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Tweak says, "badger badger badger badger"

Albus Dumbledore (albus_ablaze) wrote in lockewood,
@ 2010-10-29 01:12:00

Entry tags:

albus dumbledore, elphias doge

Who: Albus and Elphias
Where: Elphias's place
When: The middle of the night
What: Apologies
Rating: Probably not high?
Status: Complete

Strictly speaking, perhaps he hadn't needed the hour or two in the woods. On the other hand, it had helped him find his way back to himself, to give over to using magic freely, of his own choice. It made him feel whole again. Himself, again. And he hadn't even set so very many things on fire. It was simply a magic that came most easily, most organically to him. It insulated him, drew up the walls of solitude around him, because at the moment it was the only way he felt safe. As if he could rest.

There was simply something that resonated with Albus, the idea of purging through fire. Cleansing. Cathartic. But not an ending. Merely a catalyst.

And the next step was clear. On the list of things that needed mending, Elphias was found at the top. Exactly what Albus was hoping for was somewhat ambiguous, even to his own mind, but some things were absolutely intolerable-- including the idea that Elphias might believe Albus had meant, or believed, anything he'd said the last time they had spoken.

Had the house been dark, Albus would have waited until morning. He'd probably have waited on Elphias's porch. He was in no mood to return home, to see Gellert, let alone speak to him. But at least one light was on downstairs. So Albus knocked on the front door. And he let himself hope.

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dodgy_doge
2010-10-29 06:31 am UTC (link)

He couldn't sleep. It was the stupidest fucking thing he'd ever experienced. You'd think they'd been seeing each other and that Albus had broken up with him. His appetite was shot, he wasn't getting any sleep, Scorpius's game wasn't fun anymore, the stories with moving pictures on the television frustrated him, he didn't feel like reading... Nothing could even distract him from the constant questioning. Elphias had always thought that if he could believe in one thing and one thing only, it was in Albus Dumbledore. In his strength of character, in his friendship. There was none of that now and Elphias, who had allowed Albus to shape so much of what and who he had become, who had based his life around the other man in so many ways, didn't know what to do with himself. A social experiment abandoned ceased to exist. Not that he had ever wanted or even fathomed that he might be such a thing, but had he truly lost all meaning in the world? Knowing what he knew now, how could he truly enjoy anything? His whole life had been a lie!

Elphias had been deciding that no, it was nothing at all as though Albus had broken up with him - at least then, he didn't have to second-guess, reevaluate every memory he had, reconsider every action, every word ever uttered by Albus, every reaction Elphias had had faced with Albus's actions. Had he truly been a pawn? Nothing more than- When the knock came at the door.

He didn't know exactly what time it was, having done something to his watch earlier in the day, but Elphias was vaguely aware that it was late - it was dark out. Whoever they were and whatever they wanted, he didn't care. He didn't want to know. But although he told himself this and believed it with all his heart, his legs still carried him to the door; a reflex like getting up every so often to check the pantry and the refrigerator for food despite the lack of hunger, a habit he hadn't yet broken himself of. Unlike the one that dictated he shave in the morning, something he'd neglected to do for the past few days, a fuzzy beard having grown in over time, or that he change his clothes. The reflex to clean up after himself had disappeared either; Elphias didn't notice the empty juice boxes tipped over on the table, strewn about the floor from his fit earlier, or the refrigerator door that was open to prevent the need to rise in order to get the next juice box. The door was knocking, therefore, he answered. It was just how those things went.

Elphias held the door open a moment, as he stared at the man before him. The one who had at one time been his friend. His best friend. His only friend. He blinked at Albus as though he didn't recognise him, and then closed the door without a word.

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albus_ablaze
2010-10-30 04:57 am UTC (link)

It was so difficult to remember how to breathe properly when Elphias answered the door. Everything felt so horrifically different. Without the buffer of sedation, Albus had to feel as he looked at his oldest friend. The hurt beneath Elphias's features was unmistakable. It stung, deeply, and wrenched at his stomach. He had known that the damage might be irreparable, but he hadn't properly prepared himself for the way Elphias had looked at him. As if they were strangers.

He flinched as the door shut.

Elphias didn't want to see him. Surely, the most considerate thing to do was to put that interest above his own desires. Was it not better to honour Elphias's wishes for distance? Did Albus not crave, not need, even in that moment distance from the person who had hurt him? Would it not be arrogant to dismiss Elphias's preferences?

Attempting to even out his quickened breath, Albus turned. Just before he dropped his foot to the step below Elphias's porch, however, he hesitated. Something in him pitched, tilted, dragged him back to Elphias's door. When to yield and when to fight was always something of a gamble, but here, Albus had to believe that this was worth fighting for. Elphias was his oldest friend-- the one who, for years, had borne his eccentricities and obtuse vocabulary and his obscure interests. And Gellert had no right to take their friendship from him. From either of them.

He knocked again. "Elphias," he called through the door, the word stretched a bit taut. "Please. I know that I cannot even begin to beg for your forgiveness, but-- Please, open the door."