Harry Potter: An Alternate Universe

20) The Aviary

Year: Graduated 1899
House: Horned Serpent (Illvermorny)
Gender: M
Love Interest: Albus Dumbledore

 

You knew him as Albus, the man who visited the aviary. Really it was Milo Hanson's aviary, who bred and trained nearly every magic owl that flies about the UK. You were his apprentice, ready to take his place when the time comes.

The man named Albus came more and more. He never said a word to you every time you came. All you knew was that he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at the English wizarding school, overheard by a few gossiping customers one day. The students called him Professor Dumbledore, and they made fun of the extravagant robe he was wearing. You had to admit, it was a bit over the top.

You were originally from the states, and decided to study abroad after graduating from Illvermorny a year early. You fell in love with Europe, and found it a great escape from your family's grasp. They would be devastated if they knew their scholarly son was practicing to be an owl trainer.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you." His voice was rich and proper.

"No bother," you replied, trying to match his level of etiquette. "I do work here after all." He smiled.

"I was wondering about that owl, up there." He pointed to a barn owl, perched a meter or two above your heads.

"That's Lyra. She's blind, if you can tell by her eyes. Giving her to any old witch or wizard seems irresponsible. She's not for sale; she's a treasure." You made a high pitched whistle, and she flew downward, finding her way around you your arm. Albus watched her observingly.

"My, she's just beautiful."

"You can pet her if you like."

"May I?," he said, like a giddy child. He stroked her feathery head, and Lyra remained obeying.

"She's a lot friendlier than most tend to think."

"So I can see." Albus withdrew his hand, placing back into the pocket of his robe. "Judging by your accent, I presume you went to Illvermorny."

"I did," you stated matter-of-factly. The owl flew off your arm and out of sight.

"I teach at Hogwarts."

"Ah." You wondered if he bought the fake surprise you tried to express.

"Goodbye, (y/n)," he said, suddenly turning to leave. No excuse or reason. He just left. He came back a few days later. And the day after that. He said he could come as many times as he liked; Hogsmeade was right by the school.

Albus asked dozens of questions about the owls. He was particularly fond of Lyra. You learned about Fawkes, his Phoenix. You knew they were very rare, and so you found yourself asking dozens of questions about his bird. He was a kind man. Funny and witty. You liked that he no longer avoided you whenever he came around, but came straight to you. Milo brought him up a few times.

"You two seem like good friends," he said one day.

"Indeed, we are." You we're sure of it, too. He came in a few moments later, rosy-cheeked from the bitter cold.

"I was wondering about that spotted owl that broke its leg, is he doing any better."

"Loads. We gave him an experimental treatment that turned out to be successful."

"That's fantastic! Where is he?"

"Just this way, still in the recovery center." He followed you towards the back, down the steps into the cellar. Your heart beat grows faster, knowing his presence so close to yours. You felt that way when his hand brushed yours, or when he sat particularly closer than normal. And just like those times, you try shaking it away. But it won't budge.

"Sort of a tight spot," you say, trying to keep things light. It's a narrow little opening before you open the door to the recovery room. A pair of hands spin you around, clasping the sides of your head. His brilliant blue eyes, you're lost in them. You feel his lips press against yours. His beard tickles your skin. Before you could begin to kiss him back, he shoves himself away.

"What a fool I am." His brows furrow in anger. "I've been indecent."

"Stop," you whisper. "It's not wrong."

"You're mad at me. At least you should be." He turned to leave. But you grab his arm.

"It'd be a shame for you to leave me now. The chances I'll ever know a man like you are none at all. The chances I'll ever know a man who would have the nerve to kiss me are exceptionally low." You'd gotten him to face you again. "No one will know."

Grabbing the collar of his robes, you kiss him once more. You taste the sweetness of lemon candy. There was no other feeling in the world like kissing Albus Dumbledore.

Jude Law killed it as Dumbledore (just sayin).

This takes place before after Grindlewald became bad and shiz, so I imagine in this story he's like, totally over him. Totes.

Hope you liked it!