I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to mind.
Under a tree, they lay-just the two of them (two people, isolated genius, ignored for want of a world so different from their own) and no other. Albus, sweet Albus Dumbledore, held a book in his hands (careful careful) and looked at the words as if they held the secrets of the universe. (Wonder was it that they might find those secrets among cream colored pages and long dried black ink and elegant swirling lines) But Gellert Grindelwald knows-with a certainty he, perhaps, shouldn't have-that Albus' attention has never once wandered from where Gellert lazed beside him.
(The leaves are beautiful, green and yellow in color, flowers white and pretty sprouting wherever they may. The light of the afternoon filters through the leaves, leaving ever shifting patterns on their skin)
They are powerful, (like an untamed storm) the two of them. So strong, (lightning flashing, rain is roaring) with magic flooding their veins like blood, and crackling just under their skin. If they chose so-and they would, perhaps (one day soon)-they could bring the whole of Britain-no. They could fell the world, bring its entirety to its knees; such power is at their fingertips.
Gellert knows this, knows it with a certainty few things provide him, knows it as an ache in his bones, an absolute in his mind, and oh, how he wants.
(And houses fell and buildings burned and crops soaked up the water)
Albus' gaze is ever present and comforting, a familiar pair of eyes that Gellert relishes in having them on him. (They're a pair, those two, he and him, two sides of the same coin) He knows, a smirk curling his lips, exactly what Albus craves, exactly what Albus wants. Gellert could give it to him, if only he would ask. Oh, the things Gellert could show him if only he would-
If only he would-
If only-
(What might happen should they fall over the edge? Should their wings of feathered wax catch them, carry them higher and higher and higher, until they melt and their bodies fall and fall and fall deep down into the Abyss?)
Gellert reaches out with his magic-crimson today (brighter than blood and darker than fire)-and lets it mingle with the wind, directing it to his every whim. It picks up petals and fallen leaves, the first for when autumn comes to call (when the world starts to rest) around him, swirling them in the air in a choreographed dance. It is almost autumn (the time of dying dying dying)-Gellert's favorite time of year-and having the world dance like marionettes putting on a play is…
It's beautiful, Gellert thinks, shivering when power sparked beneath his hands, every movement, every twist, sending a thrill down his spine.
(Sweet Mythos, help me write this down, this tale for the ages)
Albus isn't looking at the book anymore, no more pretense of fascination, of distraction. He's watching the wind, the leaves, the flowers, the dance, but most importantly he's watching Gellert with undisguised appreciation. (reverence-like a pilgrim before their god, a knight before their king, a lover before their-but doesn't Albus realize it? The truth just before his eyes. Gellert looks and he respects him, wants him, his friend, his confidant, his-)
There is a spark in his eyes, in Albus' gaze when they settle on him. Those eyes-Gellert watches from the corner of his own (a spark, Chaos says, a fire and flame)-they hold something resembling love there, something brilliant, something beautiful, something beloved, something precious.
Albus loves Gellert and Gellert-
Well.
One day they'll conquer the world, and they'll be able to do anything they wish. They'll bring about a new age (they're revolutionaries, didn't you know?) where Wizards needn't hide who they are, where Muggles don't pollute the soil, the land, with their filth-their mistakes (for muggles are a danger to themselves and those around them, those simple people who need a guiding hand), where Albus and Gellert are free in a way they can never be as things are the way they are.
"Albus?" The name rolls off Gellert's tongue, tasting like honeyed chocolate and sweet promises. So great they could be, so wonderful, so-
(They were young yet-just children, still growing, in the eyes of the people-just infants, still crying, in the eyes of the World)
He let the wind die down, feeling more tired than before, the wandless magic having sapped his strength, however little it may have taken. A hand is intertwined with his own, long fingers wrapping their way around each other. Albus stares at him and smiles. "Nothing, Gellert. Just thinking"
(Gellert had never thought he would find an equal, someone who could match him-outpace him-and he has never been happier that he had been expelled)
Gellert squeezes Albus's hand and turns back to the sky, watching clouds laze across the blue. For the Greater Good, he thought, For the Greater Good, they would see that the world be a better place.
Together.
(In Numenguard, he lay-just him and no other. There he stays still his last breath is drawn, before he greets Death whom he has chased for so long. There he lay and there he laughed and laughed and laughed and there he shall remain)
("For the Greater Good, indeed," Chaos mused-regretful, wistful, and pained. "For the Greater Good.")
In her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
~William Wordsworth
An: Takes place during the summer Gellert met Albus. The poem at the beginning and end of the chapter is from "Lines Written in Early Spring" by William Wordsworth.
Sorry for the slow updates. I have plenty of ideas for chapters (one featuring a certain pair of twins comes to mind), but nothing seems to want to be finished. Also, note that all beings in the Other that are mentioned (Death, Grief, Chaos, Mythos, the Monarch, etc.) were HP characters once. Have fun figuring out who's who.