Grindeldore, Grindeldore, I just had to write some more...
Actually, this fic has been on my mind for ages, but the execution... well. I'm still a bit unsure about it, but I decided to post it so that other people might have a chance to judge whether it sucks or not.
Title: Where Your Treasure Is
Author: Miss Morland
Rating: PG for boys kissing
Pairing: Dumbledore/Grindelwald
Summary: Someone crosses a line.
Disclaimer: I borrowed Rowling's characters to have fun, not to make money.
Warnings: None.
Author's note: In my mind this fic takes place sometime after this one, but it may well be read independently.
Where Your Treasure Is
Phineas Nigellus' laughter was mirthless. 'At it again, are we?'
'Your observations are accurate as always, Phineas.'
'I must say, Headmaster, that your recent - indulgences - have caused a considerable amount of distress among the portraits.'
'Is that so?'
'What with your frequent expeditions and your - forgive me - rather haggard look as of late, yes.'
'I am dying, Phineas,' said Dumbledore, pulling out his wand. 'Does it really matter?'
Phineas only snorted.
The Pensieve stood waiting on the desk. Dumbledore pointed the wand to his temple, and thin threads started to soar out, glistening silver.
He landed in a large field, green and yellow as far as the eye could see. As his feet touched the ground, his gaze was drawn immediately towards the large tree to his left: an old, impressive oak, its branches spread out wide, protecting those seeking shelter under it from the sun.
Two boys were sitting under the oak, their backs against the trunk, discussing lively. The one to the left was gesticulating enthusiastically while talking, his slender hands graceful in their movements, his golden curls gleaming in the rays of light that slipped through the branches. His bespectacled companion watched him with a half-smile, occasionally pushing locks of red hair from his eyes.
'- and if you think of it,' said the blond one, 'we would be lifting a burden off their shoulders.'
The other one looked skeptical. 'How so?'
'Because power means responsibility!' the first one exclaimed. 'And responsibility is a burden. As you very well know.' Here he paused, as if expecting a protest, but none came. 'By governing the Muggles, we would be making their lives exceedingly easier. We would be doing them a service.'
His friend considered this for a moment. 'Yes, Gellert, I do believe you are right.'
'I'm always right.'
'Always?' The other boy smiled. 'I think not.'
'And when, pray tell, have you ever proved me wrong?'
The red-haired boy did not answer at first. 'Do you remember your first day here?' he finally said.
Gellert looked at him expectantly. 'Yes?'
'When I was in the garden, reading? Do you remember what you said to me then?'
Gellert laughed. 'Of course.'
'I thought you might... And you were wrong.'
'Was I?'
'Yes.' The boy paused. 'As it happens, I would.' These last words were merely whispered, the eyes behind the glasses suddenly a clear blue, his lips curling.
His companion's smile widened in return. 'You would?'
'Under the right circumstances, yes.' Again a pause. 'And in the right company.'
Gellert's smile faded, and he suddenly looked much younger. 'Albus...'
'Be quiet,' Albus muttered. He reached his hands to Gellert's face, a look of mixed wonder and determination on his face. And Dumbledore watched the distance between the two boys vanish, their lips meeting tentatively...
'Oh!'
Dumbledore spun around. Minerva McGonagall stood there, her mouth open in shock, her cheeks flushed. He stared at her. Under the tree, the boys took no notice.
'Oh Albus, I'm so sorry... I never knew!'
He tore himself away, and she followed.
Standing in his office, she seemed to be regaining more of her composure. 'I know what you must be thinking, but let me explain -'
'Oh please, Minerva,' Dumbledore said wearily. 'Why can't you simply admit that you were curious?'
Her lips became a thin line, but at least she had the decency to blush. He turned away from her. 'I would never have expected this from you, of all people.'
'Forgive me, Albus.'
'Do you honestly think I will?'
He heard McGonagall's startled breath, but did not look at her.
'You are right,' she then said. 'It is unforgivable. But I only did it because I was worried! You have been acting so strangely, coming and going without actually telling me what it is that you are doing. Like last week, when you staggered into my office, looking as though you'd seen a ghost! And Albus, you aren't well. It is obvious to everyone.'
'I see.' Dumbledore stared out the window. 'And that is why you felt the need to invade my memory.'
'Well, yes!' McGonagall snapped, her temper finally getting the better of her. 'I have already admitted it can't be forgiven, but I would be much more ashamed of myself had I failed to react, having learned that a dear friend was in pain! You may blame me for being a meddler and a sneak, Albus Dumbledore, but you may not blame me for caring about you!'
He glanced towards Phineas Nigellus' portrait. It was empty.
Darkness was beginning to creep upon the castle grounds. Dumbledore rested his forehead against the window's cool glass, seeing their reflections there; McGonagall had approached and was now standing behind his right shoulder.
'Albus...' Her voice had gone soft. 'If there is anything I can do...'
'There is,' said Dumbledore without turning his head. 'You can leave me. Now.'
'But surely you should not be alone -'
'I said leave, Minerva!'
She winced at his tone; he had never spoken to her like this. He thought he saw her hand move, as if she had wanted to reach out and touch him, but then thought better of it, for which he was grateful. With a last glance over her shoulder she left the Headmaster's office.
The silence was suddenly broken by a familiar voice.
'She does care for you, you know.'
There was nothing of the usual smirk in Phineas Nigellus' face now. His eyes searched Dumbledore's features with something that resembled concern.
'I know.' Dumbledore passed a hand over his eyes. Perched high above him, Fawkes the phoenix rustled his wings, once.
Title: Where Your Treasure Is
Author: Miss Morland
Rating: PG for boys kissing
Pairing: Dumbledore/Grindelwald
Summary: Someone crosses a line.
Disclaimer: I borrowed Rowling's characters to have fun, not to make money.
Warnings: None.
Author's note: In my mind this fic takes place sometime after this one, but it may well be read independently.
Where Your Treasure Is
Phineas Nigellus' laughter was mirthless. 'At it again, are we?'
'Your observations are accurate as always, Phineas.'
'I must say, Headmaster, that your recent - indulgences - have caused a considerable amount of distress among the portraits.'
'Is that so?'
'What with your frequent expeditions and your - forgive me - rather haggard look as of late, yes.'
'I am dying, Phineas,' said Dumbledore, pulling out his wand. 'Does it really matter?'
Phineas only snorted.
The Pensieve stood waiting on the desk. Dumbledore pointed the wand to his temple, and thin threads started to soar out, glistening silver.
He landed in a large field, green and yellow as far as the eye could see. As his feet touched the ground, his gaze was drawn immediately towards the large tree to his left: an old, impressive oak, its branches spread out wide, protecting those seeking shelter under it from the sun.
Two boys were sitting under the oak, their backs against the trunk, discussing lively. The one to the left was gesticulating enthusiastically while talking, his slender hands graceful in their movements, his golden curls gleaming in the rays of light that slipped through the branches. His bespectacled companion watched him with a half-smile, occasionally pushing locks of red hair from his eyes.
'- and if you think of it,' said the blond one, 'we would be lifting a burden off their shoulders.'
The other one looked skeptical. 'How so?'
'Because power means responsibility!' the first one exclaimed. 'And responsibility is a burden. As you very well know.' Here he paused, as if expecting a protest, but none came. 'By governing the Muggles, we would be making their lives exceedingly easier. We would be doing them a service.'
His friend considered this for a moment. 'Yes, Gellert, I do believe you are right.'
'I'm always right.'
'Always?' The other boy smiled. 'I think not.'
'And when, pray tell, have you ever proved me wrong?'
The red-haired boy did not answer at first. 'Do you remember your first day here?' he finally said.
Gellert looked at him expectantly. 'Yes?'
'When I was in the garden, reading? Do you remember what you said to me then?'
Gellert laughed. 'Of course.'
'I thought you might... And you were wrong.'
'Was I?'
'Yes.' The boy paused. 'As it happens, I would.' These last words were merely whispered, the eyes behind the glasses suddenly a clear blue, his lips curling.
His companion's smile widened in return. 'You would?'
'Under the right circumstances, yes.' Again a pause. 'And in the right company.'
Gellert's smile faded, and he suddenly looked much younger. 'Albus...'
'Be quiet,' Albus muttered. He reached his hands to Gellert's face, a look of mixed wonder and determination on his face. And Dumbledore watched the distance between the two boys vanish, their lips meeting tentatively...
'Oh!'
Dumbledore spun around. Minerva McGonagall stood there, her mouth open in shock, her cheeks flushed. He stared at her. Under the tree, the boys took no notice.
'Oh Albus, I'm so sorry... I never knew!'
He tore himself away, and she followed.
Standing in his office, she seemed to be regaining more of her composure. 'I know what you must be thinking, but let me explain -'
'Oh please, Minerva,' Dumbledore said wearily. 'Why can't you simply admit that you were curious?'
Her lips became a thin line, but at least she had the decency to blush. He turned away from her. 'I would never have expected this from you, of all people.'
'Forgive me, Albus.'
'Do you honestly think I will?'
He heard McGonagall's startled breath, but did not look at her.
'You are right,' she then said. 'It is unforgivable. But I only did it because I was worried! You have been acting so strangely, coming and going without actually telling me what it is that you are doing. Like last week, when you staggered into my office, looking as though you'd seen a ghost! And Albus, you aren't well. It is obvious to everyone.'
'I see.' Dumbledore stared out the window. 'And that is why you felt the need to invade my memory.'
'Well, yes!' McGonagall snapped, her temper finally getting the better of her. 'I have already admitted it can't be forgiven, but I would be much more ashamed of myself had I failed to react, having learned that a dear friend was in pain! You may blame me for being a meddler and a sneak, Albus Dumbledore, but you may not blame me for caring about you!'
He glanced towards Phineas Nigellus' portrait. It was empty.
Darkness was beginning to creep upon the castle grounds. Dumbledore rested his forehead against the window's cool glass, seeing their reflections there; McGonagall had approached and was now standing behind his right shoulder.
'Albus...' Her voice had gone soft. 'If there is anything I can do...'
'There is,' said Dumbledore without turning his head. 'You can leave me. Now.'
'But surely you should not be alone -'
'I said leave, Minerva!'
She winced at his tone; he had never spoken to her like this. He thought he saw her hand move, as if she had wanted to reach out and touch him, but then thought better of it, for which he was grateful. With a last glance over her shoulder she left the Headmaster's office.
The silence was suddenly broken by a familiar voice.
'She does care for you, you know.'
There was nothing of the usual smirk in Phineas Nigellus' face now. His eyes searched Dumbledore's features with something that resembled concern.
'I know.' Dumbledore passed a hand over his eyes. Perched high above him, Fawkes the phoenix rustled his wings, once.