You see yourself in Albus Dumbledore's bed before you even know
his name. You see a lot of things about Albus, actually
( silver hair and beard, wizened black hand, phoenix feather, rings
tangling in a boy's black hair, a wardrobe on fire, leaning over a
pensieve with another black-haired boy )
, but that is by far the most important.
There's no need to rehash the introduction, the part where your
great-aunt calls you into the parlor to meet the neighbor boy. You
know everything you need to know about Albus Dumbledore before
you even know his name, or, at fifteen you think you do,
you think you have the whole world laid out in front of you,
and at fifteen you feel invincible. You can have anything you want,
darling boy, and what you want is him . Because he's older and
wonderful and you like the way his mouth moves to form spells and
because you've seen yourself in his bed.
The Sight doesn't usually latch onto people like this. You see small
snapshots of most people you meet, but Albus is special
and at fifteen you decide that means you're destined to be together.
You're fifteen and you've never met someone who understands you
before, and no one ever told you going after older boys would only
end in a broken heart.
You trade fantasies about ruling the world, as most foolish young
revolutionaries dream of one way or another, and he reads you
fairytales.
He makes you feel special too, doesn't he? He makes you feel loved. In
Albus's bedroom
and only in his bedroom
you are not that troubled boy who has no place being around other
children. He spreads you on the floor and dissects you with his eyes.
This part comes later.
He kisses you halfway through The Warlock's Hairy Heart . This should
be momentous, but you've already had the end spoiled for you. Albus
pushes you onto your back and plies you with soft words and kisses to
the insides of your thighs. The warlock dies with a heart in each hand.
You keep thinking, if you give up enough pieces of yourself, you'll get
Albus in return. You fail to realize relying on your Sight to know him is
not the same thing. Albus does not give himself up willingly, but you?
You let him do this because you think you're supposed to want it too.
No one ever told you you'd be this nervous. No one ever told you he'd
take so much from you. By the second time you think you could get used
to this; and you make a habit
of sneaking over to the Dumbledore house at night and tapping at his
window until he lets you in. You make a habit of sleeping next to him,
and sometimes you dream of kissing him in the garden two weeks from
now and sometimes you dream about sparks and spells flying in a ruined
city, you on your knees, an unfamiliar wand spinning in the air between
you. Sometimes you dream of his whipping boys, and there's at least two
of them, both with dark hair and dark eyes, but you were his first and
that's what matters.
Tom and Severus and Gellert and Harry. You learn these names. The
las boy, Albus is kindest to. The last boy, Albus doesn't touch, though he
might as well have. But he doesn't wind his fingers in that boy's hair
like he does
the others,
and if he pulls too hard on your curls you never say anything one way
or another.
You are learning what it means to be Gellert Grindelwald through his eyes.
There has to be some other future out there, somewhere…
There are a lot of things your visions can tell you, but they can't ever tell you
if he loved you back. You knew, didn't you? Late July, with the sun setting
on everything in sight.
When you run, it's away from him. And you keep hoping something is
going to follow, you keep hoping this isn't where you&him end, but Albus
never chases after and you keep running.
You're fifteen and you wish you'd heard the end of that story, that fairytale
he was reading you. The warlock dies with a heart in each hand, and you've
already given Albus yours.