Thank You to:
1. koorimechick, who lists Seven Ways as one of her favourite stories. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.
2. the three readers who have placed Seven Ways on their alerts list. You rock.
3. the seven reviewers! I - love - you.
Three.
Albus' eyes flash with fury, and Gellert is afraid, for he himself has always been the passionate one. As the Elder Wand slips from his hand and flies to his adversary, he crumples to his knees, a position he has not assumed for forty-five years.
"No – Albus – we were so great – and we are great – you and I – please – I will start afresh if it will make you happy – you and I – anything to make you happy," he babbles. "We were so happy once," he whimpers, as an afterthought.
Albus' voice is icy. "Yes, Grindelwald, once. Once upon a time, when we believed in fairy-tales."
There is no fervour now, which further frightens Gellert. It is a voice that could order the deaths of thousands without faltering. This is not how Albus is supposed to speak. This is not a side of Albus which Gellert has ever seen.
"No, Albus, it can't end this way." Surely Grindelwald is not his name. He is just Gellert. Just a boy of seventeen. Just a boy, standing in front of another, asking him for mercy. For love.
"Why can't it end this way, Grindelwald?"
Albus Dumbledore's deep blue eyes meet Gellert's of blue and green. Gellert bites his lip and chews his tongue, which is all he can do to avoid uttering the wretched words: because I love you.
A/N: Now you know what Dumbledore thinks of whenever he looks into his magical fireplace. There is a line here which sounds an awful lot like Je Reviens actually.