My Very First GO Fanfic, And It's A Crossover
Title: "I Hate Love", A Good Omens/Harry Potter One-Shot Crossover
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley, Dumbledore/Grindelwald
Warnings: Slash (nothing graphic). Slight angst. Vodka.
Notes: What can I say? Dumbledore is gay and I am inspired. Concrit welcome.
"He loves him so much, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, "And you’re encouraging Gellert to play games with him."
Crowley frowned into his empty shot-glass. "I think we need more vodka."
"Don’t change the subject!"
Crowley started at the angel’s sudden vehemence. Aziraphale always did get het up about this kind of job, but this was a bit much. It was also beginning to make Crowley feel slightly ashamed of himself, which was never a good sign. Perhaps it was time to think about sobering up…
Aziraphale, who hadn’t been drinking much lately, got up from his rickety old chair and began to pace. "I mean, how would you like it, Crowley, if you were infatuated like that, and the object of your affection just wasn’t taking it seriously, and you were drifting further and further away from -"
"’M just trying to do my job, angel," Crowley interrupted. It took a considerable effort to keep the words from slurring together. Definitely time to get sober. "I don’t like it any more than you, and I swear to G- to Lu- to somebody that if it ever gets out that I said that, you will be so very, very de- in pain. Lots of pain."
Both were silent for a long time after that. Aziraphale got up and went to check that nobody had had the audacity to enter the shop. Crowley concentrated on getting rid of the alcohol in his system. He’d known from the moment he’d received this assignment that it would be nothing but trouble. Things were never easy when love was involved. And of course the angel had gone and developed a soft spot for Albus Dumbledore. Stood to reason - both were in the habit of salivating over mouldy old first editions of - of ‘Magical Mould and How To Cultivate It’, or whatever.
Aziraphale, having made sure that no one was about to try to purchase any of his precious tomes, re-entered the back room and settled himself once more in his seat. His glasses were smudged, his hair sticking up in all directions. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was an angel and therefore not subject to human limitations, Crowley would have said he was tired.
"He’s going to be a truly great man, Crowley, if I get my way. Albus, I mean."
"I know. And he will be. But you understand I have to try… just for appearances’ sake…" Crowley’s eyes darted around the dingy room, trying to avoid focusing on Aziraphale. He felt inexplicably uncomfortable all of a sudden. Perhaps he should have stayed drunk. Aware of the uncomfortable silence taking shape, he muttered the first thing that came into his head; "I hate love."
Aziraphale looked rather shocked. No, more than shocked. Almost… hurt. "That’s a terrible thing to say, Crowley!"
Crowley snorted, feeling that he was back on safe ground. "Why? Love is reason we’re stuck here fretting when we could be, I don’t know, doing anything!"
Aziraphale still looked miffed. "Sometimes I despair of you. Where’s your empathy, your sensitivity?"
"I’m a demon. We don’t have any of that stuff."
The angel leapt up and began to pace again. "The fate of the wizarding world and the muggle world depends on those two right now. If you can’t sympathise with Albus, can’t you at least think about that?"
"You sound as if you want me to help you."
"Don’t you want to help me?"
"I’m a demon, we don’t help." Then, at the look Aziraphale gave him, "Look, I know you want a perfect ending for this. You want Grindelwald to love Dumbledore like he should, and you want them both to give up their plans for world domination and live happily ever after, but it can’t happen, angel, and it’s not going to."
Aziraphale let loose a defeated sigh. "Albus doesn’t want world domination," he said, sulkily. "He thinks it’s all for the Greater Good, he really does. And he won’t realise - that’s what really gets to me, Crowley - he won’t see what Gellert truly is for a long, long time, but when he does he’ll be so - so crushed. He doesn’t deserve that."
Crowley found once again that he didn’t want to make eye contact. The truth was, he didn’t want to see Dumbledore hurt, either, but it was that or let him help Grindelwald to destroy the muggles.
It probably should have worried him that he saw this as the bad option.
"Listen, angel, I’m going back to the flat. We can work on this in the morning."
He didn’t see - or perhaps he chose not to see - the way Aziraphale watched him as he walked out of the shop door.