Chapter Text
Gerllert
Gellert knows from the moment the world fades into view around him that this isn’t just a dream. The details are slipping between a sharp crystal clarity and the haziness of a dubious future but it’s enough for him to know with a horrifying certainty that the carnage he is seeing is his most possible future. It’s worse than anything he’s ever seen. Worse than the war and seeming to be even worse than what he’s seen so far of the coming war. Because this is almost solely between the wizarding community. Such devastating loss of magical lives and for such a ridiculous reason.
He sees them with their newspapers covered in what he guesses are slurs and he sees even the Ministry become poisoned with such hateful rhetoric. The whole of wizarding society festering like an open wound, and just as fatal. Merlin, the casualties listed… would there even be anyone left? He sees them, more than a few of the families of his own followers, sliding on the robes and masks of this horrible monster of a man. Sees the wizarding world ripped into pieces and then in enough detail to leave him horrified and trembling with rage and grief is Albus.
He’s much older and fighting the man in the Ministry, then the man is ordering his followers to kill Albus, then Albus is drinking from a chalice over and over as a young man forces him to down the concoction even as he begs for relief. Gellert begs with him. Finally- Finally he sees Albus in a tower he’s begging a man who flicks his wrist and with a flash of green light Albus begins to fall. Gellert can’t seem to breathe, his grief is choking him in his sleep and great rasping sobs are ripping free from his throat and he can’t wake up. Not yet, not yet, it’s not finished.
Then, he’s pushed through a kaleidoscope of images of various people, magical and muggle alike, being cut down until he can taste blood in his mouth and then there he is suddenly, looking at himself. He’s older, quite a bit so in fact and it seems he did not at all age gracefully in his captivity. For that is exactly what he seems to be in, captivity. He’s sitting in a very familiar cell in his fortress, the one he keeps reserved for his most dangerous enemies. Nigh on impregnable from the inside of it, it’s apparent that this wonderful little feature is being used on him. The irony doesn’t escape him, or his visitor, because he is not, it seems, alone.
The man is there. Though the conversation fades in and out Gellert finds himself grinning and cheering himself on with each quip and rebuttal against the man and watches with a solemn kind of pride as he takes the secrets of the Elder Wand to his grave. As the green light flashes it gets so bright as to blind him and when he closes his eyes against it he opens them to his room. He’s sprawled out on his bed, breathing heavily, tears drying on his face and an uneasy feeling settling heavy in his chest. It seems as though in the end, regret was his only companion.
“Well,” he murmurs to himself, a hand coming up to press the blood pact more firmly to his heart as he begins to plan. “This simply won’t do.”
It’s easy enough from there to decide to postpone his plans until he has dealt with this new threat. It’s even easier a pitch to a few of his followers, carefully weeding out which of them would have any future connection to this dark wizard. Most don’t yet know of his vision of the second world war so he easily switches out the visions he shares with them until they two are reeling back in horror and reaffirming their loyalty. The ones that do know he shows anyway, telling them of this newer and greater threat. Spinning his words like a spell in their ears as they watch blood soak into the ground and great scores of people die. They too, swear again their allegiance.
He picks up a quill and begins to write down everything he knows even the seemingly irrelevant information he saw. Once done, he sends his best people out to watch the families of the dark wizards and witches he saw. Then he takes a few days to try to search for a future that can subvert this one. He takes a ridiculous number of potions designed to induce visions and burns incense day and night but it isn't until the fourth day that he has any luck. He takes this latest potion, leans back against his bed and takes a deep breath. Focusing as much as he can on trying to see into the future again. What would prevent this great tragedy? The answer, when it eventually- arduously- comes is enough to leave him speechless for a long moment.
Because he sees it. Letters sent by owl to the head auror, clandestine meetings with Albus that turn from professional to more.. intimate in nature, and finally he sees himself confirming that the visions he saw are gone and receiving a pardon and immunity deal from the Minister of Magic himself. But of course, it doesn’t stop there. His next vision is slightly different, he wakes up in his own body, years into the future and is now experiencing everything directly, a relatively new effect of his visions that he’s not sure if he’s about to enjoy.
He feels the soft cool cotton sheets slide across his skin as he stretches out, feels the skin under his fingertips as he runs them over the muscled back in front of him, tastes the warm skin along a shoulder with his lips and tongue and hears the low moan it results in. He knows that he and his bed partner are naked beneath the sheets and knows exactly where this memory is going. He’s amused though, and curious, and so doesn’t pull himself free of the vision. That turns out to have been a great idea as it turns out because he is then stunned as another person presses against his back and he hears Albus’ words whispered against his ear.
“Why are you always starting without me,” it’s teasing, sounding more approving than anything else. Albus’ hand wraps around him underneath the covers and he muffles his own groan by sinking his teeth into the juncture of neck and throat of the man before him who moans his name and rocks backwards to meet him. The voice sounds vaguely familiar but he can’t place it and is, understandably, distracted.
“Now, now,” Albus teases again. “Don’t leave poor Theseus out, Gellert.”
Theseus… Theseus Scamander? The war hero? He recalled the man with black hair, tall, with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline. Beautiful, he remembered even as his hand slid around his waist to pull tightly against a nipple as Albus muttered a spell and lined him up to thrust against the magically lubed cleft of his ass.
“I love you,” he heard himself groan. “I love you, both of you. Stay with me. Just stay with me.”
“Of course,” Theseus murmured back as Albus hummed an affirmative into his skin. Finally, Theseus turned his head and there he was, Theseus Scamander looking at him with a soft expression even as his eyes dilated and his breath came quick. “We love you, too, you idiot. Why would we go anywhere?”
“Yes,” Albus agreed in between trailing kisses along Gellert’s neck and shoulder. “I believe we deserve a vacation after saving the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. And I know exactly how to spend it.”
Gellert laughed as Albus pushed his hips forward just as Theseus sank back and suddenly he was sinking into him and his laugh became a strangled sort of groan that caused them all to cling to each other desperately.
Gellert’s eyes blink open and his breath comes quick as he adjusts himself and thinks back on everything. He loved them. He could feel it there, in that last vision, tangled up with them as the early morning sun shone faintly through their window. He hadn’t felt that in such a long time. Albus, a relationship he long since thought lost, returned to him with a new love. He could feel his love for Albus in the vision still just as great and blinding to look at as it’s always been but now it was matched by this fierce and strong love he felt for Theseus.
Gellert wasn’t sure about much, such as his apparently domesticated lifestyle in the future, but of one thing he was certain. He was so happy in that vision, the happiest he’s ever been, and- he decided determinedly, he would have that future. No matter what he had to do and who he had to play nice with.
After all, you can catch more flies with honey.