For the final round of the QLFC. Had to be Dumbledore/Grindelwald.

"Another game of chess, Gellert?"

There was no response.

Albus shook his head, half-moon glasses glinting. Being here, in this place, was the only time that ever put him at a loss for words. Known all over the world for his diplomacy, his skill with words, he lost it all in Nurmengard.

"Why do we do this to ourselves?" he said quietly.

The silent continued. If it were possible for a silence to be indignant, Albus imagined this would be that silence. He decided to amend his statement.

"I apologize. Why do I do this to myself?"

There was a laugh. Albus thought it was more sad that anything. He didn't tell Gellert this; it would have upset him. He liked to believe his laugh was demented, scary, even tortured. It was not, and that hurt.

Coming to Nurmengard was always sad. The high walls, the bleak cells. Small cots and thin blankets…in his memory, Godric's Hollow was almost always sunny, and the blankets were thick and warm when winter inevitably came. In his mind, Godric's Hollow was better than it ever was. Albus knew that, in truth, he had felt oppressed there, stifled, and the only light had been Gellert.

Well, that light had faded here.

"I don't know why I do this to myself," he repeated. It was almost immature, but even Albus Dumbledore wanted the love of his life to talk to him once and a while.

"What do you want me to say?" The reply was harsh, biting, but it was a reply.

"You could answer my question."

Even the sunlight filtering through the window felt dirty. Albus had to remind himself who this prison was originally meant to house.

"What question?"

"Have you forgotten already, Gellert?"

"So what if I have?"

The two of them ended up bickering like children every time he came. Honestly.

"I asked you if you want to play another game of chess, Gellert."

The man across from him looked at him through graying locks and shook his head. "You come all the way from Scotland, all the way from Hogwarts, to do what? Play chess with an old flame. Do you get joy out of this, Dumbledore? Do you like coming here, seeing how sad my life is now?"

"That's not why I come."

"Then why do you come?"

"Maybe it's to remind myself how far I can fall."

There was no awkward silence this time. Gellert laughed long and hard at that. "Maybe it is. It's good to know I can still get under your skin."

Albus shook his head. "You've always been better than me at this."

"Better at what?"

"Getting under my skin."

"Why would you want to get under your own skin?"

Those eyes were very keen.

"You're being ridiculous," allowed Albus. "I understand. It must be rather galling to have me come here, so patronizing in my old age, just to play trivial games and speak half in riddles. I do understand that."

"Then why do you even come?"

"I will be honest with you, Gellert. I do it for myself."

The snort that came was expected. Albus didn't blame him.

"It brings me a measure of peace."

"And what about my peace, Dumbledore?"

"Didn't you figure it out?" he said, carefully setting up a new game of chess, putting all of the pieces back in their proper places. "That's why they put you in here. So you could find it."

"That's rich," said Gellert, rolling bloodshot eyes. "You expect me to find some arbitrary remorse sitting in my own prison? I wish I could tell you the only thing I regretted was losing."

"You wish you could tell me? So you do regret?"

"I'm not a liar. Never have been, Dumbledore."

"Never?"

"I am the reason you run from your past, as I did mine."

"I don't blame you any more than I blame myself."

"So, you blame me quite a lot then."

He waved his hand over the chess board. "Will you play, Gellert? Please."

Gellert flicked a hand and a pawn moved. There was still magic, even here.

"You should stop coming."

All this time, and Gellert Grindelwald had never asked this of him. His breath caught in his throat.

"I should?"

"This isn't bringing you peace. It isn't bringing me any, either. And believe it or not, I want peace."

"You've changed."

"For the better, do you think?" Gellert paused, sorrow etched on his face. "But what does it matter, Albus? What does it matter if I change? No one will ever know. No one will ever know if I repent, if I regret everything I have done. I will rot here for the rest of my life. There is no point in repenting anything."

"Oh, Gellert," said Albus. "It sounds like you already have."

It was Albus's turn, and he moved a pawn. Neither of them were paying much attention- but any attention was enough for Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore to battle in chess.

They played for quite some time before Gellert spoke again.

"I am not joking, Dumbledore," said Gellert. "Stop coming."

Albus slowly nodded, although something in his chest hurt. He didn't like this kind of pain. He had spent a lifetime avoiding that kind of feeling- except the visits here. He couldn't cut off this last connection to his past.

"Do one thing for me, Albus," said Grindelwald. "This one thing. You have taken the rest of it away. Just let me have my peace in my old age."

"Okay," he said, fingers slipping as he moved his queen. "I understand."

"You do," agreed Grindelwald. "You do understand, even if you don't want to. Thank you."

He nodded.

"You've won, Albus," he continued, gesturing to the board. "And know…I did love you, long ago. I did."

"I know."