This is running it close to the deadline! There is a typo in an earlier chapter that I will fix; this is 10 chapter piece.

Kawisdom, your comment moved me beyond words; you articulated precisely my intentions, everything I had been thinking when writing the previous chapter. Thank you - please accept this, with my gratitude and respect. ~ SS19

Repeat the Past
Chapter 3 of 10

They had sat on the floor for a long time in silence. Severus had felt the innate instinct to comfort and reassure in that moment when Albus had collapsed against him, sobbing and breaking, but he realised that the longer time passed, he was not entirely sure what to say next. Strangely though, Albus had not sought any additional dialogue, and although he still leaned against Severus nearly heavily, he was staring far beyond the middle distance, far beyond their lived realm. This meant Severus had the time to think. Albus - well, his Albus - had always filled these spaces with words, kind words, gentle words, affectionate words, because he knew it was what Severus wanted to hear. But it had taken much time for them to get to that point, where Albus could have the confidence to do so, and Severus could have the faith and belief to listen. What had they done before Severus had trusted Albus with everything he had - every secret, every moment, every fear, every weakness, every negative thought - every lingering wish and dream - he did not remember.

Albus had become such a part of him, and his life, and he did not remember the time before it. His chest tightened and he wanted to ignore the creeping grief that would threaten where and when he allowed it even the slightest wisps of space to breathe, that he would never truly have that again, that constant belief, that constant faith, that constant knowing. That feeling of having a mentor, a paternal figure - entirely natural - wrenched from him in a moment where he had truly understood the meaning of the cliche of a heart to break.

Thankfully, Albus shifted position, moving away just slightly, and Severus could put his mind back on the task in hand. Albus repositioned himself against the wall so they were close, but not as close as they had been. "I...apologise."

"And why in Merlin's name would you do that, Severus?"

"Why?" Severus responded, bringing his legs to his preferred cross legged pose, "Why do you feel the need to do that?"

"Well - it's not - becoming of a young wizard to spill secrets to a stranger from the street." Albus' voice was worn with the exhaustion of keeping emotions at bay - something Severus recognised and knew all too well, "I find strangers from the street can be most ... accommodating." He clasped his fingers together, "They can also be excellent listeners, should you give them the time."

"I know I talk a lot, my boy, but I am also a very good listener, when there is something to listen to."

"No." Albus' interjection was harsher now, "I will not give the time."

Severus did not press - immediately - "Fair enough - but if you do not - whatever it is will eat away at you."

Albus stared at him, "You speak from experience."

Severus' smile was wan and joyless, "I do." Much experience. He added after a moment, "I also learned how to talk about it. I learned how to release it in an...acceptable...manner." His dark eyes surveyed Albus, "Not through copious amounts of Firewhiskey."

Albus pushed back against the wall and stood, "Whoever taught you to lecture did a poor job."

Amusement flooded his heart and he knew it may have shown in his now far more genuine smile, "Perhaps." He stayed where he was, "You should think about my offer. You will not reach your potential if you do not allow this to..." Something about the words seemed to stir something in him and as such his sentence descended into nothing, even as Albus stared at him, "And you know that, how?"

Severus did not answer, trying to place the emotion - he was close to something - here - but - difficult - too much, cascading in one moment - "Pardon?" He returned to the moment, and Albus shook his head and walked away, leaving Severus alone to consider. This was what he was needed for, of that he was sure - he was needed to explore why Albus was alone, here in Paris, and what he chose to do here would forever shape him. The Fates had told him he could be better, for Albus. What did that mean? Albus Dumbledore had become the greatest wizard of generations, the most brilliant Severus would met - had met, his mind corrected, in his lifetime. He was kind and gentle and powerful and considerate and compassionate, strategic and believed firmly in the greater good. He had flaws, certainly - but to take those flaws away would have left less of a leader. Severus did not understand how he could help Albus to be more of a leader. Severus did not really know what being a leader was like - he had never had to take that role, beside the short stint as Hogwarts Headmaster and even then his every move had been orchestrated by Albus.

He did not quite see the link between this Albus and his Albus. Occasionally there were echoes but - Severus exhaled slowly, stretching his spine. He felt, he realised, a little bereft. He had...liked...being a source of comfort. He had liked being the strength. Albus had always told him that Severus was his strength, but the other wizard had been stronger than Severus even until his final moments when - atop the Astronomy Tower - it had been Albus who had reached for Severus through their connection and encouraged him and reassured him and praised him, to ensure Severus could do what he needed to do. Albus had been his strength, it had never been the other way around.

Had it?

He was aware this was the second night, of his short stay here - as he moved back to his small room and sat atop the covers, unable to think about sleep, his gaze fell on the book by his bed. He would find the way. He would understand what the Fates meant.

He had certainly fallen asleep at some point as he awoke some time later with a very stiff back and aching shoulders, still dressed. The book lay in his lap, unopened. He groaned and creaked his form into some sort of acceptable shape, senses returning to their usual alertness and after several counted seconds returning the information that he appeared to be alone. Excellent. That meant he could be the spy everyone supposed he was, and look in Albus' room. He would find some information and piece the rest together. That was easy enough. Slipping across to his bedroom door, he ensured he definitely was alone - the other's travelling cloak was gone - but the other door was ajar. He moved into the adjoining room, finding it slightly tidier than the rest of the living space.

Almost too tidy.

"What are you hiding, Albus?" He murmured, thinking back to his mentor - where had Albus always hid items - often in books, but there were few books in here. The trunk seemed a little too obvious even as Severus gave it a cursory glance. This would need to be something subtle, something ordinary, something innocuous.

"Severus - don't look at me like that - you know I always offer - it is courteous of me to do so - and one day you might say yes, and you might find you enjoy them, sweet though they are."

The pentagon shaped tin. "Impossible." He had never asked where the tin had come from - maybe it was a family heirloom - was it - surely not -

"See - I told you so - quite pleasant, are they not?"

The sudden yearning in his chest was pathetically desperate and he was tempted to roll his eyes at himself even as curiosity twisted his logic and sensible nature into that of a child - he reached out for the tin -

Pain shot straight up his arm in a way reminiscent of summons from the Dark Lord and he withdrew sharply with a hiss, glancing down at his hand - his fingertips were stained with some deep purple colour - "Shit." It was detection spell, fair enough, but combined with the curse that caused pain - that was some rather Dark magic, not something he had ever associated with Albus despite his awareness that the other had studied much magic across his many years. "Clever." He knew before running his fingers under the tap in the kitchen that the staining would not relent; not until the caster of the detection spell became aware of the attempt. He had been so foolish - nostalgia and sentiment - never his forte, and here it had led him into trouble. This would be difficult to explain and he had gained no additional information about Albus except the fact the other knew Dark magic and had something so precious that it was worth protecting with such magic, yet important enough to keep with him and visible. A reminder, then. It was a reminder of a secret that Albus was using - ah - Severus leaned against the work surface. It was like the Dark Mark. It was a reminder of decisions - able to be concealed - but exposed too, to remind of choices. In Severus' case, poor choices. He had been so protective of his Mark - no, protective was the wrong word - he had been so ashamed of it, that he wanted to keep it close, he had never wanted it to corrupt others. This was something - perhaps not the something - but certainly something.

So what was Albus hiding in plain sight, to torment himself with?

Darkness had fallen a good hour ago, and Severus was now unable to deny that he was concerned. He doubted the Fates had wanted him to intervene in Albus' past so dramatically that he had caused the other to flee Paris and perhaps cause damage to himself. He tapped the table beside him irritatedly - he was going to have to venture out to find him - his wand in hand, he headed out to the street and when he was sure he was not being overlooked, he whispered to his weapon, "Point me." The wand seemed to hesitate, as if confused by the request, even as Severus vividly pictured the younger Albus - and then finally it settled on a direction that Severus followed resolutely until the wand led him to the door of a -

Well, what he assumed was a public house, based on the architecture and signage and smell.

Wonderful.

He entered the pub, wand away, pulling his cloak off so he looked slightly less like a strange figure of the night. One glance around the smoky interior revealed that Albus was here, sat in a corner as far from the fire as possible, holding an empty beaker in his hand and once again staring, at nothing. Keeping his left hand out of sight, Severus moved toward the table, "Fancy seeing you here."

Albus looked up at him. "What? Is drinking illegal, or against the rules of your lecturing?"

It was so strange to see such a sulky and petulant countenance with those eyes, Severus considered. He sat opposite Albus, "Of course not. It is, however, saddening to drink alone."

Albus indicated his beaker, "I am not drinking."

Severus saw two paths here; he could refuse, or he could engage. Whichever path he took had risks. He had never been one for liquor - but he also thought maybe this was where he could get Albus to talk - "Fine. Another one?"

Albus was not very secretively trying to understand Severus' game, and Severus was happy to let him consider and evaluate. He would try patience. He waved his right hand and the bartender approached - he hesitated when he realised he did not know how to order in French - and Albus intervened with a sentence that seemed to be immediately understood, for moments later two more whiskeys appeared. It did not smell like the usual Wizarding concoction - in fact - it triggered a rush of familiarity of -

"It's Scottish." Albus supplied. "I do not know why they drink this in France."

Severus picked the beaker up, "A toast then - to strangers from the street." Albus returned with a chink of the beakers and there was a moment, which Severus allowed himself to indulge of a memory of New Year's Eves and some sweet, fudge like equivalent to contrast the warmth of the whiskey in a tastefully tartan adorned office.

"Who did you lose?" Albus interrupted his pleasant reverie, and Severus raised his gaze, "What?"

"Last night - you said you lost someone - who was it?" That blue gaze was piercing and Severus felt a strange need to strengthen his mental barriers even as his memories threw those blue eyes, different place, different time, straight into the foreground of his mind. "Why?"

"I want to know. You said it meant you could understand."

"You do not understand, Headmaster!"

"I do, Severus, more than you know."

"How? How can you possibly know?! How can you possibly know how this feels - to know - what I did - what I am responsible for - "

"I do understand." Severus reasoned, composed and calm.

"How. How could you possibly understand?" Albus' reply was defiant.

"That, my boy..."

Severus contemplated his drink, and then Albus, and then his drink once more.

"...is a story for a different time."

"I lost...him. A mentor." He said finally, breaking the intensity of the silence that had taken its place between them, "Like a father, to me."

Albus was quiet, and then tipped his glass in Severus' direction, "Suggesting we share absent real ones, then."

Severus inclined his head, "Indeed."

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" A raise of a black eyebrow.

"You said you were responsible for it. Why did you do it?"

"Will you tell me, now, at nearly the end of all things, this last evening?"

"Tell you what, Severus?"

"Your story? The story you always said you would tell me."

"Well..." Severus was unable to look away from those blue eyes. He could not break the gaze. He knew his memories were safe but that did not make the colours before him any less painful, any less shattering, any less intrusive.

"I rather think you would think ill of me, my boy, and even at the end of all things, I could not bear that."

"I..." He moved the beaker aside, "What is this? A question for a question?"

Albus leaned forward, "No, Caius - it's a question for an answer." Severus almost did not react to his manufactured name until some dormant part of his mind hissed at him not to look surprised or confused, "Then I believe it is my turn, young man."

"How could I think ill of you, old man?"

Albus seemed almost amused, "You play well."

"I can play better, but I will need more whiskey to do so - tell me - who did you lose?"

There, between them, was all the intensity and strategy and sparking brilliance that had punctuated Severus' very life, marked the difference between his fall and his fix. He wondered if he would receive a reply, but he could see the intrigue in Albus' eyes and maybe, just maybe, this was the breakthrough... Albus announced some few words Severus did not understand and the bartender returned with two more beakers, before the young man sat back in his chair. "Who did I lose? I lost...him."

Update: Friday 19th June