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Sarabeth by Seamusfan1
Chapter 1 : Sarabeth
Rating: 12+Chapter Reviews: 16

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It is the fall of 1994, and school has just started. Before the Ravenclaw quidditch team knew that the school year would not have quidditch because of the Triwizard Tournament, they had gotten together to practice in the summer. Sarabeth is one of the chasers on the team, and while they were practicing, she got hit by a bludger. Her arm was in so much pain that she fell off her broom. As her teammates carried her to the house of a friend nearby to the meadow where they were practicing, they noticed the bruises on her legs from where she fell.

As her classmates enjoy a Saturday on the sunny September grounds, Sarabeth sits in a St. Mungo’s waiting room, wondering what is wrong with her.

Sarabeth is scared to death
To hear what the doctor will say
She hasn't been well
Since the day that she fell
And the bruises just won't go away

Sarabeth looks up every time the door to the waiting room opens. Sometimes it is the nurse, calling a name that is not hers, sometimes it is a fellow patient, but it seems to Sarabeth as if she will never be called back. A copy of Witch Weekly is sitting across the room, and having nothing better to read, Sarabeth goes and picks it up.

So she sits and she waits with her mother and dad
Flips through an old magazine

Another patient comes in the door, and if Sarabeth was not so afraid, she would have recognized him as the boy that caught her eye at the feast on September First.

“Hi,” he says as he sits next to her and extends a hand. “I’m Weslin.”

“Sarabeth,” says Sarabeth, smiling as she notices his book, Quidditch Through The Ages “You like quidditch?” The two are instantly caught up in a conversation about quidditch.

Till a the nurse with a smile
Stands at the door
And says, “Will you please come with me?

It is finally Sarabeth’s turn to see the doctor, and as she stands, she smiles again at the boy who had calmed her down. She walks into the doctor’s office, and tells the doctor what is wrong, how the bruises from summer are still on her arms and legs.

Sarabeth is scared to death
Cause the doctor just told her the news

Sarabeth needs fresh air, and as her doctor explains her condition further to her parents, Sarabeth ducks out, back into the waiting room, tears flowing freely. Sarabeth doesn’t care that there are people watching, not until she feels an arm slide around her shoulders, enveloping her into a strong hug. Sarabeth looks at the strong arms holding her, and then up into the face of Weslin.
“You looked like you needed a hug,” he says simply, holding her tighter still until a nurse walks up, explaining what is wrong with Sarabeth to Weslin.

Between the red cells and white
Something's not right”

And turning back to Sarabeth, taking her from the warm arms of Weslin, and starting to lead her back towards the small room where her parents and the doctor are,

But we're gonna take care of you.”

As Sarabeth walks back into the room, she hears the doctor explaining what he plans to do.

“Now, with Leukemia, we’re no closer to a perfect cure than the muggles. There are some things even magic can’t fix.

Six chances in ten it won't come back again
With the therapy were gonna try
It's just been approved
It's the strongest there is
I think we caught it in time

It involves some potions and spells, but Sarabeth should be able to return to school and function normally, she should even be able to…”

Sarabeth closes her eyes
She dreams she's dancing
Around and around without any cares
And her very first love is holding her close
And the soft wind in blowing her hair

Sarabeth imagines herself away from this place, wishing that she had warm arms like Weslin’s to spin around in. Arms like his to hold her close, even when she cries and shakes.

Sarabeth goes back to school, walking through classes, only telling her closest friend, Sondra, of her illness. Every weekend she walks to the village of Hogsmeade to take a train to London, and meets her parents in St. Mungo’s, to take her potions and have spells cast on her whole body. She sleeps on the train, usually, lying on the floor between seats for the hour-long ride. She gets up slowly, walking to the castle, shaking from treatment. Sarabeth feels the tears starting to flow, and she stops, sitting in a corner of the brick wall in the courtyard. Her back is against one wall, and she sits clinging to the other one. Her muggle jeans and T-shirt are sticking to her, but she is crying to hard now to care.

Suddenly Sarabeth feels someone sit next to her, and she looks up through her tears.

“Can I help?” He asks, setting his book down next to him and reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Sarabeth is overtaken with emotions, and she suddenly finds herself telling him everything about her illness.

“Weslin,” she finishes, “thank you so much for listening to me!”

“Absolutely. What to talk about something else?” He asks knowingly, and she nods as the two lean towards each other and hug. “Like the Yule Ball. Got any plans?”

“Ha,” she sniffs, laughing. “No guy knows I even exist. I don’t expect to be asked.”

“I know you exist. I remember the day we met. In the doctor’s office. I had,” he reaches down, “this book.” Quidditch Through The Ages is in his hand, and she laughs, looking up and noticing how cute he is. His brown hair is falling into his grey eyes, and to Sarabeth, his entire nature is warm. She smiles.

“Yeah. We talked about quidditch. You calmed me down. I remember. Thanks for that. This book must connect us, somehow.”


Sarabeth feels the train slowing down, and she gets up. Knowing that she is the only person on the train, she walks slowly to the door, and when the train stops, she opens the door and steps out. She can’t help but think about last weekend, the way it felt just to talk to and hug Weslin. She sighs, looking down she sees a page from a book. Sarabeth bends down, slowly, enduring the pain, and picks up the page. She smiles, as she reads the title page, remembering the day she found out she had leukemia.

Quidditch Through The Ages

As Sarabeth smiles, dancing in her memories, she sees a small arrow at the bottom of the page. She turns the page over and sees a few lines of neat handwriting in the middle of the page.

Follow The Roses.

Sarabeth smiles and looks up, seeing a path of red and white stemmed roses. She walks up, no longer feeling the pain, reaching down to pick up the first red rose. She smells it and walks a few steps to a white rose. As she picks it up, Sarabeth sees a small heart-shaped piece of parchment. The same hand is on the piece, Will. Sarabeth wonders what “will” means, and who set the roses up in the first place. Sarabeth follows the trail, stopping to pick up each and every rose. Red. White. Red. White. Under every few white roses is another heart-shaped parchment. The messages in Sarabeth’s hands now read, “Will You Go To The Ball” Sarabeth picks up the last message, “With” and sees that there are no more roses to follow.

She looks again at the messages, “Will I go to the ball with…” She says to herself, looking up. Sarabeth sees an apple tree that has been charmed so that it is in permanent bloom. As she wonders who left the roses, she sees a small bouquet of red and white roses emerging from behind the apple tree.

“Me?” He says, looking up hopefully. He holds a book in one hand, the bouquet in the other.

Quidditch Through The Ages.” She whispers, “Oh, Weslin. Of course I’ll go. This is so romantic.”

“Why thank you.” He says, smiling, and pulling her into a hug. He stands there and holds her, and she looks up into his face, and a few blooms from the apple tree fall onto their shoulders. She takes a deep breath, and the smell of the blossoms mixes sweetly with the roses and his cologne.

He looks again into her eyes and says, “I thought the red and white could symbolize the day my life really started. The day we met. For your blood cells, you know?”

“That is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”


Sarabeth is scared to death
As she sits holding her mum
Says it would be a mistake
For someone to take
A girl with no hair to the ball

Sarabeth sits in the dormitory, hugging her mum, who has come to collect her hair and comfort her sick daughter and Sarabeth is helping Sondra to get ready for the ball. She wears a dress of red and white “In honor of the illness that brought me to Weslin,” and she has a light dust of gold sparkles covering her head and shoulders, drawing the attention from her baldhead.

Oh, just this morning right there on her pillow
Was the cruelest of any surprise
And she cried when she gathered it all in her hands
The proof that she couldn't deny

Sarabeth closes her eyes
And she dreams she's dancing
Around and around without any cares
And her very first love was holding her close
And the soft wind is blowing her hair

Sarabeth takes a deep breath, opening her eyes and hugging her friend Sondra. “Are you coming?” Her best friend says, waving to Ryan that she’ll be right with him.

“I don’t know,” responds Sarabeth. “We’ll see. Have a blast.” Sondra leaves, and

It’s quarter to seven
That boy’s at the door
And her daddy ushers him in

Sarabeth looks up, wondering what he’s doing there. She had thought that Weslin would stand her up.

“You look beautiful,” he says,

And when he takes off his cap
They all start to cry
Cause this morning where his hair had been
Softly she touches just skin

“I can’t believe you did this. Why did you do this?”

“Because I am in love with you,” he says, taking her hand and going down on one knee, taking on a character, “Am I worthy to take thee beautiful lady to the Yule Ball this evening?”

Sarabeth wipes away her tears, waving to her parents as he picks her up in his arms and starts to carry her to the door.

And they go dancing
Around and around without any cares
And her very first true love is holding her close
And for a moment she isn't scared

“It will be okay. I’m here.” Weslin says to Sarabeth who has started to cry again. “It’ll be okay. I love you.” He leans down and kisses her gently, knowing that she may not live to see the next day, knowing that he might lose her. But he doesn’t care. He loves her, loves her enough to shave his own head. She is his princess, and he her prince. If it hadn’t been for meeting her in St. Mungo’s that September day, Weslin didn’t know where he would be. He leans down, kissing her softly on the lips again. “No matter what happens,” he whispers. “I’ll still love you, Sarabeth.”

A/N. Thanks to my beta—Trulove81. Lyrics are from the song “Skin” by Rascal Flatts. Mom was changed to Mum and Prom was changed to ball. In response to Meg’s Inspirational Music Challenge. Thanks to Lyn_midnight for help on the summary.

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