I hate you, I love you
1932
Albus is smiling, with his youthful face glowing with happiness. He was holding Gellert’s hands tightly as they ran through the fields, the wind hitting both their faces, whipping through their hair and making it dance. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting long shadows across the rolling hills.
The grass tickled beneath their feet, the air filled with the scent of wildflowers. Gellert felt a sense of lightness and joy that he hadn't felt in a long time. Albus's laughter, echoing through the fields, filled his heart with warmth.
As they ran, Albus squeezed Gellert’s hand tighter, his eyes sparkling with an energy that was infectious. Gellert couldn't help but smile back, his heart overflowing with a feeling he hadn't allowed himself to fully embrace. In this moment, it was just the two of them, lost in the boundless freedom of the open fields, the world fading away around them.
And then Albus stopped and turned to look at Gellert, smiling. He took Gellert’s other hand and held it, his fingers intertwined with his. Albus stared at him with a soft look that Gellert had become familiar with, a look that he had become a regular recipient of, a look that always made him feel like he was the only person in the world.
The sun was setting behind Albus, making his auburn hair look like flames burning, casting a golden glow on his face. Gellert found himself mesmerized by the way Albus’s eyes held a depth that seemed to encompass the entire world. They were a window into his soul, a place where he saw kindness, something he rarely sees in others.
Gellert smiled at him, a smile only for Albus.
"I love you, Gellert," he whispered, his voice a soft caress that sent shivers down Gellert’s spine. The words were spoken with such devotion that touched him. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, seemed to soften, reflecting the depth of his emotions.
But then, a chill wind swept across the fields, extinguishing the warmth of the setting sun. The vibrant wildflowers withered, their petals turning black and brittle. The laughter that had filled the air became a chilling echo, fading into a silence so profound it seemed to press against his eardrums. The landscape around them warped and contorted, the rolling hills transforming into jagged, menacing peaks, and the lush green grass turning into a dark, thorny undergrowth.
Suddenly the wind surrounded Albus, swirling around him like a vortex, trying to pull him away. "Albus! Don't let go!" Gellert cried, his voice raw with fear. "Gellert!" He held his hand tightly, but his grip was useless against the force of the wind. Gone was the sun, swallowed by a black, suffocating darkness. All he could hear was the frantic pounding of his heart and a chilling voice casting the Killing Curse: "Avada Kedavra!"
Green light, the color of death, filled the darkness, engulfing them both.
"Albus!" Gellert screamed, his voice echoing in the empty room.
He awoke with a gasp, his heart hammering against his ribs, sheets damp with sweat, body trembling. Gellert looked around and found himself in his bedroom in Nurmengard. Was it a dream or was it a vision, nevertheless, Gellert did not like it. He was suddenly grateful for the silencing charms he placed in his chambers.
He calmed himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Gellert couldn't help but get out of bed and pour himself some firewhiskey. The dream, or vision, replayed in his mind like a broken record, the image of Albus's face, the earnest confession, the unspoken longing in his eyes... It was probably just a dream, he reasoned. Because why would Albus say he loves him still?
I love you, Gellert
Gellert scoffed at the thought. He had bigger things to worry about, bigger plans to execute. Love was a distraction, a weakness that could derail his ambitions.
He took a long swig of firewhiskey, the burn warming his throat. He needed to focus, to keep his eyes on the prize. The greater good, the future he envisioned, that was what mattered.
Gellert took his wand out, the elder wand, the most powerful wand in the world. He wordlessly conjured up an illusion of Albus, exactly as how he remembered him back at the blasted muggle teashop.
"You are a cowardly traitor," Gellert said to the illusion, his voice a low growl. "Hiding behind your lousy castle. How could you choose to stand against me? How could you choose to fight against everything we ever dreamed of, everything we ever fought for? You betrayed not just me, you betrayed our cause."
"I hate you!” Gellert spat, his voice hoarse with rage. He raised his wand, hands trembling with both fury and anguish. The tip glowed fiery blue, reflecting the hatred that burned within him.
And yet despite the hatred and malice pointed at it. Albus’s illusion smiled, waves of memories crashed over me, memories of happier times, of laughter shared and secrets whispered. He saw Albus's kind smile, heard his gentle voice, felt the warmth of his hand in his.
Even his magic saw through his intentions. Gellert flicked his wand and the Albus slowly dissipated. “I hate you.” He repeated at the dissipating illusion.
He sat at his bed, wand lowered. “I hate you.” He whispers again, eyes closed.
But then who was kidding with those words, Gellert thought as he stared at the empty space Albus’s illusion had stood.