For the Hunger Games Competition. Prompts used were: Word Limit-625, Albus/Gellert, Angst, Despair, and "What are we going to do, now?"

You've heard all the rumors, and you know all about why you shouldn't get too friendly. It's simply a matter of common sense. After all, he is so much trouble even Durmstrang kicked him out. But you always did like a little trouble, didn't you, Albus? Just enough to keep things interesting. Just enough to turn some heads.

Besides, he says he prefers the word revolutionary over trouble, anyway. And who could argue with that logic? And it's such an exciting thought. To be revolutionary. To matter.

You wonder if he can read between the lines of all the letters you send at ridiculous hours of the morning. Are you as obvious as you think you are? Does he feel anything? Does he know?

You're sure he must know, and some days you think he's heartless. But you try to brush it off as dedication and you could kick yourself twice over for fawning over him while he's busy being Gellert. Being revolutionary. He's romancing you with possibilities, with grand plans. And ego.

But even though you're only kidding yourself, the sun still shines out his arse.

All for the greater good.

"You should come with me."

"I have Ariana to think of, Gellert. You know I couldn't."

"Bring her with you. Don't you see, Albus? I need you."

He's lying. He doesn't need you. He doesn't need anyone. You can see it as plain as day in the look on his face, that smirk that tells you he's just enjoying the way he makes your heart pound and your mind question.

He's toying with you, but you gave in a long time ago. And he knows it.

"All right. I'll think about it."

You both know you really mean, 'I'll follow you anywhere.'

And you will. Because he's Gellert, and he's a revolutionary, and one of these days he'll finally see you. One of these days, he will feel something.

The world is spinning. And things are happening too fast. And it's Gellert, or is it Aberforth, and where did Ariana come from?

No.

Please. No.

You stare at the space between you. There's no blood. No sign of a struggle. No hint that something terrible has happened. She could be a china doll on the ground. Fine blonde hair and porcelain limbs. Fragile. Even her icy blue stare could be made of glass.

Meanwhile the three of you stare at her in horrified awe. And for a moment none of you can tear your eyes away from the fallen angel on the ground to look at anyone else. There is no appropriate way to break a silence so heavy. But your voice finds its way out of your mouth, anyway.

"What are we going to do, now?"

It's quiet. And the sound seems muffled and far away, and the words feel awkward in your mouth, because really, it's an awfully stupid thing to say. You look to him like you always do, because he's Gellert and he has all the answers. Or so he's managed to convince you. He will know what to do.

But now, for the first time, all you see is the back of his head as he walks, no, runs away. Because he doesn't care what you do, now. It's not his problem.

And Abe is crying on the ground.

And Ariana is dead.

And it's your fault, but who knows for certain?

Don't you see, Albus? It's what he does.

He turns your world upside down, and then leaves you to sort it out. He is chaos. He is trouble.

This is how a life is shattered. This is how a heart is broken.

And, too late, you see that this is how not to be a revolutionary.