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Your eyes flutter open.
It takes a beat, two, then another before your vision finally adjusts to the soft white light that cradles your surroundings. Next, comes your hearing—the low hum of chatter, the occasional clink of cutlery and the scrape of chairs.
Your first step was tentative through this unfamiliar place, but soon enough, you begin weaving your way through the crowd of eating patrons and bustling waiters. The fanciful restaurant is packed, and the tables you pass are full. There were many a couple, a few families, and then a boisterous group of friends but the one commonality was that almost nobody came alone.
Which made the single exception stand out even more than he already was, on his lonesome.
You smile bitterly. ‘Always with the theatrics.’ you think, as you walk up to his table. You observe as he stirs his teacup, his brow quirking as it does when he is deep in thought. He barely looks any different from when you last met, with the same rugged hair and scruffy beard. Everything between you has been torn asunder, yet his familiarity still…
You pause before you reach him. Your heart aches. Before you can sound your greeting, another voice to your far right calls out first. The ache begins to burn.
“Would this be one of your regular haunts, Albus?”
Albus Dumbledore looks up from his plate. The polite expression he regularly wears brightens for just a fraction of a second before smoothing over.
Why does he bother? The present company he keeps knows him well enough to notice all his little intricacies. “Surprisingly fancy for something he’s conjured.” you chime in the newcomer’s comment with your own, but you stubbornly fixate on the wizard at the table instead.
A chuckle rumbles close by your side. “I did think this was more to my style.”
Albus sighs. “I don’t have any regular haunts,” he says as two chairs pull themselves out as an invitation to join him at the table.
Only when you have settled in the plush cushions of your seat do you finally turn your head and find yourself staring straight into Gellert Grindewald’s piercing blue eyes. Too close. You were close enough to see the same intensity as all those years ago burn in those irises and that was too close.
What does he find in yours?
Surprisingly, Gellert breaks eye contact first. “Let me see it.” He says softly.
Albus frowns but offers no protest.
You grasp the silver chain from underneath your collar and reveal the necklace that has never left your body since it fell into your possession. All attention is almost hypnotically drawn towards the crimson liquid that swayed languidly in its silver pendant. It starkly reminds you of exactly what was at stake here. There was no delight to be had in this reunion.
"Sometimes, I imagine I still see it around my neck,” Gellert begins. “I carried it for so many years.” His gaze has strayed from the pendant once more, to look back up at its wearer. Don’t. “And then,” Stop looking at me that way. “We offered it to you.” Like you still- “How does it feel around yours?”
‘It’s burdensome’ the word resounds in your mind. “There is nothing left of the promise but this,” was what you voiced from your chaotic thoughts. Your fist around the pendant’s chains tightens. “It should be meaningless by now.”
“Should be?” Gellert echoes, amusement laced in his voice.
Albus’s frown deepens as he places his hand atop yours. His fingers are gentle as he pries your own open from your unintentional vice-like grip, running featherlight touches over the bruised indents the chains had made in your palms. “You can still free yourself of it,”
Your voice hitches in your throat, and you do pull away from him. “Can you?” came your hoarse whisper.
Gellert almost looks disappointed. “What is there to free yourself off?” he asks. The dark wizard’s eyes trail over to an approaching muggle, carrying a tray of refreshments towards your table.
The three of you fall silent as the waitress daintily sets down two ornate cups of Earl Grey before you and Gellert. You think she asks if that was all you wanted, but her voice sounds distant, blurry. You absent-mindedly nodded, thanking her out of habit.
The waitress walks away and you observe the cold, condescending, curl of Gellert’s lips tainting his suave smirk. In reality, most would only see and be charmed by the man’s dashing face.
“They love to chatter, don’t they?” Gellert begins. “Our muggle friends. Though one must admit, they make a good cup of tea.” he takes a sip of the tea as you carefully eye yours before doing the same.
“What you’re doing is madness, Gellert.” Albus asserts.
“It’s what we said we’d do.”
“Things change,” you murmur.
“We were young. I was-”
“Committed” Gellert cuts him off. “To us.”
Albus shakes his head. “No. I went along because…”
Gellert leans forward in his seat. Taunting. “Because?” he dares.
“Because I was in love.”
Something akin to hurt strikes you that your former lover looked ashamed. Then the hurt turns into anger, towards the hypocrite that was yourself. You knew he hurt too. You also understood, and also felt the same and you hated yourself all the more for it.
Gellert takes a deep breath. You think he is surprised that Albus admitted it out loud, but he is getting complicated to read. “Yes.” the man’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But that’s not why you went along. It was you who said we would reshape the world. That it was our birthright.”
“You overestimate our worth.” your words are biting from the still tumultuous emotions within you.
He looks at you disbelievingly. “Can’t you smell it? The stench?” he says. “ Do you really intend to turn your back on what we could be? For these animals?”
Your ears are ringing. This is it then. Albus and Gellert were all you could see by now. You were close enough to feel their touch, but so damnably far that you cursed your inability to strangle this reprehensible travesty once and for all.
Gellert’s bright irises darken with barely contained madness. “With or without you, my loves, I’ll burn down their world. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” He stands up. “Enjoy your cup of tea.”
And with a finality, Gellert Grindelwald disappears into the flames that have come to consume what’s left.
As you sit in the unbearable heat that licks at your skin, you turn as if to say something to the other man, but your lips move soundlessly. His auburn hair still stands out in the flames, lining the vulnerability on his face. He looks at you, knowing you too, will leave.
Albus Dumbledore gives you a smile of great sadness.
You open your eyes, back in the lonesome of your own home, hastily wiping away the tear trailing down your cheek.