For Turanga4 whose amazing editing skill and sharp observations made this piece come to life.

For Celeste Magnolia who encouraged my love for this pairing and edited the very juicy bits of this story.

Thank you so much for your support, honesty and editing expertise.

All other mistakes are my own.

With the yawn of the indolent, afternoon sun, so yawned Albus. Arms stretched into the air, the wind seeped into the folds of his wet shirt. He made his way about his yard, with a basket of laundry floating before him. One by one, he charmed nightshirts and stockings onto the clothesline: the ones Ariana's magic had not yet destroyed.

"Dumbledore!" A familiar, yet unwelcome face smiled at him from the gateway. Albus sighed, then hung a pleasant smile on his face as he went to greet his neighbour.

"Towler-"

"Fine day!" Arnold Towler rested both elbows on the low, crooked gate.

"Indeed. Beautiful weather."

"Devilishly hot though." Towler dabbed an ivory handkerchief along his temples and neck. "It's times like this where a young man's thoughts become clouded."

Albus smiled. "Let's hope this is the only matter that plagues you."

"Young dog." Towler laughed, pleased with the flattery. He folded the small piece of fabric into quarters and stuck it back into his suit pocket. "Speaking of matters, how is your sister this afternoon?"

Albus' mouth curled into a tight smile. His sister, Ariana, was as she had been for a long time: deteriorating in her health by the day, not that Towler cared for the bad news. Albus masked his worry for her future with the pretence that all was well.

"Ariana's condition is as usual- stable."

"That's swell, that's swell." Mr Towler nodded, his expression turning more pensive. "The unfortunate girl. If only someone could help her. Of course, with treatments at St Mungo's being so expensive-"

For a moment, it appeared that Mr Towler was going to offer up his valuable medical services to assist Ariana. Mr Towler used to be a Healer, a very good one, but also had the unfortunate trait of being born half Goblin, which made him unusually stingy with money. If there was one thing Albus was always short on, it was galleons. That Mr Towler would ever offer medical advice without a charge would be an act that only ever occurred in Albus' imagination.

Albus walked over, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "I will be sure to let Ariana know you have inquired about her health. It is very generous of you to offer your concern."

That was enough to cause the frown to lift from the little man's face. They exchanged a few light-hearted plaints about the rising price of tailoring one's trousers and the weather. Indeed, the summer of 1899 was particularly scorching. Then Mr Towler went home, as he usually did after exhausting his list of favourite topics.

Godric's Hollow was a small town, and everyone knew everyone from birth. Yet being away for so long, and suddenly returning back (not on his own accord) made Albus remember how sick he was of exchanging all those pleasantries filled with cordiality and false airs.

Mr Towler didn't care about Ariana. He didn't care about Albus either. And yet, they partook in this strange little ritual day after day.

Albus rounded the small back gate of the house, and in the sanctuary of the willow tree, peeled his shirt over his head. The musk of his own sweat, muddled with a hard day's work caring for his sister, struck his nose.

The Dumbledore house grew more shattered by the day as Ariana's episodes of magical hysteria became more frequent. Vases passed down from generations now lay broken in shards on the wooden floor. Furniture was disassembled, bedclothes lay jumbled and torn and every inch of their mother's carpet - now black with ashes and grime.

Now Ariana was asleep in her bed and Albus was in the yard. The hot July sun continued to mercilessly whip his back with heat as he steadied himself against the winch of the well.

Salty sweat dripped on the tip of his upper lip. He licked it off, spitting it into the dry dusty ground below and began to wind the creaking chain around the drum. Everything was more disagreeable these days.

Almost everything.

Gell's blue eyes flashed in Albus' mind, sending an invigorating shock through him. He pumped the winch down, his spine crinkling under the weight of the full bucket.

Lugging out the bucket onto the stone border of the well, Albus smoothed one strand of his thin, brown hair away from his brow. In the reflection of the water was a young man with dark circles under his eyes and an ever-growing stubble that sprang up no matter how thoroughly or frequently he shaved.

He cupped the water and washed it over his face and neck, hand sinking into the dips of his underarms. He could have cleaned himself off with magic, but this simple ritual was soothing.

He really should be doing more for his family, not leaving them to duel with Gell.

What else could Albus do to help cure his sister of the wild magic that burst out of her, contorting inside her body like a rabid beast? What could he do to give his brother Aber a proper childhood; one where he didn't have to clean tables at the local pub for money?

Damn it all. Squeezing into a tight box of endless responsibilities day in and day out was taking a toll on Albus. His head exploded with a myriad of tasks he still needed to complete before tomorrow morning.

He would do them after he duelled with Gell.

Albus did feel guilt for stepping away from his sister's side, and for leaving his younger brother to tend to her, yet realized that he needed a distraction. Those four nights a week, Albus didn't think about Ariana, Aberforth, or the housework he drowned in each day. All he thought about was Gell and their magic pounding against each other. For a moment, the loud thunder of the world around him would still and he'd float in a cool and blissful state of serenity. Safe from the troubles that haunted him daily, free from obligation.

Looking into Gell's deep blue eyes, Albus would find himself willingly surrendering to the idea of being consumed by him. He'd want to be enveloped by Gell's magic and held tightly; to feel Gell's arms, holding him against his chest and to feel his warm breath brushing over his forehead.

He shouldn't have such feelings for another man, shouldn't want to make love to him, even in his fantasies. Yet until he met Gell, Albus had not experienced this pull for any other being. It was as though he'd wandered the barren earth, lost and alone until he met him. Albus would give him his heart freely if only Gell would accept it. Although in truth, Albus' heart was already Gell's.

Albus' life would be bearable if he knew he had Gell by his side forever. Until then, he'd have to make do with these infrequent meetings with the wizard between caring for an ailing sister and younger brother.

A firm hand on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts, and the tight knot of worry in Albus' stomach dropped to his toes.

"Hard day?" asked his brother Aberforth, clothes smelling of snuff and pub grease.

Albus wished he could admit he was bloody tired, yet managed a careless laugh. Someone in this family had to do it.

"Nothing that I can't handle." Albus summoned a clean shirt into his hands and patted his wand, flush against his forearm. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Now that Aberforth had returned home to care for their sister, Albus was free to spend the afternoon as he wished and with whom he wished. Aberforth didn't have to ask where Albus was heading off to, feet flying over the molten-hot stone path, like a phoenix bird preparing to lift off and fly into the setting sun.

When Albus was fast asleep at night, he would have a repeated nightmare: one in which he walked to their duelling spot on the abandoned field and Gell would not come. Sometimes he thought this nightmare would come true. Yet every time, Gell appeared.

Albus didn't know why Gell stayed in this small wizarding village where he had no friends or connections, only that Albus was happy he did.

Gell's figure came into view. The wizard's flaxen hair, now falling in neat waves over his temples, barely hid an expression of deep concentration. Gell already started drawing the magic pentacle on the cleared field in precise, unwavering lines - straighter than a disciplinary rod.

Gell's voice finished off each sharp pike of the pentacle. "One for… vigour…..two for partnership….three for protection…"

"Four for…. fairness," he said in a low voice, connecting the point of the giant star to the body. "Five…"

His eyes met Albus'. "Five for binding."

And Albus' usually tight-laced body suddenly pulled apart at the seams.

Gell tossed the chalk aside, and then put both arms on his hips. His ivory shirt was barely crinkled against his chest. He stood, gazing upon the spell of his own creation like some alabaster statue of a Roman caesar over his empire.

"Albus," he said plainly, cocking his head. "In."

Albus didn't need the invitation. He stepped into the pentacle and took Gell's hands. His grasp was firm, each finger interlocking Albus', holding them tightly in a possessive grasp.

Albus squeezed Gell's hands a few times, hoping to lighten the tension for what should be a friendly duel only to be met with Gell's nails pinching his knuckles until they nearly cut through the tough skin.

"Focus," Gell said.

Albus bit his lip and drew out a slow and controlled breath. "You won't have many duel partners left if you overcome them before the match-"

"Shh-" Gell's fingers trailed up Albus' wrists, sending every hair on his arm up. "I'd wager you could handle a bit of pain."

They connected as they chanted. They let their magic ground itself and flow into the outline drawn in the soil.

The tiny fibres of magic trickled through Albus' veins as molten copper poured from a forge: searing and smooth. Suddenly meeting with Gell's magic, the fibres stilled, shifting around his flow, splitting into stinging rills before finally succumbing and joining him. Soon they would be one, if only for a moment.

Albus let out a satisfied moan as his magic melded with Gell's and coursed wildly around every inch of his body.

"Vocalisations," Gell chided.

"I have no control over them."

"Attempt to," he said. "Every emotional reaction on your end brings your opponent one step closer to defeating you."

Albus knew, yet, every time they fought, it seemed like Gell would find one new stone to overturn inside of Albus, one more Achilles' heel to prick.

Gell usually laced his remarks with hidden intent. He did think he was the better duelist of the two, but he would never outright say it. He usually was. Durmstrang Academy had a better combat program than Hogwarts: teaching students to channel their magic without any room for improvisation, honing each wand movement. Yet, despite his libertine spell interpretations, Albus gave him a rough run for his galleons.

Albus liked to think it meant something that Gell chose him as his worthy rival.

Gell lifted his arms and summoned the pentacle into the air, creating a large shield around them – a shield that would keep all magic in and all onlookers out.

The light streaks glowed and wove together in the air around them, finally settling in a dome about their heads.

"Release my hands," Gell said.

Albus did as he was told.

Gell coolly tossed his robes aside with the wave of his wand, rolled up his sleeves and crouched down to buckle his boots. He did it deliberately and slowly like he was in no rush to begin the duel.

Albus knew where he stood with everyone in Godric's Hollow except Gell. Gell remained a mystery.

That was all Gell. Hard on the outside. Hard on the inside. Just like Durmstrang Academy had taught him. No emotions in the duel where that could be sensed and manipulated by your opponent.

Yet, Albus liked to imagine that deep within his core, there was some glimmer or softness that he had not yet uncovered. He anticipated the day that he would finally break through those iron-clad walls and see what really moved his stoic opponent. At the same time, he hoped Gell's walls would never fall; that like the city of Pompeii, glorious and unreplicable that was this man, would never fully reveal its hidden secrets to him. That Gell would be the only opponent for him.

Gell gave no hint he was going to be revealing himself anytime soon.

As for Albus, he was tired of the unknown.

They walked to the centre of the pentacle, standing eye to eye. Gell withdrew his wand, magically shrunk and bound to his forearm, and sharpened the tip between his thumb and finger, rubbing off an invisible layer of dust.

"Ready?"

Albus lifted his wand sharply to his nose. "Whenever you are."

They turned back to back and took ten steps in opposite directions. Albus barely turned his head before his body collapsed against the wall of the pentacle's force field.

Albus ducked the next hex, rolling to the left and hitting Gell.

They began to send spells in both directions: Albus' were quick, but painless while Gell's were sudden and severe.

Once, Albus hit Gell's forearm, sending a stripe of blood gushing over the ivory fabric of his shirt. Then, Albus cast a Healing Charm to help him recuperate, only to receive no such consideration in return. Gell instantly hit Albus' leg, sending him into a short stun.

Very well, Albus could be stealthy too.

Gell took deliberate steps around the pentacle force field; every inch of Albus' body was aware of his orbiting figure, ready to strike. Like a jungle cat, his movements were slick and calculated.

Albus bit back an annoyed mumble, giving Gell a taste of his own medicine by sending a jet of wand arrows that Gell barely dodged. One sliced off a strand of light hair, sending it burning like short-fuse mid-air.

They fought for a good half-hour before Albus had to cast a succession of quick Protego spells and draw in a couple of lasting breaths. His endurance was good, but any fight that lasted over ten minutes was taxing and Albus' knees were beginning to bend. It was always Albus who called these pauses because Gell seemed ready to fight until he could no longer stand.

Gell circled around him from the back, looking not the least bit worn down beyond his slight limp.

Suddenly, Albus smelled something he never smelled before. Sweat. Gell's sweat. He was nervous. Could it be that after all his talk of showing no signs of defeat, Gell thought he was going to lose?

It was then that Albus decided that he could no longer deal with the impenetrable surface of his opponent. This was his chance to understand Gell deeper.

Licking his lips in anticipation, Albus did what he swore he would never do to Gell: invade his thoughts.

When the resting period was over, both wizards faced each other with a new glimmer in their eyes. Gell's was quiet and stern, and Albus' was filled with a sudden wicked tint.

They shot one hex after another, their spells sucked into the ground with low hums. The pentacle force field sparked white as flashes of magic crashed into the barrier.

Albus used enough magic to defend his body, deflecting the spells away from him with a Protego . Gell shot at him in a steady stream, firing one spell stronger than the next in a, 'is this the best you can do' manner. Albus was not provoked. He stood his ground, waiting for the moment Gell's spells would stop and he would take a moment to recuperate.

When that moment came, Albus grounded himself firmly into the dirt and cast a Stupefy. Gell, likely feeling the beginning notes of a clouded mind, instantly defended himself with a defensive charge.

Albus held his spell strong, letting the offensive stream of light pulse into Gell's defensive one. Then, Albus whispered, " Legillimens " and his apparition crossed the barrier of Gell's mind.

Inside, it was like walking into the burning centre of a volcano. A room with no windows or doors and every article scattered around in a disarray of feelings, thoughts, and emotions, burning at the seams.

Could it be? No. Not Gell's mind. And yet, here it was.

Albus's apparition tried to search for the one strand in this mess that would help him defeat Gell.

Knots and tangles, hot and cold, anger and joy, trust and betrayal were strewn about the mind room in a chaotic mess. Albus had seen something like this once, and he had been inside dozens of minds.

Albus didn't expect it; he didn't think that Gell's mind would be like this. He was always so organised, so exact, precise to a fault. Never veering off honed technique. Yet the evidence was clear before his very eyes. Gell's mind was a mess.

Gell let down his walls for one second, but it was enough. One second was enough to drown in the deep fabric of his thoughts; some spots were darker than others, others were rotting, and their stench filled the air. But in that heap, one glimmer did stand out: an oil lamp.

One second was enough to gasp a lungful of air filled with desire and madness. One second was enough to see the spark of a flame inside of Gell that Albus barely dared to imagine. A flame of desire so shameful that he never thought anyone would want to see it.

There in the darkness of Gell's mind was a small burning candle in the lamp and inside that candle was Albus's own essence. Albus reached out his hands, basking in the warmth of the tiny flame, running his fingers over the blistering petal, knowing full well what it meant:

Gell wanted him.

One second inside Gell's mind made it perfectly clear that underneath his stoic stance, his perfect complexion, his clear head, his mind was at war with his own heart. The feelings he felt for Albus were unusual, to say the least. They were shameful, ridden with want and hate for themselves. It was a feeling Albus knew too well. It was a feeling that he could never name until today.

Albus wanted Gell. And Gell wanted him back.

At that moment the lust-fueled desire that Albus kept hidden deep within himself had no choice but to rush out and embrace Gell's. Seeking comfort, their two sparks embraced each other and set the entire mind room ablaze.

When it burned, Gell's magic curled up. He suddenly stiffened, shoved him out of his mind, and targetted Albus with an Occlumency spell.

Albus retreated from Gell's mind, landing back first into the pentacle sheild. The white light lit up the space before dissipating into the surrounding aura.

Gell stumbled to his knees, as though they broke beneath him. "No- no one was supposed to see that."

It was too late for that. Albus had seen everything.

"Gell… I-"

"Don't." Covered in sweat, Gell's body shook. His wand, still pointed at Albus, was frozen firmly in his bloodied fist.

The thoughts ran circles in Albus' head.

Gell wanted him. Gell burned for him. Gell, who never admitted his true feelings to anyone, was desperately hiding a desire for Albus so strong, that it was eating away at every inch of his mind.

Yet, Gell's wand was still pointed at him, keeping him at a distance.

Albus sent a Relashio spell around his opponent and knocked Gell's wand out of his grasp. Inching forward like he was approaching an aching wolf, he picked it up and kept it in his hands.

Albus' breath was heavy and deep. Gell's wand, his weapon, burned hot in Albus' hand with conflicting dark energy. The magic nipped at his palms lightly, but stayed put, not burning him.

"Shall we end for today?" Albus said.

"Because you're frightened of me?" Gell whispered.

"I'm frightened of what you would've done had I not-" Albus clutched the wand, then said in a light-hearted tone, "it's yours again once you've calmed yourself."

"Are you suggesting that I…sought to hurt you?"

"Gell-"

"I wouldn't…wouldn't-"

"I shouldn't have provoked you," Albus said calmly, shrugging his shoulders. "I went in too deep."

Gell said, "Tell me the truth. Are you uncomfortable with…what you saw inside my head?"

"And what did I see?"

"Albus." Gell's eyes bore into his; he said his name softly, almost sweetly, like honey laced with arsenic. "Do not play this game. Tell me."

That was a novel reaction from Gell. Not necessarily good, but different. Now was as good a time as ever for Albus to be honest.

"How long have you felt this…desire for me?"

"Do not answer my questions with your own," Gell snapped. "I know your logic."

"There is no logic. I saw what I didn't understand. I can't judge you." Albus wasn't ready to have this conversation now. He never saw Gell so angry.

"You come here to practise duelling, I presume, not to joust with tongues. Though if that were the challenge, I believe I'd have a chance to win the round."

"How so?" Gell said, staring at him through his lashes.

"It is clear that in a battle of tongues, you would want nothing more than to succumb to mine."

Gell looked at him blankly, and then his lips spread into a giant grin. He laughed; he really laughed.

"You bloody gallant," Gell said. "Me…charmed by you?"

"You are not?"

"There you are again. Answering questions with questions."

"But you find me handsome, despite your attempts to conceal it," Albus said with a grin.

Gell accepted Albus' hand and pulled himself up. "I cannot deny that you have style-"

Brushing himself off, Gell spoke softly. "But my admiration for you is hardly….attraction."

"Not so? Or you simply don't wish to accept that I've uncovered your weakness," Albus said.

"I have no weakness." Gell reached for his wand, only to have it disappear in Albus' inner robe pocket.

"The match is over," Albus said. "I will not fight."

One win for him. None for Gell. It felt quite good to have the upper hand and Albus flashed him a roguish smile.

"Don't look so vain. I'll defeat you with a wandless spell if I have to." Gell sneered.

"Or, you might simply let me win-"

"You win often enough."

"Not with you," Albus teased.

Then Gell did utter a wandless spell, but Albus avoided it with stealth. He Apparated to the side, avoiding any contact with Gell's Hex.

"Being devious hardly suits you," Albus said.

"Fight me," Gell snarled. "You want to win…fight."

"I'm tired of fighting."

Standing face to face, struggling to stay firm in his decision, Albus decided to be upfront with Gell. Teasing, clearly, only provoked anger in the blond wizard.

Albus had admitted his feelings a few times to various girls, though never with rejection, if that was some measure of success. But Gell was no girl so Albus could hardly expect anything certainly good to come of it. He braced himself for rejection. After all, how many times had Albus' himself fantasized about admitting that he was attracted to certain men only to realize that realistically the best reply he could hope for was to be laughed at. Worst case scenario sent to the psychiatric ward of St Mungos. Gell likely felt the same way, hence why he kept his desire for Albus hidden so deep within the confines of his mind.

Albus suspected there was more than a desire to sharpen the duel skills that kept Gell in Godric's Hollow with him. There had to be. Gell had no family here, no known fiancee or paramour. He was not employed either and seemed to spend his days hunched over in his study and his evenings, meeting with Albus.

Could it be that Gell had been wanting to admit his feeling for Albus for some time now? That his only reason for staying in the Hollow was his fascination with Albus?

"I do fancy you, Gell," Albus managed to whisper. "I have for quite some time. You are unlike any other person I've met. And you…you appear to feel the same way."

Gell's gaze was hard, but judging by the quick bob of his Adam's apple and the widening of his pupils, he was not altogether unaffected.

"Return my wand," Gell said finally, the air above his statement laden with words unspoken.

"That is all?" Albus, taking advantage of his position, put one palm on Gell's heart, and then traced a line in the soft fabric with his finger. "Would it really be a burden for you to admit you feel equally interested in me?"

He trailed his finger up Gell's chest, taking in the sensation of his magic radiating off him. Gell could control everything, but the drumming of his heart, which echoed against Albus' palm.

Gell's eyes were very blue, and the thin, light lashes quivered around them as he spoke. "What would be the point in that?"

"You have little desire to play games. Fine. I've revealed my heart to you," Albus said, hand still on Gell's chest. "What does yours say?"

Gell met his eyes. His firm gaze on Albus, though wavering with specks of doubt and desire, held its place. His heart beat wildly, but no words came from his lips.

It was foolish of Albus, naive to assume that Gell would ever return his feelings. Albus tossed Gell's wand into the dust before him.

"I understand I have my answer in your silence," Albus said solemnly, cutting a door into the pentacle to leave.

It was then that Gell lurched forward. Albus' lips burned with the heat and suddenness of his kiss; they cooled with a gust of air as Gell drew himself away.

"You do," Gell said softly, lips brushing over Albus' again and again.