(A/N: HELL YES I CAN UPLOAD STUFF AGAIN! *Ahem* I've been having what could be called technical difficulties. I don't know what all went on or why, but for a long time I wasn't able to update or edit my story - basically unable to touch it at all. But! that has clearly changed, so now you have this chapter, which has sat neglected on my desktop for quite some time now. Hope you like it ^_^)
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Albus and Gellert returned to find Godrick's Hollow quiet and still, as though nothing wonderful or terrible had ever happened, and never would. At night with no lamps, no lit windows like prying eyes, they walked hand in hand without fear. The night was theirs, while others slept so happily oblivious.

There wasn't any question which house – Bathilda's or Albus's – in which Gellert would be spending the night, it was clear in both their minds they had spent enough time apart.

Nonetheless, when Albus pushed open the door, slowly to suppress the squeak of hinges, Gellert hesitated on the threshold. It seemed ages since he had been there, since he was welcome there. The intermittent days weighed on him like years of strife. But the moment passed, he entered and shut the door behind him.

The house was too old to be entirely silent at their passing as they climbed the stairs and crept down the hall to Albus's bedroom, but the house may as well have been empty save for them, for all the notice anyone took.

The silence between them was heavy, even as they undressed to their undergarments and got into bed together. Physical proximity may have been restored, but the nature of their conflict, even once resolved, was not the kind of thing to be forgotten so quickly. It was death, after all, which lay between them. It couldn't be amended with repentance alone.

"Are you alright?" Albus asked, braving the rift. "You seem quiet."

"I thought stealth was necessary, lest siblings wake up and ask questions neither of us want to answer at the moment."

"You know what I mean."

"…I'm tired, is all." He shrugged. "But nothing to you, I imagine, if you haven't slept since I left…"

"Not for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time."

Gellert winced inwardly as another pang of guilt overtook him, but he suppressed it. What good would it do either of them? "Come here." He said simply, opening his arms like a merciful angel, and Albus went into them like a child.

It was indeed merciful; for each time Albus was jarred awake by nightmares, his love was there to run a cool hand across Albus's sweat-damp brow, and with his touch banish the demons that waited in the darkness of unconsciousness.

Less and less frequently did he wake, panicked, believing that a dead man was rotting underneath his bed, or a noose was tightening around his neck, or that he was being buried alive and no one could hear his screaming. Gellert was like a sedating drug heavy in his bloodstream, gentle and yet overwhelming.

Gellert left one candle lit, and remained mostly wakeful by choice. He knew his own nightmares that were waiting, and it was his job to be strong that night. Privately, he was immune to the sense of serenity Albus seemed to gain from his presence. Guilt and fear reigned openly in his mind, but he refused to let it show.

What had he done? Even more, what was he going to do?

These and other questions consumed him, and the dark hours passed over him like water over a stone, almost unnoticed. After a dark, silent and troubled eternity, dawn began to make its presence known in the sky.

The squawk of a floorboard was heard in the hall. Footsteps light as spring snow crept up the hall, the hinges of Albus's bedroom door squeaked quietly as it was opened just a crack, and the glimmer of a bright blue eye shone through. Albus had been much too fatigued and troubled to activate the locking spell on his door, and now his sister was taking guilty advantage.

Ariana snapped the door shut immediately as soon as she saw that Gellert was not only awake, but looking directly at her. He smiled in spite of himself as her footsteps made a hasty retreat back down the hall. He glanced at Albus, fast asleep as he had been for hours now, and Gellert doubted his presence made much difference at this point. He rose and went in pursuit of the younger Dumbledore sibling.

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"I wasn't trying to spy." She insisted at once when he pushed her own bedroom door open. "He's just been so…I want to check on him is all."

"I figured as much. No need to explain yourself." He smiled, but she didn't miss the dark circles under his eyes.

"Come on." She patted the mattress next to her. Only when he was seated beside her did she ask, "What happened?"

Gellert's eyes fell away from hers, seeking refuge in the approximate area of her knee.

"…You know how I told you that I was at war with the world?"

"Yes." She noted that his posture was bowed, as though carrying a weight too heavy for his years.

"Well, he doesn't want me to be anymore."

She nodded once, slowly. "And is that what you want?"

"What I want…" He smiled bleakly. "What I want is to be here with him and you, and never have to give a thought to anything else." A pause, then, quietly, "But I'm not sure I can do that."

"Ah, yes. What we want isn't always what we're capable of."

"You understand." The words caught in his throat. Why did the tears threaten now, when he'd been dry-eyed in the face of this disaster for so long? "I want to be what he wants…" He bit his lip.

"I know." She smiled ruefully. "Believe me, I know."

"I don't want to just lead him on. Pretend to be what he wants me to, when I know the façade is bound to crumble."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"No. How could I?"

"Then you're not lying. You're trying. And if you're not sure you'll succeed then, well, that comes with the territory."

He raised his eyes to hers again, finally. "How can you know all this, young as you are?"

"I'm not that much younger than you are."

"True. We're both just kids, I forget that sometimes. I've never felt young, not for as long as I can remember." He sighed. "If you know so much, then tell me this: who will fight, if I don't? If I do not wage war for my cause, who can be expected to do it in my place?"

"Does anyone need to wage war? Abe says my father is justified in what he did to those muggles. The law might even have said so, if it could have considered all the facts. But I don't care if they're alive or dead. I wouldn't care if the boys who hurt me were princes in a palace, if it meant that I could have my father back. Even the most horrible person's death isn't worth your life, Gel. Not to me."

That did it; broke the dam and made his tears flow in earnest. They were silent yet no less bitter for it. She reached out to him, took him in her arms as he had the night they met.

She had reached him in a way that her brother could not, not because Gellert loved Albus any less, but because Ariana was ultimately more similar to him – similar enough to identify, and yet so profoundly different in one way: while he had let hatred define him, she had risen above it. She had succeeded in loving more than hating: the father that she had lost, above the ones who had caused her to loose him.

He could only wonder how anyone could have so much forgiveness in them.

And what was all his power, in light of that? His hatred, his flag of war and defiance of fate, was falling. And was he strong enough to face the world without it? Was he strong enough to do what she had, to disarm himself of all his malice, with only the hope that he could learn to forgive as well as she did?

All his power, and he was nothing compared to her.

After the anger, there was only acceptance. That was the hardest part of all. Even if he made peace with his own past, how could he possibly come to terms with what had happened to her? It went entirely against his nature. And yet, that was the only thing he could do. There was nothing he could do for her. No vengeance that her father had left undone, or if there was it was beyond him to do. There was nothing to be done except…be there. Stay with her.

How could the thing he wanted most in the world seem so difficult?

Beneath it all was wonder, that anyone could see so much value in him.

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(A/N: I've entertained some doubts with this whole story arc: Mr. Weaver and the death and whatnot - after all, it's a large departure from cannon, even as minimal as that cannon is in this case. I went ahead with it for two reasons: one, because I don't think a relationship can truthfully be called 'love' until both parties have undergone at least one major fight in which their faith in one another is seriously shaken, and yet they manage to persevere in the end. Second, I felt I should have Albus see point-blank the kind of things Gellert is capable of, and have him accept Gellert regardless. You know, as if he needed yet another thing to haunt him where Gellert is concerned -_-'

Random: I have a fair amount of songs for this pairing, but the main one is Snuff by Slipknot, to the point where I cannot listen to that song unless I'm prepared to go on a Grindledore tangent like a crack-addict straight out of court-ordered rehab. *weird joke is weird*

I'll need to finish this in a few chapters. Damn it.)