Chapter 12

The funeral was two days later. Albus did not even remember making the arrangements for it, but he must have done because Aberforth certainly wasn't in any state to, yet they found themselves once again at the cemetery, Mr Abbott reading solemnly of loss of a witch he'd never met.

Elphias had managed to make it up again, though Albus barely remembered writing him. He held Albus's hand during the service, while Albus's eyes searched the empty chairs for the wizard he wanted at his side. But Gellert was nowhere to be seen. That was the one owl Albus really recalled sending, though he couldn't be sure what he'd written, or if it had even been sensical. His letter had gone unanswered though, and now Gellert was not even at the funeral.

After the small coffin had been lowered into the earth beside Kendra's and the mourners rose from their seats, Albus disengaged himself wordlessly from Elphias and walked over to Bathilda, who was consoling Aberforth.

"What a thing to happen," she was saying, shaking her head, her face stained with tears. "Such a lovely girl, so young. And you poor things, right after your mother."

"Bathilda," Albus said, interrupting her. "Where is Gellert?"

She looked taken aback at the question. "Why, didn't he tell you? He left."

"Left?" Albus repeated, feeling his heart suddenly speed up in his chest. "What do you mean? Where did he go?"

"Home, of course," Bathilda said, looking confused. "He was so upset about Ariana. I thought he might want to stay for today, but he said he just couldn't bear the thought. I've never seen him so shaken up. But what a thing for a sixteen-year-old boy to witness, for all of you…"

Albus had stopped listening to her. He couldn't believe it, right after Ariana—now they wouldn't even have a chance to fight for her, to give meaning to her death. First his mother, then his sweet, innocent sister, and now the boy, the boy like no other, the only person in the world who understood Albus, the beautiful talented young man who could have been Albus's partner for life as they made the world a better place. But he'd abandoned that dream, and he'd abandoned Albus.

"Gone," Albus said, staring at the muddy grass at his feet without really seeing it. "I can't believe it. I can't believe he's gone."

"YOU CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S GONE?" The words exploded from Aberforth's mouth with a rage Albus had never seen in him before. "We're at our sister's funeral and you're upset about him? Did you even care about her at all?"

"Aberforth—" Albus started to say, but Aberforth went on as though he could not hear him.

"Well I did!" he screamed. "You—you and him—you pretended to care but you never did! You're pathetic and you're a liar and you—YOU KILLED HER, ALBUS!"

Before anyone could move or stop him, Aberforth swung forward and punched Albus in the face. Albus felt his nose break and begin to gush blood, and he felt dozens of eyes on the pair of them as Aberforth stepped back, panting.

"You're finally free, Albus, just like you've always wanted. I hope you're happy!" And he bolted from the scene as murmurs began to creep up from the onlookers. Albus watched him go, feeling the blood dripping down his chin, no energy left in him even to repair it.

"Where did I pull you from?" Albus managed to ask later that night. Elphias had been kind enough not to bring up his trip since he'd returned, but with no desire to talk to him about Ariana, or Gellert—or anything, really—it would be easier for Albus to just let him launch into a story while his own mind drifted. Maybe he'd fall asleep while he was talking—Elf wouldn't get mad, not after today—but then again, maybe he'd lay awake long after Elphias had drifted off.

It was strange. They'd shared a bed often enough in the past few years—never at Hogwarts, where their dorm was shared by several other boys, but visiting one another over holidays, it had become the standard. It had never bothered Albus, had even comforted him, yet now it felt like there was a stranger in his bed. It was Albus who had insisted on it—Elphias had offered to sleep in the sitting room, guessing he might want to be alone, but Albus had refused to let him. Yet now here they were, and Albus's absolute knowledge that it was the wrong person next to him made the few inches between them feel like miles. He yearned in equal measure to expel Elphias from to the room...and to cling to him, to beg him for the blissful distraction that Elphias would surely grant him—that Elphias wanted to grant him. He thought of it, lying there while Elphias spoke in detail about his most recent adventure. What relief it would bring, to wipe his mind completely blank while his instincts and body took full control.

The temptation was too much to resist. He didn't care how wrong it was. Any way to stop this mad torture, the loss of Ariana, the flight of Gellert—whatever it took, Albus would do it.

"Elf?" he said, and Elphias stopped talking and turned to him.

"Hmm?"

Elphias's eyes were pale in the dim light. Albus thought of Gellert's, the brilliant shade of blue that no one else's could match. He shivered slightly, then closed his own eyes before leaning forward.

Usually they started slow, gentle, a minute or two before Albus opened his mouth. Not this time, though. This time, Albus was fierce from the start. He pressed his lips against Elphias's with an intensity he'd never managed before, and though Elphias didn't quite match his pace, he acquiesced. Encouraged, Albus scooted closer to him on the bed. His heart was racing as it had rarely done before. His nose, still broken, was tender, and hurt when he pressed his face to Elphias's, but that didn't matter. In fact, it was good. Every physical reaction in his body, everything that reminded him he was muscle and nerve endings—not thoughts and feelings—was a good thing. Kissing was not enough, touching of faces was not enough. His hands needed something to hold, flesh to squeeze, and here so conveniently was Elphias awaiting his arms.

Rather than a nightshirt, Elphias was wearing a pyjama set in some lavish, exotic material that he had undoubtedly picked up on his travels. It felt smooth and light beneath Albus's fingers, but he had no patience for it at the moment. Warm skin was what he craved, and he quickly found the buttons and scrambled to undo them.

Elphias's hands were at Albus's waist, slowly pulling up the fabric of his nightshirt. Albus could feel the hem of it crawling up to his knees, and his heart beat wildly at the thought of at last allowing Elphias to do what he'd never permitted him before. He managed to finish unbuttoning Elphias's pyjama shirt and ran his hands across the skin underneath.

He thought of how different it would be if he were in bed with Gellert. Involuntarily, he pressed harder against Elphias's mouth and clutched at the skin beneath his hands. Gellert wouldn't just encourage Albus, wouldn't slowly and gently pull up his clothing—he would take control. Whether he'd done it before or not, Albus didn't know—had been afraid to ask—but somehow he did know instinctively that even though he was a year and a half younger than Albus, Gellert would be the one leading. He'd throw Albus down on the bed and his strong hands would force clothing out of the way. Fabric would get ripped in the process, but neither of them would care. Albus would lie there and tremble as he stared hungrily at the face smiling down at him, the brilliant eyes and the playful lips that he longed to join his.

"Albus, stop," Gellert said.

No, not Gellert. The voice was wrong. Elphias. Elphias had pulled back from the kiss, Elphias was now looking at Albus seriously, sitting up in bed, reaching for his wand and igniting it so they could see each other better.

"What is it?" Albus said, looking at Elphias in confusion. It had been going so well, doing exactly what Albus had needed it to. The bottom of Albus's nightshirt was almost up to his waist, and he would have let Elphias touch him—would have let Elphias do whatever he wanted to him and done whatever he asked in return. They still could. The momentum had been lost, but they could get it right back, Albus was sure of it. "Why did you stop?"

"Albus, this is wrong," Elphias said.

Albus sat up as well and stared at him. "What do you mean, wrong? Elf, this is what you've wanted for ages."

"No," Elphias said, shaking his head. "It isn't, Albus. What I've wanted was you, but tonight...something's off, Albus. You're not yourself."

Albus shook his head too. "I don't understand," he said. "We're here, we're willing, I...I'm more than willing. God, Elf, please. I'm begging you, please."

"This is exactly what I mean," Elphias said, pushing the blanket aside and getting up from the bed. "It's wrong. You never beg me, Albus. You...I don't know what it is you want, but it's not anything I can give you."

Albus stared at him, transfixed. How did he know?

Sighing, Elphias climbed back onto the bed, on top of the covers this time, and crawled over to Albus to kiss him once more. "I'm sorry, Albus," he said, stroking his hair gently. "I can't imagine what you're going through. But this isn't a solution. I want to be with you, truly, but I want you to want me, and I just...I can feel it, I can tell that tonight, right now, you don't."

Albus put his arms around Elphias, who returned the hug warmly and did not let go until Albus did.

"Will you stay with me?" Albus whispered.

"Yes," Elphias whispered back, hand once again in Albus's hair.

They settled back down together, Elphias extinguishing his wand and rebuttoning his pyjamas while Albus rested his head against his chest. He wondered if he should tell Elphias about Gellert, but inwardly shook his head. Maybe he'd be heartbroken or maybe he'd be understanding, but it didn't feel right. Elphias still had this innocence about him that Albus could not bring himself to crush. So instead he lay there, Elphias's heart slowly beating against his cheek, letting the guilt overcome him.

Elphias was leaving the next morning after breakfast. He cooked for Albus and Aberforth and made no comments about the previous night. He did not show the slightest bit of resentment toward Albus for attempting to use him to relieve his grief, but treated him warmly. Albus reflected as he stirred his eggs around his plate that he would never in a million years deserve someone as devoted as Elf.

He hugged Albus goodbye before he left. "Please write me," he insisted, squeezing Albus's hand. "I need to know that you're doing all right."

Albus nodded, and Elphias gave a quick kiss to his cheek before nodding at Aberforth and stepping toward the door with a last "Goodbye."

Aberforth had not spoken all morning. Indeed, he had not spoken since the funeral yesterday. This was the first time he'd been in a room with Albus since he'd hit him. Now, they silently appraised each other.

"You didn't mend it," Aberforth commented.

"I know," Albus said. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I'm not sorry," Aberforth said defiantly.

"I know you're not."

Aberforth nodded toward the door that Elphias had just walked out of. "Why didn't you go with him?"

Albus stared blankly at his brother. "What?"

"You were going to at the beginning of the summer. Now you can. I thought you wanted to get away from this place. That was all you wanted. Why are you still here?"

Leaving with Elphias had not occurred to Albus for even a fraction of a second. As it now seemed the most logical thing to have done, Albus had to consider for a moment why this was. "I suppose it's just…" he said. "Well...if Gellert comes back—"

"Comes back?" Aberforth repeated in disbelief. "Comes back? Albus, how...twelve NEWTs, as many published essays and awards, and you still...you're so...Albus, he isn't coming back."

"He panicked," Albus said. "But we were in the middle...I'll write him again tonight, and maybe after he calms down a little—"

"HE PLAYED YOU!" Aberforth bellowed. "How do you not get that? How, in that big giant brain of yours—he was using you, Albus! He never loved you for a second! He knew you were all brilliant at magic and he wanted that on his side!"

"You don't mean that!" Albus said, backing away from his brother and shaking his head. "You still blame him for—you don't know—"

"Don't you tell me that I don't know!" Aberforth shouted. "I'm not telling you this to be cruel, Albus, I'm telling you because it's the truth, and I know you know it! You know it, Albus, you know it! You know that he took one look at you and saw you drooling over him and thought, 'here's someone I can play for a fool,' and that's exactly what he did, and you were so blinded by your own love that you couldn't see a damn thing. So you snogged a few times—you think that meant a single thing to him? You think he did it because he wanted to, because he liked it?"

"Stop!" Albus pleaded. "Aberforth, don't—"

"Our sister is dead!" Aberforth screamed. "She's dead because of the two of you, and you still think that you're going to ride off into the sunset together and everything's going to be all right when nothing is ever going to be all right again!"

At these words, a fleeting image came to Albus of he and Gellert coming upon the Resurrection Stone, using it to bring Ariana back. But the fantasy came crashing down around him as quickly as it had come—never had the thought of the Deathly Hallows seemed so unreachable. For the first time since hearing about Gellert's belief in them, Albus felt certain that they could not be real. Just as Gellert's feelings for Albus had never been real.

Albus turned away from his brother as his body began to shake. He took for the stairs before he even knew what he was doing.

As Albus entered his bedroom, his old school trunk crashed through the closet door to land at the foot of his bed without his even being aware of enchanting it. He didn't even need to move his wand, but his clothes and his books began to fly into it, pushing past each other to all make it first in. Spare parchment and quills zoomed out of the drawer of his nightstand to land on top of the jumble.

The trunk closed of its own accord less than a minute after it had opened, and Albus threw himself onto it, clutching his own elbows to try and calm the uncontrollable shaking in his body. He wasn't crying, but his breathing came in rasps that he soon came to realize he could not control. Why couldn't he stop it? It was going too fast—why couldn't he slow the pace? Albus had never hyperventilated before, and this lack of command over his own lungs terrified him, which only made the situation worse. He was going to die here in this room, Aberforth was going to have a third body to bury. Were there spells that helped you breathe? Potions?

Calming Draft! Albus thought desperately, but before he could move to fetch some, he remembered the dreadful time he'd forgotten to make it for Ariana. He thought of the twelve full bottles downstairs that she would never have the chance to drink.

And now the crying came. Heaving sobs that he felt sure would carry downstairs, though there would be no sympathy from his brother, who would naturally assume the tears were for Gellert, not their sister.

At last his breathing returned to normal, and Albus managed to climb back to his feet. He picked up one end of his trunk and dragged it toward the corridor, managing to get a glance of himself in the mirror as he passed. His face was redder than usual, but the new crooked shape of his nose stood out even more glaringly. That's your tribute to your dead sister? He thought to himself. To leave your nose broken?

The tiny moment of self-loathing caused tears to fall again, but he ignored them, shook his head at the hateful voice, and left his bedroom.

Aberforth was still at the kitchen table. He was looking at the photo album again, as he'd done with Ariana after Kendra's death, and tears were sliding down his cheeks as well when he looked up at Albus. Albus watched him take in the trunk, but he did not ask.

"Goodbye, Aberforth," Albus said, surprised by the calm in his voice.

"Goodbye, Albus," Aberforth answered, matching his brother's tone of finality.

If either of them had been told in that moment that it would be over 50 years before they spoke again, their only surprise would be at the fact that they managed to reconcile at all. As Albus turned his back to head for the door, Aberforth's eyes slid to a photograph of a small girl who laughed delightedly as a brown and white goat ate feed from her hand.

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