The Farland Files

The Art of Making Friends

Perenelle found her by the lake, the night air crisp and she couldn't feel her cheeks, sure that her tears had turned to ice by now. Sitting down next to her, the Frenchwoman draped a blanket over her shoulders. "You look like you're freezing."

Lena didn't answer for a long moment, just looking out across the lake. "I'm supposed to fight Voldemort and I..." She licked her lips, unable to find the right words for the turmoil in her chest.

"I understand. If someone told me that I had to fight Nicolas to save the world, I am not sure I would be able to raise my wand." A warm arm pulled her into the woman's side, her head resting against Perry's shoulder as the woman spoke in a mournful voice. "And though I will never stop being proud of you, I understand it will hurt to harm your other half."

She didn't respond.

There was no point.

But Perenelle seemed to understand her silence just as well as any words, looking down at her with furrowed eyebrows. "You... you don't plan on harming him... You plan on losing?"

"By the time I am done running there will only be a man instead of some immortal creature of fear. I am sure that one of those I trust will be more than lethal enough to strike To- Voldemort down when I fall." Her smile was something that didn't fit on her face, as fake as the gold beads in Perenelle's hair even if just as pretty. "...they all seem to get that from me."

"Oh, my dear child." The whisper was more like a prayer for her as arms wrapped around her snuggly. "You deserve so much more than even what magnificence you have shaped with those bloody and worn hands of yours."

Lena snorted softly. "I deserve the world, just like Jack used to say... but sometimes I think I am just too weak to reach out and take it."

"Never weak. Only kind." This was whispered into her hair, and they sunk into silence.

Hands reaching up to curl in the edges of the blanket, she gripped onto the soft fabric tightly as if it would help her to drift away. "Wouldn't you? If Nick couldn't recognize you from any other faceless enemy- would you be able to fight back, even knowing that he would be dangerous to everyone else?"

Perenelle's eyes were deeply saddened when she studied Lena for a moment, before looking back to the lake, a tear slipping down the woman's cheek that she pretended not to notice. "No... I think I would do the same as you."

Nodding just slightly, as she knew this before she'd even asked, they sat in a comfortable silence watching the stars glimmer off the lake.

"You're avoiding me."

Not looking up from her book on shady magics that Dumbledore had let her have out of his office- the pale wand (that, strangely, she'd had to 'win' from the old man over a game of chess) in her boot pressing against her leg like a constant reminder of why she was avoiding her guardian's presence- she shrugged. "That's an interesting theory."

Severus Snape sighed and sat down on the table in front of her chair, manners obviously not in play if he was doing such (even in private). "Lena. We said we'd work on talking things out..."

"Oh, you wanted to talk? Then talk." Sitting back, she crossed her legs and looked at the man with a cool stare.

"What- why are you acting like this?" Severus was frowning at her, eyebrows drawn down as he hissed the words in a whisper as if that would stop her from being upset. "Your moods change so much and I never know what I did wrong! Can't you just let me know what I did wrong and let me apologize?"