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"Such a funny thing for me to try to explain, how I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame."
-Crazy in Love lyrics
Today was just a day like any other day for Gellert Grindelwald.
Every day felt the same for a prisoner whose only activity consisted of daydreaming and loitering in their cell. Indeed, it was a lifetime of wallowing in idleness and bitterness.
The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a gorgeous blue with no clouds—as far as he could see anyways—and the warm wind was comforting to his frigid body, just like that summer.
Yes, a lovely summer day.
Normally, he would be in high spirits, or as high as an old dying inmate could get. He would be on the ground by now, testing if he could make himself blind by staring at the sun for extensive periods of time. He liked it. The bright white light scorching his eyes. If he had been blinded by the light earlier, than perhaps he wouldn't have been imprisoned in the first place.
No, you would be transferred to St. Mungos, or more specifically, the department handling mental disorders. You idiot.
Marvelous. It was the voice that liked to insult him. He named him The Poet, In courtesy of his wonderfully crafted insults. Very good company for lonely times. There weren't many unique ways a prisoner could find to torture himself, after all.
The sliding sound of paper struggling to squeeze through narrow door cracks scratched his ears.
Oh look, his daily newspaper had arrived in tatters. The Daily Prophet. Paid a fortune to read filtered trash, and the parts that were filtered were the parts that weren't trash.
But, newspapers were disasters anyway.
Never give you anything decent to read. Someone ruining something. Someone dying. He himself had been on the newspaper for the former more times than he could count, and now, all that was left was for the latter.
Grindelwald longed for that day, so much so that he even had a vision of himself being killed by Voldemort. Really lovely dream that was, and he wasn't being sarcastic this time. It was one of the few times that his visions actually gave him hope. Perhaps they weren't as useless as he had thought.
Of course, there were inane fools who thought he would end of his own life. They thought he couldn't stand it. Ha. What couldn't he stand? The humiliation was already over. Now, the only message he would deliver to his enemies had he chosen to die would be that he was a coward who couldn't endure it. A runaway.
Grindelwald was done with running away in his life.
He carefully started to arrange the mess under the light, but he suddenly halted when his eyes caught sight of a bolded headline, it's words so terribly clear that it pricked his eyes. Immediately, he crumpled the paper, and his back hunched over in defiance.
Newspapers and their lies.
The only source that had told more lies than himself. Lies. Lies. Lies. One would think that they had more courtesy to lie more discreetly, but they were quite bold this time weren't they?
With trembling hands, he unfolded the newspaper that he had crumpled up, and started reading. He squinted his eyes to try and keep focus—his eyes weren't how they used to be. The words seem to have ink blotches as well now—dratted elf couldn't even buy a decent copy for him.
His eyes darted across a name he hasn't heard of in a long time: Elphias Doge. That was a boy whose name was constantly on the tip of Dumbledore's tongue, his best friend, wasn't he?
WASN'T HE?
In rage, Grindelwald ripped the papers he was holding in half. He didn't need to read anymore. There was nothing left to read.
Or was there? He stumbled to the darkest corner of the cell where he had kept the belongings that man had sent. Never touched any of them after he had moved it there. Just a letter and a bag of candy.
With unsteady hands, he unfolded the letter:
"—Grindelwald,
While it may not bring you any comfort for you to hear this, I still hope there was some truth in your previous words. I remember you once said you've enjoyed sherbet lemons, so I brought you a package of them should you ever feel the craving.
P.S. The package is charmed to hold more than you'd expect, so I'd reckon it can last for your lifetime."
Him? Enjoy eating candy? Did he ever say that? Perhaps he did, perhaps he would have from a long time ago, he thought, as he searched the far corners of his mind for buried memories.
"Gellert!" Albus choked and spat out the yellow hard candy into his hand as he complained, "How could you do this to me?"
Gellert blinked innocently, and sported a surprised look, asking, "I thought you liked sweets?"
"I mean sweets that don't make my tongue feel like it's going to fall off soon!" Albus looked down at the yellow sweet and pondered, "Ugh, lemon?"
"The sweets had so many different colors that I thought I walked into a circus. So, I chose a sweet with a color that symbolized our future. Gold. Our road will be paved out of gold, Albus. You and I, together, as leaders of a golden future."
"Gellert, it's yellow, and stop trying to change the subject."
"No, it's gold just like one of your Hogwarts house colors," Gellert smirked.
"This conversation isn't going to end until I give you a taste of the sourness of this sherbet lemon."
Gellert tilted his head and replied, "That's fine by me," snatching the candy from Albus' hands and putting it in his own mouth, much to Albus' surprise.
Then he pulled Albus in, and kissed him.
"You—Gell-," Albus pushed him away, and glared at Gellert, who seductively licked his lips and smiled playfully, "I think it's sweet and delicious, just like you."
Albus huffed and tried to suppress an embarrassed smile, "I'll call it even if you don't ever try to trick me like that again."
"I can promise you I won't give you anymore lemon flavored ones. I think those are tasty though." Gellert lied through his teeth.
"Really?" Albus tilted his head in obvious disbelief, "I suppose the sour flavor does balance out the sweetness."
"Really. I'll like anything you put in my mouth as long you're kissing me. Even if it's—"
Albus hushed him with his hands in embarrassment, and curled his lips as he complained, "You can be such a prat sometimes."
"But, you still love me anyways, don't you?" Gellert lightly teased.
Albus rolled his eyes and replied, exasperated, "You know I love you, even when you're a douche."
"Whatever may happen?"
"Always."
He always thought that the package of lemon sherbets was simply a mocking message to a defeated foe. A joke.
Gellert Grindelwald was the one who was a joke.
He opened the wrapper of one of them and tasted it. So sour.
"So sweet," he smiled, as the tears started overflowing.
"I should've said it then too," he cackled deliriously, "Always!"
"..."
"...I love you too, always."
Finally.
He had choked those words out after a century of useless pride. But, it was too late.
Crackling sounds of wrappers and an old man's unrepressed howls filled the usually silent tower tonight.
I finally understand how your love can do what no else can.