Chapter Text
There was something about the plum robes that made him feel particularly sophisticated.
Most of the time, it was difficult to remember that he had a relatively important job. His days were filled with mountains of paperwork, his late hours were a nightmare of eye strain due to fine print and fading ink, his working pace typically interrupted by the constant flow of purple notes from friends and colleagues who sorely needed favors or advice. The routine at its worst moments, often made him think of his brother. While he answered some of the notes at the end of the day, trying to sound as polite as possible in paper, or even whispering into a mildly enchanted howler when his hand couldn't be bothered the effort, he remembered Abe's sardonic smile.
"So, you are a glorified nerd," his brother had said once across the table, during a family dinner, after he had explained the majority of his tasks at the government for the benefit of their always-eager-to-know-everything parents. It was unusual for Aberforth to pay attention; for example, he had spent most of that evening whispering silly things that made Ariana laugh, both of them already tired of hearing yet another tale of success from the favorite son. Still, Albus had to remind himself that his brother, while not being school-smart, had a quick wit about him, and never let an opportunity to make fun of Albus slide. "You got a pretty title, for doing the same old thing you did back at school, ya know?"
He surely knew, he could perfectly recall his late Hogwarts days, stuck in the library for so long he forgot it was forbidden to stay the night there. Only resting from his tutoring duties for the occasional Gryffindor quidditch match. Indeed, even if it pained him to have to agree with Abe, that's how he felt the vast majority of his time as working adult.
But not on trial days. Not when he was wearing the fancy outfit and felt wrapped in such sense of gravitas. His daily journey through the building, starting at the moment he walked out of the green flames of one of the many fireplaces, became a completely new experience. He could always catch some revering looks thrown his way, and even the common politely mumbled "good morning"s as he passed some colleague by had a special ring to them. It was a ridiculous thought, honestly, but in trial days he could almost swear the crowd of dull cloaks opened to let him pass through. In the end, perhaps it was everything about the robes.
The affair per se wasn't usually as interesting as it sounded. He couldn't deny that a bizarre event occurred from time to time. Hell, it wouldn't even be difficult for him to remember one: there was always that one wizard who made a whole deal of profit out of enchanting tea sets and cutlery to perform a complete musical number for muggle children whose parents were gullible enough to be fooled into thinking it was a lighting trick. But the fact remained that most cases tended to lean on the boring side. Trading standards infractions, scams, smuggling, false accusations, badly covered misuses of magical items, etc.
That morning the issue was a transportation matter. He had the uncomplicated task of sitting in a bench, looking solemn and paying attention to every detail. Other than that, there was not much for him to do, except for raising a hand when required and standing up when dismissed. Frequently former classmates he kept in touch with asked him if it didn't feel strange to be the young man in an ocean of gray heads and stone-age point of views. Though it was true he didn't share much with the multitude of wizards and witches with whom he shared the seat, he respected many of them and was in good relations with some. It wasn't that difficult, because they weren't exactly the people he spent most of his working time with anyway. Nearly all of the Wizengamot didn't have any sort of administration duties, and only presented themselves during special occasions, summoned out of retirement by the Minister, pretty much just keeping the seat on the basis of an influential last name or a past career that had already faded. No, the people he worked with, the office people, were, in fact, just a little bit older than him. This was a relief, sure, but also kind of a nightmare sometimes. Especially when one particular office person with a love for meddling and prying into your personal life, took it to herself to find your true love and kept on trying to set you up with one of her single friends. Merlin bless her, Joanna, a fellow archivist, was a responsible smart woman as well as being his favorite person at the department, but she had a tendency to drag him into forced romantic situations and other fleeting fancies, such as weirdly conceptual concerts or muggle nightclub's costume parties. He humored her mostly out of fondness or boredom, but sometimes he deeply regretted his inability to say "no" to her.
He didn't have any more need for the uniform when the trial was over, but he still got to keep it on all the way back to his office where he could change, so there were a few more moments of sophistication left on his day. Or so he thought as he stepped into the crowded lift. When it reached level 6, it occurred to him that he felt like having something sweet and warm in his stomach, as he only had tea before leaving home in the early morning. So he stepped out in level 5, with the idea of getting a buttery pastry from a shop he knew he could find at the end of the corridor. It was a small place, with large windows that simulated the view to a sunlit meadow, and in combination with its courtyard-like furniture and many pots of greens gave it a relaxed well illuminated environment that was preferred by the younger employees of the building.
He wasn't quite there yet, a few offices still in the way, when he saw him. A stranger, an anomaly, a fresh new face. It wasn't as if he knew every single person at the Ministry. He didn't, although he tried to, really hard. No, it wasn't that. It was more like the feeling that he would know this one, that he wouldn't forget a face like that. Hell, the person he was looking at was an entire human being he couldn't ever forget. Seated by one of the few tables in the shop, surrounded by individuals that were dismissed entirely by his brain as if they hadn't been there in the first place. A young man, dressed in a bold, fitting scarlet robe, impeccably ironed and clean, wild curls framing sharp features, a smile hanging in his lips as he moved them in what Albus supposed was conversation. He had no idea what made him stop and stare, his attention fully focused in the one individual, as he definitely wouldn't with most passing strangers, recording a full mental description for his memory to archive. Blond, straight nose, high cheekbones, clear eyes, not so tall even if hard to tell due to his sitting position, sharp dresser if judging by current ensemble, having coffee black and nothing else, etc. There was no justifiable reason for his sudden interest, really, but he quickly rationalized that the man looked of place, too bright, too young, too... something. Content with such explanation, he stood perplexed, very still, until a blurry unidentified object crashed into his nose.
He muffled a surprise noise at the flying memo that had angrily awakened him from his musings. As if things hadn't been strange enough so far, he was being silently scolded by a flying piece of paper for standing in the middle of a hallway. So he remembered the original purpose of his walk, the part where he wanted something to eat. After allowing a moment of self-awareness and carefully checking around to make sure no one had been looking at him, he continued his way to the shop. Out of instinct, even if it made no sense, he planned mentally the best trajectory to avoid coming too close to the stranger, suddenly wishing he wasn't wearing the highly outstanding Wizengamot outfit along with the special hat, darn it. He felt a strange urge to forget about the food altogether and get away, but his more rational side wasn't going to let that happen. After he somehow managed to find his way to the counter, to finally achieve the goal of obtaining something freshly baked and run back to the office, that was when Elphias appeared.
"Fancy seeing you here," he heard before a friendly hand found its way to his shoulder. How long had his friend been around? He could only hope not much. "Those fit you really well, you know? It's your colour."
Yes, I know, he wanted to say, but only smiled instead. Since Elphias didn't comment on anything else but the clothes, he felt slightly calmer.
"Are you going to order anything?" asked the woman behind the counter, with a raised eyebrow and a bored look.
"Sorry, yes," he conceded before looking at the assorted food items on display. "Can I have a... pain au chocolat? Do you want anything?" he turned to his friend.
"I'll have the same thing, thank you," decided Elphias quickly. "So, busy morning?"
Albus shrugged.
"A little. Small thing, really. Just ten of us."
The woman delivered the order as one, and Albus took too long to react, so Elphias paid, as per usual.
"Keep the change," said his friend warmly as he took the brown paper bag. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked as they walked away, which prompted Albus to be very aware of the fact that just minutes ago he was trying to run away as far as possible and not to look under any circumstance at the blond individual sitting and chatting a few tables away.
"No, got to dash, really," he said as politely as he could, walking a little too fast up to the exit of the shop, keeping his eyes in a straight line in direction of the lift, the direction of safety.
"Oh right, let me walk you then." Elphias offered and, oh Merlin, were they in school again? He felt a little bit like he was being wooed. He knew Elphias meant nothing, except to be nice. A little too much, perhaps.
Still, they caught up with friendly chat on the way to level 2. Elphias told him about a new pamphlet he was directing on the safe practices of transportation for the modern wizarding family and Albus made a mental note of asking for one later to send to his parents.
Once they arrived to Albus' office (more of a cubicle really), he waited for his pastry to be delivered, which was taking long enough because Elphias was excitedly talking about his prospected holidays on the Baltics and how much he wished Albus could make space in his agenda to go with him (which he couldn't possibly even think of, no matter how magnificent the idea sounded, he thought bitterly). They were greeted by sweet Joanna, who winked their way as she passed by holding a bunch of papers and with her glasses almost falling on the tip of her nose.
Eventually Elphias remembered he also had work to do, so he offered the bag to Albus and he could finally have his meal. Albus waved Elphias away as he placed the pastry on a napkin on his desk, around which there was already a significant collection of dancing purple memos. He ignored them, for the time being, sitting down, letting his body relax and breathing out a deep sigh. He hadn't even noticed how strained his movements had been up until then. Closing his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, he took a bit of his thankfully still warm enough pastry and smiled.
Joanna coughed, and he opened his eyes to see her leaning in the edge of the cubicle.
"Interrupting something?" she mocked, lighthearted, looking at him with a wicked smile on her face. "So, what's with the Doge? Still trying to get a piece of you?"
Albus rolled his eyes as he started catching the flying memos and pinning them down to the desk, one by one. They've had that conversation a million times. That ship had sailed a long time ago.
"I got this for you, " she continued, as apparently making fun of him wasn't the only reason she was there. She placed a number of the latest Witch Weekly next to his pastry. "Page 6. And I left some tea for you over there," she pointed to the filing cabinet behind him, the only surface that wasn't cluttered with papers and quills. "You are going to need it," she finished as she left to her own desk.
As if he hadn't enough things in his mind. Still, he reached out to grab the cup and opened the magazine. Luckily enough, he hadn't drank any of the tea yet, otherwise he would have choked. There was a picture of him, out in the Diagon Alley, taken who knows when, and a small blurb of text next to it.
«Albus Dumbledore. In our number nine, everyone's favorite quirky fashionable Wizengamot youngster, who remains as mysteriously single as he was during all his outstanding run as Hogwarts' golden boy. The high achievements in every academic field he's pursued aren't the only reason why he would be a good catch. It is said his ambitions are also set very high, and considering his well known friendship with none other than the Minister for Magic herself, well, who knows? Maybe the witch who wins his heart may consider herself the next Mrs Minister.»
He had apparently made it to the top ten eligible bachelors of the year. Merlin, he hated the press.
Morning after, Albus found himself wandering into the shop at level 5. It had nothing to do with the blond man, it just happened to occur to him that the pastry was really good. And the man wasn't there anyway, the place was deserted. Not that Albus expected him to be there, why would he be there, really? It was a different day, even if it was exactly the same time and place. Slightly disappointed, even if unwilling to accept it, he walked up to the counter and placed his order. With the paper bag clasped in hand, he went back to his daily routine, waving away any thought on clear eyes and lovely smiles.
Quickly forgetting himself over the work, morning passed and afternoon arrived. Strangely enough, Joanna asked him to accompany her down to the worker's dining hall to get lunch. She usually went on her own, later bringing back something for him. He didn't think much of it, and was happily dragged away from a particularly frustrating task, if only to clear his mind a bit. Arm in arm, they went up to the first floor, walked to the second corridor and passed through the high gate on the right.
Even when food was not being served, the dining hall was crowded and noisy, the ultimate place to gossip around inside the Ministry. As they made their way through many tables, he raised a hand from time to time to acknowledge greetings. He was precisely looking around to see from where a "How is everything going, Mr Dumbledore?" had come from, when he saw him again. In the corner of the hall, looking extremely dashing all in black, same smile as the day before. He must have stopped breathing or something, because his head felt light as Joanna dragged him around and made him sit down across her. There was a tuna sandwich in front of him, and he didn't remember having picked it at all.
To his relief, Joanna didn't seem to notice anything strange in his behaviour, and continued to chat up to him about how the food used to be better in her first year. Relief lasted very shortly, though, as he noticed he wasn't the only one acting abnormally. Joanna too looked very distracted, her hair was down (when had she untangled it from the bun, he didn't notice), she kept tucking it behind her ears and flattening it with her hand as she threw casual glances away from their table. Glances thrown exactly at the same spot Albus was trying very hard not to look at. And he felt like a darn fool.
The third day, Albus felt incredibly ridiculous over the whole affair. Having seeing his own behaviour mirrored on Joanna was the tipping point. Had he been really so carried away over a pretty face? Was he so shallow? It wasn't the kind of thing to take over his mind, it wasn't like him at all. And while those thoughts pushed against the idea, he still went back to the shop at level 5.
Since he was already there, he bought the usual, and decided to sit down for a while, to enjoy the very pleasant surroundings. Since the shop wasn't really a closed space, rather cornered at the end of the hallway, it had no real doors. He distractedly bit into the buttery pastry as he stared along the corridor. He stared without seeing, that was it. Long time passed before he realized what he was looking at. Some of the offices in his direct view had clear glass walls, and there was a particularly animated scene past one of them. An elder employee whom he had talked to before but whose name slipped his mind was giving a sort of presentation to a group of young people taking notes cluttered around a table. There was conversation, comments, hands raised, nodding, those sort of things. There was also a blond head, he could clearly see. The young man who couldn't leave his mind was there, dressed in black again, with a light emerald scarf wrapped loosely over his shoulders. Albus could see the blond man with the sort-of-students crowd, excited by the conversation. He didn't feel so nervous that time, given that there was a lot of distance between them and a wall, keeping him safe. So he continued to watch him calmly.
Until, of course, everything went to hell.
He saw him coming, his doom. Had it been anyone else approaching, it would have meant nothing. He was just sitting there, having a meal. But it wasn't just anyone. A particular someone with a taste for gossip and a love for teasing, who knew him far too well, too darn well to notice that Albus was not the type of person to sit down to eat on his own during work hours.
"Checking the goods, are we?" said Horace with a cheeky smile. He knew he had lost from the moment he was discovered there, but he had to at least try to salvage a little of his dignity, pretending he didn't understand the question. "A espresso would be wonderful, Jenny," the man continued, directing a look to the woman on the counter and sitting down next to him. "I'll also have this delightful thing my friend here seems to not be eating."
"How is everything around Relations?" asked Albus, ignoring the last comment and trying his best at casual.
"Boring as hell, I would rather join you in your contemplation."
Albus wouldn't say a thing, unwilling to sign his own demise.
"I know you aren't as well informed as some of us, but you got to know you aren't the only one who's noticed him. And he's still fresh news, so everyone's keeping an eye or two. Thanks, honey," said Horace once the woman of the shop delivered his coffee. To his credit, Jenny only looked mildly annoyed at the term. "I've got all the dirt, come on, ask me."
And Albus stayed silent, decidedly not looking neither at his friend nor at the corridor.
"Oh, right, whatever. Then let me tell you everything. So, he's obviously InterCoo, right? It's a new programme they have, sort of a transfer thing. That bunch there, they come from over the world, diplomats-in-training. And pretty boy there, well, everyone's falling head over heels for him. I say everyone, I should say, we all… It's not my fault he's just my type, you know?"
Hell, if Albus didn't know the kind of guys Horace liked. In fact, he felt he knew way too much about that. First-hand information. Seen things wished he hadn't.
"But, let me be honest, I didn't expect you of all people to also be into him, you know? I had to see it to believe, and so I did as of now, and I wanted to be a supportive friend, to let you know you aren't alone in this." Horace ended, putting a hand to Albus's shoulder as if to physically demonstrate his argument.
There was no point in denying anything anymore, so Albus took a bite of his pastry as Horace sipped from his coffee.
"There's something about him. He is... different." Albus started, already aware he sounded like a complete cliché.
"Apart from the fact that he's drop-dead gorgeous?" said Horace, raising an eyebrow.
"Everyone with eyes could see that." answered Albus slightly irritated. And I'm not everyone, the vain thought occurred to him, but he didn't say it. "It's something else."
Biting his lip, he looked over to the place where the man in question was talking about something behind the glass wall.
He could see Horace roll his eyes at him.
"Call it what you want, darling."
"How do you know all that about him?" dared to ask Albus, once he had already gotten used to the shame of it all.
"It's called talking to people, you should try it. I was presented to him, and was obviously very interested in knowing more. He's not shy, you know? Maybe you could talk to him."
"Now, that's funny," Albus blurted and sounded unexpectedly bitter.
"And I know for a fact he goes both ways..."
Albus could feel his face heating, stupidly.
"Don't tell me, you also asked him that?"
"No. But apparently he's been around, if you know what I mean".
Horace seemed to be satisfied with the last sentence, took a last sip from his cup and started with the pastry. Albus really wished he didn't know what he meant.
Eventually, he had to go back to work and not at all think about the ways the blond man could have been around, since those weren't thoughts to be had in the workplace during the the afternoon. He politely declined Joanna's second lunch invitation as he had gotten quite behind his work due the morning's adventure. Also, he didn't really feel like going through the mental images Horace had left him with and he knew the moment he stepped away from his work he was going to be unable of thinking about anything else. Evening soon arrived, and with it, the time to go back home to his books and a lonely night.
He didn't go around the shop the next day. He was getting out of control, so he decided not to push it anymore. He had managed to convince himself that it was natural to be attracted to someone in the pure basis of looks, but still, he wasn't going to let himself be overpowered by such a thing. So he holed himself up in his cubicle, seemingly too grumpy for Joanna to even attempt to ask him to lunch.
After she had gone, he picked up some boxes he was supposed to take to the archive, and enchanted them to float and follow him down the hallway. Since most of workers were probably having lunch, it was the perfect time to move the boxes without disturbing people. He had started humming when he heard someone calling out, and as he carelessly turned around it took everything in him not to jump. It was him, gorgeous clear eyes, so close that he could see just how deep and lovely they were. That was also the moment when the boxes fell, rolling around, scattering papers in a disarranged fashion. Darn it, he had spent at least an hour organizing them.
"I'm so sorry," he mumbled to no one in particular, because he really was sorry, he was behaving like a schoolboy, letting go of simple levitation spells out of surprise. And they said he was the brightest mind of his generation. Sure thing.
The blond man was still there, while Albus was making the papers rise from the floor and get inside the boxes again. But the man didn't laugh or even make a sound. He just walked up to him, careful to not step on anything. Once the boxes were filled again, Albus sent them on the way back to the office for reorganization with a defeated wave of his wand.
"I'm sorry, did I scare you? I just wanted to know where the office of Mrs Rumiska was," said the blond, with a thick layer of an accent and a deep voice.
He prepared to answer, he knew were the office was, he could tell him, but instead... "Accent," he blurted out, instantly biting his tongue. Up until that moment, he hadn't heard the man talk and it resonated within him how much he had been missing. Musical laughter came from the mysterious young man.
"Yes, I can't hide it well, I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry. I'm being rude, it just surprised me," Albus continued saying stupid things, and so he decided he better get to the point. "Mrs Rumiska is the second to last door at the left," he explained, pointing to the way one was supposed to follow. Relieved that he managed to give the instruction, he expected the guy to thank him and leave.
"I've seen you around," he heard him say instead. Albus felt his heart racing and his hands shaking, and he couldn't stop looking at that face, even more beautiful when closer to him.
"Really?" he managed to say.
"Yeah, I mean, it's hard not to notice."
What the hell was he talking about, Albus wondered, and a long silence passed between them. He couldn't possibly be asked to think clearly, as he was standing next to this gorgeous guy and his state of mind divided between wanting to run away as fast as possible and wanting to stay close to him forever.
"The hair," the stranger added, to clarify, and it took Albus too long to understand that he meant his hair was hard not to notice, of bloody course! So he laughed, nervousness urging him to do something, whatever, to release the tension. It helped a bit.
"Gellert," said then other man, extending a hand. Albus doubted a little before taking it as firmly as he could, and giving his own name back.
After that, things happened way too fast; Gellert was gone to find Mrs Rumiska and Albus had to go back to sort papers again, and probably to also have a mental breakdown. It was only his name, he repeated in his mind, all the way back into the office. He only gave me his name , there was no reason to overreact, he told himself. It wasn't as if they had snogged or anything, and - yes, he was now thinking about that - how old was he, for real?
His day went by distracted by thoughts of a musical voice and a sharp green scent.