Those Most Willing

It was a day like any other. No more beautiful than any other but no less, either. There was a slight breeze that kept the summer heat from becoming unbearable, and the few clouds in the sky provided the occasional shade. Children played in the streets of Godric's Hollow, filling the air with laughter and idle chatter. The sky was a bright blue, and the grass was a deep green, and everything else that was to be expected. Normally, Albus would not have been fascinated at all by these proceedings. He merely would have ignored it entirely. This day was simply ordinary.

But any moment with Gellert was extraordinary.

Albus smiled lazily as he watched his handsome, merry-faced friend stride towards him. The previously boring sunlight became entertaining as it played along his golden locks. Gellert was used to areas much colder, and so he wore lighter, thinner fabric than Albus did, shades of light grey, his robes smug on his broad-shouldered body.

"Albus!" Gellert greeted as he came up to him, smiling broadly.

"Gellert," Albus greeted in return.

"What do you say we get out of this sun, eh?"

He nodded, and they went into Albus' house. Albus ran his hand through his auburn hair, hoping he looked his best. He always tried to look his best for Gellert. Albus was no fool--in fact, he prided himself on being quite the opposite of one--and he knew what this feeling was, and exactly what that meant about him. Albus had never really thought about girls, not even when he was younger. In fact, at the age of eight, he'd been attracted to a boy his age that had lived down the street from him, and had showered him with affection and gifts. There had never been a time when he hadn't known he liked men. He hadn't realized that it was frowned upon until he was eleven, and noticed that boys talked about girls and vice versa.

It wasn't that he thought girls were hideous. They weren't. Some were amazingly beautiful--in the same way Albus found artwork in museums beautiful. A picture could be the most moving, artistic, beautiful picture in the world, and one would not want to hold it, caress it, make love to it . . . That was how he thought of women. Men, on the other hand . . . A man could awaken a passion within Albus, stir up thoughts in his head, fiery, consuming thoughts of loving him, and of making love with him.

And such a man was Gellert Grindelwald.

There had never been a man like him in his life. Albus was no stranger to love. There was the unfortunate business with Elphias in his sixth year, which had been quite embarrassing. Thank Merlin Elphias had been open and not been offended or disgusted when Albus confessed his feelings towards him. Elphias, like the majority of the population, was attracted to the opposite gender. But their friendship had strengthened because of his ability to be honest, so it had not been a total loss. There had been a few attractions to other students here and there, some longer than others, and in his seventh year he had tried dating a fellow student, but he had been quite boring and talked very little of anything that interested Albus, and so it hadn't lasted log. There was also Maureen, a girl who had been quite taken with Albus. She had fallen for him and, true, he had tried dating her, perhaps thinking it could have changed his circumstance.

Maureen had been the first he'd told of his attractions to men. She had cried and said she'd felt so stupid for falling for him. "It's odd, isn't it? That those most willing to give love should never receive it," she'd told him through her tears. Maureen had been rejected by several men and had never been accepted. She had not been a very attractive woman, but last Albus heard she had been dating some man by the name of Hayden Prince. Perhaps things would look up for her.

Albus never quite understood what she had said, not fully anyway. He knew what she meant, for he was an intelligent boy, but he did not understand why she would think such a thing. Albus believed love was one of the greatest powers of all; how could one so willing to give love, such a powerful feeling, be unable to receive it? He figured she had just been overreacting to finding that he had not liked her . . . or her gender.

But no one had been able to enflame him like Gellert. No one had been able to talk with him as Gellert had. Albus had been trapped in a world surrounded by those with inferior intelligence. Always having to look outward to find equals. He'd grown tired of having those around him not quite able to keep up with his thinking; see what he could see. Those around him were constantly falling short, and Albus was reduced to small talk. He was reduced to having to explain himself, even to those who were older, and lower himself, because he could not even have a decent conversation about what went on in his mind. Until Gellert came along.

Oh, it was fate. The two of them were meant to be--he could tell. The circumstances were too perfect for it not to be fate. He had been planning on leaving for a world tour--then his mother died, tying him up here to take care of his sister. Most tedious business. Gellert had been expelled. The times coincided so perfectly--had neither of it happened, or happened at a different time, they never would have met.

The two of them could talk for hours on end, keeping up with each other, pushing each other further, laughing with each other. Someone whose wits matched his own. Someone who could teach him of the Hallows, the precious Hallows that prevented death, that could bring him to power. The two of them, Kings, side by side, ruling together--loving together. He could have his parents back and they would take care of Ariana, and he would be free of that tedious task, to bring order about the muggles, with Gellert at his side, or he at Gellert's side.

Oh, it was a wonderful world they were planning on living in together. Muggles needed to be ruled, in the same way children needed their parents to rule them. Gellert understood this--although, Albus did admit, somehow missed that it was for the greater good--as no one else had. Wizards were far superior to muggles in the way adults were to children. They didn't know what was good for them and needed to be taken care of.

And Gellert--wonderful, beautiful Gellert--would help him do this.

The both of them went up to Albus' room, away from the heat. They sat on his bed, the mattress shifting under the added weight of them both.

"Look what I found about the Hallows," Gellert said as he lied on his stomach, book propped open in front of him.

Albus lied beside him, heart hammering in his chest when he realized their arms were touching. That arm seemed to alternate between going numb and becoming hot. He eyed the strong jaw of his best friend, and the smooth, fair skin of his face. His eyes were focused entirely on the text in front of him. The rosy flesh of his lips were curved in a smug smile.

Albus leaned over and read what Gellert had been pointing to him. These Hallows that he had introduced to him were alluring, but nowhere near as alluring as the vague scent coming from Gellert beside him. Just breathing in caused waves of his scent to wash over Albus, and he smiled lazily again.

Albus blew some of his auburn bangs out of his eyes. His hair was getting rather long, and he was sure his mother--had she been alive--would have told him it needed cut. He actually liked his hair long, and as soon as he could, he was going to grow a beard along with it.

"That's an obvious reference to the Resurrection Stone," Albus pointed out.

Gellert's eyes brightened at the thought of it. "Imagine what we could do, if only we could find it. That would keep the muggles in line, so we wouldn't worry about them, and the Elder Wand . . . Well, that would be for the more troublesome lot. And wizards."

Albus ignored the malevolence in Gellert's brightened eyes when he spoke of the Stone. He also pretended that he didn't know he meant Inferi. "Yes . . . Or we could bring back my mother, so she would take care of Ariana, and she wouldn't distract us from our goals."

"Yes, but that's what the Cloak is for. Hiding her while we take her with us. She's no danger then."

Albus looked away briefly. "She could be." He sighed. "My mother's death was inconvenient."

"I suppose death rarely is convenient, except for in sacrifice."

"Even then, it must be inconvenient for some," Albus pointed out. Gellert shrugged, and reread the passage again, biting slightly on his bottom lip in thought. That act in itself almost drove Albus insane with want. "If possible, I will try and make my death as convenient as possible."

"Good luck with that," he chuckled.

Albus sighed, and gently bumped him with his shoulder and smirked at him. Gellert finally looked away from the book to meet Albus' bright blue gaze. His heart leapt into his throat and his breath became shallow. It was amazing how much he loved him. He could see spending the rest of his life with him, loving him.

"It's possible, you know," Albus informed, staring into his friend's eyes.

Gellert reached forward and mussed up Albus' auburn hair, smiling crookedly, in that endearing way of his. It was amazing Albus hadn't lost control and kissed him yet. He feared that moment would come soon, and he did not want to fully embarrass himself. Not with him. "With you, well, I bet it is. You can do anything, Albus, that you put your mind to."

"As can you." He grabbed Gellert's wrist and pulled his hand off of his head, his auburn hair in front of his eyes so he had to toss his head to get the hair out of his vision. He held his wrists gently for a moment, feeling his smooth skin on his fingertips, and the slight pulse. Albus brushed his thumb over his knuckles once, then let go, feeling awkward and he cleared his throat.

If Gellert had noticed Albus' slight moment of weakness he did not act like it. Brushing his thumb over his knuckles had not seemed to bother him at all. "Of course, the Elder wand--we would have to alternate it between us. Now, would a week suffice, or should it be longer or shorter? Obviously we'll have to have a second wand for when it is the other's turn. And we'd have to keep quiet about it."

"I believe . . . A week would suffice. If it needs to be adjusted, we could do it after--I believe that will have to be something we learn from experience."

Gellert hummed quietly. "But if we willingly hand it over to each other, will the true owner of the wand switch as well?"

"It has been passed down from father to son."

"Yes, but you're not my father."

Albus chuckled. "True, true. Had I been, I would have given you up for adoption long ago," he joked, tossing his longish auburn hair away from his eyes.

As a reply, Gellert pushed Albus' shoulder playfully. Albus bumped against the wall on his opposite side, then pushed Gellert back just as playfully. Gellert did not have a wall on his other side, and therefore fell off the bed and hit the floor.

Guilt swam over Albus. He hadn't meant to actually hurt him. He leaned over the bed. "Sorry--are you all right?"

Gellert held his forehead and curled up slightly. "No, no . . . I think I'm bleeding . . ." He moaned out in pain and clutched his forehead tighter.

Albus leaned over the bed further, the mattress shifting and him slightly losing his balance. "I'm sorry, here, let me have a look . . ." The bed squeaked as he had to correct his posture so he wouldn't fall.

And Gellert reached up, grabbed Albus' arm, and tugged him off the bed.

He fell with a thud, half of him off his friend, the other half on the floor. "You are entirely too gullible, especially for someone as intelligent as you."

"And you are entirely too manipulative!" Albus retorted.

With that, they began wrestling on the ground, robes restricting their legs until they were pushed up above the knees. Gellert's golden hair was in his face, in his mouth, in his eyes, at the same time he felt his own hair being tugged. They grabbed each other's robes and laughed as they breathed heavily. Hearing Gellert breathe heavily and have his strong body against his, entangled, made this one of Albus' favourite pastimes.

Although every now and then he felt a sharp jab in his gut, and a scratch on his chest, it was all for sport, and no real harm came of it. Their legs brushed, the robes above the knees, as they rolled around, trying to fight off each other's hands, fingers intertwining at times or accidentally groping inappropriate places. Their laughs filled the room, Albus enjoying it perhaps a bit too much and afraid that his anatomy would make it too apparent that Gellert would not want to continue.

Gellert found his way on top, his hands pining Albus' wrists to the ground. Gellert golden locks fell in front of his boyish face, his eyes bright, his mouth curved pleasantly in a smug smile. "Albus, you make it too easy. I think today you let me win."

"I've been told I'm too genial," he admitted.

Since Albus lay beneath him, the added pressure of Gellert's chest on his making it hard to breath. His face was merely half-a-foot away, his mouth so tantalizingly close. His heart slammed against his rib cage, and he thought of kissing him again, showing the boy how much he loved him--more so than just friends.

He had never thought of his orientation as wrong, but he knew others looked down on it, and so he was somewhat afraid.

But thinking that thought led to other lewd thoughts, and being a male, his anatomy began to betray him. There was no doubt that Gellert would feel him hardening against his abdomen. Gellert had a looked of puzzlement on his face, then he glanced downward at where the hardening pressed against his abdomen. When he looked back, his grip loosened.

His Gryffindor bravery took over, and Albus leaned his head up and captured Gellert's lips with his. His lips were as soft as he had imagined. Gellert didn't respond.

Albus lowered his head so that it rested on the floor again, his mouth tingling as the rest of his body was, and his breath shaking. Although he had pulled away, he swore he could still feel their lips touching. Gellert's eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.

Suddenly, their mouths met again, only this time Albus was the receiver. He reciprocated with passion, hungrily kissing him. Gellert's hands found their way into his auburn hair while Albus clutched his robes tightly. They moaned as they attacked each other's mouths ferociously, tongues battling for dominance.

Albus had kissed before--there was the occasional brief kiss with Maureen the short time he tried that out, and there had been a few heavy kisses with that boy in seventh year, but it had not felt anything like this. His heart hammered in his chest and he couldn't stop moaning into his mouth, clutching his beloved. They found themselves sitting up, Gellert straddling Albus' knees, holding him tightly, gasping and groaning while he tasted his mouth. His lips were soft, but the kiss was hard and fiery. He couldn't get enough of this--the feeling of elation in his chest, the want the thrummed through him. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, holding him steady while they sat, kissing.

Suddenly, Gellert pulled away with such force that he knocked Albus to the floor. Even though he was no longer kissing him, he felt light-headed and still warm and tingling all over. He was out of breath and he couldn't help but grin.

Then realization sunk in--Gellert had shoved away. Gellert was pacing in the room, running his hand through his hair.

Albus slowly stood up, which was harder than it should've been, since his legs were unsteady and he was still a little light-headed. Kissing had never felt like that before. He'd never felt that passion burst within him. He looked at Gellert warily, praying that this would not be the end of their friendship. He would rather have him in his life as a friend than not in it at all, and he hoped that he hadn't destroyed that in his moment of impulse.

"I didn't know that you felt . . . Is it me? Or are you . . ." Gellert looked him over. "Have you always liked boys, or is it just me? Was this a mistake?"

"I've always . . . been this way," he muttered, feeling ashamed. He felt meek; vulnerable. "As for this being a mistake, I cannot tell. All I know is that I . . . am in love with you."

Gellert nodded, then stopped pacing. He went to Albus and put his hand on his shoulder. "Albus, I have never . . . Before you, I never thought . . . But I do find that there is something there, for you."

Albus couldn't help the grin. "Honestly?"

"Yes." But Gellert shook his head. "But, what we are doing . . . these Hallows, our plan, it must be seen through. I can't have romance now--we must stay on task. These Hallows are important. Do you think we can lie low on this until our plan has been seen through?"

Albus couldn't believe this. Love was the most important, powerful thing in the world, and he was throwing it away until after the plan was finished. That could take years! It seemed that Gellert found the Hallows and defeating death more important. Albus blinked a few times--but he had kissed him back, and he had said he would wait. "But we will be together?"

Gellert nodded and smiled. "Yes. But for now, we should focus on our plans. But I swear, we will, I am not ashamed, if you are not."

"I've never been ashamed."

Gellert beamed, then brushed his lips against Albus'. He squeezed his shoulder. "Until then, my friend. I will look forward to it. I promise you, Albus, we will love and rule. We will be great together."

It was that promise that kept Albus believing him. It was that promise that helped him overlook Gellert's lesser qualities. It was that promise that Albus repeated in his mind every time they stared at each other, or his want of Gellert became almost overbearing--the promise that they would love, although not now. The shared moments together after that, but it was never quite fulfilling for Albus knew that Gellert was thinking of the Hallows, were tortuous, but he dealt with it simply because he knew they would love, as soon as their quest was over, and their rule began.

Albus looked down at his former friend while he held the Elder Wand in his hand. Energy still thrummed through the air, from the ferocity of the curses that shot at each other. The Elder Wand felt perfect in his fingertips, and he knew that it was now truly his. Even after the pain the man before him had caused, simply from the obsession of these Hallows in a simple child's story, he was elated to have one. He doubted that he would ever stop searching for the Hallows, stop searching for ways to conquer death, bring forth his family, bring back poor Ariana . . . Although he knew he should not want to. He was not suitable for these Hallows, or for the power they gave, he had learned that years ago.

"Are you going to kill me, Albus?" he asked simply. His voice didn't not quake with fear, but it had a joking lilt to it. Although he was weak, beaten, on the ground, the air crackling and the asphalt cracked and burned, the residue of curses hanging in the air, he still had the energy for smugness.

Albus bent down and kneeled over his aging friend. How long it had been since they'd seen one another, and after all those years, Albus still found he loved this man. He feared what he knew, he feared what he could tell him, he feared the retelling of Ariana, not that he didn't retell it to himself constantly . . .

"I am not, Gellert." He brushed a strand of his hair from his eyes, those piercing, glittering eyes, and felt a pang in his heart. "You know that as well as I."

"Enjoy the Elder Wand. It's your turn with it anyway," he murmured while he shakily stood up. Albus knew the Aurors would arrive before long, through the dust and debris.

Lbus sighed and looked his friend over. "Gellert, why? It didn't have to be this way."

"It was always going to be this way. You're intelligent, and you knew it." He smiled at Albus, smiled that smug, charming smile. "We could have been great together."

"Would we have?" he asked, although it was more to himself than to his friend. All those stolen moments were always overshadowed by the Hallows, and had they succeeded, would it have lasted, or would the Dark Arts overshadow their love?

Albus helped Gellert stand up as they heard voices become louder. They were both bleeding and sweating, dirt clinging to them, but the battle was done, and they both knew it. This was where they parted once more, and it would be pointless to believe otherwise.

"You never would have loved me as I love you, Gellert."

"I did love you . . . At times, I think I still do, Albus."

Albus looked at him, furrowing his eyebrows. "But never as much as this. Never as much as power, or Hallows. Love, to me, is all the power we need . . . For you, it comes always second."

"You're right, Albus, as always. I never would have loved you as you loved me. I could never love anything as you loved me. Nothing except . . . This. What I've done. Why I've done it." He said it baldly, as though it were a known fact. They looked at each other as they heard the voices become louder.

Albus searched his face one last time, knowing that it would be the last he saw of him. The finality of the situation seemed to drive panic throughout him, and for a moment, he was his teenaged self again, staring into his beloved; his equal.

They embraced urgently; Albus, because he would never see him again; Gellert, for this was his last moment of freedom, and he knew he had control over Albus. His last moment of power. That stolen moment when they tasted each other, fiery and passionate, tears streaming down Albus' face so they could taste the tears, seemed to last longer than it really had, but when they pulled apart, it had not seemed long enough.

The Aurors came and took Gellert from Albus, who held the Elder Wand in his hand. Gellert chuckled as they dragged him away, insulting them.

He watched, eyes blurry, as his beloved was torn away from him, knowing full well that people would wonder why he had not disposed of him, killed him, when he was at his mercy. Love was powerful--so powerful that it could make a man weak. It could make a man believe what he knew he should not. It could make a man pine over someone who could never love him in return.

"You don't have much longer," Severus told him, his voice thick with annoyance, as if he were reprimanding a child.

Albus sat while Severus performed the necessary tasks in order to keep the poison retained as much as possible. The need for this treatment came more often. His blackened hand was not going to be the other part of him dead before long.

"I understand this, Severus."

Severus scowled as he finished his duties, then sat in front of him. His dark eyes pierced in the way Gellert's had--although, Gellert always had a warmth in them, a boyish warmth, that Severus lacked. Albus could see much of Severus' grandmother, Maureen, in him as well. They had similar body frames. "I believe Draco's plan is drawing near, Headmaster."

"All the better. I would hate for my death to be . . . inconvenient."

"Sorry to disappoint, Headmaster, but I can guarantee that it is already so."

Albus nodded understandingly, regarding Severus closely. Severus reminded him very much of himself, as well as Gellert. Like Gellert, Severus had chosen the Dark Arts over love . . . But unlike Gellert, his love for Lily was stronger than that. Severus understood the pain of losing someone he loved. Just as Albus did.

"I do apologize for putting you through this, Severus. But it is for the greater good."

Severus shifted slightly. "I suppose."

Although he was a gifted Occlumens, Albus could read him well. Not from Legilimency, but from knowing what he was thinking, for he had thought the same at one point. At least, to some degree.

"For her, Severus. It is for her, as well."

Severus' lips tightened and his black eyes met his blue ones, although they were guarded. "You know me well, Headmaster. Perhaps for you, the greater good will suffice. I am not such a noble man."

"Oh, Severus, you and I are far more alike than you realize." Severus raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. "There was a time when the greater good, for me, was merely a mask; a lie. I am not such a saint, Severus. I have many fault and have made many mistakes."

Severus remained quiet. Severus was not the man to open up to many, but he had opened up to Albus--as much as he would to anyone. With the exception of perhaps Lily at a time, Albus was sure he knew more about the man before him than anyone else. Albus had never responded in kind, merely offering opinions and advice. Severus listened attentively, whether from curiosity or because he felt he must since Albus had always listened to him, he did not know. Severus was such a complicated man.

"Did you ever wonder why I trusted you so readily and easily? Why your story touched me so?"

Severus remained quiet, but he nodded briefly.

"I am a fool, Severus. I was blinded by love. We had many plans, many dreams, of ruling together. There was a time that I would consider myself no better than Voldemort himself." Severus appeared to be in doubt. Albus smiled sadly, and focused on the elder Wand in his hand while he twirled it in his fingers. The only Hallow he was suitable for. Such a fool he was. He looked back up at Severus, knowing his eyes were slightly wet. "We wanted to rule together, love together--we believed ourselves better than, and deserving of power over muggles. It was wrong of me to believe so--I see my error now--but I was caught, Severus. In love. Inflamed. And I told myself it was for the greater good, but it was not." He gave Severus a knowing look, leaving him to come to the conclusion himself.

"It was for her?" Severus finished after a short silence.

Close, Severus.

"For him, Severus. For Gellert."

For a moment Severus seemed to let that sink in. Albus was not ashamed of his orientation and did not hide it, but he did not choose to flaunt it. If the subject did indeed arise, then he would make it known. With Severus, though, it never had arose. Severus did not like to speak of love, for it brought about unpleasant memories.

After the few seconds, if that, it took for Severus to understand the implications, he nodded once again. "Grindelwald?" he inquired.

"Yes." He smiled, although it was humourless, and he looked at his wand again. "We had a bad influence on each other. I loved him dearly . . . but, alas, he did not feel the same."

"You love him still?"

Albus nodded. "Very much so."

Albus was somewhat surprised that he had not known this earlier. There were plenty who knew of his orientation, but he supposed if one did not inquire, one would not know. And Severus was not one to inquire, nor was he social.

"Has there been anyone else?" Severus' tone teetered on concern. Albus knew why--Severus had never loved anyone else, and being lonely was quite miserable. Although he was positive Severus would outright deny ever feeling sympathy, he knew he was, at least a little. They were quite similar.

Albus shook his head. "Never. I could not . . ."

Severus nodded slowly. After a small silence, Severus stood. "It is rather late, and I have essays to correct." He moved towards the door with a customary nod in parting at Dumbledore.

"Good night, Severus."

Severus stopped at the door, then turned towards Albus once again. "It is odd, isn't it? That those most willing to give love should never receive it." He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, then left the office.

Albus nodded to himself. Maureen's words had found their way to him again, this time through the mouth of her own grandson. He had not understood what she'd meant at the time. He thought he had, but he had not--not truly.

He looked down at the Elder Wand and twirled it in his fingers, recalling just how Gellert had looked with those glittering eyes and boyish looks. He recalled the stolen moments between them, however brief and few they were, and remembered the dull ache he'd felt when he knew it was one-sided love.

Those most willing, indeed.

A/N--Ah, young love, right? God, I hate depressing stories, yet I write them. Dumbledore deserved reciprocation of love. Poor him. Please review--this is my first slash fic.