A/N: This was written for the 'A Twist in Destiny'challenge on HPFC. The twist in destiny (aka: canon), is that Albus' youngest sibling is a boy - named Armand - and wasn't locked up like Ariana was. I don't make a big deal of it in the fic, but the AU is there. (: Although I haven't mentioned it in the fic, you can choose whether he's a Squib or a Wizard.
Disclaimer: Rowling owns HP. I own everyone you don't recognise(aka: Frank and Anita), except for Armand, who I'm just borrowing from the challenge. (:
Warning: A smallamount Gellert/Albus slash.
The Final Goodbye
Frank Grindelwald, husband of Anita Grindelwald and father of Gellert Grindelwald, is a middle-aged man with no sense of humour and a lack of enthusiasm. He spends his day spying on neighbours, reading, sleeping, eating, and being grouchy. His hair is receding early, he's developing a beer belly, and his face seems to be set in a permanent frown, a cold impassive look taking over his dark eyes. His wife, Anita, is a slender woman with a heart too big for her body, which is probably the reason she agreed to married Frank. Strict and controlling, she mothers over her son as if he were a five year old. She wears flowing dresses or skirts and always snaps at anyone who dares to leave a mess in her presence. Gellert, at sixteen years old, is going through his rebellious stage. He is carefree and loves to pull pranks on unsuspecting victims, and is good friends with some of the kids on the street, though many of the others fear him.
All in all, the Grindelwalds are not a very sociable bunch, which is probably the why the two adults have taken to watching people instead of trying to converse with them.
Our story starts on a Thursday in the second week of the summer holidays. The sun is shining at it's brightest, the temperature is reaching breaking point, and everyone's really excited about the bright change of weather. Everyone, that is, except the Grindelwalds. Frank Grindelwald grumbles about how horrible the weather is as he shuffles into the kitchen, helping himself to whatever he lays his hands on. He's wearing thin, light, three-quarter length trousers and a light shirt, due to the hot weather.
Anita stands at the sink, scrubbing at yesterday's plates in a floor-length, light-weight, flowery dress. Her brunette hair is pinned back out of her face and the way she looks up every few seconds, out of the window, is anything but subtle. She looks up for the fifth time in three minutes and her hand stops scrubbing the plate. Her head tilts to the side slowly and her eyes narrow into slits.
"Aren't those the Dumbledork kids, or whatever their names are?" she asks her husband.
Her husband, having heard of them from his son, looks over his wife's shoulder and examines the scene in front of him. Across the road, where the river stands behind the houses, three teenage boys seem to be moving planks of wood from their garden to the river bank. Frank's eyes narrow, also, at the sight. If there is one thing he hates as much as Mudbloods, it's troublemakers. He puts up with Gellert because he knows that Gellert will grow out of it soon, but it angers Frank every time he catches his son up to mischief.
"Hmmm, yes," he grumbles, his frown deepening. "Aberforth, Albus, and Armand. Those Dumbledores, hmm? Always up to something."
"Disgusting," Anita says, clicking her tongue as her nose screwed up in distaste.
"Yes," a cool voice says from behind them. "Well, I'm off to see my disgusting friends, now."
The teenage boy walks past his parents swiftly and is through the door in a flash. His figure can be seen from the window, running across the road. Frank hears Gellert call their names, and watches as they raise their heads. The oldest child, who Frank knows to be Albus, grins widely and calls him name back, while the other two smile softly, grunt a hello, and get back to whatever they're doing. Albus jogs toward Gellert and seems ready to throw himself at Gellert, but Gellert hold out his hands and grasps Albus' elbows when he gets close enough.
He says something quietly, which makes Albus frown and respond. Frank tries to read Albus' lips, but finds it impossible. Albus tries to move forward, to break out of Gellert's grip, but he fails. Frank manages to catch Gellert's mouth forming the words along the lines of, "No, Albus, they're watching." He looks over his shoulder at us blankly for a moment, before his eyes light up and a smirk graces his face. Frank growled quietly. He hated that smirk. It was so mischievous, so trouble-making. He hated it so much. His son turned back to the auburn boy and says something else. Albus replies with a smirk and something along the lines of, "My pleasure."
Frank's eyes flicker over to the other Dumbledore boys, to notice they've stopped working and are, instead, leaning upon the wall of their house, each sharing the same horrid smirk as they watch Gellert and Albus. His eyes are back on the latter pair in a flash, and they widen in horror at the sight before him. He's vaguely aware of his wife's gasp before she falls to the floor, but he's frozen in shock.
Where the two boys had previously been conversing, Gellert restraining the other, there is instead no restraints involved. Or conversing, either, for that matter. Frank has never seen something so disgusting, utterly appalling, in his life. Gellert, his own son, is kissing a Dumbledore! Frank barely swallows down the vomit that rises in his throat as he watches the two of them. Ten seconds … fifteen seconds … twenty seconds … thirty seconds. They still haven't broken apart, and Frank is still frozen.
When they finallybreak apart, Gellert sends a smirk and a wink over their shoulder. For some reason Frank cannot fathom, the wink seems to startle him into movement again. It was such a cheeky wink, the wink of a trickster. But as Gellert throws his arm over Albus' shoulder, and Albus' arm slides round Gellert's waist, Frank just knows Gellert didn't do that to wind him up, that his son really is … gay. Frank shudders at the thought and storms toward the door.
"GELLERT GREGORY GRINDELWALD!" he bellows, running out the house angrily. "GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT, YOU VILE TRAITOR!"
Albus' grip on Gellert seems to tighten as they turn around, both inwards, and Albus puts his other arm on the other side of Gellert's waist, pulling him against his body. He whispers something to Gellert, who whispers something back, before answering his father calmly.
"I'm moving in with Albus, Father. I'm sorry, but I know you won't accept this, and I refuse to stay in a house with people who hate me. Goodbye, Father."
Frank watches helplessly, the marble frown still etched onto his reddening face, as his son begins walking away, rage and confusion rushing through his body. The other Dumbledore boys cheer as Gellert reaches them, they laugh and clap and give him a slap around the shoulder. Albus keeps a firm grip around his waist and laughs along with them, as does Gellert.
Realisation hits him a few seconds later, and something goes off in his chest. He has lost his son, his only child, the boy he has watched turn into a man. Gone. And that something, the one in his chest, he realises with a jolt, is his heart, yearning for his son back. But he ignores it, turns around, and storms back into the house.
Goodbye, Son. Neither of us know it, but I love you.
A/N: Voila. It's not my best work, but you could say I'm proud of it.
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Signed,
Watcher x