Written for Hogwarts' Muggle History Assignment, Task 10 - King George III: Write about a controlling person.

Also for the Auction Challenge: Title: Between us (darkness falls), the Writing Club: Disney Challenge - Owl: Write about someone wise, Amber's Attic: It hurts to become, Showtime: The Council Chamber - write about the truth being revealed with terrible consequences, Count Your Buttons: "Back off.", Lyric Alley: And you've been wishing but you don't know how to stay, Ami's Audio Appreciations: #RedRumRoses - (word) threat, Lo's Lowdown: Tony Stark - (trait) arrogance, Make an Easter Bunny: Scissors - (action) betraying someone, Guess the Name: Voodoo - Grindelwald.

Word count: 3294

(now)

"Move!"

His hands weren't trembling. Despite everything, his hands weren't trembling. How was that possible? How could he feel like his heart was breaking, like he was losing part of his very soul, when his hands were still steady as he pointed his wand at the man he loved?

What did that say about him, that he could threaten him so easily?

Gellert's eyes were cold as the man stared back at him. His wand wasn't even out yet, but Albus' heart was still racing.

"No," he replied, hating how steady his voice remained. "I won't. I won't let you do this, Gellert. Back off."

Gellert sneered, twisting his fair features into something ugly and dark — and Merlin, how had Albus been fooled so well for so long? How blind had he let himself be?

"What changed, Albus? You were so happy to let me do everything else — why, you even joined in. What's different this time? Tell me — I don't understand."

And he truly didn't. Albus' heart ached, but he stood his ground, gesturing at the cowering girl behind him. "She's just a child, Gellert. I can't…" He swallowed past the knot in his throat. "I can't do this."

Gellert's face softened, his eyes shining brightly. "You don't have to," he replied, voice soft and enticing.

Merlin, Albus hated knowing that he'd have fallen for it once — that he had fallen for it more than once.

(How many horrors, he wondered, had he committed in the name of love?)

"All you need to do, Albus, is step away. Step away, and let me do this," Gellert was saying, and Albus' heart ached.

It would be so easy to obey, to follow Gellert once again and join him in this.

But Albus was tired of doing what was easy instead of what was right, and he could no longer do it.

So he stood his ground, and let his heart break. Behind him, the girl — the Obscurus, and how had Albus been so blinded that he'd never seen this dark fascination in Gellert? — was cowering still, her tiny body trembling, but it only made him more resolute.

Keeping children safe, after all, couldn't be wrong.

Gellert snarled. "If you're not with me, then you're against me."

"I know."

Spells flew. Blood was spilled.

When it finally did stop, Albus' ears were ringing, but he hadn't lost.

He hadn't lost, but he hadn't won either.

"I'll remember this," Gellert said, blond hair matted with dirt and blood, eyes wild. He Apparated away with a loud crack and Albus collapsed.

He stayed there for a long time, silent, his chest heaving. Behind him, the girl sobbed, and soon Albus would try to comfort her, but right now he just couldn't.

How had this happened? How could it have come to this?

(before)

Gellert was… Gellert was a whirlwind, a maelstrom. The one wizard powerful enough, smart enough, to keep up with Albus.

Albus could lose hours with him, talking about everything from obscure ritual magic to the state of politics in magical and non-magical Britain, and he never got bored, not even once.

He only wanted more time, more hours he could share with Gellert.

And yes, Albus… regretted the way this led to him falling out with his other friends, and with his family — Aberforth hated Gellert for some reason, but then again Aberforth had never been all that bright — but they simply didn't understand.

They couldn't, and Albus pitied them for being unable to see how mesmerizing Gellert could be — even if it meant he could have the blond to himself.

Because Gellert and he had plans — grand ideas to fix their world, to make it better — and he would have liked his family by his side as he did it. He would have appreciated their support.

But Gellert had little patience for fools and Albus loved him, the way he had never loved anyone before — heart, body and soul — and so, when Gellert said he'd be going back to Europe to start his search of the Hallows, Albus followed.

Gellert's eyes, bright and blue, danced triumphantly when Albus told him that. He offered him a hand, and Albus took it eagerly.

Gellert's lips curled into a sharp grin. "You and I, Albus, are going to do great things."

Albus' heart raced in his chest, and he believed.

Together, he thought, there would be nothing he and Gellert couldn't do.

.

His sister died on a Tuesday. Killed by her own magic, the letter from Aberforth said.

You weren't there, every line practically accused. You left us and you weren't there.

Albus had left almost a year ago and he hadn't regretted it once, but these news — this letter, filled with the accusations Aberforth always knew how to aim, made him want to go back home.

But they were chasing something greater — the Elder wand, and with it the promise of a better, brighter future. A place where children like his sister would never have to grow so afraid of their own powers that their magic would turn on them.

In the end, he and Gellert returned for the funeral. They slept in a hotel, because Aberforth didn't want them in the house and Albus frankly didn't want to be there either, and Gellert held him as he fell apart.

"I'm sorry about your sister," Gellert said, his voice so soft it was almost a mutter. He pressed a kiss against Albus' throat, and Albus burned. "I know you cared for her. It was… a tragedy, what happened to her."

Albus hummed and laced their hands together. "You cared for her too."

It was true. Even though Ariana couldn't really be described as close to functioning — she had always been scared of everything, and why shouldn't she, when her magic would lash out at anything even remotely close to a threat? — Gellert had liked her, had liked spending time with her the same way Albus had.

His head was down, so he didn't see the flash of anger in Gellert's eyes, of greed, almost. But he did feel Gellert's hand tighten its grip on his, did feel the sigh exhaled in his ear.

"I did, yes," Gellert replied, nodding. "And she will be missed."

Yes, she would be. But Albus had Gellert and their plans, and luckily, those left him little time for grief — so what if he threw himself into those even more than he had before? So what?

Gellert clearly appreciated it — and some part of Albus, deeply buried, thought that his sister, wherever she was, appreciated it too.

.

They started to make a name for themselves. Albus through the Transfiguration articles he had kept publishing — a rather lucrative endeavor, too — and Gellert through his deeds and speech.

Albus, of course, was there almost every step of the way, but Gellert insisted they keep him and his involvement in Gellert's affairs… hidden. Secret.

"My ace in the hole, if you mean," Gellert had joked one day, but Albus liked that. There was something intoxicating in knowing that Gellert trusted him that much — even if, sometimes, Albus wondered if their cause having both of their support wouldn't be better.

Or at least, perhaps they'd be able to avoid situations like this.

"They've branded you a Dark Lord," Albus said, tone dry. He put down the newspaper on their breakfast table with perhaps a little more force than required. Papers — parts of their plans, he knew, as well as maps of Europe — fluttered before falling back down, still again.

"Of course they have." Gellert scowled. "Small-minded fools. Of course, anyone who tries to do anything against their weak status quo would get labeled as a Dark Lord." His lips curled suddenly and he swiveled around, offering Albus a sharp smile. "And what do they say about you, I wonder?"

Gellert stepped closer, his hand trailing down Albus' arm. It felt weighted, meaningful, and Albus liked to think it was love, even though neither of them had said the words yet.

Gellert's thumb caressed the skin of his hip and Albus shivered. He closed his eyes for an instant, trying to remember what he'd read in the article as Gellert's hand drifted lower and lower.

"They —" he gasped a little "They said I was — I was your partner. They didn't know who I was, though," he finished in a rush.

Gellert smirked. "Good," he said, and then he did something with his hand that had Albus go weak in the knees. He held onto Gellert's shoulders so he wouldn't fall and tried to gather himself, breathless.

Gellert eventually stepped back, looking unfairly unruffled. "Now, as my partner," his voice curled around the word, and Albus' heart skipped a beat, "where do you think we should go next?" He gestured at the maps, tilting his head curiously at Albus. "What do you think we should do?"

Albus frowned. "I thought you had plans already?"

It was their plans, of course. Albus contributed to them almost as much as Gellert himself did, but Gellert was always the one who had the last word on what they'd do.

Albus was fine with it, too. This — all this — had been Gellert's vision first, after all. It only made sense Gellert would be its figurehead.

Gellert shrugged. "Maybe I just want to know what your beautiful brain can come up with," he replied. "See if I missed anything." His blue eyes seemed almost black as he stared at Albus, who simply shook his head.

"No, it's all… Fine." He swallowed, and then, because not even Gellert could have truly distracted it from that, not for long, he found himself asking, "But are you sure about being branded as a Dark Lord? It doesn't seem… right. We're doing this for them, to help them. They should be grateful to you."

Gellert grinned. "I told you — they're sheep. I don't care what they think now, and neither should you. They'll see the truth soon enough — already, wizards are flocking to our cause from all over Europe."

Albus nodded. That was true enough, he supposed. Still, he sighed. "But a Dark Lord?" The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

"Albus, we have been practicing dark magic." Gellert looked at him almost pityingly, and something in Albus recoiled.

"I know, I know." He had been reluctant, at first, but in the end, Gellert had been right in this as in everything else — no magic was truly dark or truly light, it was all a matter of intent. Even if the rest of the world didn't see it that way.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Albus confessed, and it was so close to the I love you he hadn't found the courage to say yet, too close and yet still so far away from it.

"Don't worry," Gellert replied. He was grinning, eyes shining excitedly. "Soon, getting hurt won't be an issue anymore."

Albus' heart skipped a beat and his mouth ran dry. His hands started to shake as he said, almost fervently, "You've found it then?"

"Nothing is sure yet," Gellert replied with false modesty.

"But you think you have."

"But I think I have." Gellert nodded. He grinned, savage and sharp.

"Where?" Albus asked, his excitement burning through his veins like a fever.

Gellert huffed a laugh. "Gregorovitch, if you can believe it."

"The wandmaker?" That was a surprise — but then again, perhaps they should have expected it. Who better than an expert in wandlore to track down the Elder Wand?

"I was planning on paying him a little visit tonight," Gellert continued. "You could join me, if you're still interested."

His tone was light and he was still smiling, but his eyes were two chips of ice. Here it was — a choice. Stay, or leave. Prove to him that Albus didn't care what the papers said, that he thought their goal was the most important thing.

That they were the most important thing.

But it wasn't really a choice, now, was it? Gellert knew Albus would never leave him, just Albus knew the same.

"Of course," Albus said, staring right back into those glacier blue eyes and watching them melt, just a little. "Of course I'll come with you."

.

They were in and out in less than an hour — wards were barely more than a joke when they worked together — and one unbeatable wand richer for it.

Gellert looked at it like it held the secrets to the universe, fingers trailing over the old wood lovingly, greedily, and Albus let him have it.

That had always been the plan, after all — the Wand for Gellert and the Stone for Albus, who would say his goodbyes to his sister at last.

(And if at one point that hadn't been his dream, well, what did it matter?

Dreams changed.)

.

The letter came as a surprise. Partly because the owl had somehow wormed its way through their wards, but mostly because Albus rarely got mail anymore.

His editor took care of the responses to his articles and only sent forward the ones he thought Albus would want to answer to, and he and his friends from Hogwarts had… drifted off after he had joined with Gellert.

(And he hadn't heard from Aberforth in years.)

But Albus knew that seal, and he knew it didn't come from any editor or friend.

"What is it?" Gellert asked, barely looking up from the maps he was examining.

"I've just been invited to apply as Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts," Albus answered.

Gellert's head snapped up. "Let me see."

It was not a request, and Albus handed him the letter, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding as Gellert's eyes roamed over the parchment.

"You should do it," he finally said, handing Albus back his letter.

"I — Really?"

Gellert hummed. "Yes. Weren't we just saying that we needed a way in for Britain? This is perfect."

"Well, yes, but —" Albus' words died on his tongue as Gellert arched an eyebrow at him. All his reasons — he'd have to leave Gellert, leave their work and what they were building, he wouldn't be able to join Gellert's fights anymore, not like he could now… — suddenly seemed too sentimental.

Gellert had a point. Wizarding Britain was the place they were having the most trouble recruiting from, and with a post at Hogwarts, with access to all the new witches and wizards of this generation, Albus would be uniquely placed to identify new talents.

Even if it meant leaving Gellert behind.

Gellert seemed to realize what Albus was thinking about, because he rested a hand on Albus' shoulder, its weight a comforting warmth that seeped through the cloth of his robes. "This is important, Albus. And something only you can do." He smirked. "Can you imagine me, teaching at a school?"

"You'd burn it down in a week," Albus quipped back, chuckling despite himself, because Gellert would try, but he wouldn't have the patience required for dealing with children that were still learning things that came to him naturally.

At least not on the daily.

But Albus could.

He could, and so he would.

"I'll miss you, though." He sighed. "Even if this is for the Greater Good."

Gellert smiled. "I will miss having you by my side too, Albus. But this isn't forever." He laid a hand on Albus' cheek, fingers splayed just underneath his eye and stroking his skin gently. "You'll come back to me."

"Of course," Albus replied, because he couldn't imagine a world where he wouldn't want to be by Gellert's side.

Later that day, he penned a quick letter announcing his acceptance of the job to Headmaster Dippet.

Three weeks later, Albus was back in Britain and heading to Scotland.

.

There was something almost… unsettling about going back to Hogwarts years after he had left it as a student. Everything seemed smaller somehow, and though he now could address all of his teachers by name, Albus still found himself drifting back to his school years and calling them Professors.

They took it well, usually, and eventually Albus grew used to it.

He grew used to teaching too, and to the students.

And then he grew attached.

He couldn't help it. They were brilliant, all of them — yes, even those who didn't really seem to get his subject or apply themselves. But they all had potential. Albus could see it. In every one of his students, he could see that he and Gellert were right, that wizardkind was better than Muggles, more enlightened.

He could just picture what Gellert would say to that. Call him sentimental, probably, in that drawling tone of his. Glare too, obviously, and huff a lot — sometimes, Albus had to wonder if his lover wasn't part dragon. He certainly had the 'huffing and puffing' part down to a pat.

But Albus could also picture the way his blue eyes would eventually soften, just a little, as he'd relent and accept this new development.

At least, Albus hoped so. Time, it seemed, was intent on dulling his memories, and with Gellert being a 'Dark Lord' now, communication was complicated. And between their schedules and the distance, meeting in person was next to impossible.

Albus only saw Gellert in the newspaper now, only heard from his exploits from rumors and articles that seemed to contain as much truth as falsehood.

He couldn't believe some of them. They said Gellert left death and destruction in his wake, and yes, they had talked about doing what had to be done, but Albus couldn't believe Gellert would be so indiscriminate as those papers would imply.

He just couldn't. There had to be a reason, something those papers were missing, but without a secure way of communication, Albus had no way to know.

But he missed Gellert, missed him like he would a limb. After years spent side by side, being so far away felt simply unnatural.

The bed was too empty, too cold. He felt lonely, almost adrift.

(Was it truly any wonder, then, that he grew attached to his students?)

.

Newt Scamander was brilliant in his studies, but a little scatterbrained at times. He was also only, it seemed, interested in magical creatures.

The boy's mother raised Hippogriffs, Albus remembered, and he supposed that explained that.

And even if his interests laid elsewhere, he was one of Albus' best students, always asking questions Albus hadn't thought to consider.

(The first time the boy had asked about the notion of conscience and awareness in the animals they transfigured, Albus had been stumped.

Now, he was used to it, even if he was still unable to answer those questions for certain.)

But Newt was also far too naive when it came to people sometimes — people confused him, Albus thought after several years teaching him, in a way that animals didn't. It was a little sad, but it would have been more so if the boy wasn't so perpetually happy about everything.

His brilliance would make him an asset in his and Gellert's plans though, and Albus hoped he could convince the boy to join them once he graduated.

And then… And then Newt made a mistake. He trusted the wrong person, and it was all Albus could do to keep his wand from getting snapped as he got expelled.

And Newt… left.

(Albus didn't know it yet — but the next time they met would change his life.)