The weather was bleak, perfectly matching the mood of the wizard who stood under the grey clouds, who was watching the sky with a frown marring his forehead. Albus Dumbledore was the man who stood there, looking so forlorn and upset. Few knew why he was upset, though – most just assumed that it was because of the different memories that one would come to associate such an event with.

"My dear friends," the old wizard began, in the centre of the podium, gazing out onto the silent crowd. "Today we gather here for the funeral of Gellert Grindelwald, to see the end of a man which plagued and terrorised our world for so many years. A man who murdered our friends, our families, our neighbours, and even our enemies. A man who performed magic so dark that he slipped into its grasp, and was unable to escape the insanity that comes with such magic."

There was still complete and utter silence. One would have realised if a pin was dropped from a centimetre off the ground, fifty metres away.

"But once upon a time, he was just a young man, not unlike many of yourselves. He had ambitions, yes, and desires, but not all of them were dark and dangerous," he continued, not finding anyone's eyes that he could meet. "He was normal, albeit powerful, even if he had wishes that Lord Voldemort still carries to this day."

Surprisingly, there was no shudder when Dumbledore uttered that feared name. Stillness wasn't common in wizards, but no one moved.

"He was charming, which was probably why he had so many followers and supporters," Dumbledore chuckled to himself. "There was many things that Gellert didn't have, but charisma wasn't one of them."

No one else laughed.

"Gellert could manipulate anyone without using an 'Imperio'," he continued, oblivious to the fact that he was the only person making any noise, the only person moving. "Girls would fall at his feet, men would want to do his bidding... as did I."

The unnatural stillness continued, as Dumbledore didn't clarify which he would do.

"He was handsome, so startlingly handsome," Dumbledore took a steadying gulp of breathe, forcing back tears. All of the memories that rushed to the forefront of his mind... But he was strong, so he continued. "Much more handsome than most, which definitely added to his appeal. Another reason why one would fall for him, I suppose."

No one contradicted Dumbledore, despite the words he was uttering.

"He was observant – he would understand people, he would notice things before anyone else, he would come to conclusions that others wouldn't," here, Dumbledore started pacing, wondering if he could really say what he had planned to. "As I mentioned, he was also very manipulative. He realised that I had feelings for him. He used me, in a sense, stringing me along, a good servant who'd hang onto his every word, do anything he wanted me to."

Still, there was silence. It started to rain lightly, yet no one flinched at the water hitting them.

"I was in love with him," Dumbledore finally admitted, after all of these years. "And I still am, truthfully."

The silence and the stillness continued, as the old wizard looked out upon the empty seats, that were all laid out for the next day. Today, there was no one there. Tomorrow was the funeral of Gellert Grindelwald.

Dumbledore would give a different speech, one which spoke of all of the terrible things Gellert had done, and how they were all glad to be rid of him finally.

It would be a celebration, for the death of the man that Albus Dumbledore loved.

I do not own Harry Potter.