#capaciousllextremis

@capaciousllextremis​ cheating on Gellert sent this to an Endless, the audacy!;

❛ you’re lucky that you’re cute. ❜

          💤HE HADN’T MEANT TO STEAL ONE OF THOSE LEMON pastries if he was honest with himself, but he got caught. The problem was that Morpheus didn’t have any money on himself - consquences of being otherworldly. Even with this day planned in the Dreaming, it always escaped Lucienne or himself, for that matter, that his human body required what his Endless form didn’t. Food, water, warmth.

          So he had been walking by - and sneaking into a bakery - tempted by the delicious smell of lemon. Not that it was his favorite, but he did liked the warmth and the smell was inviting. He had taken one of the pastries when the owner - or so he figured, of the bakery caught him off guard. Morpheus couldn’t help the smirk on his lips at the words from the man. “You’re not too bad yourself, mister.” Morpheus said innocently, even when he had the stolen object in his hand.

He wasn’t sure when the weekly meals together had become a habit. Merlin knew they could be horrifically awkward at the best of times. Of course, he could have stopped them at any time. Could have tossed Albus out of the pub on his ear, punched him in the face again, told him to never come back. He could have done all those things. But he hadn’t. Maybe a part of him still craved that family connection.

Percival Dumbledore adored his children. Each of them was different in their own way, little personalities that he loved to watch grow and learn. Little Ariana, so imaginative, with the sweetest laugh he'd ever heard. Aberforth, already stubborn and bull-headed, but with a heart of gold, always seeking to help wherever he could. And then Albus, his eldest. Albus was smart as a whip, devouring whatever information was offered to him, and even at his young age he had an incredible gift for magic and using it beyond his years.

He'd been a relatively decent student, though even now he knew his son would easily outperform him, but he'd been doing his best to help nurture the gift. His son wanted to learn, so why should he hold him back when he was clearly capable? He'd just proven it, the feather still hovering in the air, and Percival gave Albus' shoulder a gentle squeeze, a fond smile on his face.

Summer, young Aurelius Dumbledore had decided, was the best time of year. Summer meant more chance of sunshine, more chance of running around outside until it was late and he was chased to bed. Summer time also meant that Uncle Albus was able to be around more, without having to go back to work, at least until the end of the season. When he was old enough (still a while away, his papa would say softly, brushing his hair away from his face), he would get to go to school, to where Uncle Albus worked, but for now Aurelius had no such concerns.

ALBUS, 

thank you for the offering of the muggle studies professor position, i will accept it wholeheartedly. it might take me a moment to come and get things settled, considering i have to go to MACUSA to transfer all of my things to the ministry for magic. i am very excited to teach the students the proper ways of how to blend in with the muggle society. 

-

He'd just wanted a look.

It had been three days since Albus had come home from his first year at Hogwarts, and Aberforth could count on one hand the number of times his older brother had spoken to him, much to his disappointment. The nine year old had been hoping that when Albus came back from school that maybe he'd be able to play with him, but it just hadn't happened.

So he'd crept up the stairs to Albus' room, and he'd been curious about some of the school things. It would be another little while before he'd go to Hogwarts, and he'd been reaching for the telescope when his brother's hand had knocked him away, startling him.

@capaciousllextremis​ sent;

❝ i know what it’s like to be different. ❞

          👑HOGWARTS HAS BEEN HIS HOME SINCE he was eleven years old and received the letter that welcomed him to the school. Ever since the first day he arrived to the castle, he never returned to his parent’s. The thing was, they both travelled quite a lot due to his father’s job, and never showed any interest in their son unless he was failing at school, or had other issues that challenged their social status.

          But Steve Harrington - pureblood wizard selected in Gryffindor’s house - was a great student, especially regarding the class of Professor Dumbledore. By far Dumbledore was the favorite professor of the entire school, but especially his. The man was not just smart, but he was chaotic in ways that Steve could relate to. He looked up at him, and wanted to follow on his steps. Except that Steve wanted to be an Auror, and besides Theseus Scamander, Albus was not too fond of them, or at least it was what it seemed like.

          That afternoon, as they both shared each other company - an usual activity between the two - Steve caught himself off guard when his professor said such words. For a moment he looked up, mouth agape, eyes blown wide. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about professor.” He stammered hoping not to blush at the implications behind Dumbledore’s words.

A soft sigh, a slump of the shoulders. In his heart, Percival Dumbledore knew that his son was right. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to fully protect his children from the world. The world had proved that time and time again, like it was determined to show him just how much it could hurt all those he loved. His wife and his little Ariana, gone where he couldn't follow, his sons barely able to look at each other even as he strained to hold what little of their family remained together.

How had it come to this?

But whether he could protect them or not, it didn't mean that he had to like situations like this. For his son to be attacked like this, for something as simple as who he loved? It made Percival's temper flare with a protective instinct, a lion seeking to protect his cubs.