Nurmengard

"Don't tell me you never wanted the power," the man laughed and for a moment he seemed like the boy he'd once been, in that one summer they'd spent together, "You forget I know you. I saw you when you were tempted."

"And for exactly that reason I don't want it," Dumbledore returned. He closed his eyes and for a moment he thought he could smell the blooming meadows. In just a moment Aberforth would come annoy them with his goat and if he concentrated really hard he could hear Ariana singing as she fed the chicken.

"Then why did you take the wand?" Gellert pulled him back into reality and Dumbledore suppressed a sigh as he opened his eyes only to find himself in Nurmengard prison peering through the bars at his old friend.

The man didn't say anything. He didn't have to, Gellert knew him better than anyone else. If he had answered, he'd have said that he couldn't resist the temptation. That he was weak. That he couldn't pass up the chance to own one of the hallows. He'd been weak.

And Gellert would have laughed in response. He'd have denied it. Said that Albus had simply seized the power when it was within his grasp. That this didn't make him weak – it made him strong.

"Why are you here, Albus?" Gellert finally broke the silence.

"Is it so unusual to come see an old friend?" Albus asked.

"It is if said friend is locked in prison for war crimes. It is if you are the one who put said friend there in the first place. And it is if you haven't been to visit him once since he's been imprisoned several decades ago," Dumbledore made to speak but Gellert raised his arms, "Not that I'd blame you."

"So you admit that you were wrong? That your greater good was wrong?"

"Once it wasn't just my greater good. Once it was our greater good."

"It was never mine in the same way that it was yours," Albus defended himself. He'd noticed that Gellert had never answered the question and even if he was more than just curious as to what the answer would have been he didn't press the man. After all, it didn't matter anymore. That war was over.

"Keep telling yourself that if it helps you fall asleep at night," Gellert shrugged and leaned his back against the cool wall.

Again, Dumbledore had nothing to say. He was tired of pretending and there was no use pretending with Gellert. The man knew him, after all, better than anyone else ever would.

"Do you wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if Ariana hadn't died?" Gellert suddenly asked.

"No," Dumbledore shook his head.

"You're lying," Gellert smiled and again the smile made him look younger, so much younger.

"Once or twice," Dumbledore admitted.

"A day," Gellert continued for the other man.

Dumbledore just shook his head. He'd thought about it often, back when Gellert had still been terrorizing continental Europe. He'd thought about it even after he'd defeated his friend but the frequency had gone down steadily ever since the war against Tom had started.

"Not that often," Dumbledore replied, quietly, "Not anymore."

"No, I didn't think so," Gellert agreed, "But indulge me, think about it now, for just a moment."

There was a pause, "Are you thinking about it now?" Gellert asked.

"I am," Dumbledore admitted.

"No one could have opposed us," Gellert smiled, "Europe would have been ours. We would have revolutionized the world. We'd still be ruling, side by side."

"The thought makes me shudder."

"You've grown weak in old age," Gellert tilted his head, "Why are you here?"

"You know why I am here." Dumbledore said, "You know that there is only one reason which could ever make me come here."

Gellert tilted his head, "Is it really time? Already?"

Dumbledore raised his blackened hand, "I believe so."

Gellert nodded, "Take me with you?"

"There was a reason why I put you in this prison, Gellert."

"And it wasn't for any of the reasons that the public speculated," Gellert smiled.

"No, I suppose it wasn't."

"It wasn't because you were being merciful and it wasn't because you didn't think I deserved to die," Gellert smiled, "It was because you couldn't stand the thought of a world without me in it, wasn't it?"

"You have far too high an opinion of yourself."

"Really?" Gellert smiled, "Are you going to tell me that I am wrong? That there was another reason?"

Dumbledore didn't reply, he just stared at the wall across from him.

Gellert didn't press the issue – Dumbledore's silence had been enough of an answer for him.

"Then say what you've come to say, Albus, and leave. I don't have all day."

"You have more pressing business than my visit?" Albus asked, tilting his head, "You're in a four by four cell with no company but the wards around your cell and the one book you were allowed to bring with you. It's been decades – I am sure you know it by heart by now."

"Sleep," Gellert replied, "It's the middle of the night. I would sleep."

"You've grown old," Dumbledore said.

"And you're dying. Now ask what you came to ask and then leave."

"I didn't come to ask anything."

"You think you've come to say goodbye. And you have – in your own way. You've come to ask me about it. You came close to asking me twice. Once on the day I left Godric's Hallow. And once on the day of our final duel."

There was a pause as Albus realized that Gellert was right. He needed to know.

"So?" Albus asked.

"So what?" Gellert asked.

"Don't make me ask," Albus pinched the bridge of his nose, "Please."

"If you want an answer you need to ask."

Albus took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Of course Gellert wouldn't make this easy on him. Albus let go of the breath with a whoosh and took a moment to formulate his question even though it was exactly that question which had plagued his nightmares for years. Did you ever love me?

And then Albus chickened out, "Did I kill Ariana?"

Gellert's eyes showed disappointment for a moment. In a blink they were as clear as they'd always been, "If that's how you want to play it," he shrugged.

"It is." Dumbledore nodded.

Gellert hesitated for a moment before he answered, "I did." He finally said.

"You're lying."

"What does it matter if I am?" Gellert asked, "Knowing the truth won't bring her back and knowing you killed her or Aberforth killed her won't bring you any peace of mind. You already hate me – what does one more death matter? What difference does one more innocent's blood on my hands really make?"

"It matters to me," Albus replied, "It matters."

Gellert sighed, "I killed her." He repeated.

"No," Albus shook his head, "You didn't. I did."

The other man didn't say anything and Albus knew that he was right.

"Does it really matter who cast the spell?" Gellert asked, "It was our fault – all of ours. And it was my fault more than it was yours. I was the one who cast the first curse on your brother. I was the one who started it. So does it really matter whether or not you really did cast the fatal curse?"

"Of course it matters," Albus said.

Gellert sighed, "You didn't cast the fatal curse," he repeated, "I did."

Albus smiled a tired smile, "You're lying."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Continue blaming me for it just like you always did. Let me take this burden from you – you have enough to worry about without adding this, too." Gellert pointedly looked at the other's charred arm, "And should we ever meet in the afterlife I will tell you whether or not I lied."

Dumbledore tilted his head, "You really will not tell me?"

"No," Gellert shook his head.

Albus nodded.

For a long moment the two men stared at each other, both lost in their own thoughts of a summer long passed.

"Farewell, old friend," Dumbledore finally said and looked away first, "I won't be coming back."

"I know," Gellert nodded, "Goodbye, Albus."

There was a pause as neither man knew what to do. Dumbledore lingered for a moment, unwilling to walk away, unwilling to leave without the answer to his question and equally as unwilling to ask it.

And finally, he had already taken his first step down the stairs when Gellert called out to him, "Albus?" the man didn't raise his voice and yet the man heard him and turned around.

"The answer to your other question – you know, the question you were too scared to ask…" the man paused, a twinkle in his eyes. A twinkle that resembled the same twinkle that Dumbledore sported whenever he was amused. A twinkle that, once again, reminded Dumbledore of the young boy this man had once been.

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked, prompting the man to continue as he took a step closer towards the bars of the cell.

"That was the answer," Gellert grinned.

"What was?" Albus asked.

"Yes," Gellert grinned, "The answer to your question was yes, in my own way."

"Thank you," Albus couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face, "I miss you, old friend."

"Now leave," Gellert said, turning his attention back to the one book he'd been imprisoned with.

And Albus left.