do I not bleed

[manwithstyle]

Albus Dumbledore was dead.

Not now, of course. No, right now he was very much alive, if rather out of sorts, and feeling a whole myriad of emotions that were not often associated with the greatest wizard of his generation.

However, in the not-so-distant future, he was dead. Not only was dead, though that was bad enough, he had failed so completely and entirely in all of his goals that he knew no longer why it was that he had remained so renowned. For The Greater Good had ripped at the seams, ending, as such things do, with a duel between himself and Gellert. Wizards were forced even deeper into hiding while the man fashioning himself as 'Lord Voldemort' marked his followers with the ink of gypsies and sailors and indoctrinated them into a foolish regime. The Deathly Hallows had remained elusive. Why, the only thing that had appeared to keep him in the public eye was the fact that he had been Headmaster. And while that was a fairly lucrative position, he could not help but feel disappointed. Angry, even. Could the future be so bleak?


Albus rapped sharply on the door of Bartemius' hut. He did not look at all put-together. His face was flushed; his eyes bright, and his hair cascaded over his shoulders in a torrent of messy curls. His white shirt was largely unbuttoned, not to mention untucked. His feet were bare. Indeed, he rather had the appearance of someone who had left somewhere very quickly.

It was all, he thought, very uncharacteristic but such developments had called for haste.

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[manwithstyle]

Albus made a vaguely interested sound, low and somewhat amused, orginating, perhaps from the back of his throat. He slowly removed his thumb from Bartemius mouth, brushing it across his lips, the pad dragging slightly against the skin before he finally took his hand away completely. His eyes darted downwards quickly, soon enough resting once more on Bartemius' face and he canted his head to the side. "I confess myself uncertain as to what to make of it," he said simply. "For I've never partaken in such...activity without the use of magic."

[selfmade-crouch.livejournal.com]

Barty broke out into a quiet laugh at that, and reclined back onto his elbows.

"Nor have I," he admitted with what seemed like very little concern. "I believe the general principle remains the same."

[manwithstyle]

He was not overly bothered by Bartemius' reaction; carnal desires had been something he'd only indulged in a handful of times as he had little use for them besides the obvious. That is not, however, to say he was unskilled in that area. After all, to Albus Dumbledore, magic, regardless of subject, came to him as easily as breathing.

He stood from the bed in one swift, deliberate movement and surreptitiously slid his wand up his sleeve, giving the appearance that it had simply vanished. It did not take a genius to realize he was once again being played, being tested, being gauged. Bartemius had essentially admitted as such only moments before. And while it interested Albus on an intellectual level to be put through the very paces that he himself had put countless others, the mere semblance or facsimile of control was not sating his needs. He needed, as it were, to regroup and collect his faculties. As much as he wanted to prolong the inevitable matter of having to process all of that which he had just learned, he knew now that the time had come.

"No, it isn't," replied Albus knowingly, the 't' particularly short and sharp, as he looked over his shoulder. "Not if you do it properly."

[selfmade-crouch.livejournal.com]

"The same may be said for almost every aspect of our daily lives," Barty said, frowning, but not at what others would surely have taken as a rejection, "but this place won't have it." He really hated this place, and he was suddenly feeling ireful.

"So good luck, friend."

[manwithstyle]

"Friend?" he echoed, turning three-quarters of the way. Could one be friends with someone they did not trust? He knew the answer almost immediately: yes. There were, after all, many different kinds of friendships and he imagined that one with Bartemius would defy all common convention.

"An interesting choice of word, Bartemius, but one that I will accept."