#grindledore

We almost got the full story of Albus and Gellert in the Fantastic Beasts movies. Unfortunately it never got finished. One of the reasons being people don’t want to see anything other than “Harry Potter itself” if I’m not mistaken (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong).

A/N: this is a rewrite of my very first fic from 2018, enjoy!

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It’s fascinating how the human mind picks the most unusual times to analyze one’s morality. Full moon assaulting the eyes with its brightness, Albus lay fully awake - despite it being the middle of summer and well past midnight.

Nonetheless, his guilt was like a parasite. Feeding on each and every scratch of positivity left in his miserable bones. Draining him of the will to take another breath and continue living this pathetic life.

Over the years, he’d gradually learned to accept the lifelong nature of the emotion. Even grief had become a familiar yet uncomfortable constant. He’d always known he was different and Gellert seemed to think so too - a praise which left an alien fluttering in his chest. He was well aware that he was superior to your average wizard, let alone muggle - his face scrunched up into a look akin to disgust.

He turned to the side, bedsheets rustling with the abrupt movement.

Muggles. The perpetrators of the attack on his younger sister - Ariana. The sole cause of why his father was rotting behind bars in Azkaban, dementors sucking the soul out of him with a deadly kiss of death. It was a nasty stain on his family name - and the reason why his once caring mother was dead.

A feeling of dread sunk deep in his stomach.

Ariana.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t woken the entire house up yet, screams of terror piercing Godric’s Hollow - a result of yet another nightmare of abuse and pain. A constant cycle of fear, seemingly never ending. A rash thought crossed Albus’s mind - one he’d come to instantly regret.

She’d be better off dead, just like our Momma.

A pause.

…When had he learned to become this cold and distant to the ones closest to him? He was a sorry excuse for a brother, never mind a parental figure to his orphaned, deeply traumatized siblings.

Yet… something deep inside of Albus tugged at a makeshift string, bending his train of thought as if he were a marionette.

If his sister were gone, he’d have the freedom to flee Godric’s Hollow with Gellert Grindelwald. Brilliant minds alike, they could at long last go through with their plan of leading a wizard-only revolution. Albus was not only his ally - he was his partner. Together, they could- would achieve everything. They were young. Ambitious. Unstoppable.

Albus would get his revenge. Some day. Somehow. Likely in the near- or far - future. It didn’t matter now.

He mentally waved away the uncertainties. This was a vision for a sober, well-rested mind.

He could already imagine the scolding awaiting him in the morning. Gellert would likely flutter his long lashes, arms crossed and those pale rosy lips pursed in a scowl at the sight of Albus’s deep purple eyebags.

Stayed up all night reading again, haven’t you?

He chuckled quietly at the thought of his thick accent, unaccustomed to speaking Albus’s native language. It was strangely endearing.

Ah, Gellert.

Albus had always yearned for such a friendship. For someone who truly understood him in every way possible. Someone who would listen to his ideas - and would actually comprehend their intention. Both intellectually and emotionally.

His relationship with Gellert was intense. Unpredictable. Unusually intimate.

The harder Albus reached for something more, the further Gellert pushed him away. Together they were like fire and ice - but oddly enough, it worked. They complemented one another. Working around their differences and in the process creating something absolutely extraordinary.

Albus was truly infatuated with Gellert. Their blood oath was proof of their mutual intense obsession. He’d sworn to never lay a hand on his friend. And vice versa.

When his brother - Aberforth - had heard about the pact, the two brothers got into a screaming match, hurling harsh insults at one another. The fight almost escalated into something physical. Ariana’s cries of agony had interrupted their heated argument - the precise moment the two had decided to charge at each other, fists raised.

Albus considered Aberforth immature. The teen simply lacked the brains to understand Albus’s great mind. At the mere mention of his friend - Grindlewald - Aberforth’s humor seemed to sour, mouth sprouting a mind of its own, spouting deranged nonsense about „the dangers of manipulation”. Albus couldn’t help but think his brother had just learned a long phrase and wanted an opportunity to use it in a sentence.

As if Aberforth knew anything about friendship. The townspeople whispered he was a lonely, unhinged freak. Albus found himself agreeing with them. His brother had no friends. All he had were his goats - ones he kept and took care of in the old family shed. And talked to - Albus had walked in on him once.

He was a nuisance of a brother. An embarrassment to the family. Gellert was more of a brother to Albus - and they’d only just met at the beginning of this year's summer.

Frankly, Aberforth’s attempts at stepping into their fathers role were wearing thin.

A barely audible tap on the window interrupted Albus’s internal monologue.

Am I hearing things…?

Albus lay still. His heart was hammering out of his chest. Surely it must’ve been a branch, right? What - or who - else could it be in the dead of a summer night? The man held his breath. After all, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

A second, more prominent tap awakened his natural curiosity. It wouldn’t hurt to take a glance after all... Carefully, he tilted his head towards the window.

To his pleasant surprise, it was Gellert of all people. But what was he doing at Albus’s window? Did something happen? Maybe Bathilda was hurt and his friend needed his help?

In a flash, Albus got to his feet and tilted the window open for Gellert to crawl inside. A smug grin was already plastered on his face.

„Someone’s eager to see me,” Gellert teased, ruffling his ash blond hair.

„Why are you here?” Albus’s tone was blunt, demanding answers. He didn’t appreciate Gellert’s nonchalancy. Surely, he hadn’t shown up at his window purely just to wake him up? - had he been actually sleeping, that is.

„You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”

That's when Albus noticed the small, rectangular package in Gellert’s hand, adorned with a bright red ribbon.

Oh. Right. It was his birthday. The day had completely slipped his mind. Albus felt his cheeks burning up.

„Right. I… forgot,” he admitted, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

Gellert snorted, handing him the present.

„ Pfft- Well, happy birthday anyway.”

„Thanks,” Albus mumbled, taking hold of the package. To be honest, he’d never been too big on birthdays. But a gift from Gellert was something he could accept.

He eyed it suspiciously, glancing back up at his friend for reassurance. How likely was it to explode? Judging by the shape it was a book, but with Gellert you never truly know what to expect.

„It’s from Bathilda,” Gellert explained. Albus bit back a frown, feeling slightly disappointed that the gift wasn’t from Grindelwald, after all.

„I reckon it’s a book. I’ve told her you have plenty enough, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Albus unwrapped the paper methodically, taking care not to tear right through it.

They were right to assume it was a book. Something about Transfiguration, to be exact - one Albus had frankly already read through - if not several times - but it’s the thought that counts.

He kindly asked Gellert to thank the woman for remembering his birthday - and for the sweet gesture. He nodded noncommittally and Albus reckoned he’d have to stop by Bathilda’s himself later that day.

„I got you something as well,” Gellert hummed, making himself comfortable on the other’s bed. Albus’s eyes instantly lit up. Outdoor shoes still on, Grindelwald was likely getting dirt all over the mattress.

Albus couldn’t care less. The thought that his friend had put the time and care into arranging something for his birthday was consuming all space in his head.

Gellert was not the type to hand out presents left and right. He could be selfish. Arrogant. Sometimes mean and very entitled. Albus loved everything about him.

„Close your eyes,” he instructed. Albus did as he was told.

…And then he flinched, as he felt the forever cold hand of Gellert caressing his flushed cheekbone. Albus’s breath hitched. Surely, he must be imagining things…

„Never forget me,” despite the sentimental tone, Gellert’s voice was stern. He wasn’t asking for a favor - it was a demand.

„I won’t, I promise,” the sentence came out a mere whisper. And Albus truly meant it.

In a swift motion, Gellert closed the distance, pressing a chaste kiss to Albus’s trembling lips. He was unable to move, frozen in shock.

It ended as suddenly as it began. Albus opened his eyes, arms reaching forward - an action fueled purely by the newly awakened desire to smash his lips against Gellert’s. But he was already gone - disapparated the second he’d pulled away.

If it wasn’t for the book - abandoned on the bedside table - Albus would’ve concluded the events of this night were all just a very realistic dream he had.

It was so typical of Gellert to flee from the consequences of his own actions.

Feeling slightly dazed, Albus got comfy under the covers. By morning he’ll be banging on Gellert’s door, commanding he gives some sort of explanation of why he’d left so abruptly… and what was the meaning of the surprise kiss?

The memory of Gellert’s lips on his was still fresh - palm pressed against his mouth in longing. Eventually, Albus figured he wasn’t going to get any rest that night.