Work Text:
There were moments in his life that Albus could not explain to any other person simply because there were no words for it. The only person, who might have understood, was also the person he would never have to tell them to, simply because Gellert was always there with him.
It was in their magic and it was also in their blood. It was in their very souls. They roared with recognition and delight and ached with an ancient longing and that was how he knew. He knew that no matter what was to happen to them in this wonderous, painful life, somehow, somewhere they would meet again.
This knowledge, though, could not ease the cruel heaviness on his chest.
Gellert was so beautiful.
In every sense of the word. Albus could not decide whichever small detail he loved most about him.
One day it was the way his laughter echoed on the pond in front of the old mill like the bells of freedom. Another day it was the way the words tumbled from his lips in such a haste that German shone through and his cheeks started to glow with excitement. Sometimes it was the way he wielded his wand so elegantly that he seemed to direct the universe itself, sometimes it was the way he buried his face in the crook of his neck as if Albus was the air he needed to breathe, sometimes it was the way Gellert gently took his hand to trace the lines on his palm.
how did you come down from heaven?
For as much uncertainty and secrecy and reluctance he’d had in his life, his feelings for Gellert washed over him like a tidal wave without any resistance, without any doubt.
Something inside him knew Gellert – had always known him. He knew he didn’t feel magic like common people. He was magic; while others had to work to pull it out of their core by wand. But Albus’s veins were filled with it, always had been, even before he’d ever held a wand in his hand. He could feel it inside him like a guiding light.
When he met Gellert, when they shook hands and he could see in Gellert’s eyes the same curious, surprised expression at the feeling that spread out from their touch, something indescribable purred and settled inside him with a calm feeling he would come to call home.
“Talk to me,” Gellert whispered near his ear, placing a soft kiss on his temple. He was leaning back against Gellert’s chest, while they were watching the last flights of dusk roll over the village. Gellert’s arms engulfing him felt like heaven and his fingertips dug into the light skin where his sleeves were rolled up, simply to wrap himself even more tightly in Gellert’s embrace.
He should talk about his fight with Aberforth, about how unsettled Ariana was, how unable he was to be head of the family – all the reasons he’d come to Gellert again on that evening; but the words that wanted to climb out of his mouth were different. He closed his eyes and turned his head and pressed his forehead against Gellert’s cheek and then he placed a kiss on his jaw.
“I love you.”
He could feel something in Gellert tremble, then he ducked his head and drew a deep breath.
“I love you, too.”
His voice was barely a whisper, perhaps barely a sob and Albus grabbed his hand to lace their fingers together.
when your hand meets mine, it is so divine, my dear
Binding himself to Gellert through blood and magic, the very matter that he was made of, was the most glorious moment of his life.
When his hand met Gellert’s, a throe of ancient magic ran through him and he could feel how the universe was buzzing with joy of uniting what should never have been parted. It was so right, so divine to weave their magic together, to share their blood that Albus had to close his eyes so that no tears could escape him. He trembled, when their fingers intertwined and still when their vial formed – the physical testament to their bond.
It was magnificent.
He could see Gellert’s heart break in the same moment he could feel his own shatter. They had promised each other. They never wanted to fight each other. He’d believed he couldn’t bear raising his wand against Gellert. He was not sure he could now.
When his eyes met Gellert’s in the guarded reality that the dying cries of their bond created, he could see the same desperate lament he felt within himself. This was not right. They were not meant to be separated.
Where he was surprised at Fate’s cruelty, Gellert looked utterly betrayed. The woe of the Seer.
Their strikes were more dance than duel, shockingly reminiscent of their playful competition when they’d both still been young and stupid and too hopeful for their own good.
But it hurt. Merlin, it hurt so much.
He could feel Gellert’s heart beating, not beneath the hand on his chest, but in his soul, in the last stuttering breaths of their dying troth. His own heart beat in tune with it and he wanted nothing more but to stop it. He wanted the young man back that was laughing beside him, kissing his skin, promising a brighter world. He wanted the young man back that had vowed to spend his life with him.
Gellert lowered his wand first. There was hurt on his face and fear and desperation. And for a second, he thought of the man, who smiled at him like he was the only person in the world, who’d carried their troth for so many years, the man who had never really given up on them.
And then he remembered the man that had killed the most innocent of all creatures, the man that had blood on his hands and hatred in his heart, the man that was trying to tear down the world as they knew it and replace it by one that was cruel and bitter and nothing like they’d ever imagined.
And, so, he turned and he was, indeed, alone.
you find yourself still in love with love
Their troth had always been warm like the blood contained within it or perhaps like the summer sun.
Even in the years that he hadn’t worn it, its magic had seemed to warm him from inside. When he’d allowed himself to feel it, to listen carefully to the blood in his veins, he could feel Gellert and warmth and home.
It was cold now.
No matter how much he tried, in the deepest hours of the night, when guilt and conflict couldn’t reach him, he could not find that warmth.
The absence of it, the unusual cold he carried with him wherever he went now was haunting, but how was he to explain that to anyone?
He’d made promises. To defeat Gellert, to avenge loved ones that had died at his hands, to protect the world. He knew it was his responsibility, whether he wanted it or not - but he was not ready.
When Gellert stood in front of him the next time, he could see what the cold was doing to him. He could see the young man fading more and more, the laughter dying, the tenderness drained.
He wanted to make it right, he wished he knew how to make it right; how to save Gellert and the world.
He only knew how to do one. And he had to choose the world even if it tore apart his heart a little more each time.
This time they fought in earnest. Not because they wanted to, but because they had to. Gellert was harsh in a way he had never seen before and yet when they stopped, realizing that there would be no winner today, history would not be written today, Gellert pulled him in.
He melted into the kiss, into Gellert’s proximity, into the warmth that flooded his system.
“Come home to me, Albus,” Gellert whispered, a hand on his cheek, eyes tender in a way he hadn’t been sure Gellert was capable of anymore.
He desperately grabbed the hand that was on his cheek and tried not to let the tears spill onto his cheeks. “I wish I could,” he replied and his voice was breaking like ice. “Please - you come home.”
Gellert’s face twisted with a smile that was really a grimace, as he said: “I wish I could.”
when your lips meet mine, it is so divine
Gellert leaned down to kiss him, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he pushed Albus’s hair out of his forehead and let his hand tangle in it on the pillow. Albus closed his arms around him. Their skin was still heated but their kiss was a promise.
He gently stroked the nape of Gellert’s neck, playing with the finer curls there that stuck to his skin now. Gellert met his lips again and again, sweetly, tenderly. Nudging Albus’s nose with his own, pecking his lips playfully, then lazily drawing an earnest kiss.
“I would go to the ends of the world with you,” he whispered, as he let his fingers run over Gellert’s spine and up between his shoulder blades.
He could feel Gellert’s laughter; against his lips, against his chest, even in the way his fingers curled in his hair. “To the continent should be enough for now.”
and i’m in heaven
It started raining on the day they made history. They were both crouching on the ground from exhaustion, but Gellert’s eyes never left him, not until the Aurors dragged him out of sight.
“Don’t hurt him,” he mumbled as Theseus and Newt pulled him to his feet and Gellert was led away. “Please, don’t…”
He was tired, so tired. All energy was suddenly plugged from him as Gellert’s empire crumbled, their dreams shattered and the world was grieving the blood that had flooded its streets.
The world celebrated him, but he couldn’t bear it. He was no hero - if he was, he could’ve saved Gellert, too. He was not even a good man as his traitorous brawling heart reminded him, or it would have been none of his concern what was happening with Gellert now. He wouldn’t lay awake wishing for just a chance to do it all over again, to make it right.
He protected Gellert. As well as he could. As well as he’d protected the world. (Which was not nearly well enough.) And only later, much later, when he heard reverent recounts of their duel, it dawned on him that perhaps there had been no defeat at all.
how did you get here, my dear? it isn’t very clear, my dear…
He didn’t know how Bathilda Bagshot could just toss the whirlwind that was Gellert Grindelwald into his life and have him changed forever. It almost felt insulting, if it hadn’t felt so much like fate.
Gellert’s mind, Gellert’s smile, his eyes, his hands, his magic, his dreams… Albus was so lightheaded from it all. There was a funny feeling inside his stomach that had him giddy in a way he’d never been before. His heart was racing in the best possible way, whenever Gellert talked to him and he felt drunk on their shared brilliance whenever another day ended that they hadn’t even noticed flying by.
He didn’t think it could get any better until they started kissing, too, and everything inside him went off like fireworks and then, slowly, fell into place for the very first time in his life.
Gellert was too good to be true. A fantasy he’d never even allowed himself, more brilliant and fascinating and intoxicating than he’d ever imagined. His heart, his soul, his very being was completely lost to him and yet he had never felt so found.
Just when he’d thought his life was over before he was really a man, before he could see anything of the world, experience any of the magic he’d only read about, fulfill the grand destiny everyone had always promised him since he was a little boy, that was when Gellert entered his life and outshone all the darkness that had wrapped itself around him.
love can heal the sting of pain
purify just like the rain
“So, you have come, I thought you would… one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it.”
“You lie!”
“Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek… there is so much you do not understand…”
you hope for some sweet message from above
Albus smiled when they met again. And Gellert saw him and he smiled, too. As he had always done. And when they fell into an embrace this wonderous place of Death turned into a summer day. Butterflies were surrounding them, the sun was blinding them, the air was filled with the ripe smell of grass and fruit and in the distance the mill stream was lapping against its riverbed.
“Forgive me, Albus, I regret. I –“
“I know.” He gently squeezed the nape of Gellert’s neck, where he had buried his face against his shoulder.
“You know?” Gellert pulled back only enough to meet his eyes and Albus smiled brighter than the sun.
“Yes. Your soul is alright,” he placed a hand on his chest, delightfully close to his heart. “You couldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
Gellert took the hand that lay on his chest and laced their fingers together and his eyes were shining and perhaps even a tear escaped him.
Albus reached up and wiped it away, caressing the face he loved so much. “Welcome home, Gellert.” And then he did what he’d wished to do for the last fifty years of his life:
He kissed him, while the universe gently shifted into place.
yes, i’m in heaven