((Oops. Got a little carried away.
))
Love. Curious word. People give many different definitions to it: some say love is when you catch a glimpse of God in someone else, some describe it to be an emotion constructed of the deep brew of passion, distilled of the decanter of affection, some call it being unable to live without seeing someone's smile, hearing someone's laugh, feeling someone's heartbeat.
To Albus, love had always meant sacrifice.
Not just being willing to give up your life for somebody. But happily, unthinkingly sacrificing everything it contained. Giving up time, giving up peace, giving up secrets, giving up hearts.......it was a simple, poignant offering of everything you were for someone else. And that was how Albus knew he had never loved. Because he had never, ever had enough strength to sacrifice something, anything for anyone else. Not his friends, not his siblings. Hell, not even his mother. He wouldn't call himself selfish. He just never had invested enough of himself in someone else to truly feel anything when they were gone. Unlike the woman before him.
Albus averted his eyes, looking at the dusty window behind the woman in front of him. His eyes traced out the barest patterns etched in the dust by fluttering cobwebs, and the path of a small spider painstakingly crawling up the window pane. He couldn't look at Jack, not right now. He knew that if he looked at her face, or Merlin forbid her eyes, he would see vulnerability and strength all at once. Albus knew it made no difference, Jack had already confessed her weaknesses in front of him, but by a stupid twist of his mind he felt as if he would be preserving the last remnants of her pride by not looking at her, perhaps giving them both the illusion that Jack had not just admitted her pain in front of him. And though Albus didn't want to admit it to himself, a major reason for why he avoided her gaze and remained silent, was because he knew that if he looked at her right now, there would be pain in her eyes. And respect for that pain in his.
Albus didn't respect easily.
A secret for a secret. A confession for a confession. A sudden thought burst, like a flickering flame in Albus's mind, subdued in the darkness of his mind, yet still visible. She told him about her secret. Why couldn't he tell her his?
No, Albus responded instantly, unshakably. No. Circumstances may have made Jack Dyllan reclusive, but she wasn't so by nature. She was compelled by her own personality to share, to project. Albus's nature was like a walled fortress, he didn't give up secrets. Never did. One pained confession couldn't make him desert that.
The flame licked against the iron walls of Albus's will.
Why not? You had promised to change, hadn't you? To show the world what you truly were? Why not begin with her?NO. Albus responded again, increasingly agitated. He wouldn't. Couldn't.
The flame grew higher, brighter.
Receive and give back. Its how the world works. She shared her deepest, darkest secret with you. Doesn't she deserve something in return?No. This final word was built of steel. My secret is nothing,
nothing compared to hers. She had pain, and she needed to share the burden. She erased her memories from the mind of the man she loved. Mine is something deep, and dark, and dirty, and worthless, and should never be exposed to the world. And with that, Albus quenched the flame in his thoughts and turned back to Jack. He hoped, with the slightest hint of desperation, that he hadn't remained silent for too long to arouse suspicion. "Kick ass. Sounds good to me." The words sounded weak and unconvincing even to his own ears.
Cmon. Get a grip on yourself. Albus tightened his jaw, and put on the mask again, the one he hadn't worn since Diagon Alley. His voice was much stronger this time, with a slight undertone of humor which still, despite best efforts, sounded forced. "We should announce a crusade against all the annoyances which inhabit the world. Beginning with the Prophet. And the worthless Ministry which controls it."