Old Dog - Grindeldore

Chapter II. Rabid.

He tried to remember if at any time, peace and calm had been the protagonists of his life; if ever his night had been peaceful, or if the next morning he could feel that he left a heavy burden between the sheets of his bed and made the day worthy of beginning with a smile.

Prostrate in a bed that was not his own, staring at the weathered wooden ceiling, the day he married Maurice came to his memory. He even remembered the wedding night and the morning after. He delved into his memory of that day and could swear to himself that he had consumed his morning pill. It was the happiest day of his life at the time. And even on that happy day, his illness did not leave him alone.

Now, in that stranger's house, waiting in bed for him to show up to ask him a couple of questions, he felt the lack of something. An ache that was held for a long time, generating habit, and is lost. Something that gets too heavy and when it's released, it's strange the feeling of not having it on you.

What if it is not lacking what it does? What if it was actually left over and he hadn't noticed it.

"I brought soup", spoke the same stranger from the night before, coming through the bedroom door. "I knew you were awake by the noise of the bed." Gellert noticed that he moved his leg and in turn, the springs. "Please, I need you to eat something before I answer your questions."

The stranger held out a bowl of food but Gellert just looked into his eyes. Those blue sapphires shone so brightly like the midday sun in summer that Gellert wondered what day in his life he had ever seen them before.

"No," he blurted out tersely. "I will not accept food from a stranger."

He held his gaze for a moment, waiting for his reaction, not denying that the calmness those eyes projected made him feel nervous. More nervous to see a smile tugging at his pink lips. He let out a chuckle and as if he couldn't get any brighter, his eyes sparkled.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore and it is me who cooked this soup", he reached over, reached for Gellert's slender hand and guided him to hold the bowl himself. "I'm the one who will feel terrible if you don't eat."

Was that what it was like to touch someone alive? Albus's hand over his was warm, not soft to the touch, but soft in the pressure it exerted on his own. The chestnut tried to pull his palm away from him and Gellert looked up into his eyes from the recumbent position. He was expressionless, just wanting to look at him.

But Albus leaned in even more. He rested his hand on the side of Gellert's face; leaving the bowl entirely in his hands, he released his other palm and cupped Gellert's chin.

The noonday sun was shining in front of him. And he was burning.

"Your eyes changed color", he whispered but his voice shook every fiber of his being. "One is dark and the other is gray, almost white." It was difficult to understand what he was saying being so close to him, consumed with nervousness. He managed to pull himself together in moments to be able to say something, but Albus continued speaking. "Eat. I'll wait for you downstairs."

Each step creaked differently as he made his way downstairs. He found Albus between the pages of a book, sitting near a fireplace with a little wood. He walked close to him, even sat down across from him but didn't seem to sense his presence.

"Wait a moment", Albus broke the silence as the wood crackled in the fireplace. He looked down at his book for a moment longer and then closed it, setting it down on his cross"legged lap. "You have questions," he said as if reading it on his face. "You can ask them now."

He turned his attention away from his sapphires the moment all his attention was focused on him. Never in her adolescence had he taken his eyes off someone as well as him. He looked around the wooden house, nothing ostentatious, but among those shadows and beams were the strength to talk to Albus.