you slimy, ugly, lice-ridden git! How dare you?"

"How dare I? How dare I? Listen, Sinistra," Snape snarled, leveling a finger at the petite Astronomy professor. "I've put up with a lot of your nonsense over the years, but I will not stand for this. I will not have you leaving little pink, chocolate hearts in my path. I will not. I would sooner kiss Potter's feet."

She raised an eyebrow. "Severus Snape, a foot fetishist. I never would've thought." He opened his mouth to snap back at her, but she wasn't done yet. "And Potter's feet, no less. Really, Severus, preying on the metatarsals of the fifteen year old boy you claim to hate. It's rather disturbing."

Snape opened his mouth. Sinistra raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore mentally crossed his fingers.

Another crash came, this one sounding eerily similar to the entire contents of the china cabinet being tipped over.

"And there goes the coffee cup," he said to his copy of the Daily Prophet. "You know, I can't decide if they'll kiss or kill first."

"Goddamn bloody hell, Snape, control your temper!"

Auriga Sinistra stormed out of staff room, her normally pale face bright red. "Or go back to the dungeons, you--"

"Overgrown bat," Dumbledore finished as Snape swept past him.

"I'd be only too obliged," Snape spat from over his shoulder. "As long as you free the suffering inhabitants of this castle from your abominable company and retreat to your beloved tower, fair damsel." The last two words were accompanied by a formidable contortion of his mouth that Dumbledore no doubt considered his most accomplished sneer yet.

Dumbledore shook his head rather morosely, vaguely wondering if peace between the chronically battling pair would ever surface. Somehow he doubted it. That only seemed possible in a miracle.

Snape's words from seconds before suddenly stood out in his mind.

'Fair damsel.'

Yes, only possible in a miracle.

...Or a fairytale.

It was quite a pity that the old style of courtship had gone out of vogue, Dumbledore reflected to himself. Back when women had been fair maidens and the men valiant knights, there was none of this love/hate nonsense.

Certainly a princess never threw a coffee mug at her rescuer.

Although, in retrospect, that would have certainly deterred the dragon.

Yes, it was a definite pity that they'd ever left the fifteenth century.

If only he could manage to get the warring couple into a properly handled society, the Headmaster thought to himself, taking a right turn towards the Gryffindor common room.

Then there wouldn't be any more of this nonsense about-- his musings were interrupted by a crash. One remarkably similar to the one previously heard. Minerva was going to be very upset about the loss of her rosebud tea set.

The high, shrill, and unmistakably furious voice of Hermione Granger filled the air. "I can't believe you, Ron Weasley! How dare you?"

Ah. Another quarrel between Weasley and Granger. This ought to be interesting, albeit a bit violent. Dumbledore had always found it rather endearing, how the two chose to scream themselves hoarse at one another rather than actually state their feelings flat out. (Though it had gotten a bit frustrating after six years; this opinion seemed to be universally accepted at Hogwarts.) Nevertheless, it was always entertaining to witness one of their arguments. Dumbledore only wished that he'd brought along a bag of sherbet lemons, which would surely make it the perfectly enjoyable occasion.

"Well, excuse me!" Ron hollered back. "You don't have to get so bloody worked up about it, Hermione, it's just homework!"

A horrified gasp from Miss Granger: "Just homework? Just homework?! Ron, this is not just homework! This is the one hundred point Potions essay that Snape said would count for a fourth of this quarter's grade!"

"And I'm sure yours is fabulous, Hermione," Ron said, very shortly, "So if you'd just let me see it-"

"No!" Hermione screeched. "I spent four hours on this! I'm not going to just...to just let you..." She sputtered indignantly, "...Just let you....copy it!"

"Shows what kind of a friend you are-"

"What?! You have no right to say that! It's your own fault! You didn't do the work, and you'll have to face the consequences!"

"You could have bloody helped me when I asked you to last night!"

"Last night, Ron! Last night! When you very well knew that it was due today! Why would you put it off until last night? Wait, I know why! Because you're lazy and irresponsible and-"

The Fat Lady screeched indignantly as the portrait swung aside and slammed into the wall. Ron stormed out, glaring, while Hermione followed him, violently swinging a piece of parchment.

"Dammit, Hermione!" Ron bellowed in frustration. "Leave me alone!"

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, Ronald Weasley-"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mum-"

"If you would only apply yourself-"

"If you would only stop harping on about everything-"

"Stop being so unreasonable!"

"I'm not the unreasonable one here! You. . ."

At this point, their gazes landed simultaneously on Dumbledore, and they fell silent. He smiled pleasantly at them.

"Good afternoon Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger."

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Ron smirked at her, but stayed quiet.

"Having a pleasant discussion?" Dumbledore inquired mildly. Hermione wet her lips and looked over at Ron for help. True to form, he said nothing.

Hermione set her teeth and smiled as politely as she could.

"Yes, sir," she said meekly. "Very pleasant."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow. "I'm so glad to hear that you aren't causing a disruption in the halls now."

"We. . . wouldn't do that?" Hermione said carefully, watching Dumbledore for his reaction. He nodded.

"Right," Ron broke in. "We wouldn't do that. Ever. Not even--" he was cut off by Hermione's elbow in his ribs. "Ever?"

"Happily ever after?" Dumbledore asked thoughtfully.

Two very enthusiastic nods greeted this. "Hmm," Dumbledore said. "Hmm. I do wonder. Very well. Miss Granger," he nodded to Hermione. "Mr. Weasley."

Dumbledore was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly missed the third crash-- in fact, it was more the desperate scramble and hurried apology that caught his attention than anything. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were absorbed in a lengthy discussion about Quidditch. . . or, Dumbledore amended, Miss Weasley was attempting to keep up with Potter as he talked on about a particular Beater formation revolving around a tornado complex.

"And so," Potter continued, hurtling down the corridor at breakneck speed. "That's the real weakness of having your chaser in the left field. Did you get it?"

"Er?" Ginny Weasley offered.

"Right," Harry agreed. "All right. I'm in for practice. Thanks for walking with me."

"Any time," Ginny replied faintly, a soft blush rising to her cheeks. She watched Harry disappear, then began (Dumbledore noted with interest) talking to herself.

"Oh, any time, Harry," she muttered darkly. "I'd love to walk with you to Quidditch practice. After all, I'm rather desperate by now, aren't I? Seeing as I've been madly in love with you for five years, and all. Sure, you may never look twice at me when ball time comes 'round, but let's be walk-to-Quidditch-practice buddies, shall we? My every childhood romantic fantasy has been fulfilled. Yes, Harry, I-"

She turned and abruptly fell silent upon discovering that Dumbledore was witnessing her little rant.

"Er...hello, sir," she said weakly to her feet.

"Hello, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said kindly. "How are you?"

"Fine," she replied meekly. "You?"

"Quite all right," Dumbledore said, studying her for a moment. The poor girl looked so absolutely humiliated that he decided to take pity on her and continue toward his office.

After taking a few steps, however, he felt compelled to stop and say, "He'll come around, Miss Weasley. I assure you."

"Er...all right," she said, the shade of her face now matching her fiery hair.

Once he'd settled back down in his office with a nice cup of tea and a few toffees, Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair to consider. Exhibit A: Former Death Eater and Socially Handicapped Professor. Problems: Animosity deadly enough to cause deaths of bystanders.

In fairytale terms, a spinster princess and a not-so-charming prince.

Exhibit B: Overachieving Student Avoiding Her Destiny. Problems: . . . Overachieving Student Avoiding Her Destiny.

Clearly the classic example of a princess and a stable boy. (Dumbledore was better versed in Muggle entertainment than most realized).

And Exhibit C: Hero and Girl. Problems: Hero is clueless. (Sometimes Dumbledore wondered how exactly the boy had managed to vanquish Voldemort if he couldn't even handle a simple date, but then he remembered a moment following Grindelwald and a Veela in his own history).

It didn't require much of an imagination to see the prince and the poor girl in this not-so-happy couple.

Dumbledore tapped a fingernail against a toffee. The idea that had been bubbling in his mind ever since hearing Severus' sarcastic comment was definitely winning the battle over sanity. Yes, it might not work. Yes, they might kill him.

But really, he was an old man. Where else was he to get enjoyment from?

There was only so much delight which one could derive from assorted Muggle sweets, after all.

*

"Now, now, now," Snape said, a twisted smile making its way onto his face as he stared out at the sea of worried sixth-year Gryffindors. "It has become painfully clear to me that your comprehension skills are tragically below those of the average sixteen year old student." He whisked down to Neville Longbottom's cauldron and demanded harshly, "Did I or did I not say that your essay had to be thirty inches long, Longbottom?"

The whimpering Gryffindor responded with a barely audible squeak. Snape fixed him with a sneer before continuing to circle the terrified group of students.

"Some of you apparently thought this was too great a demand on my part," he continued malevolently. "Like Miss Patil here." Parvati cringed. "She apparently grew tired of the subject she chose to cover after twenty-four inches."

He inched closer to where Potter, Weasley, and Granger sat.

"And Mr. Weasley," he said, "Who didn't bother to complete the assignment at all. We all know what this means."

Every Gryffindor in the dungeon sported an expression of immense pity for Ron; even Hermione, who had very gently rested her hand on Ron's arm in what was no doubt supposed to be a reassuring gesture.

"Failing marks, Mr. Weasley, along with a detention and...shall we make it ten points from Gryffindor?"

Snape noted with satisfaction that Weasley had clenched his hands into such tight fists that his knuckles had gone white.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, perhaps we can discussion exactly how adversely this will affect your Potions--" Before Snape could finish, the most blessed sight Ron Weasley had ever seen appeared in the corner of his eye. A Dumbledore, resplendent in purple and gold robes.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you, Severus, but could I please speak with you and a few of your students?"

Snape glared. Harry swallowed. Hermione let out a breath of relief. Ron nearly fell over. "Yes." Snape gritted out. "Headmaster."

"Stay where you are!" Snape barked at the rest of the class. "Who do you wish to see, Professor?"

Dumbledore threw a kindly smile at Parvati. "Merely you, Potter, Weasley, and Miss Granger, Severus. Just a touch of business, I'm afraid."

Snape sneered, but moved towards the door, looking like he was berating himself for not having made it 20 points from Gryffindor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, shrugged, and followed Snape out. Anything had to be better than this.

A very awkward silence hung over them as they followed Dumbledore to his office - Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. The vein in Snape's temple was throbbing with flourish. Dumbledore seemed oblivious to the tension, and hummed merrily to himself as they walked on.

Auriga Sinistra and Ginny Weasley were both standing by the stone gargoyle that served as the entrance to the Headmaster's office, smiling weakly at one another. Harry, Ron, and Hermione greeted Ginny softly. Meanwhile, the throbbing in Snape's temple seemed to double as he laid eyes on Sinistra.

"Ice Mice," Dumbledore said cheerfully to the gargoyle, who leapt aside to expose the spiral staircase. The troupe made their way up it silently, with the exception of Dumbledore's continual humming.

Once they'd all assembled in his office, Dumbledore cleared his throat and smiled kindly.

"Now, you're all no doubt wondering why I've called you here."

Everyone nodded simultaneously (with the exception of Snape, who was apparently too busy scowling).

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore continued, opening his desk drawer and helping himself to some licorice, "I cannot tell you that. I only need to inform you that what is going to result from this will no doubt benefit you all."

They exchanged bewildered glances (with the exception of Snape, who continued to scowl).

"I hope that it won't be too much of me to ask one thing of you," the Headmaster said. "Please repeat after me. 'Once upon a time'."

This was apparently too much for Snape (who was still, in fact, scowling).

"With all due respect, Headmaster, why did you call me out of the middle of a very important lesson for this foolishness?"

"Oh, come off it, Snape," Sinistra said bitterly. "Trying to scare Neville Longbottom to death for two hours straight doesn't quite classify as a 'very important lesson'. I don't see that you're teaching them much of anything, besides the fact that you're an unbearable bastard. And really, most people make that conclusion when they first meet you."

The vein was throbbing with reckless abandon.

Ron and Harry both choked back laughter, while Hermione seemed torn between disapproval and amusement.

Sinistra seemed to realize that what she'd said wasn't exactly appropriate dialogue to exchange in front of her boss. "Er. I'm sorry, Albus."

"Of course, dear," Dumbledore said reassuringly. Sinistra blinked. Snape, not surprisingly scowled. "Now, if you'll just say these few words."

"Once upon a time," Sinistra said dutifully, glaring down at Snape.

"Once upon a time," Hermione followed.

"Once upon a time," Harry and Ron chorused together. "Once 'pon a time," Ginny echoed, looking up at Harry.

. . .

. . .

"Severus?" Dumbledore prompted.

That vein really couldn't be attached to his forehead any longer.

"Onceuponatime," he said painfully.

Dumbledore smiled, then snapped his fingers. "And away you go!"

And away they went.

Once upon a time...