The Shadow of a Dream

But only in their dreams can men be truly free

Oh, to be free and young again! With every step Albus was getting closer and closer to his own youth. Afterlife gave him everything he could ever wish for - Gellert and freedom. That was enough. To want more would be greed, though it was nice to go back to his fourties even just in appearance. Gellert held his hand, keeping his pace and dwelling on their past. There is no need to describe his thoughts: those who have succeeded in love would find them overdramatic; those who have never experienced love would find them boring; and those who share his anguish don't need to be reminded of their scars.

Albus, on the contrary, focused on the present feelings rather than past regrets. At that very moment he directed all his senses to his palm, which was holding Gellert's. His skin, rough and warm, reminded him of the crisp parchment that he left under the summer sun for half a day. The stifling hot afternoon did its job: all his creative attempts faded out in under the cruel summer sun. Young Albus let the anger took the best of him and ripped it apart. It was such an easy emotion back then. Albus used to let anger stay in his soul for awhile and let it go pretty quickly. But when Gellert....

The parchment. The good old crisp parchment. His palms are warm and rough just like the parchment. All the rest was a bad dream, a nightmare, a child of an idle brain, challenging his love and loyalty. That vain fantasy would be a treason were he still alive. Afterlife had granted them their own "dream-like" reality.

"You know, we don't have to walk, right?" Gellert asked.

"But I want to, Gellert." Softly answered Albus.

"There's the bridge! Beamed Gellert, pointing his finger at a black arch over a glassy river, surrounded by a light feathery mist. "When I arrived here, everything seemed so dull and depressing until I started to create the surroundings. Some places were shitholes just like that shack, but the bridge, the river, the boat - everything is just like I remember," proudly stated Gellert.

It was only after Gellert mentioned the boat that Albus noticed it. He had to come up to the bridge to take a closer look. Surrounded by the thin mist, that little vessel for two stood still in the middle of the serene tranquility.

"Where will it take us?" Albus nodded toward the boat, leaning upon the banister of the bridge.

"Wherever you want..." Gellert breathed as Albus put his hand on his lover's shoulder. "We may travel to the other coast and create a house for us. You don't really need one here, but with your love for everything nice, tidy and overly sweet, we certainly need a place."

They were definitely a match made in Heaven. An aristocrat, who appreciated everything austere - from the architecture of unrefined stone castles to the content of his almost empty closet, and a country boy, who, even at the worst of times, made sure to get every special edition book on Transfiguration, every painting that captured his heart and two or three knick-knacks to cozy up his room. Since childhood both of them led a war with the conventions of their backgrounds.

They clambered into the boat, trying not to trip it over, even though the waters of the river were still and the river itself looked more like a mirror-floor. There wasn't a necessity or desire to rush anywhere, so they enjoyed their slow travel. Albus looked around, trying to find anything alive. Gellert's world was cold and exquisite, as if somebody used a blue filter on it and deprived their creation from anything alive. Albus was planning to change that. If they were to share the eternity with each other, Albus would have to expand their world: a charming gazebo, a park with a breathtaking landscape, a beautiful beach house and plenty of wild animals. Of course, Gellert would frown with disapproval. Such rustic Old English sentimentality wouldn't suit his Scandinavian asceticism, but that's the point of being together. To sacrifice yourself for the sake of your partner is a great privilege. Albus assumed that Gellert came to know that the hard way, so he wouldn't be cranky about compromising.