Confession

Gellert was startlingly intelligent. I felt I could listen to him all day, but the rapt look on his face when I was speaking made me want to say anything, anything at all.

I do not remember a word of what we spoke of that first night, but I do remember that we parted late that night with the promise of further conversations and a handshake that seemed to linger for half a moment longer than it should have. I went home, giddy as a schoolgirl, thinking that the coming summer would not be quite so bad after all.

At first, we met daily at Bathilda’s house, or took a walk into the Muggle area of Godric’s Hollow to chat behind a silencing charm at a café. It was there that he told me of how he had come to be living with his aunt. The alarm should have rung in my head at that moment, but it did not, so smitten was I with every aspect of my new friend.

(First, a warning and an apology. I shall behave quite rudely from here on out, and not at all in accordance with my beliefs that I developed not even six months later. I would like to apologize, for many of my words are terribly offensive.)

“Perhaps I went too far too quickly,” Gellert was saying as he sipped coffee with those perfect fingers, “The world of wizardkind has grown used to living under disguise among Muggles. The administration at Durmstrang was sympathetic at first, but I admit, I made a mistake in breaking the International Statute of Secrecy.”

I waved my hand, “Well, yes, I can not argue with that. In order for change to take place, we must move slowly. This is not the sort of thing that can be accomplished quickly.”

He nodded, though I should have paid more attention to the storm in his grey eyes.

“Albus,” he said, (Oh, the shivers that ran down my spine when he spoke my name, “You realize that you have the perfect position to put this plan into practice. My aunt speaks highly of you, and says that you have already achieved a high status among your community. If you were to join your Ministry, our aims would have a strong foothold in two countries…”

But I was already shaking my head, “I’m afraid that is impossible at the moment.”

He frowned, “But why?”

I hesitated, unwilling to trust even him, who I had shortly come to trust greatly in a short time, “Gellert…there is something I must tell you…it is not something I have ever told anyone, ever.”

I told him about Ariana, and I told him how she had come to be the way she was, and how my father met his fate.

The look on his face as I spoke was curious, but I could not place it.

As I finished my story, an odd smile grew on his face.

“Ah,” he said, “I was wondering why you were so understanding of my aims.”

I did not answer. I had begun to feel the smallest tinge of guilt at having told him.

Gellert went on, the smile gone from his face, his voice soft, “You and your family have suffered much from Muggles and those who support their dominance in this world.”

I still did not speak, staring at my hands where they lay flat on the table.

“But we can change all that,” he said, his voice still softer, an almost dangerous whisper, “We can change it, Albus…think of it, your father’s name cleared, your sister able to leave your house…”

If only I had realized the poison his words contained. But to my all-too innocent mind they were magnetic, pulling me in to Gellert’s beliefs.

We walked home that night, talking animatedly about our foolish designs for world domination and suchlike. It was a lovely evening, warm and fragrant, and it seemed altogether natural for me to invite Gellert into my house once we reached it, to show him several texts that had been in my family for generations.

Aberforth appeared, glaring suspiciously at Gellert, to tell me that he was finished putting Ariana to sleep, and would be out taking care of the goats for a while. As he slammed loudly out the back door, I led Gellert upstairs.

“Your brother does not like me,” Gellert said.

“He does not really like many people,” I said. I walked quickly and quietly past Ariana’s door and down the hall to my bedroom, which was just as meticulously clean, though that was more from my fastidiousness than a lack of living in it.

My heart beat ridiculously fast as I glanced at my large bed and then guiltily back at Gellert, who was already engrossed in my overstuffed bookshelves. We spoke softly for a moment on something related to arithmancy, and I reached excitedly to my ancient copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard just as he did. Our hands touched and a shock of electricity passed through my body. I looked at him, shock most likely evident on my face. He stared right back, those grey eyes smoldering on his face. Our hands lay still, his on mine.

“Albus,” he said, his voice low and mind-numbingly seductive, “You are…just as stunning as you are intelligent…”

I swallowed loudly. Passion was not my forte, having spent my spare time studying crumbling texts and none at the nuances of human sensuality. For all my supposed intelligence, I could not see that my burgeoning love was not returned.

But I did not see.

I only saw those lips coming for mine. And then my eyes were closed, or had Gellert extinguished the lights? His lips were soft and full, but commanding, and I found myself submitting to his will, and I let him. Pushing me against the rattling bookcase, Gellert pulled my long hair from its bond and tangled his hands in it, as he plundered my mouth.

I gasped as he ground against my hips and my already hard erection.

“Albus…” he whispered in my ear, sending waves of pleasure through my body, “I want you…”

He pulled his hands from my hair and ripped open my shirt, buttons flying everywhere. My pants received the same treatment, and soon I was watching him from a nervous perch on my bed’s edge as he pulled his own clothes off, revealing a thin frame rather like mine, but his bones rippled with taut muscles, and faint golden hair dusted his body.

Watching Gellert approach me like a stalking animal, my heart began to beat irregularly. I gasped as his hands lay on my hot flesh, roaming around with abandon. He kissed me again, but I was distracted when he wrapped his hand around me, his soft, strong hands making me writhe in agonizing pleasure.

It was worse when he moved down, looking at me with a mischievous glint in his eye, and took me into his mouth.

“G-Gellert!” I choked as his warmth pulled me in and out. One hand had followed his earlier lead and tangled in his wildly curly hair, and the other was wrapped in the bed sheets, “I-I’m g…going to…to come!”

Abruptly, he slid my length from his mouth and I almost cried in frustration.

“No,” he breathed, “Not yet…”

He positioned himself above me, conjuring a jar of lubrication. Even delusional with lust as I was, I could not help but be impressed with his spellwork. He spread himself liberally with the sweet smelling oil as I grew more and more nervous.

“Gellert…” I said softly, “I have never…done this…”

He smiled knowingly and placed himself at my entrance, “It will hurt for a moment, Albus. But then it will feel as nothing else has ever felt…”

And with that, he pushed himself into me.

He was right, it did not feel like anything else I had experienced in my life. For all his faults, Gellert was gentle with me that night, moving slowly even when I knew it must be agonizing for him not to build up the pace.

Throughout all of this, Gellert hadn’t made any noise, only to reassure me. As he pumped slowly, excruciatingly slowly in and out of me, his brow was furrowed and he bit his lip. I, however, was a mess, alternately moaning his name and trying not to cry out as he drove deeper.

Suddenly, he opened his stormy eyes suddenly and whispered, “Come with me, Albus,” and he wrapped his hand around my length with his slippery hand, and I did indeed come as he did, my back arching in complete ecstasy as he moaned his pleasure into me, mumbling a series of incomprehensible words in German.

We collapsed on the bed sheets, both of us exhausted. Talented wizards though we were, it took several moments before we were able to garner enough strength to find our wands and clean each other and the bed. As it was, we slumped right back on the bed again, though I lit several candles.

“Was that really your first time?” asked Gellert, his accent somehow heavier, as though it were difficult for him to form his words into English.

I blushed furiously, which he teased me about for a moment.

“Well, yes…” I told him about my kiss at Hogwarts, “And it only happened once, because I was far too nervous to get caught snogging in the halls.”

“What is ‘snogging’?” Gellert asked, his hands behind his head as he leaned comfortably back against my headboard.

“This,” and I leaned in and gave him a good one, that lasted quite a long time and threatened to get us going again.

“I have to ask, though,” I said as I pulled away, resting my head on my hand to look at him, sheer golden perfection, “That was obviously not your first time…”

He smiled wryly, “No, I am afraid to say that it was not. I was quite…sought after at Durmstrang…somehow it was rumored that I was attracted to men as well as women, and…well…”

Gellert let that hang in the air, and I tentatively ran my fingers up his muscular arm, “I wish I could say I blamed them. But as it stands…I am rather jealous…”

Smiling that wry, mischievous smile of his, Gellert settled more firmly under the covers, “I am surprised, however, that you have never had a lover, as striking as you are. And nearly two years my senior as well.”

“You flatter me needlessly,” I scoffed, “You already have me in bed.”

Talk turned, as usual, from the romantic to the academic, and it was this that caused us to drop slowly off to sleep. I fully intended to wake and dress to walk him home, but it was so very comfortable to lay there with Gellert’s warm body breathing softly next to mine.