Burn
A Grindeldore song-fic
I saved every letter you wrote me
From the moment I read them
I knew you were mine
You said you were mine
I thought you were mine
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore dropped the box of old letters in front of the mirror. It was 1944… nearly fifty years after they had been written. Some of the more recent ones since that fateful summer so long ago, signed "Bathilda Bagshot", was next to the box. Those rested on top of a stack of newspapers, all with the same name in their headlines: Grindelward.
In Albus' right hand, the cursed (the still beloved) bloodtroth rested, the chain wrapped around his wrist. In his left was the poison that Newt had extracted from a Basilisk he had encountered while on his quests to undermine Grindelward's movement and his followers- partially on Dumbledore's guidance. Mainly it was self- motivated by both Leta's, and later, Theseus's death at the hand of Gellert and his followers, as well as trying to make the world a safer place for his wife, Tina, and their young children.
He was proud of Newt. It was nice, knowing he had played a small part in the man Newt had become. Something positive Albus could grab on to, amongst all the failures-
Do you know what Abeforth said
When we saw your letter arrive?
He said, "Be careful with that one, Al.
He will do what it takes to survive."
Abeforth had warned him, early on. Told him that he didn't like the way Gellert had looked at Albus, at Ariana. Like tools to be used and discarded, Abeforth had said. This had been after all the name calling and fighting. After Abeforth had apologized and much more calmly acknowledged Albus' feelings for the other wizard. After they managed to calm a distressed Ariana down after she had heard them fighting (again) and there had been nothing else to do but clean up the mess in the living area and actually talk to each other like civil human beings. Abeforth didn't like how Albus' eyes would get a distant, love- sick look, look in his eyes when reading the letters that had quickly turned into a constant flow of communication between him and Gellert.
"You're blinded, Albus. Maybe in his twisted mind, he returns your feelings. But the instant you realize what is actually coming out of both your mouths and pens and what your ridiculous plans actually are, he's going to leave."
You and your words flooded my senses
Your sentences left me defenseless
You built me palaces out of paragraphs
You built cathedrals
Gellert was now looking back at him from the Mirror of Erised, head tilted in a familiar manner, as when he had when he heard a particularly strong counter- argument in one of their many debates. They had debated and planned so much, through words written and said. It had been nice, (freeing even!), two powerful, young, smart wizards who were equals and a class of their own. Albus could read and hear the key to his family's freedom, his freedom in every word. And Gellert once he picked up on his feelings; how could Albus ever explain just how he got swept off his feet and into the madness?
I'm re-reading the letters you wrote me
I'm searching and scanning for answers
In every line
For some kind of sign
And when you were mine
The world seemed to burn, burn
Albus took out the letters, one by one, sorting them by date. Reading as the insanity and foolishness unfolded. As years past through the ink, he inserted the corresponding newspaper headline. How blind had he been? Or was he just really as bad as Gellert not to care? (Was there anything that hinted that Gellert's feelings had been true?) Either way, he was a coward for waiting so long to face his demons. Too many lives, gone. Two muggle world wars and one long wizarding war. And for what? Hadn't stopping those muggle wars been the whole point of the scheming during the summer that burned so quick, so bright in his in memory?
You broadcasted the letters he wrote you
You told the whole world how you brought
This man into our plans
In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives
Do you know what Newt had said You and your words, obsessed with your legacy...
When he heard what you'd done?
He said, "You've married an Icarus.
He has flown too close to the sun."
Your sentences border on senseless
And you are paranoid in every paragraph
How they perceive you
The most recent headline in the grouping, Grindelward Joins Hitler, was Albus' final breaking point. Gellert was still holding "secret meetings" around the world to update followers and curious bystanders. Albus had his network, his spies, his own intelligence. He received back all that was said at them, the senseless justifications Gellert used to explain why he'd support and aid a madman's war and genocide. And he heard all the paranoia behind each call to arms, warning that the time was almost here to "take their rightful place."
Population control, he said. Far easier to keep muggles in their place. It's a necessary evil for the greater good. We wizards don't even have to do that much; just be alert and ready…
Albus had keyed the phrase "For the greater good" in their youth. He hadn't been totally naive, shed blood was needed in radical revolutions, but flat out genocide was never in Albus' mind when they had made their plans. It had already been making him sick throughout the years to hear his own words used in twisted acts of evil. He didn't know how much more he could take. He had to destroy that bloodtroth. But first, he cast a ring of fire around him and the mirror, the dancing flames reflecting off the mirror giving him an unearthly aura around him.
He looked mad. Both angry and insane. His eyes were red from tears. His normally kept robes were loose. His long hair that had been growing back, usually braided, now was down and wild. Fawks' song rang through the air, startling him and causing him to fall on his knees. He had been focused on Gellert so much that he had forgotten Fawkes was even with him.
You, you, you…
I'm erasing myself from the narrative
Let future historians wonder
How Dumbledore reacted when you broke his heart
You have torn it all apart
I'm watching it burn
Watching it burn
Albus picked up the letters from that summer and tossed them into the flames. Watching them curl and burn the words from so long ago, he still felt the sorrow and anger. There was also now relief, a weight being lifted. Or perhaps Fawkes' song was working; either reason seemed possible, so he kept listening to Fawkes and kept tossing the letters and news clippings into the fire. Shame really, if he was able to separate himself from the situation he'd realize that. So much evidence the aurors could have actually used against him and so much history in the making was literally burning.
Shame really, but Albus felt he had the right to decide if the world got to know their connection- the best of Gellert Grindelward and the worst of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
The world has no right to my heart
The world has no place in our bed
They don't get to know what I said
I'm burning the memories
Burning the letters that might have redeemed you
You forfeit all rights to my heart
You forfeit the place in our bed
You'll rot in a jail cell instead
With only the memories
Of when you were mine
Once there was no more paper around him, Albus unfurled the chain around his wrist. Gellert still stared at him from the mirror (was that remorse in his eyes, or was that just what Albus would want him to feel?) and Albus still had the aura the flames were reflecting.
Mad and powerful. Albus smiled grimly at his reflection, allowing his tears to continue. He had allowed his fear of and love for Gellert control him for far too long. Now Albus was the one taking charge. Holding it by the chain, he poured the venom onto the bloodtroth, feeling the sharp pain in his chest as he threw both necklace and now empty vial into the flames.
I hope that you burn