A/N: Okay so this is my first Fanfiction to upload ever! I'm not quite sure if I'm fully content with this, but figured I needed to upload something, since otherwise I would not have followed this through.

So it's a Grindelwald/Dumbledore fanfiction which makes it kind of slashy, although there won't be happening much, since I do not believe that their relationship as overly -how to say it- sensual or romantic. To me it doesn't seem to fit the character of Gellert Grindelwald J.K. Rowling has outlined.

By the way I never saw Gellert as a German before, I always though him to somewhat Scandinavian, but after I read a bunch of Fanfictions in which he was German and I kind of got used to that image and after reading something about fans relating him to WW2 if felt it made sense. So I also saw thI also saw the opportunity since I can work with him being German rather well, since I'm German and I like the Idea of him talking German when something's important to him.

I appologise if there are any major mistakes, be it vocabs or grammar and am thankful for corrections.

So I hope you enjoy reading and please review.

Discaimers: I own nothing, all characters belong to J.K Rowling the song I used is named 'Der letzte Kuss' by ' Die Toten Hosen'

all that belongs to me is the idea for this fandiction

Prologue

His hands were shaking.

The moment he received the letter, he was all but a small boy looking for comfort, someone to take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

But of course there was no one. It was late at night and his bureau was dimly lit. Even Phox was resting his head under his wings and the quiet anyone but him would have found peaceful, lay thickly on his shoulders and kept him from breathing regularly.

One hand grasping for his oaken desk, the other one clawing the paper so hard that in was to crumple he stood there, a faint rushing in his ears, and tried to figure what to do.

By Merlin's beard. And here I stand a man of nearly a hundred years and am afraid to open but a little letter

His knuckles had turned white and he still tried to get his breathing under his control. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore closed his eyes tried in vain to halt the tears from flowing.

He hadn't even opened the letter yet, but the neatly, though not as fancy writing, announcing the addressor, 'Gellert Grindelwald', had been enough to get his whole world, or in this case his bureau spinning.

He moved cautiously to his chair, never quite letting go of his desk, afraid that his legs would no longer carry him, and let himself fall on said seating.

While taking on last deep breath he opened his eyes and snatched his paper knife. Undoing the folding of the object of his fears and hopes, namely the letter of his former friend and greatest challenge to ever overcome, his eyes began to scan the all too familiar handwriting.

Dear Albus,

To say it didn't take a lot of self-conquest to write this letter, though I admit it is no excuse as to why it took so many years, to finally write you but a few lines, would be an understatement.

You see they say with age comes stubbornness, but I am afraid I was no better in the early years of my life as you might have noticed then.

So I believe it is, no was a matter of pride and believe me when I say that they knocked that out of me by now.

I don't know why I believe that you would ever keep this letter, after almost half a century, let alone read it, but I thought it time to finally express my apology to you and I hope you'll believe me that I mean every single word I wrote to you.

How to begin with I don't know and I am still not sure if this is the right to do way so. But I will try to make you understand as to why I finally wrote this letter.

Do you know what a radio is, this little marvelous device the Muggles have invented. Oh, at times like this I know I have done them wrong .I always believed them to be worthless, scum that hindered our kind of being as brilliant as it could have been. Oh how wrong I was, and I'm deeply sorry that it took me nearly a hundred years to understand, that we are first of all human, and that something as trivial as being a wizard, a witch, a squip or a Muggle is of no relevance.

Where was I? Ah right, the radio, you might have seen one by now too, since I'm quite sure that it's not unfamiliar with wizards at all, but of course it took some time for me to see one, up here in my cell in Nurmengrad.

Well one of the guards had one with him, and strangely he was listening to some German music.

I heard the melody echo, through the whole building. At first I didn't know what to make of it until I saw that little box. The guards laughed at me but let the radio stand near enough for me to hear.

I swear they are getting soft up here in the North. A decade or so ago they would have beaten me until I could stand no more for merely looking at it. But I can only guess that by now I make such a poor appearance that these youngsters that do not remember my atrocities anymore have begun to pity me.

Anyway they left the radio with me and I was all too thankful for that. Well one night I woke up, since I had the feeling someone was talking to me, but then I realized it was the radio and that I only had felt addressed since it was again some German 'Band', as they call I by now, performing. I took me sometime to figure that out, I guess Nurmengrad is finally beginning to take its toll in me. It's been such a long time since I heard the words of my mother tongue, but I still remember, though I'm not even sure if I think in German, or dream- you know how its most peculiar how you never quite know in which language you have dreamt

Gee, I'm getting lost again.

I listened to the song and it was most peculiar but I felt every single word the vocalist was saying and I began to wonder what you would think of it. So that's the whole story and I know it sounds pathetic, but I knew I had to do this.

I will lend me the song's words to tell you what this stubborn old senile could not tell you on his own.

(Also I enclose a translation for I fear you won't have much of a memory of the little German I taught you that fateful summer 1899)