Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindlewald
Characters:
Albus Dumbledore
Genres:
Angst Slash
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Chamber of Secrets Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36)
Stats:
Published: 12/06/2007
Updated: 12/06/2007
Words: 804
Chapters: 1
Hits: 722

Warm Socks

Fujin101

Story Summary:
When Harry asked Dumbledore what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, he couldn't make sense of the Headmaster's answer. This is my little explanation of a strange answer.

Chapter 01

Posted:
12/06/2007
Hits:
722


The air was cool and crisp in the first glimmers of daylight. Although it was nearing the end of summer, the normal flood of warmth and sunshine had been hindered by an overcast sky for the past few weeks. It seemed as though the weather could read the strife and turmoil he felt within himself.

His breath, warm and steady, emerged from his lips in a soft mist. Some would call him strange to try and find some peace in a graveyard, but he could think of no better place to be.

She was there, waiting for him as always. He knelt by her grave, brushed a few stray leaves obscuring her name. Can you ever forgive me? he thought, not for the last time. I should have protected you. His eyes burned with tears, but he would not cry, not now. Tears could be shed later, when he had time, when he had made everything right. If I make everything right.

There were doubts, but he would have to struggle with them for the rest of his days. All his life he had achieved more than expected, been the best at everything. He wanted happiness for himself, he deserved it. Then why was he being punished, why did he have to try and destroy the only thing he had ever truly wanted? There would be no one else, he knew, no one else who would be his perfect match.

A whisper, a touch, a special look - it took no more than that, no more to see that he had found him, the elusive someone, the soulmate he had so yearned for. They were two hawks flying high on wings of intelligence and creativity, and when they flew together they were untouchable, unbeatable. Calling unquantifiable intelligence a curse would only lead to derision, but he knew that in a way, it was. He hadn't even realized that he was missing something in his life until they first met. And in that initial eye contact, blue on blue, he had known immediately.

I was waiting for you, he would think when they lay together, sated, fulfilled. I

was waiting so long and you freed me.

And Gellert knew it, it was in his laughing eyes when he rolled over, and said infinitely better there than he could ever have expressed in words. But he would never try to say it - that was not his way. Your feet are cold, he would simply say, smiling.

His feet had been cold for so long now, but he didn't care. Not with the burden that seemed to have fallen upon him.

"Why couldn't it be someone else?" he said softly to her grave. "Why me?"

But he knew the answer, knew what he had to do, even though the pain of it felt like a knife through his soul. In a world of sparrows, only a hawk could bring the other one down.

~~~

The historians and poets would later speak of it with a hushed reverence. No two wizards would ever duel like that again, they would say, speaking with inflated egos and even more inflated prose, as if they personally were there. But they weren't, and for all their posturing they would never know the boundless depths of history between the combatants, and never would.

Decades later he would still dream of it, of that last moment, and wonder if he had been wrong. He could still see it as though it had happened the day before.

Gellert lay on his side, breathing shallow, eyes slowly losing the spark that he had loved so much.

I'm sorry, Albus wanted to say, crouching down beside his vanquished foe, so sorry. But he couldn't say the words, didn't want to, didn't need to.

His adversary lifted his head. "Kiss me," he said, struggling with the words. "One last time."

Albus shut his eyes to stop the burning. "No," he said, feeling his heart break. "There's no magic there anymore."

~~~

The boy was looking at him, a face so young, and eyes so old. It was a strange mix, one that disquieted him to no end.

He didn't know how to answer the question. How could he? How could a few words explain everything that he had lost? He looked to the mirror, eyes shut. He knew what he would see - the same thing he saw in his dreams for years, the same thing he could see even now, as though it were permanently seared into the backs of his eyelids. The merry face, the bright eyes gleaming with intelligence that matched his own.

"Sir?" the boy said, green eyes gleaming in a familiar way that made his heart ache.

"Warm socks," Dumbledore replied, hoping his voice did not catch. "My feet are always cold."