By way of introduction: This story will comprise separate chapters written by the individual members of the Character Sketches Forum. Each chapter will focus on a different unrequited love pairing.

General Disclaimer: None of the writers involved in the project is J.K Rowling and in no way are we claiming her characters, plot or ideas as our own.

1. Albus loves Gellert written by Frayed Misfit

.What Memories Are Made Of.
(hopscotch in the fading light and the sun behind dark clouds)

Albus doesn't know where it all went wrong.

--

He can still smell the traces of apple shampoo in Gellert's hair as they sat around the dining room table at Godric's Hollow.

His eyes had a certain fire to them, which permeated behind the pupils, which reached down into his soul, whenever they talked about the Hallows and their desire to better the Wizarding World.

He would lean forward, gesticulating wildly to their plans drawn in the empty spaces of books, their dreams trapped between formality and bold black words.

"You must see now how it is for the greater good Albus?"

His words were always too quick, too easily did Albus drink them in, as if they were the life that sustained him.

The both of them turned towards the empty hallway leading to Albus' incapacitated sister Ariana. The fact could not be denied that muggle's had haunted her into insanity, because they did not understand magic.

Yes, it must be so, wizards must rule muggles. It was the only conceivable way, in some ways it was preordained, quite clearly wizard's held more power.

(People with power ruled)

The ultimate power was encapsulated within the Hallows, by conquering Death, they could conquer anything.

(even love?)

--

Albus can still see his blonde hair swept back off his face, his mouth pulled in concentration, his wand hand steady.

They often fought about trivial things and Gellert was always quick to anger, his temper was always purring just beneath his skin.

"Really Gell, let us think about this rationally, I don't see why you should get so upset."

"You're hiding it from me aren't you? How do I know I can trust you?!"

"I've told you quite plainly, I don't know where it is."

"I've never understood why you can't see the connection with Ignotus."

"I just think that the cloak is the last Hallow that we should obtain, the wand and the stone are of far more importance."

Gellert shook his head, stowing his wand back into his cloak.

"You only say that because you desire the stone, Albus. But you are blinded, the stone can not make someone fall in love with you."

"You are right, nothing can force love."

--

Albus can still taste the roast beef sandwiches Bathilda made for them that summer.

They would sit in the garden and eat them, their legs crossed on the wet grass, the canopy of trees shading their pale skin.

When they ate lunch they talked about other things, content to enjoy each others company.

"I've always wanted to fly on a thestral."

Gellert had said, his hand wistfully pulling on the stems of grass, twisting them absentmindedly between his fingers.

"I think we should be thankful that we can't see them."

"But we will see them one day, we have to prepare ourselves for that Al."

His eyes had struck Albus as containing a feverish fire, he should have seen it then, Gellert's strange passion for success regardless of the human loss it would cause.

But under the shade of the tree, with the summer sun burning in the background and the taste of beef and mint in his mouth, he could not see past childish dreams.

--

Albus can still hear Gellert's heart beat in the early hours of the morning.

The lounge room was sleeping, the curtains hiding the slow rising of the sun.

Gellert's heart beat had become one with the ticking of the clock on the wall, it seemed mechanical and dull, where Albus' heart struck to its own beat, slowing down and speeding up, slowing down and speeding up.

The candle has burnt out; the wax has formed shapes where it has died on the coffee table, a myriad of images contained in wax figures.

They were not substantial, and Albus would have to scrub them off during the day, they only seemed significant now, when the world was dreaming.

They had fallen asleep, crumpled on top of hastily made plans, Gellert's body spread over thick parchment maps, his hair almost falling into the inkwell.

(This is perfection)

--

Albus can still feel the hairs on his arms lifting.

It had always amazed him that such small particles of hair could make him shiver so much, make his heart race and his head beat frantically.

Gellert was leaning over his shoulder, his chin grazing Albus' collar bone.

It was amazing how well they fit together like that, how body parts were made to fit into others, like a jigsaw puzzle. Gellert's chin in the hollow of his shoulder.

They stood at Ignotus' grave, searching for answers that were buried too deep.

If Albus had been wiser, he would have seen that things which are buried are best left that way.

--

"Where did it all go wrong?"

Albus questions, his hair graying, the skin of his hands withered now.

Gellert studies him from inside his cell at Nurmengard, trapped within the walls he had built himself, from the inside out.

"Can't you see Albus, can't you see?"

He lifts his hand to the iron bars that are surrounded by an ancient magic, Albus feels the inextricable pull to reach out to him, to experience new memories, in new places.

Albus forces his hand to remain in his pocket, even though it is straining to reach the other hand.

And Albus understand where it went wrong, how it all fell apart.

"Yes, Gellert, I can see now."

Albus takes a step away from the cell.

"It was love that tore us apart."

--