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Gellert’s memories of that summer with Albus were clearer than any others, perfectly preserved, as if trapped in amber when still alive, the sweetness of those days hardening, encasing all that Gellert had felt and seen and heard and tasted, for him to take out and linger over in the cold months and years that followed.
He remembered sitting in a tree with Albus, painting pictures with his words of a world made safe for Ariana, for all magical children everywhere. He made a crown of leaves and set it in Albus’s hair. “I will give you the world,” Gellert had declared. And he had meant it. No one was more fit to rule the world than Albus Dumbledore – handsome and strong and powerful and wise, and blindingly brilliant. No one could compare to him.
If only…
No, Gellert could not fault Albus for sending him away. Gellert had made a mistake, attacking Aberforth – had failed to properly anticipate Albus’s desires, had inadvertently brought about the destruction of a beautiful girl that Albus had promised to protect. Albus had impressed upon Gellert the importance of his duty to Ariana. It would have been wrong for Albus to blame Aberforth alone – Gellert had overstepped.
Gellert didn’t know what had come over him, casting such an ugly curse in the needless defence of a man whose virtue needed no defending. Once, he had been reasonable, in control of his emotions – but he had been unable to hold himself back from punishing Aberforth when he had insulted Albus. He had lost all reason, some had said, though Gellert had suffered none to live for that offence. It was true that such devotion would be unreasonable if it were offered to anyone else, but not to Albus. Albus Dumbledore was flawless, a god among men, and Gellert would bend the world to that man’s worship, would serve him as his chief priest, would sacrifice himself to the cause of delivering the world to his only Love.
But he must make no more mistakes.
One day, Albus would summon Gellert back to him. He had only not done so because Gellert had not yet achieved enough to atone for his sins, to be worthy of forgiveness.
Albus was a demanding Master. Gellert had written to him after finding and stealing the Elder Wand, offering it to Albus, but Albus had not written back. Perhaps Albus believed Gellert had misidentified the Wand, he reasoned, and his heart broke that he had lost his Love’s trust. He began to use the Elder Wand himself, hoping that stories of the deeds that he had performed would persuade Albus that the artefact was genuine, a fitting gift for a singular man. Gellert razed a forest, and still he heard nothing. He drained a lake – nothing. He made flowers rain on Godric’s Hollow for a week – nothing. He duelled a dozen men… And Albus had written to him at last, pleading with Gellert that he must stop.
And so Gellert had stopped, and he had pondered. Why had Albus asked him to stop? Gellert had thought that Albus was refusing the Elder Wand because he didn’t believe Gellert actually had it, but perhaps he had believed Gellert all along – perhaps he was refusing it because nothing less than all three Hallows would be a sufficient offering. That made sense. Many people had held the Elder Wand, but no one had ever mastered all three Hallows, and Albus was like no one else. He should have what no one else had ever had before.
But Gellert had at least been deemed worthy of attention, at last. He must be approaching something of importance to Albus – but what?
The men that he had lured into the open and attacked were Hit Wizards for the French Ministry. Gellert had chosen them because they were known for their discipline and rigorous training – because knocking out an entire squad would be a sufficiently impressive feat to convince Albus that Gellert truly had the Elder Wand in his possession. But he remembered now that when he had been lying on Albus’s chest, dreaming up plans for subjugating the Muggle world, Albus had suggested that, rather than starting in Britain, or in Austria-Hungary, he should start in France.
Did Albus think that Gellert was trying to conquer the world without him? It had never occurred to Gellert to try such a feat – he had always assumed that bringing the world to heel would require Albus’s cunning mind, his charm, his magical power. But Gellert did have the Elder Wand. And Albus had still, after six years, done nothing to suggest that he was starting the movement himself.
Gellert took the blood pact in his hand, as he did when he was examining his memories of Albus. Yes! When they had discussed the future, Albus had always said, “You should…” and “You must…” He had intended for Gellert to lead the revolution! And now, after Gellert’s failure with Aberforth and Ariana, and after delaying for so long, Albus no longer had faith in Gellert’s ability to conquer the world on his behalf, to put the Muggles of the world under Wizarding rule – under Albus’s rule, though Gellert had known better than to speak those words aloud.
Albus had always been hesitant to say any good word about himself. It was charming, Gellert thought, that Albus was so reticent – he didn’t want anyone to feel inadequate in his presence. Only Gellert knew everything Albus was capable of – only Gellert had been taken into Albus’s full confidence. It had been such a compliment that it had turned Gellert’s head. He had been blinded with pride. It had never occurred to him that he could err so badly as to lose Albus’s regard, and it should have. Albus could have no equals – not even Gellert.
But though Gellert was not nearly so skilled as Albus, he was still advanced compared to the average Wizard – Albus would find no one else who could subdue the world and lay it at his feet. Gellert would show Albus that he could be trusted, that he was competent and powerful, that he was worthy. Albus Dumbledore would never have a more devoted servant than Gellert Grindelwald.
>>><<<
“Oh, my sweet boy,” Aunt Bathilda fussed, taking Gellert’s hat and hanging it on the hat rack by the door. “It has been so long!”
Gellert wanted only to ask “Where’s Albus?” but Albus would not want him to be rude, Gellert reminded himself, so instead he took Bathilda’s hand and kissed it and answered, “Too long, Auntie, my apologies.”
He was right to apologize. Albus had waited twenty-nine years before issuing this summons, but Gellert could have visited his aunt without imposing upon Albus’s silence. Albus did not live in Godric’s Hollow anymore, after all. Gellert had stayed away only because he was weak – unable to tolerate the pain of standing in the places where he had stood with Albus, when Albus was no longer there.
Was that why Albus had not called him sooner? Had this been his greatest failing – sparing himself a deserved pain? If so, then Gellert blessed Albus for calling him when he had foolishly failed to see for himself what was required of him. Albus might have made him wait for decades more, and he had not. No, Albus had called Gellert back to him when he was still undeserving – he had not yet collected all of the Hallows, he had not yet conquered the world, he had not yet slaughtered all of Albus’s enemies… and he had not yet subjected himself to the privations of a return to Godric’s Hollow.
Albus had not demanded so much of anyone else. Gellert tried to comfort himself with this, when he was feeling jealous and uncertain. Would that scrawny, timid, unlovely animal lover know what to do without instruction? No, he was needing always to trot back to Albus and pester him with his inane questions and receive a biscuit and a pat on the head. If Albus had withheld his praise from Gellert, it was because he had known that he was capable of still more.
Bathilda laid her hand on Gellert’s arm, pulling him out of his reverie.
“Albus asked me to leave the two of you alone, this evening. Is that all right? Will you be ok?”
She looked concerned. Surely, she could not think that Gellert was in any danger? He gladly put his life in Albus’s hands – his very soul had been Albus’s, since the moment he had laid eyes on him.
“I will be perfectly fine,” Gellert assured her, then kissed her on both her cheeks. “I will come back and visit you soon – I should not have stayed away so long. Enjoy your evening. Albus and I have a great deal to talk about.”
She nodded uncertainly, took a hat off the hook, and then, a look of resolve on her face, stepped out the door and apparated away.
Gellert stood in the doorway to the parlour. There, looking out the window, was Albus. His hair was shorter, now, a little less vibrant, but he held the same aura of power and authority, even with his back turned. His posture was confident and his arse – was it disrespectful to be noticing his perfect arse? It had been one among many fine physical features when he was eighteen, but it was exquisite now. Gellert forced himself to look away. He had not yet earned the right to stare at Albus’s arse.
“Albus,” he said, when they had stood there some moments more without speaking. Perhaps Albus was waiting for him.
Albus turned. “Gellert.”
He was holding a piece of parchment in his hands.
“Is it true?” Albus asked.
Gellert did not know what Albus was asking.
“Is that a letter?” Gellert surmised. “From myself to you?”
Albus nodded dumbly.
Gellert had written few of those over the years. It had seemed presumptuous to write to Albus uninvited. He only wrote when he had something of significance to report, and as Gellert had been so much in the papers, the past fifteen years, there had been less and less reason to write.
Until… oh, dear. Until after Paris. Or, more specifically, after Queenie. The Legilimens had told Gellert that the Scamander boy thought that Albus wanted him to stop Gellert. It had seemed impossible. Obviously, the boy was utterly unqualified. But that was not the most salient point – why did Albus want Gellert to stop now, when he was so much closer to achieving their goals? Unless Albus did not know that Gellert was working on his behalf. Had he come to believe that Gellert was acting on his own?
Gellert had felt stupid. It had been many years since Gellert had written to him, and it had felt awkward and presumptuous, after his banishment, to linger over his motives, his feelings for Albus. He had not wished for Albus to think that he was trying to wheedle his way out of his deserved exile before Albus, in his wisdom, decided the time was right for him to return. It hurt Gellert to consider that, all this time, Albus might not have known that he could take Gellert's eternal loyalty for granted.
And so he had risked writing to Albus. Had his words seemed too needy? Too demanding? After all these years, had he been called back only to receive a scolding?
It didn’t matter. He would receive only what Albus thought he deserved. There was only one possible answer to Albus's question: “Then, yes, of course it is true. I have never lied to you.”
Albus began to read, “You needn’t worry. I know that I lack the wisdom to lead the world as you would do. I am but your humble steward, guarding what is rightfully yours in anticipation of the day when you take it for your own.”
“Yes?” Gellert answered. Had his words been unclear?
“There is none like you in all the world. I have known it always, from the first moment that we met, but I can say it with authority, having traveled to every continent: You are singular, Albus Dumbledore. You wrote this?”
“I did,” Gellert said, nervous now. If that was too forward, then what might Albus think of what he had written elsewhere in the letter, for instance –
“The accolades are empty without the single voice I most long to hear. My beloved, my master, I beg you. The chanting crowds gratify only because they bring me closer to the day when I have a gift worthy to lay at your feet, that I might –“ Albus cleared his throat and blushed, but did not continue. The blush was becoming, and Gellert preened to see it – he had flattered Albus.
“That I might be readmitted to your presence at last,” Gellert recited from memory, taking a step into the room, and then another, “a presence that is to me like water, like the sun, like the very air I breathe. You are all that gives me life, Albus Dumbledore. There will never be another.”
Albus bit his lip and looked down. When he looked back up, his eyes were wet with held-back tears. He had been moved by Gellert’s words! Gellert had done the correct thing at last. Albus had summoned Gellert because he was ready to accept Gellert’s devotion.
“The pact,” Albus said.
“Yes,” Gellert hastened to assure him. “I keep it with me always.”
“Would you – show me?” Albus asked.
Gellert removed the pendant from the inside pocket of his jacket nearest his heart and handed it to Albus. As the pendant left his hand, Gellert felt a little confused for a moment. He noticed that Albus looked uncertain, and tired. Had Albus ever looked tired before?
“Everything I have is yours,” Gellert said, to fill the awkward silence. He knew he should withhold nothing from the one who held his heart, and yet, he felt vulnerable surrendering the pact. It was the one piece of Albus he had – it had sustained him over almost three decades of separation.
He should not feel vulnerable with Albus. Albus knew what was best for him.
Albus set the pact on a table beside the window, and sat in a wingback chair.
“Gellert?” Albus asked, drawing Gellert's focus away from the pact and back onto himself, where it belonged. “Do you remember taking tea with me in the evenings?”
Gellert brightened. He remembered everything about those summer evenings with Albus.
“Of course! I have never been able to replicate it. You excel at everything, of course, but that you would even make superior tea! It smelled of lemons and sugar, of the blackberries that were always in your mouth, and the roses under your window… it smelled of…”
Gellert cut himself off, concerned at the way that Albus was clutching his chest.
“Albus? Albus, are you all right?”
Albus made a strangled noise, and Gellert hurried to his side. “My Darling, please –“ Gellert loosened Albus’s tie. “What can I do for you?”
“I am a coward,” Albus croaked out.
“I am sure you are not,” Gellert answered. “You are the truest, bravest –“
“Gellert, please, I have done nothing to earn such regard.”
“You exist, my Love,” Gellert answered.
He knelt at Albus’s feet and laid his head on Albus’s knee, remembering that Albus used to love running his fingers through Gellert’s hair. His hair was shorter now, but perhaps…? Yes, Albus began idly playing with Gellert’s hair. Gellert sighed happily.
“I have wronged you terribly, Gellert. I had no idea that you still felt – but I should have. The blood, your blood when we made it… “
Gellert hummed. That had been the most miraculous day, when Albus had bound himself to Gellert forever with his oath. Albus had said that it was so that they would never harm one another, but why would either of them ever harm the other? No, it had done so much more than that - it had rendered their love visible for all time. When Albus at last mastered the Hallows, he would rule for eternity with Gellert at his side, his faithful lieutenant, over -
“If only I had trusted you!” Albus was saying. He sounded desperate. That could not be right. If Albus was feeling any kind of stress, it must be Gellert’s fault. “If only I had believed –“
“I’m sorry, Albus. Whatever I have done, I will – ”
“Gellert, I really must ask you to shut up. I cannot confess to you if you do not let me speak.”
Gellert nodded to show that he understood. If Albus required it, he would never speak again. If Albus required it, he would fly to the sun and bring back its fire – there was nothing that Gellert couldn’t do now that he was back in Albus’s presence, now that Albus was blessing him with his touch again.
“This will be difficult. You will not interrupt?”
Gellert was anxious at these words, but he shook his head.
“Very well. When my mother died, I told you, I had been about to leave on a year-long tour with another boy, Elphias.”
Yes, the traitor who had selfishly abandoned Albus when Albus had most needed him. Though Gellert knew he ought not to hate him, because if that worm had stayed, had come to Godric’s Hollow or even simply stayed in Britain, Albus would never have allowed himself to love Gellert so intimately, even though Gellert was far better suited to Albus’s needs then that shallow boy. Albus was too honourable to turn his back on someone, no matter how inferior.
“Elphias and I had been friends for seven years, and had been lovers for the last of those years, and I had imagined… I was wrong. When I told him that of course he must go on without me, I had not expected him to agree with such enthusiasm, to leave even before my mother’s funeral. It was as if I had meant nothing to him. And then I returned home to this tiny village where I was expected to be father and mother to my two younger siblings – where I was expected to care for my sister for the rest of her life, abandoning every hope, every interest, every ambition… I realize now that the physical aspect of our relationship was nothing more than an entertainment for Elphias, a fling, an experiment, even, a curiosity. But at the time, I believed that Elphias had loved me when I had a bright future before me, but was unable to love me with my new reduced prospects. I concluded that no one would ever love me under these circumstances."
Gellert hated Elphias more than ever. He regretted having let the man live so long. He would kill him at his earliest opportunity.
“And then you came to Godric’s Hollow, the most handsome boy I had ever seen. How was it possible that such a perfect creature could have found his way to my tiny town – you were brilliant, full of life, and ideas, and energy, and magical power. You drew me like a magnet. And I knew that you would never be able to feel the same for me.”
“Albus –“ Gellert interrupted, before remembering that interrupting was not allowed. “I’m sorry. Please – continue,” he apologised, with some difficulty. What could Albus mean? Albus was the perfect one – the handsome, brilliant, powerful one. Albus was the magnet. He had shone like burnished gold in the sunlight. Each time Albus smiled, Gellert’s heart had swelled to fill his chest.
“I was so lonely, and I had such little confidence in myself… “ Albus’s voice became urgent. “You smelled blackberries? In the tea?”
“Yes,” Gellert answered, confused as to how this was relevant.
“And lemons? And sugar? And roses?”
“And rosemary – it smelled like your bedsheets. And…” Gellert paused, “You will think it is strange.”
“I’m sure I won’t,” Albus encouraged him, generously.
“I didn’t realize it until later, but it smelled, too, of… you remember that barn?”
Albus inhaled sharply. “I never needed to do it at all! I was the one you loved all along, and I ruined everything.”
Well, of course, Gellert had loved Albus all along. He had always said so. He wasn’t sure why this was a surprise now.
“I was afraid to lose you,” Albus said, “I loved you more powerfully than I had ever loved anything or anyone, and I felt that I would die if you were to leave me. And so, the third week after you arrived, I began to give you Amortentia in your tea.”
“Oh!” Gellert said, “That was tremendously clever of you!”
“No, it was not!” Albus contradicted him. “You are only saying that because you are still under its influence!”
“Love, I have never liked to contradict you, but Amortentia is expelled from the body after a week or two. It’s not possible –“
“There is Amortentia in that drop of blood of yours preserved in the blood pact that we made. It had never occurred to me – I was dooming you to its effects even in my absence.”
“There could be no better doom than to be devoted to you, my Love!” Gellert declared.
“Gellert. Before the – before the Amortentia, you were – you were different. More argumentative. Less obsequious. More… contrary.”
“How awful! You deserve nothing less than perfect agreement. No wonder you –“
“I miss it. I – I quickly realized that I didn’t want you like that. That I wanted to always know that you were with me because you were choosing to be with me. But I knew I would have to tell you the truth – and I was afraid that when I did, you would not be able to forgive me. So, I put it off. I decided to do it after Aberforth had returned to school, but – but I never got the chance. And then you left, and I supposed… I supposed that it would wear off, as long as I wasn't administering it any longer. It was odd about you offering me the Elder Wand, but it seemed that that could be a trick – that you had figured out what I had done, and that you were trying to lure me in to kill me for having potioned you.”
Gellert was so shocked and heartbroken that he could not speak. Albus had thought that he was lying about the Elder Wand? That it was a trap? That Gellert wanted to kill him? Even if the Amortentia had worn off, why wouldn’t he be grateful to Albus for giving him the potion? For the opportunity to feel that kind of devotion for him? Albus Dumbledore had chosen Gellert - it was an honour.
“It wasn’t until receiving this latest letter of yours that I realized that the effects of the potion had never lifted. And there is only one explanation for that.”
Albus stood, leaving Gellert sitting on the floor in front of his empty chair. He retrieved the blood pact and carried it to the fireplace.
On the mantel was a stone about the size of Gellert’s fist, its surface pocked with the fossils of ancient magical creatures. Gellert watched, paralyzed with horror, while Albus laid the pact on the hearthstone and struck it repeatedly with the rock.
Gellert returned to his senses and crawled over to the hearth. The pact had still not broken, and Albus had turned to pummelling his fist against the hearthstone and growling in frustration. Gellert knelt beside Albus and took his hand. He kissed Albus’s bloody knuckles. He looked into the beautiful sparkling blue eyes that he had seen only in his dreams and his memories for so many years.
“I love you, Albus Dumbledore. I have loved you for nearly my whole life. I would sacrifice anything for you, even my love.”
He took the rock from Albus’s hand. Then he cautiously asked, “But would you – would you kiss me, one last time, before I die?”
“Die?! Gellert! You can’t mean –“
Gellert shook his head and smiled sadly. “I fear that I will no longer be myself if I am no longer your humble servant. I will die and be replaced with another man – a man neither of us know. Before I go – I know it is presumptuous of me to ask, but – will you kiss me?“
Albus touched Gellert’s face. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, and bent forward, pressing his lips tenderly against Gellert’s. Gellert felt light, as if he were riding a broom too fast, and it had dropped suddenly beneath him. He made a needy sound that might have embarrassed him if Albus were not so wise and kind and understanding, and he parted his lips, begging for Albus to deepen the kiss. Gellert could barely remember how to breathe – it was so perfect, kissing Albus. He could kiss him forever like this, if only… Gellert faltered for a moment, not ready to surrender this affection when he had only now regained it.
Albus pulled away, and placed his hand on Gellert’s chest, preventing him from chasing after the kiss.
“This is wrong, Gellert. You deserve better than this. You deserve agency.”
“I don’t need it,” Gellert argued. “I have been doing fine without –“
“You have not been 'doing fine.' You have been imprisoned, and vilified, and...”
“Small sacrifices.”
“You have been alone.”
“But I am not alone now,” Gellert answered, still floating on the memory of their kiss.
Albus made a frustrated noise. “I do not wish to have you when you are this way!”
Gellert’s heart sank.
“I do not want the world at my feet,” Albus continued. “I do not even want you at my feet. I want an equal.”
“You have no equal,” Gellert insisted.
“Once upon a time,” Albus countered, “I had you.”
Gellert was conflicted. Albus was always right, so he must be right about this. But Albus was worlds above anyone, so he must be wrong. He was beginning to get a headache. He frowned in his confusion.
Albus sighed, and looked a bit sad. “You said that you would do whatever I ask? Whatever I need?”
This was more certain ground. “I live to serve you,” Gellert answered, eagerly.
“I need you to smash this blood pact.”
Gellert nodded. He had been confused by the kiss, by how right it had felt, but he had promised to destroy the pact for Albus. He could do it. He lifted up the rock and brought it down on the crystal vial with all his strength and it shattered. Gellert saw the two drops of blood shudder and disappear.
>>><<<
Gellert became aware that he had a terrible headache. He opened his eyes. His shoes were off, and he was lying on his Aunt Bathilda’s sofa. Why was he here?
It all came back to him, like a sickening nightmare. He had lost decades of his life chasing an impossible dream – killed people, built an entire absurd movement, gained an international reputation as a megalomaniac, and for what? It was not possible to rule the entire world! What kind of idiot would even want to? Apparently him. He was that idiot. The idiot who thought that it was possible to conquer the world in the name of Albus fucking Dumbledore: an undeserving moron who found it impossible to trust that a boy who had already kissed him might actually be interested in him. A complete and utter jerk who had entered into a blood pact with a person who he knew to be under the influence of a drug that took away his free will.
“Albus!” He shouted, standing up from the sofa.
No one answered.
He was alone.
Alone in his Aunt’s house.
In Britain.
Where he was wanted for murder.
In what country was he not wanted for murder?
He was wanted in the United States
And France
And Spain
And Switzerland
And Denmark
And Russia
And -
His chest tightened.
His vision narrowed.
It felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.
He began gasping, gulping ineffectually
Gellert Grindelwald fell back onto the sofa and promptly passed out.
>>><<<
The sun was shining through his curtains. He sat up in bed and stretched. Why was he wearing underwear? He usually slept in nothing at all. He had probably been up too late talking to Albus and forgotten to go to bed. That had happened once or twice – him falling asleep on the sofa, and Albus being too embarrassed to take him up to his room, just leaving him there for his aunt to float up the stairs and only partially disrobe. Yes, that must have been what had happened.
It was a shame he hadn't woken up, so that he could finish the night in Albus's bed. Maybe tonight.
He stripped off his underwear and washed before dressing for the day. He looked out the window. Sure enough, it was a beautiful summer day. He ran down the stairs.
“Gellert? Is that you?”
“Who else would it be?” Gellert laughed, stepping into the kitchen and kissing his aunt on the cheek. “What’s for breakfast today, Auntie?”
Aunt Bathilda looked a little nervous. “What would you like, Dear?”
“You can't fool me," Gellert replied with a wink. "Don't you always say you are not a restaurant, and I cannot place orders?”
“Don’t I always say…” she repeated under her breath. “Are you... feeling well?”
“I slept very well, thank you. I was thinking I was going to see if Albus was free, after breakfast. Maybe, if Ariana is having a good day, he will come with me to the brook. I was wanting to practice –“
"Gellert,” Aunt Bathilda interrupted with a tight smile on her face, “What year is it, Darling?”
“Are you saying you are a time traveller, Darling?” Gellert teased. “You know that’s not real, right? Being put in someone else’s body? You can’t fool me with that old trick – I’ve read Bledsoe!”
“Just – humour me?”
Gellert rolled his eyes. “All right. You are feeling so ‘disoriented’ because you have been ‘transported’ to 1899. Do you need to know where you are as well, 'mysterious stranger?' Who you are?”
“Not at all. The year was entirely sufficient. I’ll make you some porridge, and then you can pop over to the Dumbledores’ house.”
“Would you like me to help? After all, I can't expect a time traveller to know where the pans are!”
“No, Gellert, you can sit right there at the table and keep me company.”
“Very well,” Gellert said, seating himself. His aunt walked around behind him to fetch the oats out of the pantry. He never saw the stunning spell coming.
>>><<<
Gellert heard voices coming from far away.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” a woman’s voice was saying.
A man’s voice answered, but he couldn’t pick out the words. He must be speaking more quietly.
“Did you not even research the effects? I knew you were irresponsible, but honestly, Albus!”
“No one has ever been under Amortentia that long!” the man’s voice shouted.
Albus. Amortentia.
He lifted his head off the kitchen table. Albus had dosed him with Amortentia. He was not sixteen years old. He was forty-five years old. Forty-five. He had not had sex with another man in twenty-nine years. Which was probably not the most relevant or important thing to be worrying about in this moment, but... no. No, this was a significant loss. He had gone through his twenties, his thirties, the better part of his teens not having sex. He was forty-five and practically a virgin. All because he had been too busy trying to impress someone who had poisoned him and then accidentally kept him in his thrall because he was the biggest fucking idiot known to Wizardkind.
Gellert had only ever had sex when he was under the influence of Amortentia. Not that he hadn’t already been planning to have sex with Albus before he was drugged, but that was not the point. The point was that he had never been given the opportunity to choose.
“ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!” Gellert roared.
The voices in the other room went quiet.
“I know you’re there, you coward! Come in here and –“
The door to the kitchen opened, and suddenly, Albus was there. He looked… slightly shorter than Gellert had remembered, but then, Gellert had been two inches shorter when he was newly sixteen, and Albus was slouching.
“Stand up straight, Dumbledore!” Gellert ordered without thinking about it.
Albus straightened immediately, then looked annoyed that he’d obeyed. Gellert couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“So. I’ve been bowing and scraping for a submissive all these years?”
“I… “ Albus blushed. “Umm…”
Gellert sighed. He pointed to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
Albus went to the chair Gellert had indicated.
“Aunt Bathilda?” Gellert called, and his aunt hurried in.
“Albus and I have things to discuss, but apparently I cannot trust him not to run off when things get difficult. Nor can I trust him not to poison me. So, if you would not mind, could you make us both some coffee? And then perhaps…”
“An anti-apparition charm on the house and grounds should do. I’ll monitor the grounds from my broom so he can’t escape. Give you all some privacy.”
“That will do nicely,” Gellert said, “Thank you. You are my favourite aunt.”
“I would ask why you never visit in that case, but I know who to blame for that,” she said, dropping a cup of coffee in front of Albus and letting it slosh onto the table and spill onto his lap.
“That wasn't poisoned, was it?” Gellert asked. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be justified, but I have some business with him, first.”
“No, dear. I know how to wait my turn.”
Bathilda gently set a cup of coffee in front of Gellert and kissed him on top of his head before exiting the kitchen.
“So,” Gellert said, fixing Albus with a hard stare. “Last night. You ran.”
“To Bathilda –“
“Who had not yet arrived when I woke up the first time. I woke on the sofa, remembered that I am an internationally wanted criminal, and lost the ability to breathe. I think. I am having a difficult time piecing the timeline together.”
“I apologize.”
“For?”
“For leaving you after you broke the blood pact.”
“That’s a start.”
“I didn’t leave right away,” Albus hastened to defend himself, which annoyed Gellert. “You dropped unconscious, and I waited, but the longer I waited, the more sure I became that you were going to kill me, and… it seemed better to give you time to cool off? So, I moved you to the sofa and went to find your aunt.”
Gellert hummed. “And you hadn’t thought I would kill you when you were planning how to tell me? When you asked me to meet you here?”
“I was rather thinking that I deserved it if you killed me. I went so far as to organize my papers and so on. But, when you kissed me… “
“Oh, please,” Gellert rolled his eyes. “Do not tell me that the kiss of a delusional and potioned man gave you a 'reason to live.'”
“No, it – made me feel like you had a reason to live. That – that you should actually get to do that to someone one day and mean it.”
Gellert snorted. He had kissed someone and meant it. A little over twenty-nine years ago. He had kissed Albus and meant it. Not that the turnip-headed lout had picked up on Gellert ‘meaning it.’
“And if you were sent to Azkaban, you would never – ”
“Who’s going to Azkaban? As if Bathilda would not help me get rid of your body.”
Albus laughed, then stopped and looked a bit scared, then laughed again.
“I know you’re joking, but –“
“I’m really not.”
“Right, but – “
“But it is a much bigger problem than just the one body? Yes. Bathilda would get rid of your body if I asked, but I have too many other bodies to my name already. I’m already headed for Azkaban. So – your reason for staying alive is because you owe me. You are going to help me fix this, correct?”
Albus looked down into his coffee, then met Gellert’s eyes. “Yes. Though I would appreciate it if you were to call Theseus Scamander to handle it.”
“Theseus Scamander,“ Gellert echoed.
Gellert might have been celibate these twenty-nine years, but he was fairly certain that Albus had not been. He would have had no reason to do so. He was not desperately obsessed with someone unobtainable and perfect. He remembered that moment in Paris, when he had asked Newt if Albus would miss him if he were gone, and the look on Theseus’s face had suggested to Gellert that he had been jealous of the wrong Scamander. Had Albus and Theseus...?
“It is only… he can ensure that I…” Albus ducked his head again. “That I suffer an accident before I make it to Azkaban, after I've given my testimony. I – I know you’re angry, but I don’t think… I can’t… “
The Dementors. Albus had been tormented by nightmares about Dementors that whole summer – had confessed to Gellert that he had dreamed of them since his father’s arrest. Gellert wondered if he still did.
“Albus, look at me.”
Albus raised his eyes.
“I am angry, but nobody is going to Azkaban. I’m not going to call the Aurors on you. And I was never going to kill you. Or… well, there was a brief time about a year ago where I was going to send someone to kill you so that you could defeat them in a properly glorious manner and gain the attention of the world, but… ah, other than that… It’s not important. The point is, I do need your help, but I was thinking more along the lines of helping me to disappear and to dismantle the movement. It’s too big for one person to do himself, and you are so well connected, I had supposed – “
“Gellert, you don’t understand. If you don’t turn me in, then I’m not sure how we are going to clear your name.”
“Gods, were you always this slow? And here I’ve been thinking you’re a genius all these years. But then, I was drugged. I suppose I have an excuse.”
Albus turned red. “I’m not slow!”
“Oh? Because you seem incapable of understanding that I’m not interested in clearing my name at the expense of yours. My name isn’t important. Slowing down the morons who think that they can win a war against Muggles is a much bigger issue, at the moment.”
“Morons,” Albus said, weakly.
“Oh, right. I forgot. I was one of those morons, quite recently. But then, I was drugged.”
“You are never going to let that go, are you?”
“Should I?” Gellert asked.
“No, probably not,” Albus confessed.
Gellert looked at Albus. What would have happened to them if Albus could have left well enough alone? Gellert knew he wouldn’t have started a global war against Muggles – that much was obvious - but would they have stayed together? Would Aberforth have found Gellert less annoying, if he hadn’t fawned over his brother? Would Gellert have settled in Godric’s Hollow with Albus until Ariana died? Or would he have persuaded him to have her admitted to St. Mungo’s and taken Albus travelling with him?
Or would they have argued and separated over some adolescent squabble or another?
Gellert couldn’t picture that last option. He remembered thinking that Albus was perfect for him. Remembered the exhilaration of arguing with him, dueling with him… snogging with him.
It had all been such a long time ago. There was no way to tell what they could have been to one another. What Gellert could have made of himself. The loss was too immense to contemplate, if he wanted to keep breathing.
He wished he could hate Albus. He did, a little. But decades had passed since Albus had committed his offence, too. Would Gellert punish him for it forever?
He closed his eyes and then looked away, towards the kitchen window.
The bigger risk was that he would not punish Albus for long enough.
“Gellert?” Albus asked uncertainly.
“Just trying to puzzle out how long it will take me to trust the feeling that I love you, anyway.”
Albus looked astonished, but didn’t answer. Perhaps Albus didn’t love him back. Gellert couldn’t expect nothing to have changed in nearly three decades. And after all, who was Gellert? Could you really love a person who barely existed?
Maybe, by the time Gellert had figured out who he was, Albus would have figured out if he could love that person. In the meantime, they had work to do.
Gellert pushed away from the table and walked to the back door. He gestured to his Aunt Bathilda. There was no sense in her hovering out there all day – Albus wasn’t going anywhere.