"Hello Albus." He is quick, his wand pointed at my heart before I finish saying his name.

"You really don't need to bother with that." He frowns as I indicate his wand.

"You've come to kill me." Statement, fact, no question needed.

"I don't think you have it in you to kill Albus." A deep breathe, a tightening of his features, his wand still hasn't left my heart.

"Ah, perhaps you do." A tilt of his chin, he always was stubborn.

Forgive me for not inviting you in, come, sit." A narrowing of his eyes but he does enter the room, scanning the corners before moving forwards.

"No traps, I assure you." Paranoid as well as stubborn he was. Suited him though.

"Come Albus, you truly don't believe that I could ever out think you?" He was always the Slytherin to my Gryffindor, sly manipulation to my reckless bravery.

"We would have made a good team." He was always better at seeing the traps, the treachery, I trusted too easily, I realise that only now.

"Too late now though." He frowns, his eyebrows drawn together.

"I'm dying Albus." His eyes open wide, ha, always did take a lot to knock his calm mask aside, but now the shock at my revelation is written across his face.

"Oh, I know, I don't look like a dead man." Confusion too.

"But I can feel my body shutting down." Finally his wand is wavering.

"You ever have an apprentice, guard your back well." There, a slight shake of his head, denial of my death?

"You always did say my Gryffindor tendencies would get me into trouble, well, seems you were right." The movement is bigger this time, a definite denial.

"Hemlock and Monkshood." Surprise, twice in one day, I should be proud of myself.

"Albus." He steps forward at his name, an involuntary reaction.

"Remember me." He closes the remaining distance as darkness slides across my vision and the room spins.

"Gellert." His voice is close to my ear. Breath soft on my skin. Strange that only now does he hold me.

"I will remember you. I promise." I smile, or at least I try to.

"Love you." Sharp intake of breath, but the arms don't let go. He may have suspected but I have never spoken those words to him.

"I know. I'm sorry." His voice is soft, regretful.

Sorry for not being able to return my love, for not stopping me when I started studying the dark arts, for allowing a petty squabble to become hatred.

So many regrets and now no time to fix them.