A/N - Hi! This is written for Princess Moony's (Princess PomPom on this site) 'Jemstone Challenge' on the HPFF forums. My character was Albus Severus, and my gemstone was a sapphire, which we had to make significant in the story. I chose to make 'sapphire' a character, and this is told from her POV. It might be kinda confusing, and sorry this isn't very good. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and please review! =) x
A/N 2 - I might add another chapter onto this, just a short one from Albus' POV, what do you think? Please tell me in a review! =)
Chapter 1 – Sapphire
Albus is my best friend.
From the moment on the first of September 6 years ago, when I stumbled into his compartment, and sat myself down between him and Scorpius Malfoy, we just… Clicked. So with one fleeting look into is emerald eyes, I knew something was wrong.
Piercing screams of First Years fill the great hall, as a thunderous tremor ripples through the ground. The door bursts open, and a dozen cloaked figures make their way inside, eyes dancing with malicious glee. Only slightly parting his lips, the man in the middle, their leader, perhaps, muttered an unintelligible word, wand pointed directly at me.
Al seemed to figure it out before I did.
Instinctively, he threw himself sideways, attempting to shield me from the jet of red light that was now sprinting ferociously towards me.
Then the world seemed to go in slow motion. Al coming into view in front of me, pure terror etched upon his face, trying to protect me, save me. The red light running, running a race vital for it to win. Slipping through Albus' thin fingers: reaching its target.
Pain. Blinding pain I cannot even begin to describe. The world fading around me. Darkness.
I awake and everything's changed.
With every breath pain bursts from my chest and spreads throughout my body, and whenever I attempt to move, I fail. I can't even open my eyes. As a large, warm hand with thin fingers encases my own, I hear fain murmurs of people talking, people beyond my reach.
I think of that touch on my hand, that touch that seems so familiar, so right, yet I have only felt it once before. But who it is, I don't know. And just as a candle lights the dark night with a flickering flame, a picture, a memory, sparks into my head.
It was before the practical potions owl, and I was as nervous as I could possibly be. When I left school, I wanted to be a healer at St. Mungo's, so passing this exam was crucial. Sensing my nerves, he held my hand as we waited for our names to be called, and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he left, telling me that I'd be okay. But who was he? The tall, skinny boy with the emerald eyes and jet black hair?
As I desperately try to remember, another memory springs to mind.
Inside a window of a crooked wooden house, barely managing to hold itself up, are two faces, both topped with hair as dark as the midnight sky, and eyes as bright as jewels. Holding up a small bottle labelled 'Blue hair dye', I ask the boy "What's this do?"
He takes it in his hand, that familiar hand, laughing, and responds "Dyes your hair blue of course! Really, Sapphire, what else would it be for?"
Sapphire? Is that my name? There's no time to wonder, however, as the memory continues. "Shall we try it out?" I ask, excitement evident in my voice.
The boy laughs again, "On you, yeah!"
"Chivalrous as ever, your Dad would be so proud."
He simply pours the stuff on my head as a reply.
So the now blue haired girl and the black haired boy run up the stairs to the bathroom, where we try to rinse it out.
"Saph, it won't come out, where did you find this thing?"
Easily, I replied, "In the box labelled 'DO NOT TOUCH', where else?"
Both 13 year olds laugh whilst a snowflake dances down past the window as the memory fades into another:
It's the boy again, saying I should just ask Professor Longbottom to change my hair back for me, which I respond with, "You really think that would work on a Weasley product? Besides, I kind of like it, it matches my eyes."
The boy wears a look of annoyance, but a smile plays at the corner of his lips, "But you JUST said it clashed with your robes!"
"I didn't say that was a bad thing though did I?"
He just shakes his head as he runs down the hill, shouting behind him: "Come on! I'll race you down to Hagrid's!" And, of course, I race after him, blue hair and Gryffindor robes flying out behind me.
Then the memory fades, yet one question still plagues me: who was the boy with the jet black hair and emerald eyes, the one who acted like my best friend?
I don't know how long my mind has been asleep for, but when I awake I can still fell that hand upon my own. But however much I try, I can't even move one finger, open one eye.
Once again, another memory appears before me.
"And Albus Potter has caught the snitch! 150 points to Gryffindor!" The loud voice of Lewis Jordan dominates the quidditch pitch, along with disappointed groans from Slytherins, and loud cheers from every other student. Still in mid-air, I dive downwards, dismount my broomstick, and run towards a, now older, boy with round glasses concealing emerald eyes. My arms envelope this boy in a hug whilst jumping up and down in excitement at the small winged ball I see in his hand, and the large silver cup in the other. He raises the cup above his head as more players and spectators rush down onto the pitch to celebrate. Celebrate what, I don't know, but I do remember a party that lasted all night in a scarlet room at the top of one of the castle's many towers, the silver cup in a table at the centre.
Before I have time to question what I saw, the memory fades into another.
Approximately 6 years younger than before, the skinny, messy-haired boy from earlier could be seen through the small window of a train compartment, accompanied by a girl with bushy dark red hair, and a pale boy topped with sleek white-blonde locks. I open the compartment door and sit down between these two boys, and start making conversation. This goes on for a while, and we talk about everything, from families to quidditch teams to favourite sweets. I learn that his name is Albus Potter, the boy who features in all my memories, and just like his face in my visions, the name seems so familiar, and there's a feeling that I should've known it all along. This feeling I cannot get rid of, and I wonder why I feel so much better now that I know who he is.
But there's no time to wonder; I can't seem to summon up the energy to even try. And as the pain circulating my body is greater still, I know that I will not last much longer.
His hand is still gripping mine, even tighter than before, as if he is trying to hold on to me, not let me go. In spite of this I can't help but feel that it's ending.
Yet another memory sparks into my mind, but this time it's just a picture. A single picture, the last thing that makes me want to hold on, that and his hand, Albus' hand, holding so tightly onto my own.
I see a panic-stricken emerald eye, shining with both tears and terror. I see a blue haired girl with a burst of red light hitting her chest reflected in its pupil. And then I just see darkness.
Darkness. Something that seems to feature quite prominently in my mind of late. But this feels different: like it's going on and on forever, with no intention to possibly stop. Like a tunnel where you just can't see the light at the end.
So with one last memory of that emerald eye, one last attempt of trying to preserve the feeling of his touch on my hand, I lose every subconscious thought I had, and that torturing pain just- fades away…