Old Dog - Grindeldore

Chapter III. Sick.

"So, who is this friend?", Albus' shoulders moved in front of him from his position higher up the stairs. "Did he tell you my name?"

He had repeated those questions all the way from the hut to one of the castle towers. After their fight, Albus led him back into the house, turned off the fireplace and with some magical incantation, almost made him vomit as he appeared in a room of long dining rooms. The rest was walking the corridors, running up the stairs before they moved and up yet another spiral staircase.

Although he had partially accepted that there was a magical world, he still had some doubts about everything. Who in that world knew him? How did he know he was taking those pills? Why did he know what kind of pills they were? Why hadn't he told him before? Who was poisoning him and why? Why had they hidden the fact that he was a wizard from him?

"I can tell you about him," Albus said, "but he wants you to meet him face to face."

He raised an eyebrow three steps before a door, Albus standing in front of it.

"When will that be?" He held out his arms in disbelief.

Albus raised his arms and grimaced in bewilderment. "Whenever he wants, I suppose." He walked through the wooden door, leaving Gellert behind. He followed him. "It could be days, weeks, even months, but I respect his decision." He must have made a face because Albus kept talking, trying to explain himself. "From what I understand, whatever he has to tell you, it's very delicate. It would be inappropriate of me to tell you something that may not be true."

Gellert stopped looking him in the eye, because he knew that he would get very few answers from Albus. Resignedly, he heaved a sigh and scanned the room with his eyes. Piles of fabrics strewn across the floor, some dusty furniture in the corners, and large windows ten feet above the floor, bathing the fabrics in sunlight.

"Can you at least tell me what we are doing in this place?" He picked up one of the clothes and uncovered a sweater.

"This is the room of lost things", Albus mentioned. "Your friend asked me to help you develop your magic and because of that, you will accompany me in my lessons", Gellert gave him an indignant look. Albus smiled amused at his grimaces. "You need proper clothing for that."

Gellert dropped the garment he was holding in his hand and walked with heavy steps towards Albus.

"Are you telling me I have to wear a uniform? Like I'm a child", Albus chuckled even more. He was puzzled, even embarrassed about some things, but in the whirlwind of his emotions and doubts, he enjoyed the sunshine in Albus' eyes. The way he laughed, how he placed his thumb between his lips, biting down, to hide how much he was amused by the situation.

Face to face, those eyes watching him from below, the blond tints between those brown hairs and the newborn gray in his beard. Lips spread wide, like a door encouraging him to enter and taste the scent of his lemony breath. His frown as he stifled his laughter and his arms around his chest, where he rested the arm of his finger hand between his lips. Was he thus indicating where to go? As if pointing the way straight to his mouth.

He was bold. He was shrewd. He was wild as he placed one of his hands on Albus's cheek, stroking his palm over part of his beard. The blue eyes stopped laughing to turn their full attention to Gellert's, a few inches above. The warm touch of his personal sun burned his neck, accepting the boldness initiated. He stopped seeing the sky in his gaze, to see the burning volcano of his lips. He wanted to burn, to be consumed in it, to swim in the flames of passion that this man awakened so early after meeting him.

He leaned into the well of the volcano, being deflected by Albus. The warm hand climbed from his neck to his cheek, where it forced him to stop and with his fingers, opened one of Gellert's eyes, the right one.

"I'll have to do more research on your gray eye", Albus mentioned, clearing his throat and turning away from him toward a nearby mountain of cloth. Gellert covered his discomfort at the situation in a heavy sigh. He walked over to Albus and picked up another garment nearby. "That's a first year", the chestnut mentioned, "we should look for a seventh".

He raised an eyebrow in doubt, not understanding too much, but said the most important thing at that moment: "How will we find it? There are hundreds of uniforms here."

"Easy", he answered instantly. He put a hand to the gray vest he was wearing and from among his clothes, he obtained a wooden wand. "We will use magic."

"Do you also have magic wands like in the fairy tales?", he said disdainfully.

Albus gave him a lopsided smile that time. Did he think that if he laughed again, Gellert might try to kiss him?

The chestnut-haired man took a few steps toward the center of the room. He waved his wand and the garments rose up, separating from each other. They formed a swirl in the air to take each garment to a different destination on the furniture in the corners. Within seconds, the room was tidy. Even a solitary mirror was reborn from among the fabrics.

Albus made his way to a closet, separating the garments there. He found a white shirt, which he separated from the rest, and returned to Gellert, who was trying to understand the magic he had witnessed. "I think this one should fit you. Try it on," Gellert took it. He looked at the garment and then at Albus. "Is something wrong? Don't you like it?"

"I have to try it on... in front of you? Is there a bathroom nearby?"

"Is there something wrong with you undressing in front of me?", Albus teased. "You don't have anything I don't."

Gellert held his gaze. He pursed his lips. "Fine. If that's the way you want it."

He shed his jacket and other upper garments, exposing his chest. Albus looked at him defiantly at first, then mockingly, and with concern when he finished undressing. At the change of mood, Gellert turned his back on him out of shyness.

A second Gellert was looking back at his now gray and dark eyes. He was surprised by that, but more so by the rest of his body: pronounced lines were the shadows of his ribs, deep was the hollow in his thin belly and hard was the bone of his collarbones to the touch, because his paper-delicate skin let him feel it perfectly.

Smooth was Albus' touch on his back, outlining with his fingers the vertebrae of his spine, covered only by the almost transparent curtain of his whitish skin.

"A little more and you would have died", now it was the hand caressing his shoulder blade. Gellert lowered his head in sadness; he was too weak. "That poison still makes you very sick."

Chapter Management