AN: Pride of Portree

Optional Prompts: (word) cosmos, (word) destiny, (quote) 'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us' - JRR Tolkien

This was previously The Plans of that Summer and was from one of the earlier QLFC rounds; I've rewritten it, changing it to a Shakespearean historical AU. Thank you to CUtopia (Historical AU: Shakespeare) and Screaming Faeries (Clerk job) for their lovely challenges on HPFC and MoM respectively!

Warnings: Implied sex and non-graphic descriptions of torture.

The Plans of that Summer

Remember, remember, the fifth of November,

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

Albus looked out upon the fields. All was quiet and peaceful. The calm of his view juxtaposed with the setting sun, which was creating a riotous display of oranges and reds. It was as if a fire was raging in the skies and the spectacle dominated all thought with its magnificence. There was nothing to distract from it.

It was power. It was passion…

His train of thought led him back to the plans he had made that summer. The enthusiasm he felt for them rivalled that of any other project he had ever undertaken—even the healing salves the summer before. The young man he had spent his past two summers with, and his blond hair and bright smile, flashed through Albus' mind at odd moments of the day, causing a grin to appear every now and again.

Their first meeting occurred during a summer Albus had been dreading.

The crops had been predictably low during the winter, and although trying to make supplies last was stressful, the thought of returning to work in the fields again was… unattractive. Leaving his crackling fireplace and companionable home to return to the sweltering, exposed fields his family made their living from made him shudder.

He no longer wished to become a farmer. A flash of guilt shot down his spine as he recalled his father's lessons and all the time he had taken out to teach him about running the farm. He had been so proud…

It wasn't his fault and it wasn't Albus' fault either; it was simply too dull for him after the time he'd had to explore during the winter. After being allowed to be wildly inventive with dead leaves and brittle branches, the return to the farm, and later, after his father's imprisonment, the mere shadow of what his sister used to be, put into perspective exactly what he didn't want to spend his life doing—yet, there was no one else to fill a parental role for his younger siblings.

But when the summer sun set each day, and he returned home, worn out from the physical exertion, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Aberforth, his only brother, seemed to have been dealing with his absence well. Of course, he wasn't completely competent, but he had taken on the responsibility his older brother usually carried and had tried his best…and he had actually done okay.

Abe's face flushed with pride when Albus had complimented him. Albus was proud of how his little brother was turning out; he was sure Abe would be a fine farmer once he had some training.

One week into the summer, Albus decided to go for a walk. He knew well enough that Aberforth would be fine. If he had managed hours of Albus' absence, then he could survive a short walk.

It turned out to be a long walk.

As he left the quiet of his home, he welcomed the shrieks and squeals of the children playing outside. It couldn't have been more different to the peaceful grounds of his fields.

He was walking down the street, looking around the quaint village leisurely, (occasionally, dodging a rogue piece of waste flying from a window), when a head of blond hair from Bathilda Bagshot's garden distracted him.

A lean, young man was stood in the middle-aged witch's garden. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows; his hands were pristine compared to the worn shovel he was digging with and Albus couldn't help but stare at the fingers when they flexed around the handle.

"Are you new here?" called out a heavily accented voice.

It came from the blond. Albus couldn't quite pin the accent—although he was sure it was Eastern European. He arched his eyebrow at the question; he certainly was not 'new here'. Surely he didn't spend that much time in the fields. If anyone was 'new here', it was the blond.

"No, I'm not," he called out in reply.

The blond nodded and looked at him through narrowed eyes. Albus felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny—not many could make him feel like that. He prided himself on staying cool under the pressures of the most skilled hagglers, but this young man had unravelled his uncanny ability to remain composed in a matter of moments.

It wasn't normal.

"You work in the marketplace," said the blond, slowly. It was a statement but it felt like a question.

Whatever it was, Albus hastened to agree, although he wasn't sure how the other boy had known. Albus was sure he hadn't seen him in the marketplace before.

"Yes, I sell grain, milk, and meat from some cattle," he said with a smile.

Isn't it strange how a person can change so much over a short amount of time? Two years ago, a young man's pride was his profession. Two years later, it was a plot.

The summer sun was beating down on the back of his neck and Albus hoped that the drops of sweat he could feel beading on the top of his lip weren't visible.

"My name is Gellert. I'm here visiting my great aunt."

Gellert. Albus rolled the name around in his mind and smirked. The origin of it was Hungarian, he was sure—so definitely Eastern European.

However, Albus realised with a frown, he had never heard Bathilda Bagshot mention being a great aunt. She was a quiet lady though, mostly keeping to herself and writing out scroll after scroll—no one knew what she wrote or even where she had learned to write.

Gellert picked up on Albus' confusion and said, "It's quite a distant relation."

"My name is Albus," he said, stepping closer to the garden with an outstretched hand so the blond could shake it. "What brings you to visit such a distant relation?"

He watched, slightly transfixed as one of Gellert's hands left the shovel and shook his. He had a firm handshake.

"My mother sent me here because I needed to learn," answered Gellert, vaguely.

"Learn what?"

"Reading and writing—I can already; it's just that I need to refine it."

Albus nodded slowly. "What about the schools where you're from?"

This time, Gellert frowned. Then he laughed and Albus realised he had taken a step backwards without realising it. "Surely my frown isn't that intimidating?" he asked with another chuckle. Then he continued; his tone was more serious. "The schools where I live are not as good as the ones here." He paused and rolled his eyes. "Although, I've noticed the schools here are more solemn."

Albus shrugged, having never attended a school in his life. He was looking at the young man before him with new eyes. He wouldn't have thought somebody rich enough to attend a school would be conversing with him, let alone be shovelling dirt in a garden. But, Albus had to admit, the humble nature of the young man before him was… attractive. Gellert was young, but he carried a philosophical air about him.

"Do you study a particular subject or is it just refining your reading and writing skills?" asked Albus, abruptly changing the subject before his mind wandered into dangerous territories.

A rumbling met his ears and thundering footsteps came closer. Albus turned around just in time to see a group of men marching down the street. He stepped forward quickly to avoid colliding with them and cursed under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Gellert, looking amused.

"Nothing," Albus muttered, glaring at the backs of the king's supporters.

Gellert looked at him carefully, as if he was waiting for Albus to give something away. Indeed, he got a reaction. Albus' eyes widened and he felt his heart jump into his throat.

If Gellert, or anyone, had noticed what he had been thinking or what he had muttered, he could have been imprisoned for treason.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? My great aunt is visiting a professor, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind," offered Gellert.

Albus' shoulders dropped in relief, and his mind briefly flashed to Aberforth before accepting the blond's offer.

They bumped into each other a few times after that first cup of tea.

Then, the meetings became more regular, the two of them organising when to see each other again.

It was during one of those meetings that Gellert made a suggestion.

"Albus, we've done it," Gellert muttered.

He didn't sound excited but Albus knew the gleam in his eyes all too well after spending most of his spare moments away from the farm and his siblings with him.

The salve they had been working on had finally combined to become a thick paste, just as they had predicted.

It was finished.

Over the course of their meetings, Gellert had confided in Albus that he wished to try to make a new healing salve. The apothecaries didn't sell many, and if they did, they were usually priced higher than the other items.

Although money wasn't a huge obstacle for Gellert, he told Albus he didn't agree with the fact the majority of the population couldn't afford them—so he wanted to make one.

Albus had been more than happy to provide Gellert with all the herbs he needed from the farm. In fact, Gellert had joined him in digging some of them up, his hands ever-distracting.

And now, weeks later, they had invented a new healing salve!

Gellert turned to him and his face was awash with pride. Albus felt his face heat up at the adoring gaze being bestowed upon him and fought to regain control of his emotions.

But when Gellert smiled and flung his arms around him, Albus gave up and returned the hug.

"You are brilliant," murmured Gellert, his lips brushing his temple.

Albus bit his lip to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't and instead whispered: "I think you are."

And it was true. He really did.

Gellert squeezed him a bit tighter and then released him with a grin.

"Then we are amazing," he said with a chuckle. "Think about it, Albus. If we can make a new healing salve, we can do anything!"

A hint of something conspiratorial flashed behind Gellert's eyes, and Albus smiled.

"We've still got to test it," he reminded the blond.

Gellert's eyes gleamed. "All the same, we are two young men that have achieved more than leading chemists in the past… ten years. There hasn't been a new salve in the United Kingdom for a decade, Albus—and we've just made one."

Albus had to smile at the passion in his voice.

"Albus," said Gellert slowly, taking a step closer to him. "We have achieved more than most adults—more than the king. We could rule this country if we wanted to."

Albus chuckled and nodded quickly, trying not to show his nerves at his close proximity to the other wizard, and the underlying suggestion in his voice. His mind brought the memory of the day the king's supporters had marched by the two of them to its forefront, and Albus had to wonder if his words had been noticed, after all.

"If we were interested in doing that, then we could, but it wo—"

"Of course, we could," said Gellert gently, and placed his hand on Albus' shoulder. "Just imagine it. We could keep making developments like this, with money no object."

And giving Albus a searching look, Gellert added in a whisper: "We both know King James hasn't made nearly enough."

Albus swallowed, and the silence of the house carried the sound around the room. Then, he nodded in agreement, knowing now that all those weeks ago, Gellert had heard him. The idea sounded brilliant, but he knew that they would never actually be able to make it become reality.

"It's a nice dream, but we'd never be able to achieve it," he said with a nervous laugh.

Gellert was silent for a few moments, and Albus, still trying to slow his racing heart, could feel the other young man's thumb making small circles on his shoulder through the thin fabric of his summer clothing.

"Of course," said Gellert, finally breaking the silence. He smiled at Albus. "My aunt will be returning soon; would you like to stay for dinner?"

Albus refused as politely as he could; he had never met Bathilda Bagshot whilst with Gellert. Besides, his siblings were waiting at home.

Over the rest of the summer, the two of them spent less time together as Albus toiled away to get the crops dug up before they withered as the colder weather approached.

Although they didn't spend as much time together, they still managed to test the salve and found that it worked wonders for burns and common rashes.

Upon the discovery, Gellert had once again wrapped his arms around Albus and he'd had to, once again, exercise great restraint to not speak his true feelings.

It was winter before they spent time properly together again.

Albus watched with a smile as Aberforth and Ariana tucked into their meal. It was simply onion and potato, but it could have been brought from the king's own dining table the way they were savouring it.

After they finished their meal, Albus took the two of them out for a walk in the fields.

He was too tired to take them out on the streets. He'd have to keep a close eye on the two of them. Out in the fields, they were free to play and wander to their hearts content.

Usually, Ariana sought shelter under the apple trees, but today, she stood firmly by his side.

After ten minutes of watching Aberforth chase moths, Albus turned to Ariana. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She remained stubbornly silent. That wasn't much of a surprise to Albus; she hadn't spoken much at all since their father had been arrested.

It was Aberforth that answered. "She's missing Dad," he said as he jumped to catch a moth. It managed to escape, the boy's fingers only just brushing its wings.

Albus felt his chest tighten slightly. He didn't know how to comfort Ariana in times like this.

Instead of trying to say something to make her feel better, Albus gave her a firm hug, hoping it would do something to help with her sadness.

The next day, Ariana seemed more cheerful, and Albus left her in the care of Aberforth whilst he went to visit Gellert.

He was just about to knock when Gellert opened the door. Before he could say anything, Bathilda Bagshot shuffled through the doorway.

She paused when she saw him. "Who are you?" she asked.

Albus was about to introduce himself when Gellert spoke. "Don't worry about it, Aunt Bathilda. I'll see what he wants; you can go to the market."

He was smiling, but for the life of him, Albus couldn't think of why Gellert would lie about knowing him.

Bathilda nodded, and left the garden with one last suspicious glance thrown his way. As soon as she passed out of sight, Gellert pulled Albus into the house.

"Why did you lie to your au—"

But before Albus could finish off his sentence, Gellert cut him off. "She doesn't know that we're friends."

Albus frowned. "Why not?"

He could see the thoughts racing through Gellert's mind as he answered. "She doesn't know about the salve. If she did, she'd want to sell it at a high price to make money."

Despite his suspicions, Albus couldn't help but smile as Gellert said: "Besides, we haven't seen each other for so long. You were working so much over the summer."

"I was, but now I'm free of all of that work," he said.

Gellert smiled, and they quickly fell back into their usual easy way of conversation.

It was in the middle of that conversation that Gellert suddenly fell silent.

"What's wrong?" asked Albus.

Gellert remained silent for a few moments before saying, "Do you remember when we made the salve?"

Albus nodded. How could he forget?

"Do you remember when I said we could do a better job than King James?"

Albus nodded again, slowly this time.

"I think I've found a way we could do that—or at least, get rid of the king." Gellert's voice was hushed in the small house, and Albus fought the urge to run.

Whatever the plan was, it sounded like a bad idea.

Gellert continued speaking. "There's a group of men I know in London. They're families have been jailed by the king, and they say that they want to get rid of the king."

Upon noticing Albus' silence, Gellert laughed. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't be using our first conversation after weeks for this."

Albus smiled through the feeling of dread in his stomach, and said: "It's alright."

Gellert's eyes flicked to Albus' lips to his eyes, and he tried not to fidget. "I… Albus?"

"Yes?" prompted Albus.

"I missed you whilst you were working," whispered Gellert, and he closed the gap between them.

Albus' breath hitched, not wanting to get his hopes up but when Gellert dipped his head and caught his lips with his own, all hold on his emotions was released.

All too soon, Gellert pulled away, and Albus stood dazed; all his thoughts, suspicious or otherwise had flown from his mind.

"Will you plot with us?" asked Gellert, slightly breathless.

Albus nodded dumbly.

Gellert grinned and stepped away from him, and Albus felt the loss of his presence as sharply as if somebody had speared him with it.

"There's nothing that can stop us from making our plans now. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Albus, once again, could not disagree.

And so they had planned, pouring themselves into every detail and jumping at every chance to explore a new idea.

The end result had been a rough overview of the plot.

Now, as he watched the fiery display fade and the first stars appear in the sky, he realised the vastness of the universe.

The line of trees that marked the beginning of the forest was no longer visible, reminding him of the power of light and dark. He was only one man in the cosmos, and he would have to do great things to truly make a difference in it. He would have to make prodigious changes to be remembered.

It was as if the universe had conspired for the meeting of their great minds. It was as if it was meant to be.

Destiny had brought them together—and the two of them had recognised the opportunity presented to them and were going to make the most of it.

Gellert had corresponded with the men from London who they were to carry out the plot with. Albus listened as the blond told him how they were going to have to move to London soon.

"But Abe and Ariana—"

He was silenced with another kiss.

"I'll get someone to take care of them, I promise."

Albus believed him.

The journey to London took three days. Their transport alternated between horse and cart, (which someone else drove, meaning they couldn't speak of their plan), and their own boat.

They spoke without any fear whilst on the boat.

They were nearing the end of their final boat journey when Gellert turned to Albus. Upon seeing Albus' anxious look at the oars, Gellert said: "Don't worry; the water will carry us straight downstream to a harbour in about an hour."

"There's a harbour here? But there's nobody around," said Albus, gazing around. All he could see was water and towards the limits of his vision, an overgrown riverbank.

"That makes it all the better," said Gellert with a grin.

Albus smiled, but he asked: "Do you think that we're doing the right thing?"

He thought he saw anger in Gellert's eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.

"Albus," said Gellert, pulling the oars in and moving to sit beside Albus on the thin plank of wood that acted as his seat, "we are doing the right thing."

Albus was about to interrupt when Gellert cupped his face in his hands gently. "Look at me," whispered the blond.

Albus complied, feeling his cheeks flush.

"We are doing the right thing," he murmured, moving even closer. "I'm glad I get to do this with you."

Albus smiled, but it was quickly covered by Gellert's lips.

The kiss began gently enough, but it soon turned fervent and firm as both of the young men found a release for their anxieties in each other.

Albus moaned as Gellert lifted himself up and onto his lap, and gasped when the boat rocked from the sudden movement.

He found himself looking up into Gellert's grey eyes and searched for the passion there. He couldn't search for long as Gellert, now straddling Albus, used his position to kiss him again, and moving his hips ever-so-slightly, managed to elicit whimper after whimper from the young man under him as he satiated Albus' desperate, and very imminent, appetite.

It felt like no time had passed at all by the time they reached the harbour and clambered out of the boat.

Gellert immediately knew where to go, leading a fiercely blushing Albus to a vault, which he was amazed to see was directly under the House of Lords.

"How did you—"

"Good fortune," said Gellert with a grin.

Upon entering the vault, Albus swallowed grimly, his jaw set. It suddenly felt more real; they were going to carry out the plot.

Screams filled the room he was trapped in and it took Albus one moment to realise they were being torn from him.

How long had he been trapped here?

"Who did you plot with?" demanded his interrogator. When Albus didn't answer, he gestured for the thumb screws to be tightened.

A range of names flew through his mind Abe, Ariana, Bathilda, Mum, Dad, but only one stuck out: Gellert. He knew he couldn't say it—he would never rest in peace knowing he had sentenced Gellert to his death.

So, as a glowing poker was brought nearer and nearer to his face, Albus ground out a strangled: "Robert Catesby."

Catesby had been introduced to him the night they had first entered the vault. He was the leader.

Looking down at Albus, the interrogator must have mistakenly seen that he had no more information to give, for he walked away from his quivering form, and on his way out of the Tower, called: "Execute him."

I see no reason why gunpowder, treason

Should ever be forgot...