Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: The Prerogative of the Brave
Pairing: Dumbledore/Grindelwald, Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1000
Status: Complete
Summary: Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.
Warnings: A shoddy parallel.
Note: Advent drabble #8. Written for drijfwa. Her prompt was — 1st love.

Have stolen the title from Ghandi's quote and summary from Sydney J. Harris.

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The Prerogative of the Brave

Gellert burned like fire. Albus could only mourn his inability to realise that if he came too close he wouldn't put the fire out but burn up with it; though he often wondered if he had tried to extinguish it would he have succeeded. If he hadn't allowed himself to be seduced by Gellert's words, but opted to fight him with reason, then maybe he could have saved them both. Did he not claim that love was the greatest power of all? Albus wanted to believe in this, though it would have been easier to doubt it. To doubt it meant Albus' love could have never made a difference.

It was on nights like these that Albus should have gathered enough courage to make his move. With cold wind howling, carrying winter in the air, when Gellert and he would stay up late, huddled close to the fireplace, making crazy plans and convincing themselves they were just, Albus would reach out with his hand, gripping Gellert's shoulder as though in companionship, moving his leg so their thighs would touch as they sat. Gellert would lean in closer, laughing and whispering into Albus' ear, as though they weren't alone in the house, as though someone might hear them, as though this intimacy was necessary. If Albus had dared to lift his head and face him, their lips would surely brush against each other, but Albus hadn't dared, and instead he'd stood up with a wretched excuse and turned to run away. Gellert would grab Albus' wrist and pull him back onto the carpet, urging him to stay for the night, offering tea and warmth as though Albus needed that much convincing; as though he would rather go home to his always-troubled sister and always-angry brother than stay here with the young wizard that enchanted him.

Gellert would talk; about Hallows and power, about all the good they could bring to the world. They would achieve freedom for Wizards, and find magical solutions for the troubles that ailed Muggles.

"We can't do this with words and idleness, Albus. We’ll have to fight a war, and people will die. A price must be paid."

It sounded so wise, so reasonable. But there was no wisdom there, just empty words, and Albus could see it now, but he could not see it then. Now Albus knew Gellert had been telling him what he wanted to hear. What he wanted to believe. Gellert knew exactly what to say, what to do to keep Albus enthralled. Albus could only wonder if Gellert really knew everything about him. Were those nights nothing but another way to fortify Albus' support? Did Gellert notice how Albus looked at him? Did he feel how he yearned to touch his blond curls and tug until Gellert leaned his head and parted his lips, letting Albus kiss him? Did he know that when Gellert would finally fall asleep, right next to Albus, covered by a thin blanket with his hair splayed over the carpet, Albus would stay awake for a long time, watching, planning, wanting to lean in and kiss Gellert's cheek, his jaw, his lips? He had never dared to actually do it, always too fearful to find out for certain what Gellert's reaction might be. What would Albus' sister think, his brother, the people in the village?

He wished he had the courage. At least then, he wouldn't have to wonder whether his love could have changed Gellert's path.

Albus had told Harry so many times that love was the greatest power of all. Able to change anything, able to mend, and able to destroy. Sometimes his words seemed hollow to his own ears, as he tried to make Harry believe into something Albus wasn’t sure he believed in himself. Perhaps if he had believed it he would have acted differently, perhaps he would have caved to his desires and kissed Gellert's mouth, shutting him up, stopping the ceaseless flow of cruel words disguised into righteousness; showing him a power greater than the one Gellert so desperately sought.

Maybe it would have made a difference, but it was more likely that it would change nothing at all. Albus was too old and he was dead for too long to be romantic. However, watching the scene that unfolded in front of his eyes, he couldn't help feeling encouraged, his faith in love temporarily restored. Standing in front of Harry's house in Godric's Hollow, watching another misguided, blond wizard sleep in Harry's arms, Albus felt proud, and for a moment, almost redeemed. He was proud of Harry who had the courage not turn his back on love, not let it escape. Draco Malfoy's path could still be one of evil, could be one of good, could be one of little importance, but Harry would never have to wonder whether his love could have made a difference or not. He would never have to feel ashamed for letting the intolerant world convince him that his feelings were somehow wrong.

It was too late for Albus, and it was too late for Gellert, but Harry still had a chance to make things right for himself. And Albus fancied believing he had something to do with that. He could console himself by thinking his words didn't fall on deaf ears; that something good came out of his mistakes and his cowardice; that he managed to make Harry go after something he could not.

Inside the house, Draco Malfoy opened his eyes, smiling up at his lover, cocking his head, and offering his lips for Harry to kiss. Regret overwhelmed Albus for a moment, making him yearn again as he did so many years ago, for his first and only love. Perhaps Gellert would have smiled so trustingly up at him, perhaps he would reach up and pull Albus closer. Perhaps this was something Gellert wanted all along.

But in the very next second, as Harry's fingers threaded lightly through Draco's hair, over his cheek and lips before he leaned in for a kiss, Albus couldn't help feeling glad that the events played out the way they did. Perhaps this way, at least Harry's happiness was ensured if not Albus' own. Perhaps this was meant to be and Albus was always destined to lose what was dear to him.

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Albus had told Harry once. Funny how, now that he was no longer alive, dwelling on dreams was all he could do.

He wondered if he could ever stop.

With a last glance through the foggy window, Albus smiled sadly at the peaceful scene, and with a next gust of wind, disappeared.

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Fin

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