Fairy Tales
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Harry Potter series or affiliates.
Author's Notes: More sleep-deprived fan fiction, based on a fairy tale. Guess which one.
The man's accent was so think that Dumbledore needed to bend in slightly and ask him to repeat everything he said. Even Mermish was easier to understand. Hell, even troll.
"I said - she needs - to be - here," repeated the man slowly, voice dripping with a Russian accent. He was the Russian Minister of Magic, with his black mustache and fly-away black hair. He had a long nose that put Dumbledore in mind of Severus, but he refused to point this out, mainly as Severus was standing only feet away, arms crossed, looking grim.
Behind the Russian Minister was another man, carrying a small girl. She looked no older than ten, her hair just as dark as her father's. However, Dumbledore knew that she had to take after her mother, mainly because her skin was darker than his, and her nose was a small mushroom of one. She looked peaceful, asleep in the strong arms, limbs splayed around her body.
They were in an upper tower that most of the students had never noticed, much less been in. the air was stiflingly warm and closed in around the group. Minerva hovered at Dumbledore's shoulder, listening intently.
"Why here?" she asked. "Why not a Russian school?"
"They all know about her," the man answered sadly, walrus mustache moving around his thin lips. "They have heard of her case and many want to kill her as a plot on me."
Dumbledore considered this for a moment. Many of the Russian wizards hated the man before him. He was a cruel man when it came to running a government, though he was kind as a friend. He seemed to put too much effort into it, wanting everything to be too smooth.
"Of course we'll keep her safe," Dumbledore told him. The man smiled and thanked Dumbledore as they finished the conversation.
At the age of one, the young daughter, Roza, had drunk the Draught of Living Death. Since that day, she was unable to move as the potion took its toll on her. Her eyes were still closed and the man had almost forgotten her eye color already.
She was moved to a bed that he been placed in the tower. It would be best to leave her there, Dumbledore had said to the man, so that no one would stumble upon her. Everyday, they did their best to keep her alive. She was fed and washed as normal, though she was never conscious.
The Minister had tried his best to keep her safe in his own country. Once he was the Minister however, all attempts had to stop. It was too easy for them to find her and she had no way to protect herself.
It started her life in Hogwarts.
Research was being done for ages on ways to heal, or at least partially heal, the Draught of the Living Death. Dumbledore knew that he, himself, and the Russian Minister were both reading up on the subject, using their finest potion brewers to test things they thought up. Severus was looking rather annoyed lately, giving Dumbledore cold looks when he supposed no one was looking, and trying to kill the young girl whenever possible.
Then, one day, Dumbledore stumbled upon a page in a book.
The main ingredient of the potion, blah blah blah commonly known to be reversed by human DNA when used in blah, blah, blah. Dumbledore found the entire part of the page in which it was and re-read everything there, thinking. The human DNA had to be given in the proper amounts at the proper time. He frowned.
It was possible but would take timing and planning.
So he confronted Severus.
The dark-haired man listened to everything he said, mainly because he was employed to do so. He nodded as Dumbledore spoke, taking in the words with a sort of caution. Words were good at getting through Severus' head and then twisting themselves into something much worse.
They were back in the tower and Severus was throwing glances at the almost-dead child, thinking about how it would work.
"Someone has to kiss her at midnight?" he translated. He shuddered inside of his head, imagining the possibilities.
"Yes," Dumbledore responded, also looking at the girl. "On the quarter moon."
"Waxing or waning?"
"Waning."
Severus nodded and said, "We should tell her father."
Dumbledore nodded. "But if the correct night it tonight, should be wait another month as we contact him?"
"Yes," Severus mumbled, but said loudly, "I think we should try tonight, then."
"Who will kiss her?"
Severus tried to bolt from the room, but Dumbledore had his hand on Severus' arm, anticipating the move of the younger man. "Severus, this is for the good of the country. Of the world."
Puckering up his lips, eyes shut tight, cheeks narrowing as he prepared himself, Dumbledore could hear the swishing of saliva inside the man's mouth as he bent over the girl, looking disgusted at himself. He pulled open the girl's mouth by the chin and nose, then -
"Severus, no!" Dumbledore scolded, pulling Severus back at the perfect moment. Spit dribbled from Severus' mouth and he hastily wiped it off. "You cannot spit into her mouth!"
Severus looked unhappy, but stopped, nonetheless. He continued to wipe his mouth, grumbling words that Dumbledore was sure he would prefer not to hear.
Bending over the girl, Dumbledore looked into her covered eyes. He could only guess what lay beneath them, both their color and her personality. She was a beautiful girl, dark hair streaming around her olive face, highlights giving her hair a white, angelic appearance.
Thinking back to the Russian man, he wondered if she would inherit any part of his personality.
He withdrew and turned slowly to Severus. "I think I know the perfect person to kiss her."
Gilderoy and Roze Lockhart lived somewhat happily ever after.