Albus Dumbledore (
chambermusicandtenpins) wrote2019-11-19 08:33 pm
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Deerly Beloved
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( Albus Dumbledore | 46 | M | wouldn't you like to know ) ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
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[After all, that is exactly what he had wanted so badly once. He'd had it mapped out so clearly in his head, the way he and Gellert would live so contentedly together, always at each other's side, always one with each other.
And then Gellert had cursed Aberforth in their living room.]
You aren't sorry for harming anyone, are you.
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[He won't mourn its loss either.]
I will protect myself.
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[His voice grows more deadened, his resolve more steely. How many times will he hear Gellert dismiss what he'd done, and act as if what he'd done to Aberforth, done to all of the people he'd harmed? How many times will he stubbornly try to make him see reason and come up empty?]
If you feel no guilt for what you've done and I feel no shame for my lack of forgiveness, then I imagine there is not much more to say. Just as there is not much more left to lay claim between us.
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[He has never apologized for anything before. This is entirely new territory and he feels too emotional to phrase anything right.]
...Albus...
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[He looks sad and tired and resigned, because they have spent so much time arguing since they've arrived, and it has brought them nowhere. All he's gained from it are headaches and heartaches, and yet there is still some piece of him that is so very desperate to change something, even as the door shuts in his face every time.]
I want things to be different but I think I am starting to realize how foolish I am.
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[He is a strange man - too violent and brutal by far - and unsure how to be otherwise. He has never had peace or a place to call home; Durmstrang only taught him to defend himself. His life in the great wide world has emphasized the mistakes of his childhood. Albus stands in stark contrast to all of it and he doesn't know how to meet him.]
I miss you.
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[He sounds defeated and tired, and yet, in spite of that, something in his heart breaks when Gellert tells him he misses him.
Albus closes his eyes and is silent a moment, his chest aching at the words, at the memories of so many times when he's wanted the other man at his side and been left with nothing more than air.]
I do, too.
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[Why must Albus look so sorrowful? The expressions nag at him and his pride feels less important. Actually, his pride feels nonexistent.]
Spend time with me, then.
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We only wind up screaming at each other when we do. Unless one of us is injured.
[Shaking his head slightly, he says in a mournful voice:] I think there is so much more standing between us than just one day thirty years ago.
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[He tries to stand against the sadness, pitching his voice alluringly. He is a siren calling Albus to sea.]
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The past is not nonexistent when a war waits for us the second we go home.
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[It could be. The possibilities are endless and he wants to direct Albus's attention away from that war. Their war.]
Imagine this is our new beginning. What do you need from me?
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[He shuts his eyes a moment, picturing it as Gellert wishes him to, and yet there are so many unknowns that would worm through him. Such as:]
I'd need to know what exactly you've been telling Credence Barebone.