Author's Note: The quote at the beginning is from Deathly Hallows. Also, I fully intend to extend this story after the competition ends and develop it into a proper multi-chapter fanfic that portrays the whole relationship between Albus and Gellert, if anybody's interested :) This is a very reduced, concise version of events with gaps in the narrative and less detail, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Rated T for a slash pairing

Don't Be Afraid

"When my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then, of course, he came."

He was eighteen years old when he met Gellert Grindelwald.

He'd never intended to return to Godric's Hollow, instead choosing to embark, with vast eagerness, on the greatest adventure life had to offer—the journey into adulthood. And what better way to do this, Albus had thought, than by leaving his childhood home once and for all, and travelling the world with his good friend, Elphias Doge. He knew not what the future had to offer him, or indeed which magical field he intended to pursue as a career, but he had completed his Hogwarts education with remarkable honours, and finally wanted to see the world without the restraints and constrictions of his troubled family life.

Alas, it was not to be, for tragedy struck, leaving the young Albus Dumbledore as the head of his broken family. With his mother dead, and his father imprisoned, there was little hope for him. Little did he know that something remarkable would happen upon his return, which would change his life forever.

Or rather, someone.

"A truly terrible shame about your mother," Bathilda Bagshot said kindly upon his return. "I was very fond of her. An awful tragedy... completely unavoidable, of course, but awful nonetheless."

Albus merely gave a polite yet tight-lipped nod of his head. "Thank you for your condolences, Mrs Bagshot. It is a terrible loss for our family. I fear for the future of my sister. My brother, too, though he scarcely seems concerned."

It was true, Albus thought. Aberforth did not see the tragedy of the responsibility that had been thrust upon them both, and the imprisonment of being forever bound as the guardians of their sister. Albus loved Ariana with all his heart, and for what she had suffered, it was no wonder she was so mentally and emotionally damaged. But even still, he had had great hopes for his future, and now they were shattered. Now he was doomed to a life of servitude and responsibility. He would never see the world other than from his own dreary little village.

Bathilda was regarding him with deep pity. "I am sorry for your situation," she tried to empathise, and Albus didn't doubt her genuine concern.

But what did it matter? What could mere words and sympathy do for him?

"Perhaps," Bathilda went on brightly, offering a smile, "you would be interested in making the acquaintance of my great-nephew? He's about your age, I think—a Durmstrang boy. He's staying with me over the summer, you see. I think it would do the both of you good, perhaps, to get to know each other."

Albus was less sure. Perhaps Bathilda had her reasons for wanting the boys to become acquainted—maybe there was something she thought Albus could teach him or help him with—but the eldest Dumbledore boy had no desire to be making friends with anybody new. He wanted to shut himself off from the world now that he had been denied the privilege of truly experiencing it. However honourable her intentions may have been, Albus simply felt it would be futile even attempting to be social with strangers. Bathilda was wasting her time.

"That would be lovely, Mrs Bagshot," Albus said politely in order to humour her. She looked thrilled by his response. "Perhaps I shall be fortunate enough to be introduced to him at some point in the future. But for now, good day."

He returned to the house before she could intervene any further. Alone and depressed, Albus pulled the door closed with a slam. Darkness enfolded him, dust rose into the air, and despair crashed down on him like a wave. He was a prisoner to this house, to this life. Nothing could possibly pull him from the sea of hopelessness he was slowly drowning in.

"Where are you going?" a sharp voice demanded.

Albus stopped, turned, and fixed his brother with an irritated stare. "I can't see how that's any of your business, Aberforth," he replied nastily.

Aberforth's face was set in lines of hard exasperation. Albus didn't have time for this. "You intend to sneak out of the house and leave Ariana solely in my care?" he asked in accusation. "So that's how it's going to be from now on. I see..."

"I was not 'sneaking,' as you so eloquently put it," Albus retaliated, trying to remain calm. The Dumbledore family had already been ripped to pieces—what good would it do to have the two brothers divided? "I merely intended to take a walk; get some fresh air, clear my head..."

"You're not the only one in this house," Aberforth reminded him darkly.

"I never implied that I was." Albus held his head high, with that natural air of dignity that drove Aberforth to new heights of annoyance. "I'm sure you can cope with our sister for a mere half an hour or so..."

Aberforth pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, but he didn't challenge him further. Albus looked down his nose at his brother with triumph. No words passed between them, but a thousand unspoken messages poured from their eyes. Albus slipped out of the house without a glance back.

"Oh, Albus!" Bathilda cooed as he exited the house.

Albus cursed at himself internally. He had been seeking solitude and tranquillity. As lovely as dear old Bathilda was, he did not have the time, nor the heart, for indulging in casual pleasantries with his neighbour. He was deeply depressed; trapped in his misery – drowning in it. He needed to escape—to be free. But how could he spread his wings when he was chained to this dreary life?

"Good morning, Mrs Bagshot," he greeted with forced warmth. "Lovely day, isn't it?" But it wasn't; not at all. The sky may have been somewhat blue, but Albus only saw grey. The sun was desperately trying to force its way through the clouds but to no avail. He saw no beauty. He felt no warmth.

"I'm glad you're passing," Bathilda continued, completely oblivious and just as chirpy. "You're not busy, are you?"

"Actually, Mrs Bagshot, I was just on my way to—"

"It's just that my great-nephew is here— the one I mentioned yesterday—and I would so like you to meet him."

Albus sighed. "Mrs Bagshot," he began and then stopped short.

Oh, what was the point of dismissing it now and putting it off until a further date? She would only be persistent; he might as well get it over and done with. For whatever reason, it was clearly important to her that he and her great-nephew be introduced. Albus would simply greet the boy, offer him a polite handshake, perhaps inquire as to his education at the Bulgarian magic school, wish them both a good day, and be on his way.

"That would be lovely," Albus finished.

Bathilda looked delighted.

Begrudgingly, Albus allowed her to lead him into the house, never expecting what awaited him.

Rubbing the cloth between his fingers, a cloud of dust billowed up into the air. Albus inhaled sharply, more out of shock than anything else—a fatal error, of course. He had merely gotten bored waiting in Bathilda's living room whilst she fetched her great-nephew. Albus didn't even know his name. He had been intrigued, you see, about the texture of the deep, red curtains, looking, from the subtle shimmer, to be made of velvet.

His lungs burned as he began to heave rather un-charmingly. Of course, this was when Bathilda happened to re-enter, mysterious stranger in tow. "Albus Dumbledore," she announced, oblivious to Albus' crude retching. "My great-nephew—Gellert Grindelwald."

The fabric slipped from his fingers like a stream of water flowing over a rock. The boy gave one final splutter, but it had nothing to do with the dust.

Gellert Grindelwald emerged from behind his great-aunt, the sunlight streaming down through the dusty window, bathing him in beautiful, glorious light like some kind of angel. And indeed, Albus had never seen a being so beautifully angelic as the boy across the room. Long, golden hair like a lion's mane, and glistening green eyes to match. He noticed, in breathless awe, every detail of this stranger's face, from the delicate arc of his cheekbone to the sculpted jawline; the thick, long eyelashes that adorned those bewitching eyes; and the firm tightness of his lips pressed together.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the golden boy drawled. He gave off such an air of mystery, of danger.

And though a Gryffindor—though he was somebody who had had his fair share of danger, and the necessity of being brave—Albus was gripped with anxiety as he observed Gellert Grindelwald. It was an emotion he couldn't quite put a name to, but something soft and strong urged him in the back of his mind.

It whispered, "Don't be afraid."

Albus was incapable of closing his mouth, of blinking, of uttering a single word to this pure vision of perfection. He could have sworn he had not taken a single breath since laying eyes on him. But he crossed the room in a heartbeat, gripping the hand that had been extended to him. "Pleasure," was all he managed to squeak in response.

He could not drag his eyes away from Gellert Grindelwald, who was currently observing him with unblinking coolness. It was impossible to read any emotion in his face, to Albus' discomfort. It was the kind of face that hid secrets—that gave nothing away. Albus hoped the expression on his own face was as hard to read.

The moment his hand connected with Gellert's, a surge of warmth seemed to pass through Albus' fingertips. He memorised the softness of the skin, the strength of his grip, and the coolness of his palm as it pressed against his own. It had been a wonder to behold Gellert from a distance; up close was another matter entirely.

It was Albus, surprisingly, that broke away first, putting a few paces of distance between them for good measure. He felt like his knees were about to give way.

At that moment, there was a sharp rap on the door. Bathilda bustled out of the room. The two boys remained stood in silence, regarding each other unblinkingly. Seconds later, they heard a babble of excited voices—another resident of Godric's Hollow come to visit her friend. The boys would be quite alone for a while.

"Durmstrang," Albus blurted out, sinking down into an armchair in case his knees really did give way.

A smirk formed on Gellert's face. He walked over to the window, seeming to admire the view. "What of it?"

Albus tried to steady his trembling hands. "You, err, I heard that is the school which you attended."

"Indeed, I did attend Durmstrang," Gellert confirmed. "Until they expelled me, of course..."

Albus' eyes widened with shock. "They expelled you?"

The smirk deepened on Gellert's face. "We had a difference of opinion," he said mysteriously. "Me and some members of staff. Students, too... They did not appreciate the talents I excelled at—the ideals I may have expressed."

Albus gulped. So Gellert Grindelwald was the dangerous, reckless type? The type of person an exemplary student like Albus should be trying to stay clear of. Yet he had never been as hungry for companionship with anybody as much as he craved Bathilda's great-nephew.

"And you?" Gellert drawled in a seemingly bored voice. "I suppose you were not so troublesome."

Albus felt hot around his collar. He wanted to impress this boy, but he was so deeply mysterious. How was he to know what he wanted to hear?

"I?" Albus asked cheerily, gaining a boost of confidence somehow. "'An exemplary student' is what they used to say. Twelve Os for my OWLs, five Os for my NEWTs, the winner of the Barnabus Finkley prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot, receiver of a gold medal for Ground-Breaking contribution to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo... Oh," he said with a cheeky grin, "also Prefect and Head-boy of Hogwarts."

As the list had progressed, Gellert's eyes had gotten even wider and become increasingly filled with wonder. When the elder boy ended with a satisfied and somewhat smug smile, all he could say, with keen interest in his eyes and the edges of his lips curling upwards with mirth, "Is that so?"

Fire seemed to course between their gazes—Albus' heart involuntarily increased to a rapid rate. Again, he looked away first. Gellert was as impressed by his saint-like, good-boy image as Albus was by his rebellious, careless, bad-boy attitude. Opposites attract was the phrase that came to mind, but Albus furiously, and embarrassedly, pushed this thought far from his mind.

"What do you... intend to do?" Albus asked bashfully, the brief confidence disappearing instantaneously. He had so many questions for Gellert Grindelwald—so many things he wanted to learn about the boy. "Without qualifications and… and an incomplete education."

"What I have plans for requires no qualifications," Gellert said mysteriously. There was a grim darkness in his voice and a lustfulness for ambition. Albus was awed. "I intend to travel," he said more brightly. "There is a quest, of sorts, I wish to partake in. And ultimately, a movement I wish to initiate, which would revolutionise life as we know it."

He gave nothing away, and still, Albus was desperately longing to hear more. He was immediately hooked. Travel? Quests? Revolution? It was everything he had dreamed of himself, and everything that had been taken away from him with the forced guardianship of his siblings.

Albus felt immediately disheartened at the reminder, but there was something about Gellert Grindelwald that gave him a spark of hope. He could see the desire in the other boy's eyes, the ruthless ambition.

And he was drawn to it.

"How old are you?" he asked breathlessly.

Gellert cocked his head like a curious dog, though Albus saw only a majestic, feline lion-ness about him. "Seventeen," he said.

Albus was surprised. He had assumed Gellert to be older than him, if not the same age. For a younger man, he had such a heightened sense of authority and maturity—the likes of which Albus severely lacked.

Just then, the rather obnoxious voices of Bathilda and her visitor drifted through the walls, eagerly heard by the two young boys.

"I really think it would do the both of them good," Bathilda was explaining. "Ever since his mother's death, he's been terribly miserable and isolated. He doesn't have any friends in the village, and Merlin knows he and his brother aren't the greatest of companions! He seems so lonely—so desolate—and I think Gellert could give him that confidence. I think he could reawaken the spark of joy that he always used to have... He just needs somebody to keep him company."

Albus was mortified and stared down at his shoes as his cheeks flushed red. Unbeknownst to him, Gellert was regarding him with an intrigued sort of fondness. It was, after all, rather endearing.

"And Gellert," Bathilda went on passionately. "That boy needs some control! Expelled from his school for—for—well, I daren't repeat the kind of things they were accusing of him! He's too reckless for his own good. I really think Albus could ground him—could maybe teach him how to have a bit more self-control. They'd be good for each other, I know it."

Well, Albus thought, at least now he knew why Bathilda had been so keen on the two of them meeting. He was grateful, when he eventually worked up the courage to look at Gellert again, that he too had the faintest of blushes at overhearing such a revealing conversation.

Gellert gave an awkward cough and then managed to compose himself. "Would you like to go somewhere else?" he suggested.

It was the easiest decision Albus had ever had to make.

It was like a curtain had been lifted, a filter removed, a beautiful painting uncovered. Albus' world had been so black and white, and now, there with Gellert, they were in screaming colour. He saw the colour, the beauty, in every tiny detail of the world—from the gentle babbling of the stream as it softly caressed the bank, to the glistening dew of the reeds that lined it.

The sky was bluer, the sun more golden, and Gellert, well—every detail was lined with perfection. He was a being sculpted by angels, if not, like Albus suspected, an angel himself.

For hours, they had been down by the brook (and now found themselves in it), the most beautiful area of Godric's Hollow, and, to Albus' delight, secluded from prying eyes. It was like their own little paradise. For the first time in a very long time, Albus felt free. And he felt happy.

Gellert awakened in him something he had thought lost forever: desire. He offered him an escape from this desolate life—a chance to explore the world, to be free from responsibility. Never had he longed for something so much in his life.

Or rather, someone.

Soaked through to his skin, Albus could have traced every curved line of muscle that defined the body of Gellert Grindelwald. He was mesmerised by the way the droplets clung to his eyelashes, and his damp hair still held so much life as it hung down by his shoulders.

It was hard not to feel self-conscious around such a vision of perfection. With his scrawny physical build, snow-like skin, and rather limp and boring auburn hair, Albus felt rather unremarkable before Gellert. But when they were so close—close enough for him to count the colours in his eyes, and feel the breath leave his body in a constant rhythm each time he exhaled—it didn't matter.

Each had revealed depths to the other that nobody else had known them to have. Time had flown by with the grace of a swan gliding through water. Aberforth would be furious when Albus eventually returned.

But again, Albus couldn't think of that. Nothing else mattered in the slightest, not when somehow he had found himself dripping from head to toe as he stood in the middle of a stream, chest to chest with the most beautiful thing he'd ever beheld.

Gellert raked a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. Albus could only hold his breath as he then extended that hand to gently hold the other boy's face. For someone that exuded hard rebelliousness and violence, he was remarkably gentle.

Albus' lips were parted, for if not, he was certain he would be unable to breathe. His whole body was trembling, which, he supposed, could have been due to the frightful temperature of the water, yet knew it was because of something far different.

Gellert tilted his head so that his breath tickled Albus' cheek. In response, Albus closed his eyes, shuddering at the touch. And just before scandal ensued, before boundaries were crossed, before the two boys gave into the strongest emotions they'd ever felt, Gellert ran a gentle thumb over the other boy's cheek and said in a voice no more than a whisper,

"Don't be afraid."

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2—Round 13

Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Captain
Task: Dumbledore/Grindelwald romance