China, Harry Potter, Dumbledore/Grindelwald
Title: China
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Dumbledore/Grindelwald
Rating: PG13
Notes: Written for mercurystar for adventchallenge based on the prompt 'a toast to happier times'.
No one comes to visit him anymore. Well, not that anyone really did, but there used to be old relatives who came around to yell at him, and sometimes even family of those who had died who came around to blame him for all the sorrows in their lives, but no more. Not that it was particularly pleasant, those visits, but at least it was someone. Spending time alone, while preferable to most peoples company, lost it's shine after fifteen odd years.
When the door opened, he was sitting with his back against the wall, legs spread out in front of him. Not very comfortable, but what can you do. He didn't look up from his hands, where he was making worlds and destroying them in time to the beat of his heart.
"You look well," a familiar voice said. Gellert's head jerked up almost without input from his brain. Albus was standing just inside then door, looking magnificent as always. Not that Gellert had seen him in person in quite some time. Since he was imprisoned, in fact. But he had seen the pictures, seen his extravagant clothes and watched his hair turn from brown to grey to white.
"Thank you," Gellert said in what he hoped was a cool voice. He hadn't spoken in over seven years, and not heard any voices either, so he wasn't quite sure if he succeeded. Albus conjured up a chair for himself, and a table with a tea set.
"They let you keep your wand in here," Gellert said. "Flash bastard." Albus smiled.
"You are not considered a threat anymore, old friend," he said. Gellert laughed, a dry sound, echoing in the empty cell.
"Friend?" he said. "I was never your friend." He still accepted the cup of tea Albus gave him.
"You were," Albus insisted. "Things aren't by necessity mutually exclusive." Gellert didn't say anything, just drank his tea.
"Well, nice as this has been," he said when he was finished, "why are you here?" Albus didn't answer, just took off his thick winter gloves and reached out with his right hand. Gellert touched it, fascinated at its blackened state, interested where others would be repulsed. He took it between his own hands and closed his eyes. Yes, he could feel it. Strong, and growing stronger each minute.
"Six months," he said, and released Albus's hand. "At the most." Albus smiled.
"I know. That's why I'm here." Gellert snorted.
"Because you're dying. Going to take me with you?" he said, taunting and wishing at the same time. Albus shook his head.
"No. I wanted to say goodbye," he said, and there was sadness in his voice.
"If you missed me so much you shouldn't have had me locked up," Gellert said, but without much heat. Albus looked at him as he put on his glove again, then he bent down and kissed Gellert's forehead.
"Goodbye, old friend," he said, and then he left.
Gellert had fun for days destroying the tea set, disintegrating it into the tiniest pieces before inhaling the dust. You never know what power is left in such objects.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Dumbledore/Grindelwald
Rating: PG13
Notes: Written for mercurystar for adventchallenge based on the prompt 'a toast to happier times'.
No one comes to visit him anymore. Well, not that anyone really did, but there used to be old relatives who came around to yell at him, and sometimes even family of those who had died who came around to blame him for all the sorrows in their lives, but no more. Not that it was particularly pleasant, those visits, but at least it was someone. Spending time alone, while preferable to most peoples company, lost it's shine after fifteen odd years.
When the door opened, he was sitting with his back against the wall, legs spread out in front of him. Not very comfortable, but what can you do. He didn't look up from his hands, where he was making worlds and destroying them in time to the beat of his heart.
"You look well," a familiar voice said. Gellert's head jerked up almost without input from his brain. Albus was standing just inside then door, looking magnificent as always. Not that Gellert had seen him in person in quite some time. Since he was imprisoned, in fact. But he had seen the pictures, seen his extravagant clothes and watched his hair turn from brown to grey to white.
"Thank you," Gellert said in what he hoped was a cool voice. He hadn't spoken in over seven years, and not heard any voices either, so he wasn't quite sure if he succeeded. Albus conjured up a chair for himself, and a table with a tea set.
"They let you keep your wand in here," Gellert said. "Flash bastard." Albus smiled.
"You are not considered a threat anymore, old friend," he said. Gellert laughed, a dry sound, echoing in the empty cell.
"Friend?" he said. "I was never your friend." He still accepted the cup of tea Albus gave him.
"You were," Albus insisted. "Things aren't by necessity mutually exclusive." Gellert didn't say anything, just drank his tea.
"Well, nice as this has been," he said when he was finished, "why are you here?" Albus didn't answer, just took off his thick winter gloves and reached out with his right hand. Gellert touched it, fascinated at its blackened state, interested where others would be repulsed. He took it between his own hands and closed his eyes. Yes, he could feel it. Strong, and growing stronger each minute.
"Six months," he said, and released Albus's hand. "At the most." Albus smiled.
"I know. That's why I'm here." Gellert snorted.
"Because you're dying. Going to take me with you?" he said, taunting and wishing at the same time. Albus shook his head.
"No. I wanted to say goodbye," he said, and there was sadness in his voice.
"If you missed me so much you shouldn't have had me locked up," Gellert said, but without much heat. Albus looked at him as he put on his glove again, then he bent down and kissed Gellert's forehead.
"Goodbye, old friend," he said, and then he left.
Gellert had fun for days destroying the tea set, disintegrating it into the tiniest pieces before inhaling the dust. You never know what power is left in such objects.