Post by ginger newts on Feb 4, 2006 20:59:22 GMT -5
Title: Albus Dumbledore: Stories from My Life
Summary: Albus attempts to write about the end of the war for an autobiography, an undertaking he regrets agreeing to, but soon grows distracted by more personal thoughts.
Rating: 16+ for suggestions of lemony content
A/N: I believe this is my first attempt to write a story that’s truly told from Albus’ POV, but this story just seemed to call for his voice. I hope I’ve captured it well enough. There’s no backstory to this and nothing really goes after it, it’s just sort of an isolated idea. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 24: Grindelwald
For the last several years, the war with Grindelwald has more or less dominated my life. While I remained at Hogwarts as the Transfiguration Master, I found myself increasingly distracted by my other work. Work for which I willingly volunteered, but which was emotionally and physically exhausting. Many times, I nearly took the advice of my boss and friend Armando Dippet and quit the fight to remain safe at Hogwarts.
“You’re doing too much, my friend,” he would say to me. “Why not stay here where it’s safe and you certainly have enough to keep busy. Leave the fighting and the spying to the younger men.”
In my weaker moments, I very nearly did just as he said. Then I would look upon the faces of those I loved, my friends, family, and most of all my students, and I would know that I had to keep going no matter the cost to myself. It was for them that I fought, not for fame or glory, which I do not need nor want.
As I write these words, my mind turns to the one who is first in my heart. Many would not find our love appropriate and may censure me for my actions, but I am confident that she returns my love and that is all I need. As it has with all other things, the war has also dominated this part of my life. It kept me from examining my heart until after the critical moment. Perhaps I should explain. In fact, I think writing down the events will help me to better understand them myself.
It has been less than two weeks since I last saw her. Less than two weeks since I helped defeat the evil that was Grindelwald. It seems a lifetime and yet only hours at the same time. Once the battle was over, I was forced to spend nearly a week in hospital. Denied all but official visitors, all I wanted to do was get home and see my love. How I wanted to see her face and hear her voice all those long boring days. When I was finally released, my life was still not my own to lead. There were interviews, official de-briefings, and parties to attend, all of which were only irritations for my impatient heart.
My love and I had managed to exchange a few brief owls, but neither of us could put in writing the things we truly wished to say. I remember reading her first note with a growing dread in the pit of my stomach. It seemed she didn’t return my feelings, until I got to the last lines.
Dear Albus, she wrote.
Thank you for writing me so quickly. I was very relieved to hear that you’re safe.
I cannot believe all that has happened in three short days. It seems I have lived a lifetime since we last said good-bye and yet it has gone by as quickly as a heartbeat. There is so much I want to say to you, but it will have to wait for another time. I cannot put my thoughts in writing.
I later learned that she was afraid our correspondence would be intercepted, or read by a nurse. That is why she didn’t say all that I wished to hear. For a moment, I feared she wanted to tell me what a terrible mistake we had made, but enough of my interruptions. Her letter continued.
Your name has appeared on nearly every page of the paper since Grindelwald’s defeat. I hope you’ve not been reading, I know how you hate that. It seems you’ve become the most celebrated hero in our world since Merlin himself. History books are already being updated to include your recent victory.
I smiled at that. As I read Minerva’s words, I could picture her face and hear her voice. It was as though she were right there in the room teasing me about my renewed notoriety. She truly does know me too well.
I’ve heard there will be a large Ministry function in your honour as soon as you are released from St. Mungo’s. As much as I long to see you again, I hope you will forgive me if I don’t attend. My family has been having a bit of trouble lately and I believe I am more needed here. Anyway, I know how you despise formal affairs. Perhaps having one less guest to greet will allow you a slightly earlier escape.
I will eagerly await news that you are restored to full health and gone from the hospital. I hope that you will be able to fit me into what will surely be a very full schedule. I need to see you soon, even if it’s only for the briefest of moments.
Yours always,
Minerva
We exchanged a few more owls during my tedious confinement, but after that my time for personal correspondence was sadly limited. Finally, we were able to arrange a meeting for this coming weekend. Only a few more days till we can be together again.
I seem to have got ahead of myself. In order to tell the story properly, I must go back to the night before my fateful battle with Grindelwald. It had been a stormy day and darkness fell early, to many it was a bad sign of what was to come. Knowing that the morning could easily be my last, I found myself in need of companionship, someone to ease my mind and soothe my spirit. Without really thinking about it, I found myself on the doorstep of my former student and friend Minerva McGonagall. Throughout all of my struggles, both with evil and with myself, she had believed in me, supported me, helped me find myself when I thought all was lost. She had been my greatest comfort and champion.
I didn’t realise the lateness of the hour at which I chose to call until she answered the door in her dressing gown. Of course, cautious as Minerva is, the first sight that greeted me was the end of her wand, showing through a tiny crack in the door. I could see the chain barring it from opening any further.
“Who’s there?” she asked sharply. It pained me that she sounded a bit frightened.
“Albus,” I said.
There was a moment of silence and then she asked, “What’s your favourite flavour of jam?”
“Raspberry.”
“When did Fawkes have his last burning day?”
“The day before you left Hogwarts.”
The questions continued for several minutes, but when she was satisfied that it was truly me I was met with a very warm welcome. As we sat drinking tea and eating her homemade biscuits, I found myself truly opening up for the first time about my fears for the future. Minerva listened quietly and sympathetically and then somehow one thing led to another and before I realised it she was in my arms. I kissed her as though my life depended upon it, and perhaps it did.
The next thing I knew, we had made our way to the rug before the hearth. As long as I live I’ll never forget the way she looked that night, her pale skin glowing in the fire light, her eyes half closed in pleasure. And, oh, the way she sounded. Is there anything more seductive than the sounds a woman makes during really passionate love making? Perhaps it is a sign that we men have not evolved as much as we like to think, but there is something decidedly ego boosting in being the cause of a woman’s pleasure.
Eventually, Minerva talked me into venturing into the bedroom to sleep. Though I was loathe to move, she assured me it would be more comfortable and she was right, as always. I woke just before dawn and marvelled at my incredible luck to have such a lovely young woman in my arms. It was with a feeling of deep sadness that I woke her a few minutes later. Neither of us spoke of it, but I feel certain it was on both our minds – the thought that we may never see one another again. I felt it might be fitting to discuss the events of the night before, but Minerva silenced me with a kiss and begged me not to overanalyse things. We made love again, which only made it more difficult for me to leave her, but we both knew I must.
By nightfall, it was all over. Grindelwald had fallen. Unfortunately, so had many of the brave witches and wizards fighting for our side. I found myself surprisingly undamaged, only minor injuries and severe exhaustion. There are many who want a full recount of the events of that day, but I cannot give them. It is not a day I wish to remember, let alone relive. And so, we return to the beginning of my tale.
tbc...
A/N 2: Okay, it appears I've been confusing. Thanks, Isabelle, for the question so that I can clear it up.
Albus is trying to write a chapter for a book, but he's not actually getting very far. It becomes more clear later, but I don't want anyone to think that the entire population of the wizarding world is reading this. What you're getting here is a very special look at his handwritten pages, pages that shall never see a printing press and that won't be read by anyone but Albus and Minerva.
Hope that helps.
M
Summary: Albus attempts to write about the end of the war for an autobiography, an undertaking he regrets agreeing to, but soon grows distracted by more personal thoughts.
Rating: 16+ for suggestions of lemony content
A/N: I believe this is my first attempt to write a story that’s truly told from Albus’ POV, but this story just seemed to call for his voice. I hope I’ve captured it well enough. There’s no backstory to this and nothing really goes after it, it’s just sort of an isolated idea. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 24: Grindelwald
For the last several years, the war with Grindelwald has more or less dominated my life. While I remained at Hogwarts as the Transfiguration Master, I found myself increasingly distracted by my other work. Work for which I willingly volunteered, but which was emotionally and physically exhausting. Many times, I nearly took the advice of my boss and friend Armando Dippet and quit the fight to remain safe at Hogwarts.
“You’re doing too much, my friend,” he would say to me. “Why not stay here where it’s safe and you certainly have enough to keep busy. Leave the fighting and the spying to the younger men.”
In my weaker moments, I very nearly did just as he said. Then I would look upon the faces of those I loved, my friends, family, and most of all my students, and I would know that I had to keep going no matter the cost to myself. It was for them that I fought, not for fame or glory, which I do not need nor want.
As I write these words, my mind turns to the one who is first in my heart. Many would not find our love appropriate and may censure me for my actions, but I am confident that she returns my love and that is all I need. As it has with all other things, the war has also dominated this part of my life. It kept me from examining my heart until after the critical moment. Perhaps I should explain. In fact, I think writing down the events will help me to better understand them myself.
It has been less than two weeks since I last saw her. Less than two weeks since I helped defeat the evil that was Grindelwald. It seems a lifetime and yet only hours at the same time. Once the battle was over, I was forced to spend nearly a week in hospital. Denied all but official visitors, all I wanted to do was get home and see my love. How I wanted to see her face and hear her voice all those long boring days. When I was finally released, my life was still not my own to lead. There were interviews, official de-briefings, and parties to attend, all of which were only irritations for my impatient heart.
My love and I had managed to exchange a few brief owls, but neither of us could put in writing the things we truly wished to say. I remember reading her first note with a growing dread in the pit of my stomach. It seemed she didn’t return my feelings, until I got to the last lines.
Dear Albus, she wrote.
Thank you for writing me so quickly. I was very relieved to hear that you’re safe.
I cannot believe all that has happened in three short days. It seems I have lived a lifetime since we last said good-bye and yet it has gone by as quickly as a heartbeat. There is so much I want to say to you, but it will have to wait for another time. I cannot put my thoughts in writing.
I later learned that she was afraid our correspondence would be intercepted, or read by a nurse. That is why she didn’t say all that I wished to hear. For a moment, I feared she wanted to tell me what a terrible mistake we had made, but enough of my interruptions. Her letter continued.
Your name has appeared on nearly every page of the paper since Grindelwald’s defeat. I hope you’ve not been reading, I know how you hate that. It seems you’ve become the most celebrated hero in our world since Merlin himself. History books are already being updated to include your recent victory.
I smiled at that. As I read Minerva’s words, I could picture her face and hear her voice. It was as though she were right there in the room teasing me about my renewed notoriety. She truly does know me too well.
I’ve heard there will be a large Ministry function in your honour as soon as you are released from St. Mungo’s. As much as I long to see you again, I hope you will forgive me if I don’t attend. My family has been having a bit of trouble lately and I believe I am more needed here. Anyway, I know how you despise formal affairs. Perhaps having one less guest to greet will allow you a slightly earlier escape.
I will eagerly await news that you are restored to full health and gone from the hospital. I hope that you will be able to fit me into what will surely be a very full schedule. I need to see you soon, even if it’s only for the briefest of moments.
Yours always,
Minerva
We exchanged a few more owls during my tedious confinement, but after that my time for personal correspondence was sadly limited. Finally, we were able to arrange a meeting for this coming weekend. Only a few more days till we can be together again.
I seem to have got ahead of myself. In order to tell the story properly, I must go back to the night before my fateful battle with Grindelwald. It had been a stormy day and darkness fell early, to many it was a bad sign of what was to come. Knowing that the morning could easily be my last, I found myself in need of companionship, someone to ease my mind and soothe my spirit. Without really thinking about it, I found myself on the doorstep of my former student and friend Minerva McGonagall. Throughout all of my struggles, both with evil and with myself, she had believed in me, supported me, helped me find myself when I thought all was lost. She had been my greatest comfort and champion.
I didn’t realise the lateness of the hour at which I chose to call until she answered the door in her dressing gown. Of course, cautious as Minerva is, the first sight that greeted me was the end of her wand, showing through a tiny crack in the door. I could see the chain barring it from opening any further.
“Who’s there?” she asked sharply. It pained me that she sounded a bit frightened.
“Albus,” I said.
There was a moment of silence and then she asked, “What’s your favourite flavour of jam?”
“Raspberry.”
“When did Fawkes have his last burning day?”
“The day before you left Hogwarts.”
The questions continued for several minutes, but when she was satisfied that it was truly me I was met with a very warm welcome. As we sat drinking tea and eating her homemade biscuits, I found myself truly opening up for the first time about my fears for the future. Minerva listened quietly and sympathetically and then somehow one thing led to another and before I realised it she was in my arms. I kissed her as though my life depended upon it, and perhaps it did.
The next thing I knew, we had made our way to the rug before the hearth. As long as I live I’ll never forget the way she looked that night, her pale skin glowing in the fire light, her eyes half closed in pleasure. And, oh, the way she sounded. Is there anything more seductive than the sounds a woman makes during really passionate love making? Perhaps it is a sign that we men have not evolved as much as we like to think, but there is something decidedly ego boosting in being the cause of a woman’s pleasure.
Eventually, Minerva talked me into venturing into the bedroom to sleep. Though I was loathe to move, she assured me it would be more comfortable and she was right, as always. I woke just before dawn and marvelled at my incredible luck to have such a lovely young woman in my arms. It was with a feeling of deep sadness that I woke her a few minutes later. Neither of us spoke of it, but I feel certain it was on both our minds – the thought that we may never see one another again. I felt it might be fitting to discuss the events of the night before, but Minerva silenced me with a kiss and begged me not to overanalyse things. We made love again, which only made it more difficult for me to leave her, but we both knew I must.
By nightfall, it was all over. Grindelwald had fallen. Unfortunately, so had many of the brave witches and wizards fighting for our side. I found myself surprisingly undamaged, only minor injuries and severe exhaustion. There are many who want a full recount of the events of that day, but I cannot give them. It is not a day I wish to remember, let alone relive. And so, we return to the beginning of my tale.
tbc...
A/N 2: Okay, it appears I've been confusing. Thanks, Isabelle, for the question so that I can clear it up.
Albus is trying to write a chapter for a book, but he's not actually getting very far. It becomes more clear later, but I don't want anyone to think that the entire population of the wizarding world is reading this. What you're getting here is a very special look at his handwritten pages, pages that shall never see a printing press and that won't be read by anyone but Albus and Minerva.
Hope that helps.
M
