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Gellert sits in Nurmengard, alone, and tired.
He is on the brink of insanity, and there are moments where he is sure he has completely lost his mind. Things begin to blur together, and he feels as if he is losing memories, thoughts slipping between his fingers over the years he is captive.
But he never forgets Albus, because how could he? Albus, in a way, is the only thing that salvages something of his sanity. He holds onto the ridiculous notion that he will be able to look into those blue eyes once again, feel his hair between his fingers again.
He knows of Albus’s death when it happens, before he is officially informed. He had felt it, as if something had been torn from him. And even if Gellert did not think he would ever truly see Albus again, he had the knowledge he was still out there somewhere, living and breathing, and now he’s not .
And it is crueler than being imprisoned, and he cries for the first time in years, and he feels weak and tired and love. He feels love for Albus Dumbledore and he mourns, and does not want to live whatever little life he has without knowing Albus is still in this world.
He does not live much longer, though. He is soon killed by Voldemort, and he laughs at him, can only see a man making the same mistakes he had, tearing himself apart for his ambitions. He does not feel fear and he accepts the death he has been given, and only thinks of Albus.
He wakes up in what looks to be a train station, bathed in light, and blindingly bright to someone who spent so many years in a dark cell.
He takes in his surroundings, and when he turns he chokes.
Blue eyes.
“Hello Gellert.”
It’s Albus, but he is younger than he should be, around the age of when their duel had taken place if not younger. Though his eyes are still old, dark and wise and beautiful. He’s too focused Albus to notice he has changed too, and does not pay mind to the fact he feels lighter and younger than he was when he died.
“Albus.” Gellert murmurs, throat constricted, as if someone is relentlessly squeezing him by his neck.
Albus’s face is open, soft and happy and calming. He looks less like the world has weighed his shoulders down, free of some sort of restraint, and Gellert thinks he looks more brilliant than he ever has.
Gellert takes cautious steps towards Albus, afraid he’ll disappear in a wisp of smoke, entertains the idea for a moment that this could somehow be his own personal hell, seeing Albus and hearing him but never being able to touch him.
“I’m here, Gellert.” Albus reassures, ever perceptive of what Gellert’s thinking or feeling.
“Forgive me if I’m a bit suspicious, considering I was just murdered and you’re dead.” Gellert says dryly, heart fluttering childishly when Albus laughs lightly.
Gellert is standing directly in front of Albus again, and he’s still here, and he looks solid and warm so Gellert can’t fault himself when reaches out. He places a careful hand on Albus’s arm. It feels real, and Albus hasn’t disappeared so Gellert places his other hand on the opposing shoulder.
Gellert traces the lines of Albus’s arms with his fingers, runs them down his chest, fans them over his stomach, then goes all the way back up to clasp them behind Albus’s neck. Albus does not say a word, simply looks at Gellert with his crystal blue eyes, his lips a patient and content curl.
“You’re here.” Gellert breathes, and he is almost overwhelmed to tears, having not touched another person in years let alone the only person he had ever wanted to touch.
“Yes.” Albus answers, places his hands over Gellert’s, rubs his thumbs over Gellert’s knuckles.
Gellert does not want to question how or why, does not want there to be a catch, does not want Albus to disappear in a second, and leave Gellert alone again. Gellert does not want to be alone anymore.
He pushes away his worries and leans in instead, hovers tentatively over Albus’s lips, uncharacteristically doubting himself. He does not have the time to second guess himself any longer before Albus closes the gap, presses his lips softly against Gellert’s.
Gellert feels sparks flit down his spine, and he feels young and in love again, as if this is the first time he’s kissed Albus instead of his hundredth, and he pulls Albus closer. Albus is warm, and his lips are pliant and pressing, gentle and unhurried and Gellert finds that he doesn’t mind.
It’s languid, soft and slow and comfortable, and Gellert is sure he is crying, his cheeks wet and his eyes stinging. Albus’s silently wipes the tears away, only kisses Gellert more lovingly, sweetly and brilliantly and Gellert feels as if he’s falling and floating all at the same time.
Even when Albus pulls away for proper air he does not go far, continues on to nose at Gellert’s cheek and jaw, his hands clenching and unclenching in Gellert’s light hair. Gellert refuses to let go of Albus’s shoulders, because he feels vulnerable and tired and is filled to the brim with love and has no intention of ever letting go of Albus again.
“I’m here.” Albus whispers, sounding like a reassurance made for the both of them.
And despite all the perfectness, and the heat of their bodies and the sound of their breath, Gellert asks, “Why?”
Albus does not rush to answer, presses fleeting kisses along Gellert’s cheekbone, over his temple and down his throat, “Unfinished business, I suppose. Facing things you regret, making amends.”
Albus looks at him then, properly meeting his eyes and awaiting a response.
“Things I regret?” Gellert says, and that must be why Albus is here. Albus Dumbledore is one of his greatest regrets, not meeting him and certainly not loving him, but the horrible, selfish things he had done to him.
Dying, Gellert muses, really offers a perspective on things. Albus is here, and Gellert is standing before him, and they’re both dead and old and tired. But they’re still in love, and Gellert could have had this in life, if he had seen that he wanted Albus instead of all the ridiculous power he was grasping for.
He does take small comfort in knowing Tom Riddle will meet a similar fate, confronted with his lust for power and immortality and he will die younger than both Gellert and Albus.
“I missed you.” Gellert breathes, “I missed you so much and I could’ve stayed, could’ve fixed things but I didn’t.” And there is not much use in saying these things other than the fact that he can, and he wants Albus to know how much he regrets the things he’s done.
“I fought, and I did horrible things and received the power that I wanted, but you weren’t there. You weren’t there and it suddenly didn’t matter as much.” He continues, and his voice is quiet and tired, Merlin is he tired.
“I love you, Albus, and I left, let you go when you were the only thing I had any right in wanting. I love you, and I am sorry, and I know there isn’t any reason for you to forgive me but I am.” He finishes, and even if he’s exhausted he feels as if a decades old weight has been lifted off of his chest.
Albus is silent, face a carefully masked war of emotions, and he stands there and just looks at Gellert. It makes Gellert anxious, but a few moments of discomfort is less than he deserves for all the things he’s put Albus through these past few decades.
And even if Gellert had been angry those first few months he was in Nurmengard, angry at Albus for confining him for the rest of his life, he knew that he had no right to be because it was what he had deserved. Less than what he deserved, because Albus could have done so much worse but instead he had hugged and kissed and cried to Gellert in the last moments they had seen each other in 1945.
Gellert wonders if he truly deserves Albus in any shape or form, dead or alive.
“I think I forgave you a long time ago.” Albus laughs, a strained and broken sound, “Could never stay mad at you for long.” Albus shakes his head, holding an expression that is suspiciously fond, “I was angry, of course, but I… I made my peace, I think. And you truly regret it, don’t you?” Albus whispers the last sentence, soft like a prayer.
Gellert thinks for a moment, and he knows how much he regrets it, had been left in his own prison to wallow in the sorrow of how much he regretted it. Leave it to dying for Gellert to truly own up to his mistakes, realize that so many of the things he had done were horrible and unnecessary and he had given up Albus and hadn’t even been happy for it. He was so caught up in the feelings of betrayal and his anger and lust for power and sheer arrogance, and he has nothing to show for it.
“Yes.” He whispers, and his voice breaks and he feels as if he’s on the brink of tears again, as embarrassing as it is.
Albus smiles, it’s a watery thing but he looks pleased and peaceful, bathed in the light of whatever this place is, the afterlife or purgatory, it could be anything for all Gellert cares because the only thing he would need would be Albus.
Albus runs his hands through Gellert hair, before clasping his fingers behind his neck, his thumbs rubbing reverently across Gellert’s jaw, and he looks like he’s just as in love as Gellert is.
“I missed you too.” Albus says, voice a soothing breathy sound. Gellert realizes why he must of been so good with kids with a voice that can make someone melt, and all the tension in Gellert’s body easily bleeds away.
“Do you have any idea how long we have here?” Gellert asks, wanting to be afraid of the answer but Albus’s fingers are kneading at his scalp and he’s leaned in to mouth loving kisses down Gellert’s throat and over his cheeks. Gellert feels completely relaxed, holding on to Albus as if he’s about to fall over at any second with how light with pleasure he feels.
“An eternity, perhaps?” Albus answers, sounding rather unconcerned as he sucks a mark somewhere under Gellert’s ear.
“Rather dangerous information to give up so easily Albus.” Gellert chuckles, the noise turning into a deep sigh when Albus pulls him back into a chair that seems to have come out of nowhere. Albus situates Gellert in his lap, one hand resting on Gellert’s hip and the other going back up to run continuously through Gellert’s hair.
“Might just keep you here for that eternity, I don’t think I’m going to be able to give you up again.”
Albus hums, and Gellert can feel his smile against the skin of his throat, “Good.”
Albus places one last kiss on Gellert’s lips before laying his head against Gellert’s chest, arms locking over Gellert’s waist as Albus pulls him just that much more closer. They are silent, simply breathing and thinking. Gellert rather likes it, maybe it’s because he was so sure he would never be able to have a moment like this with Albus ever again. He never knew he’d ever be able to sit in silence, be warm and comfortable in Albus’s presence again.
“I love you.” He says suddenly, a swell of emotion in his chest pushing the words out.
Albus breathes out harshly, his breath catching almost violently, and for one terrifying moment Gellert thinks that maybe Albus does not feel the same anymore because why would he-
Albus looks up and his blue eyes are watery but he’s smiling, “I love you, too.” He kisses Gellert, a quick peck, “I love you so, so much.”
He kisses Gellert again, longer this time, warm and wet and Gellert can’t help but sigh and lean further into Albus’s inviting heat. His doubts dissipate as fast as they had appeared, and he could truly become used to being with Albus for the rest of eternity or however long they are intended to stay in this place.
Albus pulls away, lays his forehead against Gellert’s and silently asks for permission to access Gellert’s mind, and Gellert immediately pushes back. He allows Albus to feel everything he’s feeling and he in turn feels what Albus is feeling, catches stray thoughts and memories. Gellert always liked Albus in his mind, and only ever Albus.
It made him feel less alone, and God was Gellert tired of feeling alone, as a child and now.
Gellert’s and Albus’s feelings mingle together, feelings of love and hope and relief and the weak dredges of decades old guilt. Gellert does not hide and Albus does not either, and Gellert does not like feeling bare or vulnerable but Albus has always been his one exception.
Albus eventually retreats and then murmurs a quiet, “Thank you.” And there is something strange about his voice that Gellert can not identify.
“As if I’d say no.” Gellert grumbles, kissing Albus’s cheekbone because he can’t stop himself from touching and kissing the man he’s yearned for for the past few decades, he thinks he has a right to be as touchy as he pleases.
Albus smiles and leans on Gellert again and Gellert places his chin against Albus’s head, and although it’s not the most comfortable position he feels himself begin to drift off. He didn’t even know that a dead person could be this tired, but he’s lost in the comfortableness that is Albus and falls into the best sleep he’s had since he left after that fateful summer.
He almost thinks he can hear Albus crying before everything goes dark.