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Dec 27, 2016

Their Effect

Better late than never, right? ;)

@azurish finally I can post it: your christmas gift! I am sorry again for the delay. You are a wonderful person and I appreciated your input really much! This is certainly not perfect and extendable, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Also I am sorry for any language mistakes, sadly English isn’t my mother tongue.

I hope you have great holidays, Merry Christmas!

Albus knew the day wouldn’t end well the moment Aberforth sat down at the kitchen table, a stern look on his face.

„Albus.“

„Yes, Aberforth?“

„We need to talk.“

His tone was serious, but forcedly calm, which was so unusual for his brother that it made Albus put down his quill and look at him. He could tell by the way Aberforth held himself and the way he looked at him that he was not pleased but apparently, his brother had chosen to approach him seriously today, instead of throwing one of the angry fits that Albus had become so used to over the past few weeks.

„What about?“

„You are not serious about travelling with him, right?” He grimaced as he mentioned Gellert and Albus rolled his eyes.

“Of course, I am serious.”

Aberforth clenched his fists, but he didn’t raise his voice. “How does that make sense, Albus? You abandoned your travels with Doge, nothing has changed since then, so why do you think you can go with him?”

Albus sighed and folded his hands, looking his brother straight in the eyes. “Because Gellert knows, he understands. We can take Ariana with us and as soon as our plans are successful there will be no need to hide her anymore.”

“And what plans would that be?” Aberforth asked through gritted teeth.

“You wouldn’t understand – “

But Aberforth grabbed his arm. “No, tell me! I want to know”, he demanded. Albus felt his fingers digging into his arm and sighed.

And so, he told his brother about the Hallows and the Peverell brothers and about their revolution, about the long overdue exposure of wizard kind and the necessary subjugation of the muggles and their new political system and he distantly realised that it didn’t sound nearly as brilliant as it did on Gellert’s lips, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

There was a heavy pause after he had finished and for a moment he thought Aberforth might punch him. He didn’t. Instead he did something far more confusing: He started retelling everything Albus had just said, but he said it as if it were his ideas. Without preamble, without an explanation. It created unease deep inside of Albus’ chest, made him cringe and and why, really? Why did it sound so wrong the way Aberforth said it and so incredibly right the way Gellert said the same things? It didn’t make sense.

When his brother ended, they stared at each other with blank faces.

“What are you doing?”, Albus asked finally.

“I am asking you the same question”, Aberforth replied.

“You are being ridiculous, Aberforth.”

“Really? Tell me, if mother could see us now, would she approve of your plans? Would she tell you to go or to stay?”

It was that day, that his heart broke.

He met Gellert after the odd conversation with Aberforth and he couldn’t get rid of the nagging voice in the back of his mind that started questioning everything he had come to believe over the past few weeks.

It was a weird day and Albus resented it, but couldn’t help it at the same time. Not even Gellert’s fierce passion while talking about the Hallows was able to take his mind to other places. Not even – and more oddly so – Gellert’s hands in his hair and his lips on his own were capable of that.

When they encountered a group of Muggle boys about their age at the outskirts of Godrics Hollow, words got heated, the boys eager to prove themselves in front of their friends, making fun of those weirdoes and Gellert lost his temper, getting one of them under the Cuciatus curse before Albus could even draw his wand.

He managed to step in, obliviate the boys and tear Gellert away from them, but the conversation that followed the incident left Albus feeling as if the curse had been cast on him. Still in shock after seeing Gellert use an Unforgivable on another boy, Albus knew in his heart of hearts that it was the right thing to do: To tell Gellert he couldn’t support something like that, to tell him that he couldn’t be part of his plans, of his revolution because he had a family to care for and responsibility for the muggles they sought to control.

At the end of the day he was shocked by himself the most, shocked that he had been able to ignore what Gellert was really capable of and each of them returned home alone. Albus felt as if he had lost a part of himself, something irreplaceable, something very important. A part he would miss terribly. And he did.

Three days later he couldn’t stand it anymore. He went over to Bathilda Bagshot’s house and knocked, only to have her tell him that Gellert had left two days ago.

“Didn’t he tell you?”, she asked, but Albus could only shake his head.

Bathilda sighed. “Now, manners have never been one of his strengths. Are you alright, dear?”

Albus nodded, swallowed and forced himself to give her a quick smile. “Yes, yes of course. Thank you, Ms. Bagshot.”

“I’m sorry, Albus. I will let you know if I hear anything from him. How about you and your siblings come over for dinner tomorrow?”

But Gellert never got in touch with her. Or Albus. Or anyone Albus knew. So life went on. He brought a protesting Aberforth to Platform nine and three quarters on the first of September and wrote articles for Transfiguration Today to earn some money for the family. He took care of Ariana as well as he could, he fed her, he played with her, he calmed her. He tried to do research on Obscuri, but it was a topic rarely approached in books, barely researched and even harder to get information about, if one was chained to the house for most of the day.

He liked to think that he did a solid job, but he couldn’t help feeling the lack of something in his life. Not only the obvious lack of freedom and waste of his potential (he was still so, so frustrated, but he was getting used to it), it was something different.

He wasn’t only resentful anymore – the more time passed, the harder it got for him to get out of bed in the morning, to go to town and pick up groceries, to smile at Ariana or Bathilda or Honoria. It even got harder to do magic. He felt as if a heavy blanket was wrapping itself around him, suffocating him, making even the easiest tasks difficult and he didn’t know how to escape.

It was Bathilda, who pointed it out, one afternoon, when aunt Honoria was looking after Ariana and he was over for tea and some company he didn’t really crave.

“You can’t continue like this, Albus”, she said.

“I’m afraid, I don’t know what you mean”, he replied and it was almost the truth.

“I mean the painfully apparent lack of joy in your life. You are so young, you need something to occupy yourself with.” She looked at him with so much concern that he almost started to sob, because nobody had shown any sign of concern about his wellbeing in such a long time, he had almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Well, there isn’t much I can do with Ariana at home, is there?” There was nothing. He was barely able to leave their property with Ariana at home and the Obscurus inside her getting stronger and more dangerous every day.

“I do realise your options are somewhat limited, but I’ve got a good friend, who is just looking for a new partner for his studies. I sent him some of your papers and a nice letter and he is willing to work with you if you can arrange some hours in the evenings.”

Abus stared at her wide-eyed, while she was loading another piece of pumpkin pie on his plate as if she had just told him about something petty like the weather.

“Who is it?”, he asked cautiously.

“Nicolas Flamel.”

So he started living again. He still took care of Ariana and his life was still incredibly boring most of the time, but at least he had something to look forward to. He met Nicolas Flamel three evenings a week and their studies gave his mind something to ponder during the day. It was nothing compared to the passion Gellert had evoked in him, but it was very nice nonetheless and while Albus was glad for the intellectual stimulation, Flamel was very obviously impressed.

When Aberforth graduated, Albus was already well known to the important wizards and witches of their century and he was glad to hand over part of his responsibility for their sister to his brother.

Two years later he was still looking for a way to get rid of an Obscurus, to heal the host, really. He was trying hard, but there were other projects too and nobody was willing to look further into that kind of shady studies, so progress was slow.

And then… she died.

The outburst destroyed most of their house and Albus was glad Aberforth got away with a few bruises, but there was nothing he could’ve done for Ariana anymore. She was gone.

Aberforth was devastated, naturally and Albus himself was deeply saddened too, but he had known. He had known for some time now that she could’ve never survived much longer with that thing inside her.

After the funeral, he did not send an owl to the ministry like most people would’ve expected him to, instead he sent one to Hogwarts, asking Professor Dippet for a job. He was not sure for how long he really wanted to stay in the castle, but for now it was the only home he had left.

Ten years later it turned out he still felt very much at home at Hogwarts. He enjoyed his job and his students, he enjoyed his still ongoing studies and helping out at the ministry. (Although they had offered him a job more than once already, he still reminded himself of his tendency to act like a fool if given the prospect of power and stayed well away from that.)

Still, he always looked out for news from the continent, for anything unusual, anything extraordinary, any trace of Gellert. There were rumours, pieces of information here and there, whispered comments on the big congresses. He did not like what he heard, but there was also never enough for him to act upon, so he tried not to think about it.

Shortly before the beginning of the new term, the muggles started a war and Albus watched how Bojan Brankovic, Serbia’s Prince and Fritz Habsburg, Austria-Hungary’s president carried on the muggle induced enmity at the emergency meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards, blaming each other’s ministries for the lack of intervention to prevent the war. France’s minister argued it was not the wizarding community’s task to tell muggle politicians how to do their job and the president of MACUSA strongly refused any possible intervention in fear of exposing wizard kind. To Albus it seemed as if the wizarding world was merely less divided than the muggles.

At Christmastime, the same year, Albus was tired of it already. Tired of watching people die – muggles and wizards alike – tired of watching destruction, tired of the owls the ministry and the confederation sent him. It was mostly for that reason that he decided to agree to attend Bathilda Bagshot’s small Christmas gathering – as she had called it.

He dragged Aberforth along and somehow his aunt Honoria got there too. It was a small gathering indeed, just the four of them and three other wizards and witches (another historian, who liked the mead too much; an old friend of Bathilda, who she had shared a dorm with at Hogwarts and a young woman, who had just moved to Godrics Hollow and had a thick accent).

Aberforth sulked at first, but came to enjoy a conversation with the young woman about pasture feeding and stockades that Albus didn’t understand half of. He rather enjoyed himself, too. It was good to see Bathilda and Honoria and Chester Princeton turned out to have read many of his publications and although he was tipsy already, he seemed to recall enough to have a decent conversation about the possibility of transfiguring ancient magical artefacts.

When there was a knock on the door, he went to get it while Chester went to get another drink.

“Are you expecting anyone, Bathilda?”, he asked.

“I think not, but anyone is welcome”, she replied, placing another pumpkin pie on the dining table.

He opened the door and the first thing he noticed was the cold that made him shudder. The second thing he noticed was the wind that blew snowflakes into his face. And the third thing he noticed was a pair of familiar blue eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

“Can you take a look at this?”, Gellert asked, loosening his cloak to expose his shirt: It was ripped and blood stained in more than one place and he sank to his knees before Albus could gather his thoughts to form a reply.

He pulled Gellert to his feet again, had him lean onto him and manoeuvred him to the couch in Bathilda’s study. He didn’t even think about what he was doing, he just did it. Automatically, without a second thought, he just did everything to help the man in front of him.

As he unbuttoned Gellert’s shirt, more and more wounds became visible on his chest: In three spots above his ribcage there were wounds that looked like fang bites, two of them burning red as if poisoned, on his shoulder and his abdomen Albus saw two holes that bled heavily and that he knew by chance to be caused by those muggle weapons used for war.

“What creature?”, he asked, while he traced the bleeding wounds with his wand.

“What?” Gellert’s voice was weak and he obviously wasn’t aware of everything going on.

“The bites. What creature was it?”

Gellert only groaned in pain as Albus’s wand extracted a small metal ball from one of the bleeding wounds. Albus put one hand on his cheek and turned his head, slowly growing worried. “Gellert, I need to know what bit you, as it was obviously poisonous and I need to get the antidote.”

“Runespoor”, Gellert murmured and had he not been so worried, Albus would have rolled his eyes, because Merlin’s beard, really? A Runespoor?

“Albus, dear, who was at the -?” Bathilda froze as she entered the room and saw Gellert lying on the couch. She stared at him in disbelief, then raised an eyebrow and glanced over to Albus.

“He’s been bitten by a Runespoor. If I may, I need to use some of your supplies for the Anti-venom.” He tried to be as calm as possible given the oddity of the situation. He would have time enough to ponder all of it later, when he didn’t have to worry about Gellert’s life anymore.

Bathilda caught herself surprisingly fast, nodding and pointing Albus to the supply cabinet. “Take as much as you need”, she said. “I don’t think any of my guests will be interested in seeing my study.”

Stay in here, was what she didn’t say. Don’t let anybody see him. But Albus understood nonetheless and he was grateful for it. The name Grindelwald had spread over the continent in a frightful whisper over the past few months and he wasn’t very keen on explaining anything, especially not as long as he didn’t know what exactly there was to explain.

Bathilda hurried out of the room, back to her guests, while Albus started putting together the ingredients of the Anti-venom. Potions had never been his favourite, but he was educated and talented enough to brew it decently. He tended to the flesh wounds of the muggle weapons with Dittany, while the potion was boiling and made Gellert swallow a few sips of the blood-replenishing potion that Bathilda – Merlin knew why – kept in the corner of the cabinet.

Gellert didn’t make a move thorough the whole procedure, obviously only half conscious and Albus felt a great wave of relief flash through his body, when colour returned to his pale cheeks and his chest started to rise and fall more strongly after drinking the Anti-venom.

It seemed, Age was kind to Gellert. He didn’t look older than 25, his hair still the same gold, though cut horribly. His features were still very handsome, but much more those of a man than of the boy Albus remembered and his chest still as well defined as in their youth.

“Nicolas Flamel?” His voice was deeper than he remembered and sounded weak due to his injuries, but it had the same proud undertone.

“What about him?”, Albus asked, meeting Gellert’s eyes for the second time this night and his heart pounded in response to it.

“He is rather fond of you, isn’t he?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I hear and see a lot.”

Albus raised an eyebrow, but Gellert didn’t seem keen on elaborating. “Are you fond of him too?”

“I rather enjoy working with him.”

“Not what I meant.”

“No, but what you meant is ridiculous.”

Gellert smiled a little and Albus had to look away, because, Merlin, his smile was still the same. All of this felt so familiar that he almost couldn’t stand it. In his mind pictures of Gellert in his youth, of his smile, his excitement talking about the Hallows mixed with pictures of Gellert torturing these muggle boys and the fearful whisper and all the rumours Albus had heard over the past years. It was a painful mixture and a confusing one.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked finally.

“Got in a bit of trouble”, Gellert answered.

“That hasn’t escaped my notice. How?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly expect a Runespoor in an English forest. Thought these damn things only live in Africa. Bit me, before I noticed it. I got a bit disorientated and the muggles don’t exactly pay attention to whom they are shooting. Very unfortunate. I could have never made it to brew das verdammte Anti-venom myself.”

“I’m sure you have a fine group of friends, who could have done it for you”, Albus said.

Gellert nodded slowly.

“So, why did you come here?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see an old friend.”

Albus looked at him surprised. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Those dull people have been quite unpleasant company lately… There have been some troubles, but we were always equals, Albus. I have never again found someone that I found remotely worthy to spend time with, if not necessary.”

Gellert looked him right in the eyes, attentive and sharp, but also weakened.

“Are you saying you have missed me?” Albus asked quietly.

Gellert didn’t answer. Instead he closed his eyes and sank back into the cushions of the couch. “Don’t be ridiculous”, he muttered, but Albus smiled nonetheless. He got the blanket from the chair near the fireplace and placed it over Gellert, before sitting down on the floor next to the couch.

“What are you going to do now?”, Albus asked the next morning.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep, too, because he had woken up with his head leaned next to Gellerts against the couch and traditional English breakfast on the desk, that Bathilda must have brought in.

Gellert remained silent for a while, finishing his pudding. “I thought I’d stay for a bit. See what happens.”

Albus nodded. “What about your plans? The Greater Good?”

“You mean our plans that you left me with?” For the first time Gellert sounded bitter and Albus was painfully reminded that not everything was said and done between them, that not everything was okay.

“We were mistaken, Gellert. Youthful dreams. Don’t blame me for waking up.”

“We could have changed the world!”

“We still can.” Albus looked at him steadily. “But not like that. Not with a war and torture and subjugation. That’s not right.”

Gellert pressed his lips together and fixed his eyes on his plate. “I found something I want to show you”, he said suddenly.

Albus looked at him curiously, while Gellert grabbed his cloak and retrieved his wand from it. Even before he held it, Albus knew, what it was: The Elderwand.

An old fascination crept up on him and he grasped it a bit too eagerly for his liking.

“Where did you find it?”, he asked, examining it.

“I stole it from Gregorovitch.”

“The wandmaker?”

Gellert nodded. “He must have had it for years. Can you believe it? A Hallow in the hands of such a fool!”

“So, you thought stealing it would be a good idea?” Albus couldn’t ban all irony from his voice.

“I thought it’s a legitimate action.”

“Did you find the others too?”

Gellert shook his head. “No. Did you?”

“I did not look for them. Not actively.” Albus handed him back the wand. “To be honest, I do not think I am made to be their master.”

Gellert shot him a wide-eyed glance. “You don’t want to unite the Hallows anymore?”

“I didn’t say, I don’t want to. I said: I think I am not the right person to do so. I seem to have a rather weak spot for power and I would prefer not to trigger it.”

“Is that why you are staying at that school?”

“I have come to enjoy teaching a lot, I love my job and I think I am rather good at it, too, but yes that is part of the reason.”

“I hate teaching”, Gellert spat and Albus smiled.

“And you are far too impatient for it as well.”

“That is true.” Gellert raised his mug and took a sip of coffee. “Maybe I could do politics.” He paused, thinking apparently. “I would hate all my co-workers, but at least someone could make competent decisions then.”

“No revolution anymore?”

“Would you help me?”

“No.” He didn’t even have to think about it, he knew he couldn’t agree with their youthful ambitions anymore.

“Then I might rather try a different approach.”

Albus lips stretched into a wide smile and warmth floated through his body. “Maybe wait a few months before you try. Until your name isn’t such a frightful thing anymore.”

Gellert grinned at him and for a moment it was as if they were seventeen all over again.

As Christmas time came to an end, Albus returned to Hogwarts and Bathilda took Gellert in once again. From that day on, Albus’ owl had a hard life and was at times so exhausted that he used one of the owls waiting in the owlery to grant her a break. Their conversation was as enthusiastic and stimulating as it had always been, but the core of it, their topics, their ideas were less toxic. He could tell that Gellert was still on the fence concerning muggles and society, but Albus could also tell that he was trying to be more moderate for his sake.

He never came to know what had made Gellert change his mind, maybe it had just been the Runespoor venom, but he didn’t care too much either. He merely enjoyed the privilege of having an equal again.

Albus,

If you are free, I’d like to visit the new restaurant on Diagon Alley.

Bathilda rather fancies it.

I assume there are no lessons Saturday night?

- Gellert

There were no lessons Saturday night, naturally, so he agreed to go with Gellert. He had put on his best robes, navy with delicate silver stars, but Gellert looked simply stunning. He was clad in black and grey, fine robes, not exciting, but they contrasted his pale skin, the blonde hair and his blue eyes so perfectly that all his handsome features were highlighted.

Albus knew he wasn’t the only one thinking those things given by the looks of the witches around them and he was sure, Gellert knew it too, though he seemed rather amused by it.

It was a French restaurant, run by a half-Veela and the dessert was delicious even compared to the great things that Hogwarts’ house elves were making for the holidays. He could see why Bathilda liked it here. There were fairies in colourful lanterns and rather classic décor, beautiful waitresses, as far as Albus could tell and good food.

But even more he enjoyed the company. Gellert asked him about his Dragon blood project and they got into an hour long discussion about the laws of alchemy. Sometimes Albus was not sure what he found more beautiful: His mind or his looks.

Gellert told him he would find a job in the ministry – he would not try, he would find one, because that was what Gellert Grindelwald did, of course – and they brushed the topic of world order again, that they seemed to tiptoe around lately.

Gellert told him very bluntly that if he still wanted to provoke a war between wizards and muggles he would just go ahead and do it, instead of having dinner with him. He didn’t say muggles weren’t still lesser to him and he didn’t say it wouldn’t be right, but Albus hadn’t felt the desire to kiss him so urgently in a very long time.

He didn’t, of course. Instead he told him about Ariana and for the first time someone was listening to him about Obscuri. Gellert already knew his fair share about it and Albus suspected he didn’t want to know why, so he simply revelled in the fact of having found someone, who understood.

After all it had always been this way between them.

After dinner, they took a walk through Godrics Hollow. He showed Gellert Ariana’s Tomb and the ruins of their house that neither Albus nor Aberforth had had it in them to fix. When they finally arrived at Bathilda’s door it was well past midnight.

Just as Albus was about to say his goodbye, Gellert looked at him: “Do you want some tea?”

“We are going to wake Bathilda”, he objected.

“She’s not home”, Gellert said. “She’s visiting some congress in Dublin and won’t be back until Tuesday.” He opened the door and looked at Albus expectantly.

“In that case, I would like tea very much.”

A smile spread on Gellerts face, as he held the door for Albus.

“Are you still drinking it so damn British?”, he asked as soon as they had entered the kitchen.

“Indeed.”

Gellert rolled his eyes in a mock gesture, before waving his hand, making cups and tea float through the air and water boil itself.

“I see you trained wandless magic.” Albus said, adding sugar and milk himself.

“I hear you are not unable yourself.”

“Not quite. – Thank you.” He took the mug Gellert pushed into his direction and leaned against the kitchen counter next to him, taking a sip of tea, enjoying as the hot liquid ran down his throat. Then he looked at Gellert. “I have missed you, you know?”

They stared at each other for a moment, but instead of saying anything, Gellert leaned towards him, pressing his lips against Albus’. It was the only right answer he could have given, at least that’s what Albus’ mind told him in that moment. It was everything he wanted, everything he had wanted for a long time… he realised just now how desperately he had really wanted to do this. It still felt a perfect as it had at 17 and Albus put his mug down to cup Gellert’s face and pull him closer. It didn’t take long for the kiss to grow more heated, all tongues and roaming hands, pulling impatiently at each other’s robes, before they finally fell onto Gellert’s bed.

The next morning, he woke up to rays of sunlight falling through the window he still knew from many nights spent here in 1899. It took him a second, but as soon as he registered the warmth of Gellert’s body next to him, happiness flooded through his chest that he hadn’t known for a long time. He turned his head to look at his friend, who was still fast asleep and he was glad that nobody could see him smile like a teenager or feel his quickening heartbeat.

Carefully he pushed one of the golden curls from Gellert’s forehead and let his hand rest on his cheek for a moment. This was real, Gellert was real and beautiful and next to him. Albus didn’t know how he would ever be able to believe it. It was too good to be true, really and he was almost afraid to pry his body away from Gellert’s, to lose the feel of his skin and the smell of his scent, to lose this sense of reality.

He got up anyway, putting on his undergarments and grabbing the first shirt he could find on the floor and went into Bathilda’s familiar kitchen to fix some breakfast. It was late already, almost midday, he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept that long. But then again, usually his nights were much quieter and he smiled to himself at the thought that this would hopefully change now.

Just as he was directing a bunch of pancakes from the pan onto a plate, he heard footsteps behind him.

“That’s my shirt”, Gellert said, voice still hoarse from sleep. Albus turned around and smiled at him, handing him a cup of black coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”

Gellert took a few sips, leaning against the kitchen counter, next to the stove. “For a moment I thought you had left.”

With a wave of his wand, the stove turned off itself and eggs floated onto their respective plates, while Albus put a hand on Gellerts bare waist, kissing him softly. “Well, I haven’t.”

Gellert stroked his neck delicately, sending shivers down Albus’ spine. “You are not keeping the beard, are you?” It was not really a question - Albus knew that - nor did it sound much like one.

Albus raised his eyebrows. “And you are deciding that now?”

“It just isn’t for you”, Gellert said, matter of factly. “Besides, I like kissing you better without.”

Albus considered it for a moment. The kissing was probably a valid point, if they continued whatever they had started again the previous night. But he also objected very much to letting anyone tell him what to do and what not to.

“Are you going to get rid of that haircut, then?”

Gellert leaned back in surprise, looking him in the eyes.

“What’s wrong with the haircut?”

“It’s horrible”, Albus said dryly. Also, it would keep their autonomy balanced.

Gellert stared at him for a moment, thinking, until a grin spread on his face. Maybe he recognized Albus’ point, without him having to say anything (it had been like this before often enough).

“Okay.”

Over the next weeks they met frequently, for dinner, for lunch, for a night at Bathilda’s when she was away. They went to the opera and the theatre, Albus showed Gellert the grounds of Hogwarts and they got into a rather fierce discussion, wether Hogwarts’ disciplinary methods were far too nice or Durmstrang’s were too harsh. He introduced Gellert to Nicolas Flamel and Gellert helped him with his research about Obscuri.

It was everything Albus had ever wanted, almost too good to be true, but the longer it lasted the calmer he got. Trust grew; where he had been doubtful about Gellerts honesty and intentions in the beginning, he found himself less worried and more relaxed than ever.

The next Christmas came and of course Bathilda invited the Dumbledore brothers.

It took some convincing from Albus to drag Aberforth along again, but when they arrived, Estelle - the young woman, who had been there the previous year already - hugged him shyly und made him look a little less grumpy.

“Hello!” Gellert pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled at him. Albus’ heart flattered and he smiled back happily. “Merry Christmas, Gellert.”

“I’m glad you’re here, if I have to listen to one more discussion about cheesecake recipes, I think I will kill myself. Here we are, some of the most brilliant people of our time and what are they discussing? Cakes?” He rolled his eyes theatrically.

“There’s nothing wrong with some triviality”, Albus objected. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

Gellert shrugged and let his eyes roam the room. “Your brother has found himself a girlfriend?”

Albus’ gaze followed Gellert to the dining room table, where Estelle was laughing about something Aberforth had drawn on a piece of parchment.

“It seems so. He met her last year, but he hasn’t mentioned her since then. Although, he seems to mention very few things to me, lately.”

“He still hates me”, Gellert stated. Albus smiled sadly. “You hate him, too.”

Gellert only shrugged. “Sorry about that.”

“There is always a price you pay for love.”

Gellert turned to him and Albus realised what he had just said, so he turned to face Gellert as well.

“You love me?”, Gellert asked.

Albus looked him in the eyes. “Of course, I do.” Of course he did. He had fallen in love with Gellert again, months ago, maybe the moment he had appeared on Bathilda’s doorstep last Christmas, maybe he had never really fallen out of love with him. They had never talked about it. It was good as it was. They were good.

Gellert smirked, before he kissed him again. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Albus looked at him expectantly.

“The german department for magical laws and restrictions needs a new head.”

Albus eyes widened. “And that is going to be you?”

Gellert nodded.

“Congratulations! That’s great!” Albus gave him a genuine smile.

“You realise that also means, I need to go to Germany.”

Albus swallowed. “It’s not too far.”

“No, but you are in your castle most of the time and I am going to be in Germany, I was thinking… if we found something in the area of London with good floo-connections…”

“You want to buy a house?”

“Or a flat.”

“Us? Together?”

“No, with your brother, of course.” Gellert rolled his eyes ironically.

“Okay.” Albus agreed, smiling brightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think it is a brilliant idea, as usual.”

The first month they lived together was chaos. They were both too occupied with their respective jobs to get anything done around the house they had bought at the south coast of England, meaning they didn’t really live together, but rather fell dead into bed three nights a week together.

The second month, Albus put his foot down and they got it all set up in 2 days, resulting in Gellert spending an enormous amount of time looking for things that Albus hat put away and Albus reorganising all the cabinets three times.

The third month both of them had so much work to do that they spent most of their week at Hogwarts or at a small flat in Düsseldorf. When they met each other on the weekends they usually stumbled into bed together, relieving frustration from work and trying to make up for the lack of each other during the week.

The forth month, summer vacation started for Albus and things at the ministry fell into lethargy. They spent a lot of time together and for the first time, they started fighting. Not about politics, not about muggles, not about magic… they fought about Gellert throwing his things anywhere he went and about Albus not wanting a house elf. They fought about whether or not it was important to keep the library in alphabetical order and about sleeping with the window open or closed. They fought about who would cook and why Albus had to put his damn sweets in the laboratory, making a potion explode when Gellert absentmindedly mistook them for Bowtruckle eggs.

After half a year of struggling they had it figured out. They had fallen into a rhythm, spending the nights together and if possible the weekends. Sometimes one of them was home and ran into the other unexpectedly. Gellert became more and more successful at the ministry, so that he was made vice chancellor after only two years. Albus remained at Hogwarts, although he was offered the position of minister for magic in England. Gellert had shaken his head at the decision, but never again mentioned it, just as they hadn't mentioned the Hallows in a long time.

When they honored Albus for his discovery of 12 different uses of Dragon blood, Gellert stood proudly by his side, just like he took Albus along for business dinners, creating a more open communication and closer work relations between the English and the German ministry. Both of them were part of the International Confederation of Wizards and soon rumour had it that the stability of the western wizarding world very much depended on Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

With Newt Scamander in the midst of the great destruction of New York, there came a new period of research about Obscurials and the Hallows and a more strained atmosphere in their house.

Unexpectedly Aberforth and Estelle got engaged. He even asked Albus to be his best man, though Albus suspected that was partly due to the lack of another candidate for the position. Gellert fancied making sarcastic comments about how Estelle was probably pregnant or in another precarious situation, but Albus made him promise to behave. (She was pregnant indeed, as it turned out later and Gellert looked unbearably smug for a whole week.)

In 1938 he met Tom Riddle and the boy reminded him so much of Gellert in all the wrong ways that it took Albus a while to tell Gellert about it. He was the one, suggesting monitoring the boy, too. Gellert was made chancellor the next year, hoping he would be able to handle the muggles going wild in their country and Newt Scamander sent him an essay of 200 pages about his experiences with Obscurials. Albus read it in one night, fell asleep at his desk and found himself covered by a blanket the next morning.

It was the first time Gellert kissed him goodbye before leaving for work and told him to send his secretary the essay and Newt Scamander to talk about the publishing and further studies.

It left him feeling restless the whole day, thinking about Ariana and Newt Scamander and Tom Riddle and his nephew and all the other children he had ever taught. He thought about how they were special, all of them in their very own way.

When the chamber of secrets was opened, Albus was the only one believing that Rubeus Hagrid was innocent and Gellert was the only one believing Albus. He was it, who dared to say out loud what Albus secretly thought: Tom Riddle.

The second war they witnessed ended in 1945 and left witches and wizards in Germany more frightened than ever.

Albus was not sure what exactly triggered it, maybe it was just everything that came together at the time, but he noticed that Gellert was being drawn towards the dark arts again. Of course he had never turned his back on them completely, but Albus knew him too well to expect that… what he was witnessing now concerned him however. It led up to the biggest fight they had had since the summer of 1899 and Gellert didn’t come home for 3 weeks.

Albus read in the Daily Prophet that Gellert had given up his position as Chancellor and one day later he heard the door swing shut behind Gellert. He had lied, had he said he wasn’t surprised, even more so as Gellert strode over to him without a word, pulled him into a hug and breathed “I love you” into his neck.

It was the first time ever that Gellert had said it and Albus stroked his back, baffled.

“I love you, too”, he whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

The following years were rather quiet. Gellert remained in the German government, but held an advisory position. He had told Albus that he had realized what his real weakness was and Albus had never been more proud. He was made headmaster of Hogwarts soon, though the English ministry protested heavily, wanting him as minister for magic. Gellert liked to laugh at their desperation over a good glass of wine in the evenings and did so publicly too.

Both of them were passionate at work, Gellert concerning politics and Albus concerning education. In their free time, they dedicated their minds to science, working with Newt Scamander and Nicolas Flamel among others – rather successfully. And they gave their hearts to each other (An extraordinary thing, since Gellert hadn’t been sure he was able to love truly and fully at all).

It was a good life, quiet enough to be carefree, but interesting enough to be entertaining.

“Have you ever thought about what your life would look like now, if you hadn’t come back years ago?” Albus asked one Christmas Eve as they were getting ready to attend Bathilda’s party.

“No”, Gellert said. “We fit too well, Albus. We are not able to part forever.”

“You think we are made for each other?”, Albus asked, grinning. Gellert rolled his eyes.

“You are such a romantic. Soulmates only exist in myths, but if you consider our outstanding talents and similarities, it makes sense to me, that we could only end up together.”

“Same thing.” He took Gellert’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I am grateful you did come back.”

Gellert shrugged slightly. “Me too. Merry Christmas, Al.”

Albus smiled and kissed him quickly. “Merry Christmas, Gellert.

#grindeldore holiday exchange #azurish #grindeldore #fix it AU #mentions of fbawtft #merry christmas from germany #life and lies of albus dumbledore

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