#ofdumbledores

It took him weeks, if not over a month to have a general idea of where Albus could be hiding. While during the events in Paris he couldn’t have done much thanks to the Admonitors the Ministry gave him, Gellert was trying to make due ever since getting rid of them. Still, the damage was great - they had lost Leta, Albus escaped, so many were dead. The one positive thing was that Newts Niffler somehow managed to steal the Blood Pact from Albus, the small vila safely stored away now and out of Albus’ reach as Gellert apparated to Austria, to Castle Nurmengard. 

He didn’t manage to make two steps towards the large castle made out of black stone before Albus’ acolytes took hold of him. Gellert didn’t struggle, nor did he say a thing. he knew that they’d bring him straight in front of the man he almost dreaded to see again - the Mirror of Erised being the only instance of him seeing how Albus might be looking now. But he had a mission. He would try to talk reason into him, see if more damage could be prevented.

Gellert was shoved inside the room Albus was in once they reached the destination, heterochromic eyes fixed on his once lover. “Albus.” He said simply, voice sincere, underlined with the smallest hints of longing.

He had come willingly. And he was tired, oh so tired. Not physically as such, but mentally. Everything that had occurred lately had quite frankly been exhausting and right now...right now, he’d quite like to rest for a very long time and stay away from any sort of ordeal if he could manage it. His hair had long since grown out, almost gracing his shoulders now, but his features were still pale and drawn.

Somewhat warily he watched the new man approach, uncertainty clear in his dark eyes. This...this was ham, wasn’t it? The man that Grindelwald had told him about. Grindelwald had said a lot about him, that he wanted him dead amongst other things, that he would have to fight him. But Grindelwald had been full of lies and he didn’t know where those started or ended. 

“Knew what? That you still love me? That you long for the good old days when we were nothing but teenagers with a dream of finding the Deathly Hallows, to conquer Lady Death herself and be the young leaders of the revolution that would bring us a better world?” They were on their own, which was the sole reason why Gellert spoke about the days past in the first place. He, too, at times found himself thinking about those days, having thoughts on what would have happened if the three way duel never happened, or if he had given up on the idea of the Greater Good. Albus’ presence, in truth, didn’t make such things any easier.

“Oh stop pretending as if you care, Albus!” There was nothing but bitterness in his voice, a deep frown settling on his face. No, he wasn’t about to let him have this little moment of triumph while he was this vulnerable. Dumbledore might have won this fight, but not the war, and Gellert would do anything to make sure he was the one to witness and bring about Albus’ downfall.

Ah, the always overly emotional Albus. That’s how he knew him for the longest time, and that’s how he remembered him. Whenever something bad would happen, he was always the one who felt sorry for what happened and tried to make things right. Gellert learned from him, but he learned the opposite. Emotions could drive a person to new limits, or hinder them to continue on their path. While Gellert was the former, he could easily put Albus as the latter of the two.

Mismatched eyes focused on Albus, who was lying on the cold and wet ground of one of the cells in Nurmengard. So far taking him, or well, technically, kidnapping him from the battle field, proved to be one huge fail on his part. With the blood pact still no where in sight, thoroughly and well hidden by his former lover, there was only so much Gellert could actually do to him, which, albeit, wasn’t much to begin with. Still, Albus was dying, otherwise the phoenix that usually never left Aurelius’ side wouldn’t have left to go to the Dumbledore in their time of need.

Was it? Was it really Albus’ fault that Gellert turned out to be the way he did? Partly, at least in a way. In truth, it never struck him that much, and Gellert never really thought about it as much as he probably should have. He had his agenda, had a vision he was not willing to give up when things got a bit more bloody. Grindelwald, unlike Albus, never thought about giving up or backing away from the idea of the Greater Good. And then there was Aberforth, the younger brother who always interfered, dare he say it, even poisoned his older brothers mind with lies about him, how Gellert was bad influence on him, how he should stop fostering the friendship, or well, by that point relationship, with him.