A/N: Hi everyone. Are you ready for a very long chapter? Also note that this chapter is Angst Level 500, so you might want to read either the last chapter, the Gellert chapter, or the first chapter before this to compensate for all the angst.

After completing this story, I went back and edited this chapter. Re-titled it. This is a huge nod toward Twenty One Pilots' "Guns for Hands." Unless you are familiar with this song, and have deciphered its meaning, this is a weird title for you... Twenty One Pilots is laced throughout this story for a reason. They sing of self-loathing. Self-doubt. Self-hatred. Self-destruction. All things that I think fit Dumbledore well. And here, it reaches its peak.

So, this is where I break a bit more from canon. I'm not going to bet any money that JK Rowling would say, "Yeah, that happened!" but I do think it easily could have happened. This is a sensitive topic, so all I'll say is I did this because 1) I think, given what Dumbledore went through, he would've been in enough pain to do it, and 2) I wanted to add depth to what happened in Dumbledore's office in OotP. I took a tiny idea and and went with it. I won't give away what that thought was until the bottom.

Unfortunately, if you've already read Stay Alive (that means you, Red Furry Demon), you've already seen a lot of this. But I like to think I've improved it. I also caught an error I made originally - Elphias had been at Ariana's funeral, so I had to change things to conform to JK Rowling's already perfect world.

I have to give this chapter a TRIGGER WARNING for suicidal thoughts/self-harm. Turn back now, if you need.

nickdoran - Thank you! I'm glad you like it. Dumbledore is my favorite character - he has been since I was 9 - and I'm tired of Dumbledore bashing fanfics.

EvilFuzzy9 - I'm glad you agree! I feel bad for the teenagers. The threat of having Snape or Dumbledore give you the talk has got to be the scariest thing ever. I think Snape would outright refuse though.

mangoarcher1802 - Okay, I lied. Harry's in this chapter - at the end. I was planning on splitting this chapter into two chapters, but then I decided I wanted to be all included in one... I'm not that into Sirius. I know he's one of the most popular characters, but I don't like him. Haha! So I don't write about him... Snape-Dumbledore I have actually done in a different story of mine called "Talk to Me." It's a Snape-centered story, but Dumbledore's in it too, if you want to check it out. But Harry is in this one. I love the Harry-Dumbledore dynamic.

Guest - Yeah, the teens should definitely get some education about the topic. I just find the idea of any of the Hogwarts professors actually giving the talk so bizarre and hilarious. BTW, who gave Harry the talk? Your idea about Lily is interesting and cool, but JK Rowling has said Harry lived because Voldemort gave Lily the option to stand aside. Your idea is still neat though; I've never heard that theory before.

Red Furry Demon - Dumbledore is both awesome and crazy. He certainly has an interesting way of running things. That's why he wouldn't do what the normal adult would do (give the talk, assign detention). Haha! And you just know he must have had to deal with this from time to time. And "so that's what they call it now," LOL, yeah, that's exactly something Dumbledore would say in that situation. Yep, completely mad. Why don't they have sex ed at Hogwarts? I can't picture any of the professors teaching it.

Konochamaya - Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed!

"I know what you think in the morning when the sun shines on the ground and shows what you have done. It shows where your mind has gone. And you swear to your parents that it will never happen again. I know... I know what that means. I know..."

- Twenty One Pilots, "Guns for Hands."

"It was [Harry's] fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. ... Harry had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody - anybody - else. ... 'I know how you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore very quietly. 'No, you don't,' said Harry. ... Dumbledore knew nothing about his feelings." - OotP, chapter 37

Albus was choking on his own blood from his broken nose as it fell down his throat, but he didn't stop to mend it. Instead, he walked blindly down the street.

"Albus, wait!" he heard Elphias call. Why, oh why did Elphias have to show up for the funeral? "Stop!"

Albus felt a hand tug his left arm, but he snatched it away from Elphias' grip.

"Don't touch me," he snarled at his childhood best friend. He never wanted anyone to ever touch him again. He heard Elphias fall back and the only footsteps Albus could hear were his own. Elphias was not his friend anymore. How could he still be after Albus had traveled so far away from everything he had known so fast over these past few months?

Albus tore into his house looking, as he assumed, like a completely deranged man. How pitiful he must look. It was too much. Far too much. The freshly-turned eighteen-year-old found himself shaking and crying uncontrollably in his remarkably empty house. He made a dash for Aberforth's room only to realize his brother had packed his things and left. Fifteen years old and on his own. Albus figured Aberforth thought he would be safer on his own, away from his elder brother. Albus was quite sure Aberforth was correct in that belief. Running away from Albus' "care" was probably the smartest thing Aberforth ever had done.

Albus was not the same person he was two and half months ago. He didn't know that person anymore. He had graduated from Hogwarts full of promise. His whole life had been stretched out in front of him. He could have become anything at that point, but instead, he had become this.

The guilt he felt was overwhelming. It was his fault. All of it. His father, his mother, Ariana... The entire house was empty now. Only Aberforth had escaped with his life.

Albus saw that Aberforth had left a dirty glass in the sink, a habit of his that always irked Albus. He picked it up and threw it across the kitchen. It hit a wall and shattered. It was satisfying to see it break into a countless number of little pieces, so he rummaged through the kitchen shelving and broke several more glasses and dishes. He thought to himself that he didn't even need them anymore; he had a full set, when was he going to use all those dishes when it was just him left?

He had no purpose. He had no one. His brother would never speak to him again. Elphias was probably angry at him, as well as Fallon, because he had stopped replying to her letters early on in the summer. The person he had fallen in love with was a murderer who would most likely go on to do terrible things for the greater good. Albus was a definite nobody who had been fired from his horrible Muggle job after he stopped showing up to work. What was the point? He was so very alone - and he figured he was better off being alone, because everyone who came into close contact with him was eventually hurt.

Albus didn't really know what he was doing. He had stopped breaking things and sought to turn his rage onto something different. That something different turned out to be himself. He foggily remembered grabbing a knife from the kitchen and tried to slice a vein in his left arm, but he was shaking, and he couldn't see well. He figured he would just bleed to death with the pain of it all, and then he wouldn't have to feel again anymore... unless God decided he would give him a second chance.

He crumpled to the floor, and before he lost consciousness due to blood loss, he held onto that thought. Maybe he would wake up and be ten years old all over again. Maybe he would wake up and be somebody different entirely. He didn't want to die. He wanted a second chance. If God could give him that, maybe He would even make him normal and take his homosexuality away too.

Unbeknownst to Albus, his nosy but well-intentioned neighbor, Bathilda Bagshot, would enter the front door and find him there, unconscious and near death.

When Albus slowly began to regain consciousness later that evening, he didn't want to open his eyes. He was aware of the faint sounds around him, so he knew he was alive. He prayed that his wish had come true. He didn't really care who he would be: anybody other than Albus Dumbledore would have been good.

"Albus?" he heard a woman say gently. "Can you hear me?"

Shit. Albus. That was still him. Defeated, he opened his eyes to see he was in a hospital. This must be the dreaded St. Mungo's his mother had told him about... yet, it did not seem like a horrible place... There was a young woman who did not look a day over thirty watching him carefully. She had dark brown hair and an oval face.

"So," the woman said softly, "looks like you're finally awake. Welcome to the land of the living, Albus."

Albus swallowed hard and looked around the room. It was his own private room. The door was shut and there was only one very small window at the top toward the ceiling. His mother had always told him that St. Mungo's was horrible, but it didn't seem like this was true. It was clean. Smelled nice. Warm, clean white sheets. Maybe his sister would have been better off here anyway. At least, she would be alive.

The woman put down a clipboard and sat down on a stool that was beside him.

"Do you remember what happened?" the woman asked in that same gentle tone.

Albus closed his eyes again and nodded. He stretched out his left arm and examined it carefully. There was a line running up his arm that was barely visible by a long vein. It was whiter than the rest of his skin. He touched his nose and found it was no longer broken, but slightly crooked.

"We healed it as best we could," the woman explained, "but some time had passed since it was broken, so it did not heal perfectly. As for the line on your arm, it is very faint, and it will probably fade away."

Albus said nothing.

The woman cocked her head. "You are the Albus Dumbledore who writes for Transfiguration Today."

"Damn," Albus said faintly. "I was hoping I was a different Albus."

The woman smiled. "You very nearly died. Fortunately, some teenager discovered that dragon blood could be used to replenish Wizarding blood ten times faster than an ordinary Replenishment Potion. If it wasn't for that kid, you probably would have died."

Albus sat there in silence, stunned and, as he could only describe it, completely pissed off. "Well," he said finally, "looks like I can finally call myself a complete failure. Can't even kill myself without myself going and ruining it."

"Really," the woman said softly. "And would you like to tell me why you are suicidal?"

"It doesn't matter," said Albus, his voice still very faint.

"Well," the woman said softly, "it does matter to me. I don't want to see an eighteen-year-old kill himself, even if I don't know him. I don't want to see anyone kill themselves. I want to help you. Why do you want to kill yourself?"

"I'm not really suicidal," Albus said. "It was... an impulse. I lost it. If I really was suicidal, I would've planned it out better. I'd be dead."

"Albus, people who are fine do not attempt suicide randomly -"

"I was angry, and I temporarily lost it, that's all."

"I can believe you got caught up in the heat of your despair, but something put that despair there. Why did you do it?"

"I can't -" Albus gasped, emotion overtaking him, "I can't live with myself. I can't live with the guilt. I'm disgusting... Oh God, I feel so guilty," he said, his voice cracking. "It's my fault my family is dead. It's all my fault."

Hot tears poured down his face. Albus heard the Aberforth in his head snarl, "You fucking queer."

He took several deep breaths. "My father. My mother. My sister. All dead because of me. I can't stand it. I can't live with it; I want out. Please, I just want it to end, and that's my business, and mine alone."

"Albus," the woman said after a long pause, "I hear you. You feel guilty. You blame yourself. I don't know exactly why, but you do. You feel like you can't go on. But you must go on."

"Why?" Albus suddenly exploded, jumping out of his bed and going for the door. It was locked, and he didn't have his wand, but even if he did, he knew magic wouldn't work anyway. He was in lockdown in the mental ward, he knew it, and mental wards are built to keep people in. The woman was writing herself on the clipboard because normal magic wouldn't work in this room. "Why must I go on living with myself?" he shouted on, unperturbed by the fact he could not get out. "I am despicable. It's my life, why should anyone tell me that I can't decide to end it? Are you going to live with the guilt for me?" he spat.

"You are here for a reason," the woman said quietly. "You do not know what that reason is and you might not know for five, ten, fifty, or even one hundred years from now, but you will see someday. There is a reason you woke up. There is a reason why you are standing before me. You are here for a reason, even though you don't know what it is yet. God will take you home when He is ready. But as long as you are breathing, you have business to do. Every day you wake up, you have business to do. You're not done yet, Albus, and you are very young. Please have hope."

"Hope?" Albus cried bitterly. "Hope? I am in too much pain to have hope; I cannot simply replace despair with hope."

"Hope is not a substitution for pain," the woman said. "Hope is in spite of pain."

"I don't deserve to live," Albus said, his voice shaking horribly. "I don't deserve one more breath. I don't want to hurt anymore."

The woman watched him sadly. "You deserve so much more than a knife to your arm, no matter what you've done or have not done."

"If you knew," Albus said, his vision blurry through tears, "if you knew what I have done, what I am responsible for, you wouldn't say I deserve anything more."

For several minutes, Albus just looked at the floor. The woman did not move, as if she was waiting for him to say more, knowing that he would say more...

"Before I lost consciousness," Albus began, and he was pleased to hear his voice was much steadier now, "all I could think was that I didn't want to die. I wanted a second chance. I'm dirty. Guilty. Horrible..."

"It is true," the woman said, "that you cannot turn back time. What's done is done. However, you can start over, Albus. Don't ever forget that you can start over if you need to. Doesn't matter what you've done. There is no shame in starting over. Do it as many times as you need. You do get a second chance. You get many second chances. Every breath is a second chance. Every sunrise is a second chance. Pick yourself up and stay alive. You don't know what the dawn will bring you."

He closed his eyes and felt hot tears fall again. When he had found his voice, he said, "I'm nobody."

He heard the woman sigh sympathetically. "Albus, everybody is a nobody."

"I don't know what to do with my life."

"Welcome to freedom, Albus."

"... If God is real, which I'm not sure if He is, there's no way He'd ever forgive me for what I've done. If God can't forgive me, how can I forgive myself?"

"All is already forgiven, Albus. You are forgiven. You were forgiven even while you were bleeding to death. The forgiveness was sitting right there on the floor next to you. Couldn't you see it?"

Albus nodded, but kept his eyes closed.

"So," she said after several minutes of silence. "Do you want to tell me who gave you those marks on your neck?"

Albus cringed. Gellert had done it on purpose so everyone at work would see them and give him a hard time. They had, but they all assumed Albus had a girlfriend, and he wasn't about to correct them.

"Not particularly, no," Albus said finally.

"Are you in a romantic relationship with someone?"

"Not anymore."

"Did she have something to do with why you tried to kill yourself?"

"I didn't try to kill myself because she left me," Albus shot back angrily. "I'm not that pathetic."

The woman shrugged. "All right. But did she play a contributing factor?"

Albus was quiet for a long time. "Yes, but it's not what you think. It's complicated."

"Who was she?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Because she hurt you?"

"It's not me I feel bad for," Albus snapped. "It's my innocent little sister I feel bad for. I brought her into our house and then my sister winds up dead! It's my fault; he - I - I mean, she - killed her, not on purpose, but she did, all right, and it's because of me." Albus could feel his face growing hot and he prayed that the woman not realize his slip.

The woman watched him for a while before saying, "Oh. I see. And what was this other boy's name that you were with?"

"She wasn't a boy; I misspoke," lied Albus unconvincingly.

"I don't care what your sexuality is, Albus. I'm not here to judge you. My only job is to make sure you don't wind up back here again."

Putting on his best Aberforth impression, Albus said, "Fine. I'm tired. I don't want to talk anymore."

But the moment the woman went away, he regretted it. Now he was trapped in this white-walled room. Alone.

"No, do you know what the really tricky thing is about all of this?"

"What is it, Albus?"

"Normally, when you go through the end of a relationship, you get to mourn losing that person because you still love them, whether you want to or not. Growing apart? I could live with that. An outside affair? I could live with that. I could live with all of that. No... she..."

"When are we going to start referring to him as a he?" asked the woman with a touch of impatience.

"No, it was a she."

The woman sighed.

"She..." continued Albus, "she's a horrible person. She's evil. I fell in love with the worst kind of person. I can't mourn losing her because I'm too busy mourning my sister's life. I can't miss her because she's a murderer. And she'll kill again. I'm sure of it. I should have stopped her. I should've done something, but I just let hi- her run away. I can't miss her; I'm not allowed."

"You truly believe he'll kill again?"

"Yes. One day, her name will be on newspaper headlines."

"Maybe yours will be too. Maybe you'll be the one who stops him."

"I'm too much of a coward."

There was silence. Then the woman said, "No, I don't think you are."

It took ten days and several psychological evaluations before Albus was released from St. Mungo's. He no longer felt like he was a danger to himself, but Albus was still lost, hurt, and angry. He returned to his empty house and began to try to pick up the pieces.

One afternoon, a few days after he was discharged, he heard someone knock on the door. Albus sighed and assumed it would be Bathilda Bagshot. She had been periodically checking in on him to make sure he was still alive and feed him, even though he had told her repeatedly not to.

But when Albus opened the door, he found himself facing Elphias Doge and Fallon Jones. Two weeks ago, Albus had been a complete jerk to Elphias, and Albus had not spoken to Fallon in months. Both of his friends had perplexed and concerned looks on their faces. Fallon had the same honey-colored straight hair, but she had cut it and it only came to her shoulders. Albus could see that she had aged - matured - since he last saw her on graduation day. Elphias still had his boyish face and looked much younger than he really was. It did not seem like the summer had changed Elphias at all.

"Oh," was all Albus said.

Fallon took a deep breath. "Can we come in, please?"

Defeated, Albus shrugged and looked at their shoes rather than their faces. "I reckon."

He turned and walked into his living room, his face becoming colored. He heard Elphias and Fallon behind him. The door shut. Albus sat down on the sofa and stared at the coffee table wordlessly.

Elphias sat down on a chair perpendicular to the sofa while Fallon chose to sit right beside Albus and was fixing him with a stare as if she was trying to solve something. Albus couldn't bring himself to look at either of them. It wasn't that he didn't know he was being rude. He just didn't have the strength not to be.

Both Fallon and Elphias had written to Albus repeatedly that summer. He almost always ignored them. At first, Albus described his daily life to Elphias, but then Albus stopped writing. It wasn't that he disliked them or didn't want to be their friend anymore - it was just that he so busy being obsessed with Gellert, with the Hallows, with the Resurrection Stone. He thought his future was with Gellert and the Hallows, not Elphias Doge and Fallon Jones. He didn't have the time to write them back. He was deeply involved in his vision, and keeping up with Hogwarts friends was nowhere on his priority list. He had been too busy being a gullible, love-struck, idealistic fool.

"I never really got to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your sister, Albus," Elphias said finally after a very long and painful silence.

Albus looked up at him and saw that Elphias had a look of utmost concern on his face. He did not look angry as Albus expected he would have been.

"I'm very sorry," Elphias went on. "I... I've been insensitive, Albus. Alll I did was talk about me in my letters. How much fun I was having traveling the world while you were here working and trying to take care of your brother and sick sister. I'm sorry about that."

Albus swallowed. He couldn't stand anymore of this. "No," he croaked, "I'm sorry. Both of you. I stopped answering your letters only a couple weeks into the summer - I didn't bother. I haven't been a good friend at all."

Fallon reached out and took his hand.

Albus sighed and looked at his lap. "I've - I've been trying to piece my life back together. It's in shambles. I've treated you both badly. I don't deserve your friendship."

"Don't be ridiculous," Fallon said softly. "You've lost so much in the past few months, Albus. It is okay not to be okay right now. You are our friend and you always will be."

Albus couldn't find any words, so he just sat in silence for a long while.

Fallon took in a breath. "Albus, do you want to talk about what happened? I think it would help you if you talked to someone who cares."

He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he shook his head. Fallon had not let go of his hand. He looked over to her.

"Tell me about your summer," Albus said finally.

A smile twitched on Fallon's mouth. "If you wish," she said softly.

For almost ten minutes, Fallon talked about her summer in a ridiculously detailed fashion. Albus knew she was doing this because she thought hearing her voice would be therapeutic to Albus. And it was. Fallon might not have received the marks in school that Albus had, but he was convinced she was a genius in her own right. She knew things instinctively. She always knew the right thing to say and do. It was remarkable how shrewd she was. Albus knew that Fallon would have seen through Gellert Grindelwald immediately. Why hadn't he?

There was a tapping noise. All three heads looked in the direction of the kitchen window. An owl was tapping on it. A letter was in his beak.

Completely perplexed, Albus' eyebrows came closer together. "No one else writes me," he muttered. "That owl must be lost."

Fallon jumped up, went to the window, and retrieved the letter.

"Who is it from, Fallon?" Albus asked.

She made her way back to the living room, opened it, and hastily looked at the signature as quickly as possible so she did not read what had been written. She looked up at Albus and said, mispronouncing the last name, "Who's Gellert Grindelwald?"

Albus jumped up so fast he saw stars. Completely forgetting his manners, he snatched the letter from her hand and then fell back down onto the couch wordlessly. It was Gellert's handwriting. Hardly breathing, he read.

Albus,

I know you are hurting right now, and I am largely responsible. For this, I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Believe me, when I woke up that fateful day, I was not planning on dueling your brother. I did not plan to kill Ariana - though I'm not entirely sure if it was me that cast the fatal curse. I know you're hurting, and I know I fled. I am sorry. I know you may never forgive me.

But you should know, Albus, that I still love you. I admit I'm a bit horrified that you have not tried to contact me. I have waited every day for a letter from you, but none has come. I cannot say I exactly blame you, but I do feel like you have forgotten everything we said and everything we did. Do you still have feelings for me? Evidence is pointing toward "no." And that breaks my heart, Albus.

Listen, if you ever can find it in your heart to forgive me, I will always still want your friendship, your partnership, your love. Should you ever want to join me in search of the Hallows, you are welcome to contact me. We could work together again. We could be together again. This offer stands no matter how many years pass by, Albus. You are always welcome to join me.

I hope that you can find peace in this.

Gellert Grindelwald

Albus read the letter over again. He felt a different kind of emotion rise up within him - something other than despair and guilt that he had been feeling for two weeks. It took him a moment to realize what he was feeling was revulsion.

How could he not have seen it? How could he not have seen how evil Gellert Grindelwald was? Because he had hid it so well...

How could someone so brilliant, so funny, so outgoing, so spontaneous, and so handsome be so insidiously evil deep underneath it all? Albus remembered the feeling of Gellert's lips against his, how soft they were, everything was perfect, so how could he have been kissing the devil?

Albus felt sick. He felt sick, and he wished that he had never slept with Gellert. It made him want to throw up knowing that he had let someone so evil touch his skin - in that way and in any way. Distance from Gellert had made Albus realize just how stupid he had been. Gellert didn't actually have feelings for him - he was just using him. Gellert knew Albus was powerful. Albus was a tool to him, nothing more. This letter - this I still love you thing - was utter bullshit. It was meant to tug on his heartstrings and enslave him via his infatuation. Gellert was simply still hoping there was a chance Albus would come back to him and let himself be used again.

Albus suddenly became aware Elphias and Fallon were still in the the room, looking at him. How many minutes had passed by while Albus simply stared at Gellert's stupid letter?

Albus cleared his throat and tried to summon the strength to set Gellert's letter on fire. He lost this battle, crumpled up the letter, and stuffed it into his pocket instead.

"Who's Gellert Grindelwald?" Elphias said, mispronouncing the name as Fallon had.

"No one," Albus managed. "Irrelevant."

He knew this was not a polite reply, but he had said it anyway. Elphias raised his eyebrows. What else could Albus say? How could he tell his friends that he had a romantic relationship with a male expelled Durmstang student who then turned around and killed his disabled sister? They would be rightfully disgusted.

"So," Albus said, struggling to divert the topic away from Gellert. "So, Fallon, you were saying you went to Paris?"

Fallon fixed him with a look that clearly said you and I will talk when Elphias leaves. It made Albus admire her even more. Then she went on explaining what she did in Paris.

An hour passed, largely, in silence. Albus knew Fallon was waiting for Elphias to leave so that she could talk with Albus in private, and Albus knew Elphias didn't want to leave prematurely. They had talked about everything from the weather to graduation to future plans. Everything except Gellert Grindelwald and his mysterious letter.

Finally, Elphias sighed heavily and said he needed to go. Albus saw him to the door, thanking him and apologizing again, but Elphias wouldn't hear anything about it.

"We're friends," Elphias said. "You don't need to apologize. Just please keep in contact with me."

Albus walked back to the living room and sat down beside Fallon. He knew he was about to be interrogated, but he trusted Fallon. She had a sort of motherly touch to her and she was a genius simply in a different way than he. She was street smart and kind-hearted. Plus, she was a girl. If he was going to tell anyone his secret about Gellert, it would be a girl, because another boy knowing would just be too much for Albus.

"Albus," she said, interrupting his thoughts, "when you read that letter from Gellert Grindelwald -"

"Grin-del-vald," Albus pronounced, "is how you say his name. The w is like a v."

"Grin-del-vald," Fallon went on hastily, "it looked like you were going to throw up. You just froze and your face went from pale to red to pale again. You stared at it in complete silence for five full minutes. Who is he? Is he our age? I don't recognize the name; he didn't go to Hogwarts, did he?"

Albus sighed and close his eyes. He was going to do it. He was going to do it. "Gellert is our age. Well, a year younger - he's seventeen. He attended Durmstang but was expelled. He's my neighbor's nephew. He was living with her for two and a half months, but he's gone now."

"So you became friends with him?" Fallon asked. She did not sound suspicious - yet.

"I did." Albus opened his eyes. "Gellert is brilliant, and when I say brilliant, I mean brilliant. Powerful. Talented. Forgive me for my lack of modesty, but he is like the Durmstang equivalent of me. We dueled several times - non-lethally, of course. It was his idea. He even beat me a couple times. Very powerful. He used to say the same thing about me - that he had no idea someone could be as brilliant and talented as himself." He almost smiled, but caught and hated himself. How could he fucking smile when he thought of him?

Fallon looked like she was trying to take this all in. "Very powerful indeed, then," she muttered. "So what happened between you two? Why did you look so disgusted?"

Albus' breathing became shallow. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't say the words. Then he felt the gentle pressure of Gellert's letter against his thigh. He reached into his pocket and unfolded it. He smoothed it out for an unnecessarily long length of time. Now he was thankful he hadn't set it on fire. Wordlessly, Albus handed it over to Fallon, looking like a man walking to his execution. It cost him a great effort. As soon as she took it, he felt himself growing red. She would know. Oh God, she would know he was, as Aberforth eloquently called him, a fucking queer, and worse, that he had delivered Ariana to her murderer. Albus resisted the urge to grab the paper out of her hands and rip it to pieces.

Fallon read over the letter in silence. Albus couldn't bear to look at her face, so he stared at his hands instead.

When she had finally stopped reading (it felt like years to Albus), she looked up and said, "Albus, oh Albus..."

He closed his eyes. He heard Fallon move closer to him. She took his hand again and Albus felt himself losing the battle to not cry.

"Look at me," Fallon said.

But Albus would not.

"Listen, I don't care that you're homosexual, if that is why you won't look at me," she said, sounding very much like a patient mother explaining something to her child. "It does not matter to me. Don't you remember what I said in sixth year?"

"Yes, but I was joking at the time," Albus managed. "I didn't actually think I was - you know -"

"You might have been joking, but I was not," Fallon said calmly. "Andrea is a moron, so of course you did not feel anything when she cornered you and kissed you around Christmas. You just thought you didn't enjoy it because she's a dreadfully stupid and self-absorbed girl, but the fact you didn't feel anything bothered you a bit even then, and you briefly wondered if she was right. I know you were a bit worried. Sometimes it just takes meeting the right person, and Gellert was the person who made you realize. I stand by what I said in sixth year. I don't care if you're homosexual. If you are, we can cry about men together. That is what I said. And you are. So what?"

Albus was finally able to look at her. "Gellert killed my sick sister."

"I know. It isn't your fault, Albus."

"But it is! Had I not been so much as friends with Gellert - if I had never brought him into this house -"

"Albus, you cannot go through life thinking everyone you meet is going to kill your sister!" Fallon exclaimed. "It wouldn't be sane to do so!"

"I should have seen it in him," Albus muttered. "I should have known."

"Maybe there were warning signs," she said, "and maybe there weren't. But it's irrelevant. I know you, Albus. We've been friends since second year. You wouldn't become romantically involved with just anyone. You weren't looking for a cheap romantic thrill. I think you were completely smitten. And guess what, Albus - love blinds people. It just does. The heart doesn't ask for permission - it just feels what it wants. You can only see the good. Actually, I think it is a good thing that you had feelings for him rather than just being friends, because love would explain why you didn't pick up on any warning signs."

She was right. Albus knew she was right. Of course she was right. What she was saying made so much sense. He had loved Gellert and he had no idea why. He had fallen hard and fast. Deliriously so. And he still felt ashamed. So ashamed. But somehow, he felt better knowing that Fallon knew. It was as if she was carrying a tiny amount of the weight that he had been shouldering himself. A very small amount, but some weight, nonetheless...

They sat in silence for a long time and Albus knew she knew there didn't need to be words between them.

Finally, Fallon said, "What are you planning on doing now?"

Albus shook his head. "I have no idea. I am lost. I wish I could just numb it all."

"Well," Fallon said heavily, "that's the thing about loss and pain, Albus. It's better to feel it as soon as possible so that you can get it all out and start to heal. Numbing pain and postponing it only makes it worse when you finally do feel it."

She was right.

Albus had lived through lots of days by the time June 1996 came around. Thousands and thousands of days. But this night (morning?) was one of the very worst he had ever experienced.

He had not been at headquarters at the time Severus announced that he was afraid Harry had gone to the Department of Mysteries after Sirius when in fact Sirius was sitting in his living room. When Albus did receive word of what was happening, he had to figure out what was happening and how the events had come to this. He had had a nasty suspicion that Kreacher had something to do with this. He arrived in the Department of Mysteries moving faster than he had in a long time. He was too late though. The Death Eaters caught sight of him and started scrambling to get away. Sure, he had caught them. Sure, he managed to save Harry. Yet Bellatrix killed Sirius before Albus could stop her. He was only one person. He caught all the Death Eaters, and he did it at record speed, but it wasn't fast enough for Sirius. Bellatrix was the Death Eater who got away.

Albus saw Remus holding Harry back, who was shouting Sirius' name. Albus had to look away from the sickening sight as he continued to bind the Death Eaters. By the time they were all immobilized, he realized Remus didn't have Harry anymore. Harry had taken off after Bellatrix, which was a very bad thing indeed... But it did eventually lead to Fudge seeing Voldemort with his own eyes.

It took everything in Albus' power to not completely lose it with Fudge.

"Albus," Fudge said, his face pale, his hair messy, "you have to understand, I really thought you were wrong, and what am I going to do now? The Wizarding world is going to be furious with me - how am I going to -"

"Cornelius, I have no idea. You are going to announce that Voldemort is back in a couple hours or so. It's nearly morning. That's what you are going to do."

"But everyone is going to be furious with me! They might even demand I resign!"

"Yes," Albus said impatiently. "They probably will."

"Well," Fudge blustered, "well, do you think I can talk with Potter?"

"Why do you want to speak with Harry?"

Fudge wrung his hands, looking desperate. "He's - er - I think the - ah - people will listen to him."

Albus was furious. "Cornelius, you are not using Harry to help you stay in office! Now, I have more important things to do - Harry is in my office all alone. This is your mess, not mine, and certainly not Harry's!"

"But - but -"

Albus ignored him and left, heading right to Harry.

Harry Potter was normally very stoic, but right now, he looked like he was on the verge of a violent outburst, and no matter what Albus said, it only seemed to make it worse. Harry was actually shaking with rage but Albus did not really begin to seriously worry until Harry started to demolish his office, all while shouting, "I DON'T CARE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE -"

Harry must have gotten tired of breaking the instruments one by one, so he instead picked up the whole table and threw it several feet until it smashed onto the floor and broke.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

"You do care," Albus said numbly. He didn't really know what he was trying to achieve by saying this, but whatever it was, he sure it wouldn't work because he could never do anything right. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

"I - DON'T!" Harry screamed. His eyes flashed, the target of his fury had turned onto Albus, and Albus knew Harry was contemplating hurting him. Albus knew Harry wanted to attack him and shatter him too. Harry didn't understand what was going on inside him, but Albus did.

"Oh yes, you do. You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" Harry continued to scream. "YOU - STANDING THERE - YOU -"

The tides changed again within Harry. Now he was running away. Albus watched him as he turned on his heel and literally ran for the door. He tried to turn the knob, but it would not turn.

Harry turned back around. "Let me out," he demanded, his whole body shaking.

Let Harry out? Albus would die first. Harry was in a volatile state, both emotionally and mentally. Albus had watched him change from despair to anger, to violently breaking things, to wanting to hurt Albus, to wanting to run away within a span of a couple of minutes. Harry was unstable. Albus had no idea what Harry might do next. Nothing and no one in Harry's path was safe now, including Harry himself. Albus wasn't scared that Harry was going to hurt him. He didn't care how many objects Harry destroyed. He was scared Harry might hurt himself. This wasn't normal anger. This was anger coupled with grief and guilt. This was desperate anger. The scene was painfully familiar. The only difference was Harry had someone to see him through this.

"No," Albus said simply in response to Harry's demand.

Harry gaped at him. Albus doubted Harry understood the gravity of the words he had just shouted at his headmaster. 'I want out. I want it to end.' For all Albus knew, Harry might go running straight out of his office and pitch himself off the topmost tower of the school. He had no idea what Harry's grief might cause him to do, and he did not particularly want to find out. He would rather Harry continue to demolish his office where Albus could keep an eye on him.

"Let me out," Harry tried again.

Albus' response was the same.

He had hoped that he would have been able to tell Harry that everyone excluding Sirius would suffer no lasting damage from the night's events. He had hoped to simply tell Harry that Sirius' death was his, Albus', fault, and not Harry's. Albus wanted to transfer the blame off Harry onto him. Then he would explain Occlumency, not looking at Harry for a year, and why Harry had received the false vision of Siriius in trouble. He had hoped Harry would talk to him about how he was feeling, and then Albus in turn would say some words of comfort to help ease the pain. Then Albus would give him a dreamless sleep potion and send him off to bed.

It was becoming increasingly obvious Albus' hopes were not going to come true. He did not want to tell Harry about the prophecy. He avoided it yet again. It was a hope - a rather delusional hope - that Harry would ask no questions about the prophecy at all, and that he would just accept there was a mysterious prophecy about him and Voldemort.

"People don't like being locked up!" Harry shouted. Once again, he was angry with him. Once again, Harry was standing on his feet. "You did it to me all last summer!"

Albus put his face in his hands. It was true. He had kept the truth from Harry for too long. Harry was no longer a child that he could "protect" (just that word was laughable - he had done a horrible job at protecting Harry) any longer. Albus had to tell him... but telling Harry about the prophecy's contents just after his godfather was killed? There is no perfect time, he concluded. Every time is a terrible time, and you've waited too long.

Albus slowly lowered his hands. "It is time for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you." He meant it.

Harry seemed to consider this carefully before throwing himself back into the chair and waiting impatiently. Albus realized that Harry did not realize the magnitude of what was about to be revealed to him. Perhaps he had come to believe Albus would never tell him why Voldemort wanted Harry dead.

And so Albus told him. He told him about the prophecy. He told him why it had taken Albus so long to tell him the truth. Harry was slow to absorb this. He did not seem able to grasp the idea that he, Harry, was predicted to be the only boy who could ever stop Voldemort. Eventually, Harry took it. Albus did not really know how to comfort him. He was no good at this kind of thing. Harry was not crying but Albus was, silently, and Harry did not look up. Albus suspected Harry was simply either in took much shock, too tired, or both.

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry," Albus eventually said. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess... that I rather thought... you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

Harry looked up at him and finally saw the tears. Then Harry looked back down at his knees, appearing embarrassed. Albus couldn't help but see the humor in this situation. Harry was the one supposed to be crying here, not him.

They sat like this for several more minutes in silence. Albus wished he knew what was going on in Harry's head. Then it seemed like Harry had just given up. He leaned forward, put his arms crisscrossed on Albus' desk, and put his head down on his arms. Within a minute, Harry began to snore softly, and Albus realized he had fallen asleep.

Albus continued to sit in silence as he watched Harry sadly. He loved Harry, and he knew it was always the people he loved that were hurt by him. Albus never meant to do it. He wanted Harry to know that, but Albus was horrible at best at getting that message across to anyone. He loved Harry but he hurt Harry, and Albus knew he would continue to hurt Harry in the future. He just prayed Harry will survive as he thought he will...

It was his fault Sirius was dead. If he had just told Harry about the prophecy, Harry would never have been lured there, and Sirius would not be dead. He had cut himself off from Harry in an effort to protect him. Harry might have gone to him, might have tried to talk to him first before running off, but Albus was gone, and there was no way for Harry to contact him. Even if he had not told Harry about the contents of the prophecy, he could have told Harry to not ever go there at least. What the hell was wrong with him? Sirius would be alive if Albus had done it right.

Harry's expression became pained, and he started to groan faintly.

"Harry," Albus said, reaching across his large desk to shake his shoulder. "Wake up."

Harry lifted his head and looked confused for a moment. Then he took his hands off the desk, sat back in his chair, and put his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Albus said. "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

"Was," Harry murmured.

"I can get you a dreamless sleep potion. Do you want to take a dreamless sleep potion?"

"No," Harry said.

"Are you sure? It's no trouble -"

But Harry shook his head.

There was a pause.

"Do you want to talk, Harry?" asked Albus.

Harry shook his head again.

"All right. Well, if you want to sleep here, you can, but I can actually conjure a sofa or -"

"No," Harry said. "I'm fine. I can go to my bed."

"Are you certain? Really, you can stay, Harry."

"No, I'm fine," Harry repeated. "Just tired."

But he wasn't fine. Albus knew that.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up at him when Albus did not continue. His green eyes were watery and red.

"What are you going to do if I let you out?" Albus asked finally.

Harry's eyes scanned his face, looking a bit confused. Then he looked away, his expression and tone casual. "I'm going to go to the Gryffindor tower and go to sleep. Not hungry."

Either Harry was completely clueless about what Albus was getting at or he was being a good actor.

"Look at me," Albus said softly.

Harry's eyes met Albus'.

"Are you sure that's what you are going to do?" Albus said.

Harry nodded while looking completely nonplussed now, though he maintained eye contact. His anger was gone. He was obviously still hurting, but fatigue was winning. That dangerous destructive rage had passed. Albus used Legilimency to bore into Harry's mind. Harry was thinking of his bed in the dormitory and nothing else.

"All right," said Albus finally. He felt his heart clench as he tried to think of the right things to say. "Listen: I care about you, Harry, even though my past actions probably say something else. I love you. If you need anything from me - anything at all - you come back here and get me, no matter what the day or hour is. You don't have to go through this alone. I'm not going anywhere."

Harry nodded, looking embarrassed. Forty minutes ago, Harry had been the emotional wreck. Now it was Albus. Harry looked behind him at the broken table and instruments on the floor. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Please don't apologize to me."

Harry did not speak. He closed his eyes and looked like he was going to fall asleep again.

Albus flicked his wand and the door latch clicked open. "You may go, Harry. Get some sleep; sleep as long as you need. My door is always open to you."

But Harry did not visit Albus again, and Albus couldn't really blame him... this was going to be a difficult journey, to end Voldemort for good.

A/N: An after note after I had already put this up... This entirely came from the little question of how well did Dumbledore really know how Harry was feeling? Dumbledore let this little known truth about himself slip in OotP: "I know how you are feeling, Harry." That little bit of truth about himself, coming from the man who said the deepest and most desperate desire of his heart was holding a new pair of socks. So, the question is... how well did Dumbledore correctly know how Harry was feeling? And out came this.