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crazyparakiss
Title: Real Men
Pairing(s): Gellert Grindelwald/Albus Dumbledore
Rating: Soft R
Warnings: Sex (not very graphic)
Word Count: 2,500+
Summary: Now it’s all change-it’s got to change more
We think it’s getting better,
But nobody’s really sure...
Notes: Written as a holiday gift fic forleticiae, who is the most wonderful friend a person could ever hope to meet. :D She and I share a passion for music and there was a song that inspired this fic. It moved me: Real Men by Joe Jackson with a phenomenal cover by Tori Amos.
Take your mind back-I don’t know when
Sometime when it always seemed
To be just us and them...
A rock, small yet painful, connects with the back of his skull with precision. Causing a shriek to escape from bitten red lips, before the thin body stumbles into the lake. A whooping group of laughter reaches his ears when he surfaces, and with lowered blue eyes he pulls himself from the depths of the dark chilly water. Ever grateful for the magic that dries him near instantly. Slim tawny gold fingers extend themselves out for him to take and his palm slides against the gentle callous of the warm one offered. Long curling sandy brown hair blowing roguishly in the autumn wind and he swallows as he stares up into the gentle yet handsome face.
When he is standing the other boy turns, a quick wand movement causing the group of tormentors to scream. A cruel smile tugs at the full lips, a half cocked thing that whispers of the deeds to come, no matter he still finds the curve of mouth attractive.
“Come Albus.” The languid tone says, a friendly smile and hand turning upon Albus as the palm is offered once more, “They won’t bother you again.”
“Thank you Gellert.” He says, twining his fingers with the warm welcoming ones against them.
Another smile, so easy and yet cold. “You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.”
Girls that wore pink,
Boys that wore blue,
Boys that always grew up better men than me or you...
The ball is a stuffy affair, full of high collars and strict measured dance movements. All the girls in frilly pastel numbers and all the boys in crisp black formal wear. He feels out of place in his dark mauve robes, and hears the snickers as the couples pass. Their whispers a loud torrent in his ear. Then a storm of dark blue dancing close pulls him from the mindless taunts. A golden face with alluring eyes draws him nearer, and when they stand close enough to feel the warmth of the other Gellert smiles brilliantly.
“Can I have this dance?” His voice the usual husk of mystery.
Albus nods, allowing his waist to be pulled closer by sure adolescent hands.
He ignores the roar of sound that is disapproving, and so does his dance partner. His lips so full and soft looking, mouth out, ‘Ignore them. You and I are better.’
His blue eyes mist as he smiles happily allowing himself to be led along. Gellert his constant guide.
What’s a man now-what’s a man mean,
Is he rough or is he rugged
Is he cultured and clean
Now it’s all change-it’s got to change more
We think it’s getting better,
But nobody’s really sure...
They shove him, hard, his back connects sharply with the bark of a tree. It burns as if the rough has cut through his robes. He wonders if he’ll bruise or bleed. Maybe they will jeer more if he does. He notices their hair. Clean and cut, falling neatly into place; unlike his that is longish and straight without any style. Maybe if he were like them they wouldn’t feel the need to tease, to punish. Normal. It is something he cannot achieve.
A powerful spell rips them away, blood flows in a river of brilliant red from the one who held him at the throat. The colour draws his gaze and the screams fill his ears. Turning his dark blue eyes fall on Gellert, who holds his wand high; eyes ablaze with a mix of fury and cold joy.
Long warm fingers wrap around the thin bicep of his upper arm and stumbling he is pulled along. Leaving the small group of three in a snivelling mess. Not for the first time Albus wonders if this is right. What does it mean to be the greater good?
Looking at the curve of Gellert’s long neck, with its few freckles causes Albus to forget what worried him in the first place. Placing his thin hand against Gellert’s back causes the other boy to turn and flash him with another of his breath stealing smiles. He is swept farther along, in the dangerous rapids known as Gellert’s charm.
And so it goes-go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are...
He gasps as a tongue dances wickedly against the smooth flesh of his throat, ghosting hotly up his jaw leaving cooling saliva in its wake. “You and I,” the husking voice murmurs against his open wanting lips. “We are better than the lot of them. Do you understand?”
All he can do is nod in return as hands push away the covering of his robe. Fingers twine gently in his hair, pull him to a height he thought impossible as the warm coaxing tongue exorcises all of the vile memories of wrong. Of all those who’ve told him he is different, broken, and not normal. His father’s fault, mother’s, sister’s, brother’s, and his own. It is hard to hear them and harder yet to expel them, but Gellert pulls them out as if it as easy as drawing breath.
“We are the real men.” Resolute; Gellert is never anything but.
“Real men.” He echoes on a pant as a hand toys with his most intimate place, whispering forbidden in his mind but the body doesn’t care.
See the nice boys-dancing in pairs
Golden earring golden tan
Blow-wave in the hair
Sure they’re all straight- straight as a line
All the guys are macho
See their leather shine...
Aurors come to lecture all the young males on their future careers. Spouting words of loyalty to the order of magic, telling them that true men join the corps to keep the order. Always with the order of things as they walk briskly, allowing their crimson robes to flow with exaggerated authority. He watches curiously, not stone faced and serious like his peers. Gellert is the only one who openly mocks the men before them.
“What lovely matching clothes. Hair-cuts and wand movements too.” With a cruel smile he continues, indifferent to the angry looks he receives. “Like little toy soldiers lined up in a neat row. How does it feel to be controlled?”
Even when one steps closer to him, Gellert does not flinch he just stares blankly waiting with a silent challenge. Daring them to strike so that he might be allowed to attack. His calm is frightening and chills Albus’ blood.
“We’re not controlled.” The dark haired man, one of the many, says darkly.
“Of course you are too foolish to see.” Gellert leans back casually, legs crossing as he examines his nails in open disrespect.
You don’t want to sound dumb-don’t want to offend
So don’t call me a faggot
Not unless you are a friend...
“Nancy boys.” The mocking laughter of a girl with her friends slides against his ears and a panicking hurt claws up his throat from his chest.
Claw like nails scratch through his robe, biting into his shoulder as they taunt further. Calling him the whore of a devilesqe boy who will be the end of humanity. They call Gellert a monster. Their ringing insults tripling in strength as they are aimed at the only saint he’s known.
Without pause he draws his wand; cursing before thinking and watches with horrified yet detached eyes as she falls twitching to the ground. Breathing harshly he watches as her friends scream, loud wailing unholy sounds that echo up the tall hall. Turning he runs, not bothering to watch as people start pointing and whispering more.
Then if you’re tall, handsome, and strong
You can wear the uniform and I can play along
And so it goes-go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are...
Up in the abandoned tower, they gaze upon the stars through a hole in the ceiling. Red, red robes spilling across the slim line of Gellert’s shoulders. The cloth draws his blue gaze up, caresses the curving line of his lean chest as Gellert in turn watches where he lays on a pile of mouldy straw.
Calloused fingertips caress his cheek, sliding from one of the few freckles on his face to the others. Leisurely making love to each one as Gellert goes on ghosting the skin. When the teasing tips pause above his lips Albus tilts his head up to get a better eye full of the mystery that is being so attentive. Chuckling Gellert moves closer, and the glaring light of the half moon causes Albus to close his eyes.
“Open them back up.” Gellert whispers reverently against his dark hair.
Without needing further command he does as told, causing Gellert to smile again, “Your eyes twinkle.” His voice is teasing but in a way that causes Albus’ stomach to flutter. “Such pretty blue eyes.” When the kiss happens Albus opens up without hesitation. Giving himself, allowing Gellert to take all that he has. Rape him of all that is left of his soul. “I want to play a game.”
Albus can only comply. Allowing himself to be bossed by the “Auror” who has captured his heart.
“For order.” Gellert says lewdly as he commands Albus to strip in the cold air that blows through the holes in the ceiling.
He shivers but does as told, revelling in the heat pouring out of Gellert’s dark eyes. In a rare moment of control Albus caresses the line of his collar bones, drawing the attention of those lust ridden eyes to the movement. Momentarily he feels as if he possesses all the power he needs. Gellert says that power makes them real men. Better men.
Time to get scared-time to change plan
Don’t know how to treat a lady
Don’t know how to be a man
Time to admit-what you call defeat
‘Cause there’s women running past you now
And you just drag your feet...
“If you could marry...” He doesn’t listen as Aberforth speaks of things he’d rather not do. He’s the head of this family and there is no one else to bring them out of darkness. Who will bring him to light if he falls under completely? Not Aberforth, not Arianna, certainly not Mother and never was there Father. Only Gellert. Gellert the breath of needed air in the sea of constant drowning.
Gellert doesn’t smile when he tells him about the marriage proposals. Mostly old women who are too ugly or demented to find proper husbands. So they are relying on a handsome youth to bring them back from despair.
They fight. Aberforth and Gellert. Shouts that frighten Arianna, and bother Albus who stands staring at his feet as they clash in the small sitting room of his home. The suffocating shell that reminds him of his duties.
He wishes it would all just end. He doesn’t want this anymore, just Gellert. He could be homeless, familyless, and all sorts of less as long as he isn’t Gellertless. He can survive as long as he has his Gellert.
Man makes a gun-man goes to war
Man can kill and man can drink
And man can take a whore
He knows when Gellert disappears and Arianna is lying lifeless on the dirty floor that this is wrong. Her body cold within his arms as he cries, looking up at the broken ceiling. A half moon winks at him and he wonders vaguely if his eyes are twinkling.
Where did it go wrong? He cannot remember, there was a fight; was it really him? Was it Gellert? He cannot say, nor does he want to examine the situation to closely. With a sob he hugs the cold form closer. Wondering what will happen when Aberforth comes home and trying not to think about the fact that Gellert will never return. There is a symbol glaring at him from the bottom of his last letter, reminding him that there are things better left untouched. Reminding him that Gellert doesn’t know how to love he only knows how to succeed. Albus feels terribly misled, and what’s worse is he feels utterly alone.
Kill all the blacks-kill all the reds
And if there’s war between the sexes
Then they’ll be no people left...
He doesn’t want to face him. It’s been so long. Years ago his nose split by the angry brother who could not forgive him for allowing his lover to go. “He killed your sister,” Aberforth argued, and still does on the rare occasion he spots him in the pub. It may be true. He knows it’s true in his heart but he still cannot find it in himself to hate or want to bring Gellert to defeat. He was once the embodiment of a greater good for Albus.
“We need you to stop him.” All the letters beg, the Minister, the people they all cry out for his help. No longer taunting in their words, needing him more than they want to jeer. Their desire to live freely overriding their dislike of Albus. He hates them all and wants to put it off for as long as possible. Gellert was the only one who didn’t jeer, who took him in open arms and loving smiles even if he had cruel eyes. Tears run down his aging cheeks at the memories. He was loved once, not just admired for his abilities. For his fragilities and humanity. Things Gellert wished somewhere deep down that he possessed.
“Kill him Albus.” He says aloud in his office of magical artefacts, “Can I really do it...for the greater good?” With a sigh he removes his glasses, setting them against the desk. Trying not to let his eyes fall upon the picture of a handsome young man with roguishly wild hair.
And so it goes-go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are
He keeps the wand, locks it away in a place no one would dare look. Pretends that he doesn’t know a gentler Gellert. Preferring to remember the crazed look of power as they duelled in an abandoned moor. He doesn’t want to remember the whispers of love and the hot slick skin that cemented the intimacy. It reminds him that he too was once a monster.
So he lies to himself, and to all that don’t know him. Which is pretty much the majority of this small world.
Instead watching and seeing some couples who remind him too much of what he and Gellert used to be. Most disturbingly in the young Bellatrix Black and the charming Tom Riddle who often visits the castle in hopes of procuring a teaching job. Albus knows better. He’s seen the cruel yet handsome smiles. Knows the calculating words and whispers of manipulative love. Too bad Bellatrix will never see it for what it is, a ploy to use her as a pawn in the game of world domination.
Even if he knows that Gellert deserved death...Albus could not give him his deserved punishment. Because somewhere he still holds fast to the lover he once knew, the prince who once rescued him from the tower of loneliness. The one who made him feel worthwhile and ultimately shaped him into the man he is today.
“For the greater good.” He whispers to the air, toying with his growing beard, “Do real men believe in such extremes?” Honestly he isn’t sure he will ever know the answer. He’s never been much of a real man.
End
crazyparakissTitle: Real Men
Pairing(s): Gellert Grindelwald/Albus Dumbledore
Rating: Soft R
Warnings: Sex (not very graphic)
Word Count: 2,500+
Summary: Now it’s all change-it’s got to change more
We think it’s getting better,
But nobody’s really sure...
Notes: Written as a holiday gift fic for
leticiae, who is the most wonderful friend a person could ever hope to meet. :D She and I share a passion for music and there was a song that inspired this fic. It moved me: Real Men by Joe Jackson with a phenomenal cover by Tori Amos. Take your mind back-I don’t know when
Sometime when it always seemed
To be just us and them...
A rock, small yet painful, connects with the back of his skull with precision. Causing a shriek to escape from bitten red lips, before the thin body stumbles into the lake. A whooping group of laughter reaches his ears when he surfaces, and with lowered blue eyes he pulls himself from the depths of the dark chilly water. Ever grateful for the magic that dries him near instantly. Slim tawny gold fingers extend themselves out for him to take and his palm slides against the gentle callous of the warm one offered. Long curling sandy brown hair blowing roguishly in the autumn wind and he swallows as he stares up into the gentle yet handsome face.
When he is standing the other boy turns, a quick wand movement causing the group of tormentors to scream. A cruel smile tugs at the full lips, a half cocked thing that whispers of the deeds to come, no matter he still finds the curve of mouth attractive.
“Come Albus.” The languid tone says, a friendly smile and hand turning upon Albus as the palm is offered once more, “They won’t bother you again.”
“Thank you Gellert.” He says, twining his fingers with the warm welcoming ones against them.
Another smile, so easy and yet cold. “You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.”
Girls that wore pink,
Boys that wore blue,
Boys that always grew up better men than me or you...
The ball is a stuffy affair, full of high collars and strict measured dance movements. All the girls in frilly pastel numbers and all the boys in crisp black formal wear. He feels out of place in his dark mauve robes, and hears the snickers as the couples pass. Their whispers a loud torrent in his ear. Then a storm of dark blue dancing close pulls him from the mindless taunts. A golden face with alluring eyes draws him nearer, and when they stand close enough to feel the warmth of the other Gellert smiles brilliantly.
“Can I have this dance?” His voice the usual husk of mystery.
Albus nods, allowing his waist to be pulled closer by sure adolescent hands.
He ignores the roar of sound that is disapproving, and so does his dance partner. His lips so full and soft looking, mouth out, ‘Ignore them. You and I are better.’
His blue eyes mist as he smiles happily allowing himself to be led along. Gellert his constant guide.
What’s a man now-what’s a man mean,
Is he rough or is he rugged
Is he cultured and clean
Now it’s all change-it’s got to change more
We think it’s getting better,
But nobody’s really sure...
They shove him, hard, his back connects sharply with the bark of a tree. It burns as if the rough has cut through his robes. He wonders if he’ll bruise or bleed. Maybe they will jeer more if he does. He notices their hair. Clean and cut, falling neatly into place; unlike his that is longish and straight without any style. Maybe if he were like them they wouldn’t feel the need to tease, to punish. Normal. It is something he cannot achieve.
A powerful spell rips them away, blood flows in a river of brilliant red from the one who held him at the throat. The colour draws his gaze and the screams fill his ears. Turning his dark blue eyes fall on Gellert, who holds his wand high; eyes ablaze with a mix of fury and cold joy.
Long warm fingers wrap around the thin bicep of his upper arm and stumbling he is pulled along. Leaving the small group of three in a snivelling mess. Not for the first time Albus wonders if this is right. What does it mean to be the greater good?
Looking at the curve of Gellert’s long neck, with its few freckles causes Albus to forget what worried him in the first place. Placing his thin hand against Gellert’s back causes the other boy to turn and flash him with another of his breath stealing smiles. He is swept farther along, in the dangerous rapids known as Gellert’s charm.
And so it goes-go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are...
He gasps as a tongue dances wickedly against the smooth flesh of his throat, ghosting hotly up his jaw leaving cooling saliva in its wake. “You and I,” the husking voice murmurs against his open wanting lips. “We are better than the lot of them. Do you understand?”
All he can do is nod in return as hands push away the covering of his robe. Fingers twine gently in his hair, pull him to a height he thought impossible as the warm coaxing tongue exorcises all of the vile memories of wrong. Of all those who’ve told him he is different, broken, and not normal. His father’s fault, mother’s, sister’s, brother’s, and his own. It is hard to hear them and harder yet to expel them, but Gellert pulls them out as if it as easy as drawing breath.
“We are the real men.” Resolute; Gellert is never anything but.
“Real men.” He echoes on a pant as a hand toys with his most intimate place, whispering forbidden in his mind but the body doesn’t care.
See the nice boys-dancing in pairs
Golden earring golden tan
Blow-wave in the hair
Sure they’re all straight- straight as a line
All the guys are macho
See their leather shine...
Aurors come to lecture all the young males on their future careers. Spouting words of loyalty to the order of magic, telling them that true men join the corps to keep the order. Always with the order of things as they walk briskly, allowing their crimson robes to flow with exaggerated authority. He watches curiously, not stone faced and serious like his peers. Gellert is the only one who openly mocks the men before them.
“What lovely matching clothes. Hair-cuts and wand movements too.” With a cruel smile he continues, indifferent to the angry looks he receives. “Like little toy soldiers lined up in a neat row. How does it feel to be controlled?”
Even when one steps closer to him, Gellert does not flinch he just stares blankly waiting with a silent challenge. Daring them to strike so that he might be allowed to attack. His calm is frightening and chills Albus’ blood.
“We’re not controlled.” The dark haired man, one of the many, says darkly.
“Of course you are too foolish to see.” Gellert leans back casually, legs crossing as he examines his nails in open disrespect.
You don’t want to sound dumb-don’t want to offend
So don’t call me a faggot
Not unless you are a friend...
“Nancy boys.” The mocking laughter of a girl with her friends slides against his ears and a panicking hurt claws up his throat from his chest.
Claw like nails scratch through his robe, biting into his shoulder as they taunt further. Calling him the whore of a devilesqe boy who will be the end of humanity. They call Gellert a monster. Their ringing insults tripling in strength as they are aimed at the only saint he’s known.
Without pause he draws his wand; cursing before thinking and watches with horrified yet detached eyes as she falls twitching to the ground. Breathing harshly he watches as her friends scream, loud wailing unholy sounds that echo up the tall hall. Turning he runs, not bothering to watch as people start pointing and whispering more.
Then if you’re tall, handsome, and strong
You can wear the uniform and I can play along
And so it goes-go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are...
Up in the abandoned tower, they gaze upon the stars through a hole in the ceiling. Red, red robes spilling across the slim line of Gellert’s shoulders. The cloth draws his blue gaze up, caresses the curving line of his lean chest as Gellert in turn watches where he lays on a pile of mouldy straw.
Calloused fingertips caress his cheek, sliding from one of the few freckles on his face to the others. Leisurely making love to each one as Gellert goes on ghosting the skin. When the teasing tips pause above his lips Albus tilts his head up to get a better eye full of the mystery that is being so attentive. Chuckling Gellert moves closer, and the glaring light of the half moon causes Albus to close his eyes.
“Open them back up.” Gellert whispers reverently against his dark hair.
Without needing further command he does as told, causing Gellert to smile again, “Your eyes twinkle.” His voice is teasing but in a way that causes Albus’ stomach to flutter. “Such pretty blue eyes.” When the kiss happens Albus opens up without hesitation. Giving himself, allowing Gellert to take all that he has. Rape him of all that is left of his soul. “I want to play a game.”
Albus can only comply. Allowing himself to be bossed by the “Auror” who has captured his heart.
“For order.” Gellert says lewdly as he commands Albus to strip in the cold air that blows through the holes in the ceiling.
He shivers but does as told, revelling in the heat pouring out of Gellert’s dark eyes. In a rare moment of control Albus caresses the line of his collar bones, drawing the attention of those lust ridden eyes to the movement. Momentarily he feels as if he possesses all the power he needs. Gellert says that power makes them real men. Better men.
Time to get scared-time to change plan
Don’t know how to treat a lady
Don’t know how to be a man
Time to admit-what you call defeat
‘Cause there’s women running past you now
And you just drag your feet...
“If you could marry...” He doesn’t listen as Aberforth speaks of things he’d rather not do. He’s the head of this family and there is no one else to bring them out of darkness. Who will bring him to light if he falls under completely? Not Aberforth, not Arianna, certainly not Mother and never was there Father. Only Gellert. Gellert the breath of needed air in the sea of constant drowning.
Gellert doesn’t smile when he tells him about the marriage proposals. Mostly old women who are too ugly or demented to find proper husbands. So they are relying on a handsome youth to bring them back from despair.
They fight. Aberforth and Gellert. Shouts that frighten Arianna, and bother Albus who stands staring at his feet as they clash in the small sitting room of his home. The suffocating shell that reminds him of his duties.
He wishes it would all just end. He doesn’t want this anymore, just Gellert. He could be homeless, familyless, and all sorts of less as long as he isn’t Gellertless. He can survive as long as he has his Gellert.
Man makes a gun-man goes to war
Man can kill and man can drink
And man can take a whore
He knows when Gellert disappears and Arianna is lying lifeless on the dirty floor that this is wrong. Her body cold within his arms as he cries, looking up at the broken ceiling. A half moon winks at him and he wonders vaguely if his eyes are twinkling.
Where did it go wrong? He cannot remember, there was a fight; was it really him? Was it Gellert? He cannot say, nor does he want to examine the situation to closely. With a sob he hugs the cold form closer. Wondering what will happen when Aberforth comes home and trying not to think about the fact that Gellert will never return. There is a symbol glaring at him from the bottom of his last letter, reminding him that there are things better left untouched. Reminding him that Gellert doesn’t know how to love he only knows how to succeed. Albus feels terribly misled, and what’s worse is he feels utterly alone.
Kill all the blacks-kill all the reds
And if there’s war between the sexes
Then they’ll be no people left...
He doesn’t want to face him. It’s been so long. Years ago his nose split by the angry brother who could not forgive him for allowing his lover to go. “He killed your sister,” Aberforth argued, and still does on the rare occasion he spots him in the pub. It may be true. He knows it’s true in his heart but he still cannot find it in himself to hate or want to bring Gellert to defeat. He was once the embodiment of a greater good for Albus.
“We need you to stop him.” All the letters beg, the Minister, the people they all cry out for his help. No longer taunting in their words, needing him more than they want to jeer. Their desire to live freely overriding their dislike of Albus. He hates them all and wants to put it off for as long as possible. Gellert was the only one who didn’t jeer, who took him in open arms and loving smiles even if he had cruel eyes. Tears run down his aging cheeks at the memories. He was loved once, not just admired for his abilities. For his fragilities and humanity. Things Gellert wished somewhere deep down that he possessed.
“Kill him Albus.” He says aloud in his office of magical artefacts, “Can I really do it...for the greater good?” With a sigh he removes his glasses, setting them against the desk. Trying not to let his eyes fall upon the picture of a handsome young man with roguishly wild hair.
And so it goes-go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are
He keeps the wand, locks it away in a place no one would dare look. Pretends that he doesn’t know a gentler Gellert. Preferring to remember the crazed look of power as they duelled in an abandoned moor. He doesn’t want to remember the whispers of love and the hot slick skin that cemented the intimacy. It reminds him that he too was once a monster.
So he lies to himself, and to all that don’t know him. Which is pretty much the majority of this small world.
Instead watching and seeing some couples who remind him too much of what he and Gellert used to be. Most disturbingly in the young Bellatrix Black and the charming Tom Riddle who often visits the castle in hopes of procuring a teaching job. Albus knows better. He’s seen the cruel yet handsome smiles. Knows the calculating words and whispers of manipulative love. Too bad Bellatrix will never see it for what it is, a ploy to use her as a pawn in the game of world domination.
Even if he knows that Gellert deserved death...Albus could not give him his deserved punishment. Because somewhere he still holds fast to the lover he once knew, the prince who once rescued him from the tower of loneliness. The one who made him feel worthwhile and ultimately shaped him into the man he is today.
“For the greater good.” He whispers to the air, toying with his growing beard, “Do real men believe in such extremes?” Honestly he isn’t sure he will ever know the answer. He’s never been much of a real man.
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no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 02:47 am (UTC)From:I was wondering why those lyrics sounded familiar. I have the Joe Jackson live version of this song... I'll have to add it to one of my playlists.
Actually, I might borrow it and use it on that cowboy/cross-dressing H/D story I'm working on. Can I please?! (The story is set in '86, so this would be perfect.... now I want to go work this into the story.. it would make a great ending/epilogue... )
You are wonderful and a truly great friend. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 03:46 am (UTC)From:I am so glad you like this. I have fallen a little in love with it myself, more of Gellert/Albus ...because it is Canon after all ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-12-14 10:43 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-12-14 01:51 pm (UTC)From: