Because my Grindeldore thirst knows no limits and the love I have towards your writing cannot be restrained... I have an abstract one-shot idea for you this time, dear. ‘Heaven Up There’ by Palace makes my heart wander around Albus x Gellert vibes. I have only one concrete detail –attempting to make this prompt a tiny bit more specific– about using any phrase of the song in a dialogue.
You’re always the best ♡ thank you in advance –in the name of all the Grindeldore fandom– for even considering our ideas.
Apologies for taking so long to get around to writing this, love. I hope that you like it. I approached your prompt by reading the lyrics and seeing what kind of dialogue the text would inspire, and here's the end result :)
“So, this is it?” Gellert asked from behind the bars of his cell, his hands grasping at them tightly, “You are just going to leave me here, Albus?”
Albus looked at him, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. Gellert had been stripped of his cloak and his finery, and all he had left to wear was a thin grey robe. Deprived of his usual garments, he looked smaller, less imposing. Vulnerable. His silver hair was tied back in a ponytail, and there was still a cast wrapped around one of his fingers. He would have looked completely defeated if not for his eyes, which were still burning with that beguiling passion that had first drawn Albus in, so many years ago. If one only looked at his eyes, they would have thought that any minute now, he would open the door of his cell and walk out. But his wand – the Wand, the means to his power – was resting in Albus’ pocket, his claim to the spoils of his victory. Albus did not feel very victorious at the moment. Rather, he felt as if life as he knew it was coming to an end. Here, at the top of this tower. Gellert on one side, and him on the other.
“Yes,” he said, and it hurt him more than anything had ever hurt before.
Gellert’s eyes flared, and he grasped the bars tighter. “Here, Albus?” he hissed, motioning at the small cell behind him. It was barren, except for the hard bed in the corner with a thin blanket set on it. There was no source of light except for the one singular window that was too small for a man to leave or enter. Currently, there was almost no light, the waning moon already having passed it by. Albus felt another twist in his chest at the thought of Gellert spending the rest of his days here, in this small, derelict space. All his brilliance contained, until it suffocated in the dark.
“It is not as if you showed your prisoners any more mercy. This is a prison of your own design,” Albus replied, and it sounded hollow even to his own years.
Gellert scoffed, “Do not give me your Ministry lines. You have influence. If you had wished it, you would have arranged for something better.”
Albus felt tired. His body still ached from their duel and his heart was broken, all over again. Suddenly, he wished to be anywhere but here, soothing Gellert’s anger as if he himself wasn’t hanging by a thread, bruised and abused by the very man who now demanded even more from him. More of his love, more of his care; soaking it all up but giving very little in return. Gellert was like a rising tide, a force of nature that took what he wanted, and Albus had almost given everything to him. Had almost been completely swept away by him.
Albus sighed, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. He wanted to go home. He wished to lay down on his bed, and never think of Gellert Grindelwald again. But he knew it would never happen. Gellert had carved himself too deep inside him, taken too much. Albus would never stop thinking of him.
“It was a condition for your imprisonment. This was the best I could do,” he explained, his voice weary. “You have no idea how long it took me to talk them out of simply executing you. Ever since they found out that we used to be friends," Albus ignored the scornful snort Gellert let out at that description of their relationship, "they have regarded me with suspicion. In fact, it’s a miracle I managed to arrange for your imprisonment at all. I know it is not ideal, but this was truly the best I could do.”
The thought of his potential failure still haunted him. By the end, he had felt like he would have done anything. He would have knelt on the ground and begged if he had had to. He thought that he had done well in composing himself, not letting his desperation show, but the look of pity he had received from Newt afterwards was barely something he could bear. It made something bitter twist in his stomach. He did not want pity. It was not something he deserved.
“And what made you think I would prefer living in these conditions over death?” Gellert asked, his voice cold. Albus knew he only asked to be cruel. He knew very well why. It was for the same reason Albus still stood here, with him, when he could have simply left and never seen him again. “You should have just killed me,” Gellert said softly, and the pity in his eyes was too much.
If Newt’s pity had caused a sour, sorrowful feeling in his stomach, Gellert’s was infinitely worse. It broke Albus’ already shattered heart further. And Albus knew what he said to be true. He knew Gellert would have preferred to die over being locked inside his own tower, with only himself to keep him company. Albus knew it would slowly drive him mad. He could have killed him as he stumbled at the end of their duel. He could have let the German Ministry take him and execute him. But a choice between Gellert alive and Gellert dead was no choice at all. Not for him.
Instead of vocalising any of this, he simply admitted, “I’m a selfish man.”
“And a cruel one,” Gellert shot back. Albus had no answer to that. It was true. It was perhaps the cruellest thing he had ever done. But the alternative was not something Albus thought he could survive.
A silence fell between them. Gellert was no doubt looking for something else to wound him with. Albus simply felt unable to leave. Once he left, there would be no coming back. This was the last time he would ever see Gellert Grindelwald. As much he had wished to leave before, the reality of it was too enormous. He felt moisture gather at the corners of his eyes, and he turned away his head and blinked rapidly to prevent any tears from falling. Gellert, for once, ignored the obvious display of weakness. Perhaps he also felt the inevitable approach of their parting. Albus could not be certain, even though once he had thought that he knew him better than anyone.
Eventually, Gellert broke the silence, “And what are you going to do now that you have taken me down? Will you finally leave that school and take the position the Ministry has offered you? I have no doubt you will be lauded as a hero and any nasty allegations of what your relationship with me was truly like will be simply swept under the rug, right beside all their other dirty little secrets.” His voice was so bitter it hurt Albus to hear it.
He had no doubt that Gellert was right. Before, the Ministry might have been willing to dangle the information over him like the Sword of Damocles, but now that he was the hero who had taken down the most dangerous wizard in centuries, they would pretend as if they had never known of it, and any who might come to ask would be told it was a heinous lie. The knowledge hurt, but at the same time, he did not think he could live with the shame of it if it ever came out in its entirety; in all its cruel, gritty detail.
“I will stay at Hogwarts,” Albus told him. “I have come to the conclusion that power is not something that I’m suited for.”
That answer made Gellert angriest Albus had seen him so far. “Fool,” he spat, “You would hide yourself? Waste all of your potential?”
Albus gave him a sad smile. “I’m trying to be a better man than you were.”
Gellert let out a bitter laugh. “You have become blind. Go on then, waste your time pretending. See if that will make you happy.” He leaned against the bars again, his eyes cutting into Albus. “You will still have to live with the truth within you,” he whispered.
Albus looked down. “I know,” he admitted, quietly. He did not need Gellert to tell him that. Regret had been his constant companion for years. The knowledge of what he had nearly become could never be swept away. But- “I can still try. It is our actions, after all, that define us.”
Gellert did not answer, but the contempt in his eyes told what he thought of that particular sentiment. Albus allowed himself a moment to drink him in. The shine of his hair, the light and dark of his eyes, the shape of his nose and his mouth, the solid strength of his body. He tried to memorise it all as best he could. But, finally, he could delay no longer. One last lingering look and he turned away, starting down the hallway. He could not say goodbye. It was beyond his strength.
“I cared for you too,” Gellert called after him, softly. Albus’ steps halted. He could almost imagine the look on Gellert’s face; the warmth of his smile, the earnestness of his eyes. If he turned back, he could see it. If he turned back, he would be lost.
“It did not show,” Albus told him, and went.
As he walked down the stairs of the tower, he did not know where his future lay. But as they had been talking, the night had ended, and the shadows had cleared. He walked away, into the shining light of the rising sun, and he did not look back.
