Fic: Extracurricular Matters
Title: Extracurricular Matters
Author: rotaryphones
Characters: Dumbledore
Rating: PG
Prompt: From kellychambliss: Dumbledore alone -- what does he think about late at night, sitting in his quarters with Fawkes?
Summary: Harry's personal life is the last thing that Dumbledore should be concerning himself with.
What had caused him to ask that question?
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office completely still, with eyes closed and fingers tented, mentally running over the details of his latest meeting with Harry Potter. It was of the utmost importance that he examine each moment and ensure that all had gone accordingly, especially now that his plans were so near their conclusion. Yet his mind kept returning to that same thought over and over: why had he asked that question?
He knew the answer, of course. It was always the same answer. Harry had stood before him in this very room, too young and too trusting, looking every bit the adoring son. Albus, in turn, had become the loving father, the father he'd always wished to be, even though he didn't deserve the affectation. A father would never sacrifice his child.
And yet, it was paternal instinct that had made him ask, "What about extracurricular activities?" Extracurricular, indeed. How antiquated he must seem, how prudish. And how embarrassing to be asked such a question by one so old and sexless, one whom the history books would surely remember as perpetually single, terminally alone...
His eyes snapped open, and he let out a sigh. He refused to concern himself over such petty matters as his romantic legacy. Nor would he spend what little remained of his life on thoughts of death.
Instead, he turned his thoughts back to Harry, and how genuinely amused he had seemed at the question. "No," Harry had assured him. "No, Hermione and I are just friends."
Just friends. It was a phrase he himself might have used in his younger days when faced with the truth. But those were different times, and Harry had no reason to lie. Regardless of what Albus's eyes and ears in the school had reported, there was clearly nothing beyond friendship between Harry and Miss Granger.
So why did that leave him feeling...relieved? Short-lived relief, followed closely by guilt.
Once again, Albus was faced with the contradiction of his own motives. What unforgivable hypocrisy to wish both life and death on the same boy, both love and loneliness. In his mind, Albus knew the importance of love; he preached it often enough. But his heart continually insisted that love led to pain, that some were blessed with love while others were cursed with it. And he couldn't suppress the fear that whoever grew close to Harry's heart would surely be among the latter.
Albus spread his fingers out along the desk, and shook his head slighly to dislodge these useless thoughts. They were nothing more than the foolishness of an old man, an old man who knew better. Harry deserved love, regardless of his fate. Albus also reminded himself that he was not the all-seeing presence he pretended to be - if it was not to be Miss Granger, then perhaps there was already someone else.
In the corner of the office, Fawkes let out a soft cry; Albus responded with a low hum. Although it was a hope he scarcely permitted himself, there was always the slim chance that Harry would reach the end of his journey and undergo a phoenix's resurrection. Perhaps Harry, unlike himself, still had time enough for love.
Author: rotaryphones
Characters: Dumbledore
Rating: PG
Prompt: From kellychambliss: Dumbledore alone -- what does he think about late at night, sitting in his quarters with Fawkes?
Summary: Harry's personal life is the last thing that Dumbledore should be concerning himself with.
What had caused him to ask that question?
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office completely still, with eyes closed and fingers tented, mentally running over the details of his latest meeting with Harry Potter. It was of the utmost importance that he examine each moment and ensure that all had gone accordingly, especially now that his plans were so near their conclusion. Yet his mind kept returning to that same thought over and over: why had he asked that question?
He knew the answer, of course. It was always the same answer. Harry had stood before him in this very room, too young and too trusting, looking every bit the adoring son. Albus, in turn, had become the loving father, the father he'd always wished to be, even though he didn't deserve the affectation. A father would never sacrifice his child.
And yet, it was paternal instinct that had made him ask, "What about extracurricular activities?" Extracurricular, indeed. How antiquated he must seem, how prudish. And how embarrassing to be asked such a question by one so old and sexless, one whom the history books would surely remember as perpetually single, terminally alone...
His eyes snapped open, and he let out a sigh. He refused to concern himself over such petty matters as his romantic legacy. Nor would he spend what little remained of his life on thoughts of death.
Instead, he turned his thoughts back to Harry, and how genuinely amused he had seemed at the question. "No," Harry had assured him. "No, Hermione and I are just friends."
Just friends. It was a phrase he himself might have used in his younger days when faced with the truth. But those were different times, and Harry had no reason to lie. Regardless of what Albus's eyes and ears in the school had reported, there was clearly nothing beyond friendship between Harry and Miss Granger.
So why did that leave him feeling...relieved? Short-lived relief, followed closely by guilt.
Once again, Albus was faced with the contradiction of his own motives. What unforgivable hypocrisy to wish both life and death on the same boy, both love and loneliness. In his mind, Albus knew the importance of love; he preached it often enough. But his heart continually insisted that love led to pain, that some were blessed with love while others were cursed with it. And he couldn't suppress the fear that whoever grew close to Harry's heart would surely be among the latter.
Albus spread his fingers out along the desk, and shook his head slighly to dislodge these useless thoughts. They were nothing more than the foolishness of an old man, an old man who knew better. Harry deserved love, regardless of his fate. Albus also reminded himself that he was not the all-seeing presence he pretended to be - if it was not to be Miss Granger, then perhaps there was already someone else.
In the corner of the office, Fawkes let out a soft cry; Albus responded with a low hum. Although it was a hope he scarcely permitted himself, there was always the slim chance that Harry would reach the end of his journey and undergo a phoenix's resurrection. Perhaps Harry, unlike himself, still had time enough for love.