It was hard to separate dream from reality that morning. When Albus awoke, he was greeted with a soft haze of sunlight filtered through his curtains, reflecting off of dust particles so he was surrounded by tiny golden stars. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday and his shirt was heavy with stale sweat. But most importantly, he was not alone. Still protecting him from the outside world was Gellert, whose deep and even breaths tickled the hairs on the back of Albus' neck comfortingly.

Albus felt for the arms he had been so sure last night were around him to find with relief that they were still there, strong and warm. Slowly he caressed them, so thankful for the corporeal, for the tangible. As he passed long, delicate fingers over Gellert's arms, tracing loving words, the boy behind him stirred and stretched, and Albus shivered as he felt lips pressed into the top of his head, suddenly hungering for them on his own.

He unpicked himself from Gellert's arms and turned so that his knees knocked against the boy in his bed's, placing a hand on Gellert's chest as Gellert's arm fell back to cross over his body, resting in the crook of his waist. He watched his hand for a while, pressing into Gellert's chest, feeling the steady drumming of his own heart against his fingertips. He smiled as he remembered again what wasn't a dream. He smiled as he remembered that Gellert loved him.

He could feel Gellert staring at him, he could feel his eyes searching, trying to read him, trying to see what he was thinking. But Albus wasn't thinking, he only continued to feel his heart beat in Gellert's chest where he had placed it carefully in the darker hours and where it looked so perfect now when seen in the full morning light. Slowly, Albus allowed himself to look up into the eyes of the boy he loved.

A breath caught in his throat. Nobody had ever looked at him in the way Gellert was looking at him now. His eyes were soft on his, and rather than their usual penetrating gaze they instead seemed to sweep easily through him, over him, drawing in each part of Albus to add to his collection, hanging them precariously on the shelves of his ribcage with pieces of silver thread tied in perfect bows. Albus wondered what he ever could have done to deserve him, to deserve the look of absolute love he had longed for from Gellert since the day they met. It was a look that made him want to strive for greatness, that made him want to be everything he could have been before but this time not for academia or the admiration of his peers, now he wanted to be the greatest wizard of his time so that Gellert would keep looking at him with his soft blue eyes as if Albus was the greatest and most interesting thing in the world.

"I love you," Albus said with a smile, his words stirring the air so that it rose with the golden dust above the two of them and hung there like mistletoe. Gellert's lips curved into a relaxed, reciprocal smile but the look in his eyes did not fade, it instead intensified.

"I love you too," he said, knowing that Albus had only said so because he wanted to hear him say it again.

"Do you?" he asked teasingly and Gellert had clutched Albus' arm reassuringly and propped himself up on the other elbow so that his face hung above Albus'.

"Albus," he began, stooping down to place a kiss at the base of Albus' neck, "Percival," he breathed, tilting his head up slightly to kiss higher on Albus' neck. Involuntarily Albus shuddered and released a shaky breath, tipping his head up to allow Gellert better access. "Wulfric," Gellert brushed his lips against the skin below Albus' jawline, "Brian," he said, dropping his voice comically as he swooped down again to nip his earlobe, "Dumbledore," the word was a hoarse whisper as Gellert found himself hovering inches from Albus' face.

"Gellert," Albus breathed, throwing his arms around Gellert's neck and closing the gap between them, feeling for his lips with his own, kissing him intently. His hands roved up and down his back, longing for the flesh underneath his shirt. He felt Gellert curve his arms under him and wrap around the small of his back, pulling him closer. They must have been kissing for what felt like hours, memorising each other's bodies with their fingertips, committing to memory each swell and dip and arc, learning how the other moved and breathed, how one would yield when the other touched.

It inspired a new intimacy between the two of them. It inspired conspiratorial smiles they both shared that nobody else could decipher. It meant that from then on they were closer, sitting a fraction nearer, brushing hairs out of eyes and grazing hands and leaning into each other marginally more.

From then on Albus could barely stand to be without him, he needed him every minute of every day to keep from going mad. He longed for his touch even when they were together, and was inconsolable when they were apart, lying in his bed and wishing for Gellert to join him, where he most often did. Albus' bed became their sanctuary. It was here they shared innocent kisses and learnt about each other and waited breathlessly for dawn.

And when it came they would watch the sparkling dust, their own personal constellations, and wonder idly whether it truly sparkled or whether it was the glossy tint of eyes clouded by love.

Albus stopped spending time with his siblings completely, unable to handle their incompetence any further when he now had the gleaming comparison of Gellert, Gellert who was perfect and who, even if his brother wanted to emulate him, would not even be close enough to the original for consideration he was so flawless. Albus' hands had explored every inch of him, rivers and valleys, and had found not a blemish which did not sit perfectly and contentedly as if it belonged.

Aberforth never complained, not that he really saw Albus enough to voice any complaints, but the two knew in the unspoken way that brothers do, as distant as they were, that this was better. Ever since his return Albus had longed for an escape and Aberforth had wished for him to have one so that he and Ariana would be free of his uncertainty and awkwardness around them.

Albus also replied to Elphias, a short and blunt letter that he was doing well and that Elphias should enjoy himself on the rest of his trip. He mentioned nothing of Gellert or of their plans for the greater good. The letter seemed cordial, but he knew reading it Elphias would know he had hurt his friend, hence the curt nature of his words instead of his usual long-winded and insightful ramblings on a topic the two of them loved and nobody else understood. It was irrational and immature but Albus sent it with Profonde anyway, feeling suddenly bitter in a way he never had when his best friend came to mind.

"You're still thinking of him, aren't you?" Gellert asked as they skipped stones across a lake somewhere in the Peak District.

"Who?" Albus sighed. He made no real attempt to conceal the fact that he knew exactly who Gellert was talking about, any effort would have been futile. Gellert could read him easily, sometimes just from the sound of his voice.

"I know you are sad about your friend, Albus, but what can you expect? We will have opposition, of course, there will be people who don't understand that what we are doing is for the best. I am sorry that one of those people is this Mr Doge but there is no point dwelling on it now." As he said this, a thought flashed thought Albus' mind, and then immediately sounded so ludicrous he snorted out loud.

"Gellert Grindelwald, are you jealous?" Albus asked with a small smile. Gellert shook his head vigorously then paused, shrugged and chuckled.

"Maybe," he mused, "although I don't think I could really be jealous of some English boy."

"Especially considering he is decidedly straight," Albus added. The words felt odd coming out of his mouth, they made his heart feel suddenly heavy as he said them. It was as close as he had yet come to admitting he was… The separation of straight and… The admission that he was, himself, the latter was almost too much for him. He had no problem knowing he was in love with Gellert, but he was still grappling with what it all meant.

But as, amidst the kisses and falling asleep together each night, Albus grew closer to Gellert, he realised that one day he would have to face the truth. He would have to face his affliction, as he had once so inadequately put it, and accept all that it was to be with the boy who had captured his heart.

And furthermore, he decided, it was to be that night.

Gellert and Albus spent their day by the lake planning their world domination and tenderly kissing.

Finally, when they had quite tired of the fading light of the forest and their cyclical conversations on the Greater Good, Gellert asked if they should go. Albus stood but paused.

"Not home, not yet, I want you to meet somebody." Gellert furrowed his eyebrows. It was customary of Albus to hide Gellert from the people in he knew. They didn't go to many public places together, and when the librarian in the Ministry library had warmly greeted Albus and asked him who Gellert was, Albus shrugged uncomfortably and mumbled that he was 'just a friend'.

"Well where are we going then?" In reply, Albus offered his arm. "Side-along," he noted, "Cryptic." Still Albus said no more, so Gellert sighed and took the arm, grimacing as Albus turned on his heel.

Gellert raised his eyebrows at Albus' choice of destination. "You said graveyards were unromantic." Albus didn't smile, he only cast a sidelong look at Gellert before picking his way between the dead, looking for his own personal lost. Growing curious, Gellert tried to ask again, "So, not that I am not fond of graves Albus, but what are we doing here?"

"I want you to meet somebody," he confessed finally as he paused in front of a newer grave. The headstone was of grey marble and dainty, sloping letters carved into its face claimed it to be the residence of Kendra Dumbledore, loving mother and much missed friend.

"Hello, Mother," Albus breathed with a small smile as he sank to sit in the dew-dampened ground beside the grave. Uncomfortable, Gellert stood a little way away, almost out of earshot, as he watched the boy begin to talk to the corpse of a woman he had barely seen in her final days.

Albus muttered things for a while, ramblings about school and his siblings. He told her how Elphias was doing on his Grand Tour, how he didn't mind missing it, not really, not now that he had Gellert.

He sighed.

"I think you always knew," he started and then stopped. He blew out a breath before continuing. "That summer after fifth year when I brought Melinda Marbury to Godric's Hollow and flaunted her in front of you and all you could tell me was to let her down easily even though I had convinced myself that I was in love with her."

From his place, a hand resting on the gravestone of some other poor deceased soul, Gellert heard Albus choke back a sob.

"Obviously I didn't love her, but I would never have allowed you to trample on my childish whims. I wish you could have told me sometimes what you suspected, I wish I would have listened if you had. Maybe I would have met him faster.

"Because I am in love with him, mother. It was decided for me by the stars long before I knew it myself, that I was to love Gellert Grindelwald whether I wanted to or not."

With glistening eyes Albus turned to Gellert finally. He looked like he was trying not to cry, his teeth violently clenched in a smile, his face reddening with the effort. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and when he opened them a single tear rolled down his cheeks whilst the rest hung from his eyelashes. He extended a hand and Gellert took it tentatively as Albus drew him near, kneeling beside him.

"We didn't talk much," he admitted, "or at least she didn't, not after my father. She always seemed to know things though, my mother, even when we weren't saying anything. She talked to Aberforth more, about Ariana mostly. The two of them, their lives revolve around my sister..."

"Revolved," Gellert interjected before he could stop himself. Albus paused.

"I suppose in her case yes, I sometimes forget her affiliation to the past tense nowadays, I never really said goodbye."

"If you want, it is possible," Gellert reminded him, Albus nodded.

"But I like to believe she's here anyway, even if I can't see her, watching me. I want her to see when I do this," he raised the hand that still clung to Gellert's and interlaced their fingers. "I want her to hear it when I say I love you," Gellert smiled. "I want her to know that she had a gay son, and that he was going to be alright with that."

Albus suddenly felt lighter, free almost. He felt like a layer had been stripped from him, like he had shed some invisible skin upon which he had lain a lifetime of trying to be so incredibly straight. He hadn't realised in that time what had penetrated. Upon him he saw bruises and scars, all the girls whose hearts were needlessly wounded, all the boys who never knew they had wounded his.

"These are my scars," he explained to Gellert, pointing to his mother's grave. "A mother who never knew who I was, stories of girls who will never understand what went wrong, a life of lies, they all lie here, and here a bury them."

Gellert watched as Albus pulled out his wand and conjured a single, long stemmed rose and placed it upon the grave. His mind was whirling. Albus had been valuable to him, would be valuable to him. That was why he had kept him around all this time. He would have known that eventually Albus would fall in love with him and that he would have to feign it back. It was ok, Gellert was a good liar.

But as he watched Albus sink his scars within the ground he felt something he couldn't deny anymore, something which had been pushing at the boundaries of the switch he kept on his emotions, always turned to off. He felt for his chest, where just that morning Albus's heart had beat safely beside his own to find one missing. Like a thief Albus had stolen it. Gellert had not been lying. Now, his own scars called.

"You show me yours, I show you mine," Gellert decided aloud, offering his own arm. With a final glance towards his mother Albus nodded and took it, grimacing as Gellert turned on his heel and the graveyard was left empty once more. A petal fluttered from the rose left leaning against the grey marble of the final resting place of Kendra Dumbledore, loving mother and much kissed friend.

They were in Albus' bedroom again, the only light a copy of the Prophet Gellert had set alight in the middle of the room. Wincing, Gellert began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"These are my scars," he told Albus as he pulled the material off.

In the half light they flickered like veins etched into his skin, Gellert's scars were long and thin and plentiful, intertwining and lacing in delicately grotesque patterns. Each was deep and long, precise and torturous webs of pain. They snaked up his chest and over his shoulders, plunging down his back.

Gellert wouldn't meet Albus' eye as Albus stood from the bed where he sat to approach the boy.

"Gellert," he breather, horrified, "where did you get these from?" Gellert's eyes glimmered but he didn't answer, he only shook his head as his lip quivered. Albus ran fingers over them, drawing them back whenever Gellert flinched, violently biting his lip.

"It doesn't matter," he said decidedly, "you are still the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon," Gellert shook his head, a small whimper escaping his lips. Some voice deep inside him, one which had once been so prominent, told him that he was being a wimp, a coward, it scolded him. He ignored it, it was easier to ignore when Albus was close.

With the back of his hand Albus caressed Gellert's cheek. "Yes you are." He assured him and Gellert allowed a sob to break from his lips.

"I'm a monster," Gellert insisted, and yet Albus continued to stroke his cheek.

"No you aren't, you're beautiful," he told him firmly. "Even when you cry."

And then Albus did something Gellert had never experienced before. He pulled him close and simply hugged him, asking no more of him, allowing him to cry. Albus showed him pure kindness of a kind he had never even experienced, a paternal sort of love and cooing and shushing. Gellert found himself unable to stop the flood of years of tears which broke their dams and washed away the blood caked upon his bare chest where he had never allowed a single drop of brine to touch.

And all the while Albus hugged him and told him he was beautiful.