• EIGHT •

Closer Than Brothers

My dear Albus,

I hope my letter finds you well. I have departed from Greece and sincerely wish you could have seen some of its wonders. I'm not merely talking about the Adonises either, although even you could have given up your books to admire them. Chimaeras, Albus, with thrashing limbs and inch-long claws. I confess I was terrified! But I survived with everything intact, thank goodness, and arrived in Egypt last week.

I'm afraid I don't have long to write this. An elderly tour guide is coming to show me around the pyramids and I am shovelling down my breakfast as fast as I can while I write. I shall let you know what happens when I return, although that may be some time, assuming we survive the curses.

How are Aberforth and Ariana? I wish you could have brought your sister to Egypt; the miracles that these people work on the frail are extraordinary. But, of course, you have other responsibilities to attend to.

Oh, dear. The tour guide is at the door and I haven't even asked you how your week has been. Or told you about the alchemists …Well, I ought to be going. Give my love to the rest of the family and do wish me luck with the pyramids.

Your devoted friend,

Elphias

The night was so dark that Albus could hardly read his friend's lettering. A thin strip of moonlight tumbled in through a gap in the floral-patterned curtains, illuminating the base of his candlestick, which teetered on a stack of books by his elbow. Its flame had long since reached its peak; the once-brilliant light was now no more than a glowing speck of gold on the end of the blackened wick. Albus glanced at it as he reread Elphias' words.

You have other responsibilities to attend to.

Albus sighed and lifted the parchment closer to his face. The ink was blotchy in places, the words smudged as though Elphias' hand had raced across it. Albus supposed it had. Elphias had always been an excitable writer and Egypt must be as full of excitement as a country could get. Greece had certainly been the same - a chimaera ! Albus had never even seen one.

He let his fingers slide over the words, forming curves and loops in a left-sloping scrawl, drinking them in as though they had the power to intoxicate him. Maybe they did. Albus felt his head spinning as wistful envy took over. What he wouldn't give to be with Elphias, free from the burden of his siblings, with both parents still intact, exploring temples and pyramids and wildernesses full of strange, unrestrained magic.

Gellert was the only thing that was keeping him sane. And yet he didn't yearn to tell Elphias about his new friend. 'Friend' wasn't the right word for it, anyway, no matter what they appeared to be in public. He and Gellert were brothers, it was that simple. Or was it? Was there even a significant word to describe what they were?

Albus leant his chin on his hand and hummed to himself. The boys at Hogwarts would have had plenty of words to describe him and Gellert - none of them nice. Albus winced as he imagined their jeering faces, recalled the whispers behind hands that always stopped, heavy with guilt, whenever he or Elphias came near. Had Gellert endured the same?

There had been another boy, Albus remembered, who had been like them. Albus had seen the smirks he got in the corridors, had tasted the fear that seeped from him on the day he was found out.

Thomas Cartford had been taken out of Transfiguration one afternoon. And he had never come back.

A sudden crack outside the window made Albus jump and whirl around. Elphias' letter slipped from between his fingers and fluttered to the floor, landing by Albus' feet just as a shadow fell over the curtains, a squat, figure-shaped shadow.

Albus' fingers fumbled to extract his wand. "W-Who's there?"

He was about to advance forwards when there was a loud scuffling sound, a yelp and then a familiar lilting voice said, "Damn."

"Gellert?" breathed Albus, his heart in his mouth.

There came some more scuffling, and then the curtain and its pole came crashing down, landing in a tangled heap on Albus' bed, with a golden-haired figure ensnared beneath them.

"Merlin's pants, Gellert! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

The figure struggled free from the wreckage and laughed. Albus caught a flash of azure in the moonlight pouring in above him.

"Scare easily?"

"No," replied Albus hotly, pursing his lips in the direction of what had previously been a neatly-made mattress of blankets. "But look what you've done to my bed. It's a mess. I was going to sleep in that!"

"Oh, were you?" asked Gellert nonchalantly, picking bits of petal out of his hair. "I admit that my entrance was rather… unexpected. I got caught on the rose bush when I was outside your window."

Albus sighed. "What on Earth were you doing?"

Gellert smiled and stood up, tugging a thorn from his trouser leg. "I thought you might like some company."

"It's almost midnight, Gellert," Albus pointed out, shaking his head.

"We always send letters until that time, anyway. What is the difference?" He leaned down and picked up Elphias' letter from its position beside Albus' boot, holding it between two fingers. "What's this?"

Albus reached forwards to take it back, but Gellert stepped backwards. "It's just a letter from Elphias. I was reading it when you…" he glanced at the broken curtain pole, "arrived."

"From your travelling friend?" asked Gellert, his eyes already travelling down the paper. His mouth hardened. "What's all this about Adonises ?"

Albus smiled. "Nothing. Elphias was joking."

"Oh, really? He doesn't have much of a sense of humour, does he? And why is his handwriting so messy?"

"Gellert, give that back to me," said Albus gently, stepping towards him and holding out his hand. He tugged the letter from between Gellert's fingers, noting the stiff lines of his shoulders and the indignation in his eyes. "You mustn't be so jealous. Elphias and I are friends."

"I am not jealous," said Gellert in a loud voice, turning away as Albus tucked the letter safely into a drawer in his desk.

Albus touched his elbow. "Really. He wouldn't say those things if he knew about you."

A wry, glinting smile stole over Gellert's face. " Does he know about me?" he asked and Albus looked at him.

"No."

"Good," replied Gellert, slipping his arm into the crook of Albus'. "I doubt he would approve."

His words struck uncomfortably close to Albus, who was so distracted that he didn't even notice Gellert pulling him forwards and brushing his lips against his forehead. The truth was, there was a part of Albus who hadn't told Elphias about Gellert because of exactly that. Something inside Albus, a horrible, niggling twinge, told him that Elphias would neither like Gellert nor approve of Albus' meetings with him. He could imagine the way Elphias would look if he met Gellert in the flesh, the worried frown that would crease his eyebrows, the way he would shuffle helplessly from foot to foot, later taking Albus aside and asking him if he was happy.

Gellert was right; somehow, Elphias wouldn't approve. And Albus wasn't entirely sure why.

"Does Mrs Bagshot know you're here?" he asked, trying not to think about the inevitable things to come.

Gellert perched on the edge of Albus' bed and patted it. "No."

"You really aren't very responsible," remarked Albus, sitting down beside him and tucking Elphias' letter into his pocket. "Also, you smell like roses."

The other boy's smile was almost tangible. "How very romantic."

Albus felt his cheeks flare. Of course, they had been fumbling with this more-than-friends thing for a while now, but it didn't mean he was any more immune to it. If anything, he was even more liable to embarrassment.

Not seeming to mind the scent that radiated from him, Gellert reached over, pulled his wand out and pointed it at the broken curtain pole, keeping his eyes locked on Albus' face. "I think we should fix this, don't you?"

"Possibly," said Albus, moving to extract his own.

Before he could do so, however, Gellert had sprung into action. " Reparo ," he said, with a lazy flick, and the curtains began to flutter as the entire thing rose into the air and reattached it to the wall above the window. As the last tear sewed itself together again, Gellert slid the wand into his pocket, closed his fingers over Albus' wrist and gently lowered it until Albus' own wand was pointing to the bed.

It rolled from his grip.

"I don't think you'll be needing that," he said and, where his voice failed to be soft, it was firm.

Albus nodded, biting the base of his lip. He let Gellert slide the wand onto the bedside table, where it rested on the top of The Tales of Beedle the Bard and a stack of half-finished essays.

They looked at each other.

"So," said Gellert quietly, without looking away. He gestured in the direction of the bedside table. "I see you've been working on that article for Transfiguration Today ."

Breaking the contact himself, Albus turned around and reached forwards to pick up one of the sheets of parchment. He frowned at it. The heading was wonky. He would have to fix that before he sent it off. "Yes," he murmured, running a finger along his own slanting writing. "I have. It's about the Croftman Paradox. You see, vanished objects-"

"I didn't come here to talk about vanished objects, Albus."

Even as he winced, Albus felt Gellert's hands on his, pulling him back around to face him, removing the parchment from between his fingers. "You didn't?"

Gellert laughed softly. "No."

"I should have known," said Albus with a wry smile, glancing down at the long fingers that were entwined with his own. Gellert's fingers were always rougher than he'd expected, but soft, too - a mixture of hard and alluring, calloused and dulcet.

He clung to the soft patches whenever he could.

Gellert smiled at him, shifting forwards and tugging on Albus' hands as though they were made of rope.

Albus obeyed the pressure until they were side by side, each drinking in the others' presence and wallowing in the silence.

As always, Gellert was the one to break it.

"I have been working on our manifesto. I still think we should go to Paris first. They're far more progressive over there and it will be easier to infiltrate their system."

Albus nudged him. "Infiltrate their system? Are you honestly going to keep pretending that that's the reason you want to go there?"

"Yes. It is the reason I want to go there."

"Really? It's not because of the croissants and the architecture and the irresistible lure of pure romantic freedom?"

"No."

Albus laughed. Gellert's face said it all. "All right. I'll allow you to pretend a little longer. But you should really show me the manifesto. For all I know, you could be plotting to lock my brother in the bottom drawer of the kitchen dresser again."

Gellert smirked. "He'd deserve it," he said, but Albus only sighed.

"Honestly, Gellert. I've told you at least six times that Aberforth can't help being annoyed with me. I hate being stuck here and he knows it."

"You have every right to hate it," replied Gellert, his mouth hardening. "It's hardly fair. But we'll be gone soon. And then you won't have to worry about your brother."

"'Soon' might not be as near as you think," said Albus quietly. He dropped his gaze to the blankets by Gellert's feet. He'd mentioned his responsibility to his family enough for Gellert to know where he stood, but he didn't blame him for ignoring it. If it had been possible, Albus knew that he would have ignored it too. Nothing could be more exhilarating than leaving all the pain behind and building a new world, no matter what Gellert had in mind for the muggles.

But Gellert, it seemed, still had his head in the sand. "Of course it will," he said carelessly, placing a hand on Albus' knee. "Stop looking so miserable and talk to me. I couldn't sleep; Old Batty's snores are enough to wake the dead. I'm surprised you can't hear them."

"I wouldn't want to hear them," laughed Albus, leaning back into Gellert's chest. "Anyway, we have been talking. We've been talking ever since you fell so elegantly in through the window."

"We'll do something else, then. Other than talk." The look Gellert gave him as he propped himself up on his elbows was, there was no other way to describe it, extremely suggestive.

Albus felt himself blush. "Like what?"

"Well, I could help you add to your evidence that I really am good at everything."

"And what would that involve, exactly?"

Sitting up straight again, Gellert rolled his eyes, all pretence gone. "Albus, you know what that would involve."

His face on fire, Albus tilted his chin, determined to keep blundering down the path of denial. "Do I?"

"Yes. You do."

Gellert's face was now about an inch in front of his and Determination stumbled in the wake of those blue eyes. Albus gave in. "All right," he mumbled. "I do. But you mustn't smirk like that. It's distracting."

"Is it?" The eyes gleamed as Gellert digested this new piece of information. "I didn't realise."

"You did," retorted Albus, pressing his lips together to avoid smiling. "You always know exactly what you're doing."

"You are right. I do. And it's very useful. Especially when it comes to making you blush."

"I don't blush," said Albus, instantly doing so.

Gellert snorted and, with a motion so fast that Albus barely saw it, conjured a mirror from mid air. He pushed it in front of Albus' face and Albus, unable to avoid looking into it, saw his own bright red face staring back at him.

"Fine. I do. Now please put that away. I thought you said you wanted to do something other than talking."

"Of course. But you are the one who seems reluctant."

"I'm not-" Albus began, then bit a piece of loose skin off his lip. Reluctant wasn't exactly the right word. He was more… nervous, apprehensive, overwhelmed. He'd spent the evening writing to Elphias and reading through Gellert's old letters. There had been nothing to suggest that his plans would soon be rearranged to include this .

"It's fine if you are," said Gellert matter-of-factly, pushing hair off his face while he vanished the mirror.

Albus waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead, he sat and watched Albus, who continued pulling at his lips with his teeth and wondering when the silence was going to end. He would just have to end it himself, he decided.

"I'm not," he mumbled at last. "Reluctant, that is. It's just… I have younger siblings and they're in the rooms next door. Also, you're kind of-"

As Albus broke off, Gellert peered at him interestedly.

"'Kind of'...?"

Albus fidgeted. He couldn't say what he was actually thinking. Not to Gellert's face .

Gellert touched his cheek, running a finger so close to Albus' lips that he stopped biting them. "Kind of what, Albus? What am I? Tell me."

And it all came rushing forwards. "Intense," Albus blurted, unable to stop himself. "Fervent. Beguiling."

Amused, Gellert raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?" he asked softly and Albus shook his head.

"No. There are a lot of other words."

"All good, I hope?"

Albus smiled. "Not really."

"Not really?" The hand slipped away from Albus' face. Gellert looked at him, mockingly offended. "And what is it about me that you find so awful?"

"Nothing," said Albus truthfully. "You are just rather annoying. In a-" He hesitated again. "In an exhilarating way."

"I see," replied Gellert. "So you're not reluctant anymore?"

Albus breathed the words as Gellert's mouth loomed closer. "I never was."

He didn't know what happened next. Not in the right order, anyway. But somehow they ended up entangled, mixed up in the scent of lavender sheets and rose petals and bliss. Albus forgot about Ariana and Aberforth in the rooms next door. He forgot Gellert's intensity and the future disapproval of Elphias. He even forgot the memory of Thomas Cartford being taken out of Transfiguration. He and Gellert, Gellert and him, were all that could matter.

"I love you," breathed Albus when they lay in the dim glow of morning.

Gellert lifted one hand and pushed a strand of hair off Albus' forehead. "You always will."