Chapter 4. Happily ever After
All right, everyone! I have, made a very important decision and decided that I am going to stop this fan fiction. This will be the last chapter, sorry it so abrupt, but it will end sweet and nice. I do have a sequel in mind, which is the reason I'm in such a hurry to finish this one.
To Le'A, who read the HP books, just so she could join a club. Thanks for reading, and being such a good friend. I'm glad you joined M.E.F.A.M.A.U.T. and enjoy the books jut as much as I do.
Disclaimer- I am J.K. Rowling and you love me. I secretly write fan fictions under various pennames to see what people think of my ideas and you love me. Now, since I trust you with this secret, I must ask you to do something for me because you love me. Grab a dictionary; look up the word naïve and…LEARN FROM THIS BRUSH WITH REALITY!
One last thing; A little quote from today's chapter to get you interested.
"*Don't stick your tongue out unless you're going to use it, *" Farren murmured softly, fear erupting in her stomach, unexplainable fear.
"Oh, don't worry…I will," he answered, and with frightening expertise and swiftness, he swooped in on her, one hand still on her arm, the other in her hair, and Farren, pinned against a wall and him, could not move.
Farren woke at the impossible hour of seven thirty the next morning. The room was terribly cold, and she was very uncomfortable in her day clothes. She sat up in bed, stepping onto the cold impassive floor and adjusted her jeans and shirt. She realized that she had not even gotten under the covers the night before, and now she was paying for it terribly. She pulled a fleece blanket from the bed around her and padded softly out into the hall to check the thermostat. It read sixty-nine degrees, which seemed to Farren to be quite a normal reading, yet she was still shivering nastily. She frowned and went back into the room, peering out the window as she did.
Farren stopped dead. In contrast to the lovely warm weather of yesterday, icicles hung from her window. The tree was practically wilting from the weight of the frozen water and beyond it, snowflakes swirled in big, heavy chunks, accumulating on the ground. She estimated there to be at least three inches all ready, and the snow showed no sign of stopping. Farren's eyes lit up against her pale face and she shrieked joyfully.
"Snow! Snow! Snow!" She proclaimed loudly, waking up Spencer in the next room and alerting the older Smith's of her awake state. Downstairs, they smiled. Martha was sure she'd never heard a more joyful sound.
Farren rushed to the radio and turned it on. A news forecaster was predicting at least a foot before nightfall and more snow throughout the night. She shrieked again, happily dancing to nothing, and began to fiddle with the switch. She soon found a holiday station which was proclaiming, "Oh, the weather outside is frightful-"
"But the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let is snow!" Farren sung along. Grinning, she pulled open her closet and surveyed her winter clothes. She pulled out two loose pairs of jeans that would easily overlap each other, a long sleeved plain white shirt, a t-shirt to go over that, and a huge sweatshirt exclaiming, "I'm from Texas!" Grinning, she pulled one pair of pants and the white shirt. Then she brushed her hair quickly, pulling it into a low braid. Grabbing thick socks and her tennis shoes, she hastened to put them on. Finally, she grabbed her extra layers and went pounding down the stairs, singing as she did so.
Once she made it downstairs, she slid into the kitchen, laughing and singing. Warm scented candles burned everywhere, and a fire had been lit in the hearth. Martha was putting up Christmas decorations in the huge clean house while Mr. Smith finished eating. He waved her in and gestured to the food, as his own mouth was full. She sat down with him, eagerly buttering a biscuit and spooning some bacon onto her plate.
Once she had finished her speedy breakfast, Farren leapt up and began to sing along with the soft Christmas music playing from somewhere. She danced into the family room, where Martha was adjusting a strand of tinsel. She walked up to her happily.
"I'm going to go play in the snow, okay?" She asked joyfully.
"Certainly, dear," Martha answered without even looking at the dancing juvenile in front of her.
"Can I borrow Spencer's truck?" the absurdness of this question made Martha stop staring at the slightly uneven tinsel and she turned to Farren, questioning her with her eyes.
"There's a few people I have to pick up for a snow ball fight," Farren said shrugging. Martha's eyes sparkled as well and she gladly handed over the keys.
"It's the green truck in the farthest corner of the garage," she informed Farren. Farren grinned, and ran back into the kitchen, pulling on her multiple layers as she did so. A coat and hat later, Farren, feeling as if she'd gained fifteen pounds, rushed into the garage.
The Smith's had a four-car garage. Spencer's new green truck was at the very end, and Farren's eyes lit up happily. The truck was much better than Mrs. And Mr. Dugs car, which is what she normally drove, if it was available. She climbed into the truck, wrinkling her nose at the football sports bag that was sitting in the seat next to her. She pulled it out and placed it on the floor next to the truck. Then she pulled out.
Nearly five minutes later, she, was driving down the road in Woody Hollow, her eyes straining down the road to the end, where it curved around in a circle. According to Martha's directions, the driveway surrounded by trees at the end of the cult-i-sac would be the boy's. She drove down it. About half way down, her truck stopped.
Rolling her eyes, Farren thought vaguely that the boys probably had anti-muggle charms on the house. She climbed out and trudged through the snow towards the house. The house looked about average size and clean. Farren wondered if the boys were staying here alone if they hadn't really gotten adopted. She ran up the steps, sliding a bit, and knocked on the door.
After five minutes of loud knocking, Farren got fed up. She reached for the knob and pushed the door open. It was typical that they wouldn't look it. The house inside wasn't very clean though it was not really dirty either. It was more…. Busy. Lots of clothes, books, food and plates spread about the living room. She laughed and sprinted upstairs.
Farren began throwing open doors, closing ones that led to rooms she didn't need to be in. When all the bedroom doors were opened, she found a radio and quietly found a Christmas station. Second later, the radio was turned all the way up.
"Deck the halls with boughs of Holly, Fa la la lala lala la la!" Farren sang at the top of her voice, still not being heard over the loud music. The boys didn't even stir. Rolling her eyes, she ran into the first bedroom, which happened to be Remus's and launched herself onto the bed. Laughing, she sat next to Remus as he covered his ears in his sleep.
"Remus, Remus, get up it's snowing," Farren, said happily. Remus blinked blearily. That wasn't enough for Farren. "Remus, Remus, Remus, Remus, Remus!" She said, shaking his shoulders with each word.
Remus blinked up at her, shock registering on his face. Knowing he was awake was enough for Farren. She leapt off the bed and pulled him with her. He stumbled out, his pajama bottoms twisted. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window happily, dancing in front of the window. He gazed outside.
"It's just snow, Farren," he said sleepily.
"I know! Isn't it wonderful?" She questioned happily. He shook his head in confusion. Laughing, Farren pulled him in a circle holding on to one of his arms and spinning. They spun and laughed, Farren thinking distantly that this was one of the funniest things she'd ever done.
"Snow!" I joyful yelp that Farren recognized as Sirius came floating across the hall. "Snow, snow, snow, snow!" Farren laughed, loving that there was someone else with her childish love for frozen water. Farren let go of Remus's arm, sending them both crashing to the floor.
"Change into something warm, Remus!" she said joyfully, picking herself up and rushing to the hall, closing the door behind her. In the hall, Sirius was doing some sort of snow dance. Farren laughed.
Sirius jerked around to see her, and, picking her up, twirled around in the hallway with her in his arms. "I love snow," the two chorused together.
Sirius put her down and very seriously looked her in the eye.
"Farren," he said softly, "I really am sorry about, well…" He trailed off and gently reached a hand up to touch her bruise. Farren laughed and brushed his hand away.
"It's okay! Nothing can be bad when there's snow!" She laughed.
"Snow?" came James sleepy voice. "Snow!" he answered himself, and, judging by the pounding, scrambled out of bed and to the door. He closed it and began to dress. Farren noticed Sirius was already dressed in warm clothes. He tickled her, and despite all her layers, she felt it. Dropping into her arms, she laughed. She was extremely ticklish.
"Help," she chocked out between laughs, "I'm being attacked by the tickle monster!" Remus rushed out from his room, fully dressed, and pulled her from Sirius's arms, all of them laughing. James came out and, with an evil glint in his eye, pulled Farren from Remus's arms and tickled her too. Sirius, of course, joined in. Farren laughed and trembled under their fingers.
"Remus," she choked out, "help!" He laughed at her, but pulled her from their grip anyway. Peter wandered out into the hall, dressed warmly, and sniggering at the group. Farren ignored the traitorous little thing. Farren scrambled from Remus's grip and began to tromp down the stairs.
"Farren," Remus said suddenly, "You can see the house!"
"That is the most stupidly obvious thing I have ever had the misfortune of hearing," Farren said dryly, expecting the other's to back her up, but strangely, they too were giving her odd looks.
"No, Remus is right. Muggles can't see our house," Sirius said, looking at Farren oddly. She grinned.
"I'm not just any muggle," they continued to give her an odd look.
"Come on!" She yelled suddenly, distracting them. "Snowball fight at the Smith's house!" Laughing, the five worked their way down the stairs, giggling. Farren slipped on the porch, and slid all the way down the icy and tilted driveway to the truck. Remus and James hauled her to her feet. Sirius exaggeratedly mocked her, sliding and shrieking loudly. Farren laughed, shaking her head, and climbed in.
"Come on," she said loudly and started the truck back up, backing away from the house once they had all piled in. She drove carefully in the snow, which much infuriated Sirius, but she ignored him, singing loudly to the holiday tunes.
As they pulled up at the house, Farren leapt out, leaving the truck in the driveway. She scrambled into the huge back yard, sprinting away from James, who was all ready throwing snowballs at her.
"Wait," she cried out. "We need-to establish-teams!" She gasped out, ducking to avoid Sirius's handful of frozen water.
Sirius grinned nastily, "Me and James and Peter, against the love birds!" He sang out. This statement was met by cries of protest, many snowballs, and giggles.
The furious battle that ensued was wet and drippy. Jokingly enraged at Sirius's matchmaking, many snowballs 'mysteriously' found their way down the back of his coat. A giggle, screams, yells, and war calls (from Sirius) issued loudly across the no longer peaceful yard, and the snow continued to fall down in inch wide flakes. Farren soon found she couldn't see anyone except for Remus, who she was kneeling with, gathering a gigantic snowball.
"Where'd they go?" She asked him, glancing around and seeing only white. Remus shook his head and snorted.
"They probably left us for the warm inside. Peter would be hungry by now." Farren laughed and fell back into the snow, beginning to make a snow angel.
"Come on, Remus," she said, catching his gloved hand and pulling him down next to her. "Make an angel." He dispiritedly made one.
"Close as I'll ever get to heavenly status," he murmured sadly. Farren reached out to grip his hand again, preventing him from sitting up.
"Remus," she began softly, turning in her angel imprint to survey him. "Don't talk that way." He looked away. "Remus," she said gravely, "I'm being truthful. It's not your fault you were bitten, and you most certainly shouldn't feel bad about it. We all have cobwebs in our past. Yours, unfortunately, continue to affect you now. But, it's not your fault. You are a wonderful person, Remus. Don't ever let anyone tell you different. Don't even let the little voice in your mind tell you. Let me tell you, Remus. You're perfect."
He stared at her, his face shocked and pale.
"You know?" he finally said. "That I'm a- a werewolf?"
"Of course."
"And you d- don't care?"
No! Do Sirius, James, or Peter care? No! So why should I?"
"You're different."
"Because I'm a girl, or because you haven't known me as long?"
"Both," he said softly.
"I'm still you're friend."
"Yes…" he said softly, trailing off.
"Farren," he said softly, taking a deep breath and trying to regain color to his face, "Would you like to-er-be, you know, more…" He let the sentence trail off, looking as though even he hadn't been expecting to say that. Farren got the feeling that he had never met a girl who knew about his lycanthrope prior to dating him. She felt strangely ecstatic inside.
"Do you even like me?" She asked softly.
"Any person who doesn't care and who already knows is worth it," he said, and Farren nodded. They had not known each other long. They were not in love. They were just friends. But they would try this, because it seemed right. Because it seemed good. Because, as soon as it was spoken aloud, they both knew they wanted it.
"I'd like that," she said softly. He grinned and gently turned over.
"How about we go to one of those muggle picture things Sunday? Around four?"
"I'd like that too," she said shyly.
"We'll conjure up a truck and I'll come pick you up, k?" He said, and Farren nodded.
She dropped back into her angel print and looked the other way, trying not to blush too hard. He grabbed her hand, and together they made another set of angels, only this time, their wings ended at the edge of the other's.
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"I knew it!"
Farren laughed at Sirius's excitement. The five were sitting in her room, soaked and dripping, and Sirius had managed to catch Remus reaching for Farren's hand inconspicuously while they sat next to each other on the bed. Sirius's eyes were glowing happily, almost as much as both Remus and Farren's cheeks.
"I knew that it didn't take fifteen minutes to realized we had gone inside. I knew there was something else…." Sirius trailed off happily. Farren threw a pillow at him and he stuck his tongue out at her. Remus happily gripped her hand.
"So…. Where are you guys going tomorrow? The picture thing…perhaps… around four, maybe?" Sirius said slyly.
"You guys were listening?" Farren asked incredulously. Shaking her head and laughing, she launched herself at Sirius, forcefully attacking him and tickling his stomach.
"It was James's idea!" Sirius choked out. Farren heard a noise that sounded an awful lot like Remus dog fighting James behind her. Shouts of laughter and Sirius's prolonged yelping filled the room. Farren suddenly let go of him, allowing him to sit up.
"Show me your animagus forms," she said to the room, turning her eyes onto the three boys. They looked surprised, but then Sirius happily nodded.
"It's so much more fun to be a dog anyway," he said happily, and suddenly he and the others transformed. Farren slid over next to Remus and gripped his hand gently, surveying the animals in front of her.
A magnificent stag, with antlers that rose into the air, stood before her, it's tawny coat glistening and it's calm hazel eyes sparkling mischievously. A black mutt, who was so huge that it's head, could reach the stag's back stood before her, wagging its tail and looking playfully at Remus, slobbering on him. The rat was nowhere in sight. Farren pretended to have forgot about Peter.
'He's a traitor, anyway,' she thought meanly, 'and no one needs a traitor around them.'
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That night, Farren went to sleep still remembering the way her hand had felt in Remus's. She smiled softly, snuggling beneath her covers, enjoying the warmth that radiated from them. A heater was sitting beside her bed, and the room had been cleaned after the five had dripped snow all over it. The rest of the day had been spent watching an old musical called Oklahoma. Sirius had found it very amusing to make fun of it profusely. Farren giggled remembering the way the boys had reacted to the rather sappy old-fashioned film and fell asleep with a smiled on her face.
The next morning, Farren woke up slowly. She glanced at the clock, which revealed to her that it was hardly six, but she climbed slowly out of bed anyway and stretched. The room was sweltering and she quickly switched off the heater and tried to ignore the fact that her room felt like a sauna. She grabbed some warm clothes and headed for the bathroom, being careful to make sure that the door that connected it and Spencer's room was locked. She then climbed into the shower and let her hot body cool under semi-cold water. After shampooing and conditioning her long mane, she stepped out and dressed, pulling her hair back into a simple ponytail as she went. Soon, she was downstairs. She was rather surprised to see that everyone else was awake as well.
"Hello, Farren. I was just about to come wake you. Change into something more dressy, church starts in thirty minutes," Martha told her. Farren nodded and, grabbing a biscuit, ran back up the stairs. She pulled a blouse out of her closet and a black skirt and quickly changed into them. Then she pulled her hair up into a higher ponytail, smoothing out her part and ran back down the stairs.
"We'll be back before four, won't we?" She asked the family as they climbed into the car.
"Of course, dear. Are you meeting your friends?" Martha asked her.
"Kinda…" Farren mumbled, wondering how the family would react to the fact that she was going on a date.
"Oh…." Martha said slyly, and Farren knew that she knew, "going on a date, are we?"
"Kinda…" Farren said again.
"With who?" Spencer's voice broke through forcefully. His face was screwed up angrily and his eyebrows had contracted together. He no longer looked handsome. He instead looked like some kind of bird of prey.
"Remus…" She said softly. Spencer actually screeched beside her and she bit her lip and scooted farther from him. He shot her a nasty glance, seeming to enjoy the trembling response he got from her. Farren clenched her jaw; she would not allow him to scare her.
"We're going to the movies around four. He's picking me up," she said, knowing as she did that she was practically giving Spencer a signed invitation into the conversation, but not caring. Spencer made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Farren shot him a smug glance, as if to say 'you see…I can do better than you!'
"And what sissy movie are you to going to see? Kindergarten Children, part three?"
"Actually, I don't know what we're seeing. The fact that you know that there's three parts is vaguely amusing though."
Spencer shot her a glance that would have melted a fool. Luckily, Farren was not one. She stared him in the eyes, raised her eyebrows, and made a little 'humph' noise in the back of her throat. He ignored her the rest of the ride. She was glad.
When they arrived at the church, Farren had to catch her breath. Her eyes feasted upon the site in front of her, and it was obvious she had never been to such a large church. The building was huge and had many high stain glass windows. The parking lot was enormous and wrapped around the building while fancy cars of all different colours drove slowly and respectfully around. The doors were huge and wooden, and Farren could see where a small older church had been expanded. A bell tower, complete with a huge old bell, still rested high above most of the church.
Spencer gave her a nasty look and snapped, "What, never seen a church before?" Farren sent him her 'McGonagall' look and he backed off, sulking as he did so. Farren climbed from the car carefully, looking around in mild amazement. The family walked forward, beckoning Farren with them, and she walked through the snowy parking lot. Snowflakes were still falling, but no one seemed to notice them as much as the ever-excitable Farren. She grinned and wondered if the Smith's would become angry with her if she didn't avoid the snowdrifts. She decided they would.
The inside of the church was even more magnificent than the majestic outward appearance. Farren could tell they were in the older part, as the floor was a deep and ancient wood and the walls were constructed of a similar deep wood panelling. The stained glass windows rose high above the floor and showed scenes of Jesus' life. Farren peered inside the congregation area, and smiled in pleasure. A window, taller and grander than the rest, headed off the front of the room, stationed so that it was behind the preacher. The window showed a beautiful woman whose hair was long and light brown, whose eyes were a French blue that reminded Farren of Remus, and whose arms were clutched around the most holy and realistic baby Jesus Farren had ever laid eyes on. She smiled wider, wondering whom the artist was who had created such a thing. It was brilliant.
Farren glanced around, looking for the Smith's and finally spotted them among the throngs of people talking to a man and woman, both rather old, and smiling brightly. Farren walked over.
"Aw, yes, here she is. This, Pastor Prestano, is Farren Alma, the foster child we're hosting. Farren this is pastor Dave Prestano and his wife, Marilynn." Mr. Smith said, smiling over brightly at the wizened couple.
"It's very nice to meet you, pastor, Mrs. Prestano," Farren said sweetly, shaking each of their hands and breathing in the gentle perfumed smell that seemed to continually linger around older generations, just whispering of their past and heritage, just hinting at their knowledge and reference. Farren breathed in deeply, albeit quietly, and smiled at the pair.
"Call me Mrs. P, dear, it will be so much more convenient. And how wonderful, Mr. Smith, that you've found such a polite dear to host. Children these days have no regard for anyone beside themselves. And teenagers! Well, don't even get me started on teenagers. Why just the other day, Billy Ingrid comes riding his motorbike across my lawn, after I'd spent all day-" Farren tuned out the woman, wondering how the elder Smith's tolerated her.
"Farren, dear, follow Spencer, you two will be late," Martha broke through Mrs. P's tirade against Billy Ingrid and Farren smiled gratefully, turning to follow Spencer into the newer part of the building.
Spencer gave her a glowering look and Farren, resigned to the fact that being spiteful would only lead to worse things, attempted a brave smile. Spencer looked surprised; after a few seconds he too smiled and, grabbing her hand, pulled her down a hallway. The newer part of the building was fashioned to look old and antique, but its unnatural cleanness gave away the build-on that the old church had experienced.
"It's just down this way," He explained, pulling her along. She gently but firmly pulled back, giving him a subtle reminder that she could walk on her own. He gave her a sheepish grin.
"See, we have a local band who play first, and a food table, and then we split into little study groups. Then we all go to Sunday school to listen to the choir and preacher and stuff," Spencer explained to her, leading her end to a shadowed room with burgundy walls and beige carpet. A band was tuning their instruments inside a roped-off area that served as their stage, and teenagers flocked the area, as well as one off to the right that hosted two tables filled with punch, cookies, and donuts. Farren looked shyly around. Spencer gestured to her and she followed him over to the stage.
"Hey, Godhawks!" He greeted the band, which comprised of one base guitar player, a drum-set, one obviously second-hand electric guitar, and a lead singer. "This is Farren, you know, the foster kid I told you we would be sponsoring." The boys of the group nodded to her and she smiled politely, albeit disinterestedly.
The boy holding the rugged looking electric guitar stepped forward, the strap of his instrument strung casually across his shoulder. It was then that Farren realized who he was.
"Randy! I didn't know you went to church here," Farren said happily, her spirits raising somewhat. Randy grinned and looked partially amused.
"Everyone in Collins either goes here or to Collins Town Catholic Academy. Everyone at our school comes here, everyone and their families that attend that private place go there." She nodded slightly, looking at his guitar with slight amusement.
"Oh, I wouldn't look at it that way, if I were you," A voice said lightly, and Farren looked up into the eyes of another boy she vaguely recognized from her few days at school. He had dirty-blonde hair and equally speckled gray eyes. He grinned and snapped his two drumsticks together, looking at the guitar with relish.
"Yes, when he brought that here, all proud that he bought it with his own money, well…I still have the scars from what he did when I-er told him my opinion on it. I'm Chris Beck, by the way," he held out a drumstick-less hand and she shook it. She glanced around at the others. The boy tuning the bass looked up briefly, his black hair falling unkempt into his gray eyes. He held her eyes for a moment, staring into her soul, and then turned back to his work.
"Gabe Hortess," the boy offered simply and then went back to tuning with all his soul. Farren watched him for a second, admiring his strong profile and grip with the music.
"Don't mind Note over there, he's too into his music to acknowledge the human existence," Chris said lightly.
"Which is a nice way of saying that Gabe, or Note, as we call him, is a music addict. He is thinks more deeply and philosophically than anyone I know, but he barely speaks," another boy, this one with black curly hair, dark eyes, and copper skin.
Gabe just shrugged, but Farren thought she saw in his eyes a slight glimmer of sadness, perhaps at the fact that his deep and silent nature could not go unmentioned. She smiled at him knowingly. Somehow, she understood what he felt like.
"I'm Juan Gurei," Said the copper skinned boy. He was tall, lean, and muscular. Farren glanced at him, wondering…
"He's native American, Cherokee." Randy explained to Farren, who nodded. She scrutinized the boy with her eyes he looked so familiar…
"Hey! Are you the number 27 football player?" She blurted out suddenly, remembering how he had been reminding her of someone all week. Juan stared at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.
"Yes?" He answered questionably. And then Farren realized…
"My dad was number 27...in the picture…and he wore Collins colors…and the older teachers…the watch me…because they knew my parents," Farren said wonderingly. The other's looked at her with varying expressions.
"Hey, Farren, we ought to go now, they'll be starting soon," Spencer said, breaking the awkward silence, and Farren nodded, backing up as a tall balding man stepped over the rope and grabbed the microphone.
The two hours couldn't have gone fast enough for Farren. Though the band was excellent, and the study group interesting, and even though they all trooped back into the main part of church for Sunday school, Farren was preoccupied. Her date with Remus loomed ahead, uncertain, exciting. She felt that drive home took three times as long as the drive there, and that Sunday brunch was a continual bore. Finally, Finally, it was three o'clock and she had an excuse to leave the table and sports talk and go get ready.
She climbed into the shower excitedly, jumping slightly as the water hit her. Her favorite bath gel (spring rain) was almost gone by the time she was done and her hair glimmered from excessive shampoo and conditioner. She climbed out and toweled her hair so it wasn't so damp. She then ran her hair dryer through her long locks, each auburn strand become strait and gleaming in the light. She pulled the sides of her hair up, but let pieces fall from the neat hairdo so that it looked more natural. Each fallen piece framed her face, and she allowed these to curl like corkscrews around her delicate face, giving her an almost Victorian look.
Her outfit consisted mainly of blues. She decided on deep blue jeans, which would make the shirt look less fancy. A French blue belt hung on her waist, and her eyes glittered with big blue specks in their hazel depths. She wore a French blue camisole under a navy, French, and sky blue slightly see through blouse. Each of the colors blended perfectly with one another and Farren looked nervously in the mirror at herself. She applied, with a shaky hand; light blue eye shadow that she had never before worn and dusty pink blush over her smooth pale complexion. Her lips were adorned in gentle pink; nothing too frosty or fake and she put the teeniest bit of foundation over her still yellow bruise. She then put on a gold-chained necklace with alternating pearls and pearl earrings. Glancing one last time at her reflection, she hesitantly crept downstairs.
Spencer stood at the bottom of the steps. She looked at him, cocking her head, not liking the way his eyes traveled over her. She squirmed beneath his gaze. He looked at her, delight in his eyes, and she blushed slightly, muttering,
"Hey Spencer." He continued to look at her in a similar way, but she ignored it, seating herself on the edge of a chair in the entranceway, waiting for the doorbell to ring.
"Farren," Spencer said suddenly. She looked up at him, and he fastened one strong fist around her lower arm, pulling her up.
"We had fun today, didn't we?" He asked, fire in his eyes. Farren nodded and tried to pull back from his death grip. He held on harder.
"Why are you going with that…that…inbred?" He burst out angrily, his fist clenching on her.
"We had fun today. You should like me! Me! I thought you'd realize-"
"You thought wrong!" Farren burst out. "Let me go!"
"You look really good, Farren," Spencer said, his fist still hard on her arm. "Too good for a guy like that…" His tongue poked out from his mouth slightly, wetting his lips, in what he must have thought was a tempting way…
"Don't stick your tongue out unless you're going to use it," Farren murmured softly, fear erupting in her stomach, unexplainable fear.
"Oh, don't worry…I will," he answered, and with frightening expertise and swiftness, he swooped in on her, one hand still on her arm, the other in her hair, and Farren, pinned against a wall and him, could not move.
She forced her head as far back as possible and squirmed beneath him, fear, terrible fear, eating at her, driving knives at her. He growled, holding tightly, trying to force her to be intimae with him and Farren prayed for anyone…anyone…to help her.
The doorbell rang. That one little noise of answered prayers filled her with hope and strength, and, with renewed vigor, she pushed him from her, his tongue leaving a trail of salvia on her cheek and stumbled backwards. Her had reached the doorknob and, turning it, she fell backwards, one foot connecting solidly with the door, slamming it in Spencer's shocked face. But, still, Farren was f
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Falling, and then…
Strong arms encircled her waist. (A/N yes, a know, little dramatic there, but…I couldn't help myself!) Breathing deeply, she met the eyes of Remus, her chest heaving with fear and rage, her body shaking in desperation. Remus offered no words, no consolations, at least not then. He led her to a green car, not a particularly fancy model, nor an outstandingly old one. She slid inside, breathing deeply, calming herself. Every molecule in her body was on high alert, her ears picked up the tiniest sounds, and her eyes seemed to take in a narrower, more detailed perception. Her breath seemed loud and unnatural; even in her own ears. Finally, emotions controlled, she looked into her rescuer's (so to speak) eyes and saw the unease in his glowing orbs.
His right hand reached forward and, cupped in a loose fist, wiped the saliva trail from her cheek. He was close; so close, and Farren realized, no matter that they had been just a friend moments before, she did like him, even if it she had just then realized it. He held one of her hands gently, asking with his eyes more than his mouth about what had happened.
"Did he hurt you?" Remus asked, emotion concealed in a huskier than normal voice. Farren wondered, had he asked her out simply because she already knew and accepted his secret, or had he, like her, deep down known he liked her and was only just then letting his feelings surface. She realized he had asked a question; she had yet to answer.
"Not physically…as of yet," she answered, and it took Remus, lost in her eyes, to realize that she was answering his question.
"I suppose it was more of an emotional and psychologically pain?" Remus questioned, too coolly; he was afraid he would betray himself and his building feelings if he were too friendly. Farren nodded in response to his question and, eyes unfocused, snuggled against him, needing his embrace. He gave her a gentle hug, yearning for more; not knowing the same stirring was inside her also.
"Shall we go?" Farren said, sounding more normal as she did so. Remus nodded.
"What movie would you like to go see?" He asked his head cocked at her, his grin trying to lighter her mood. She shrugged and her normal grin returned as she reached down and flipped on the radio, searching for a station. She finally found something of satisfaction and Remus shook his head, laughing.
"You and your country," he said, grinning as she snuggled as close to him as the seatbelt would allow, humming along with the country music.
"Yes, I'm very patriotic!" Farren joked and Remus grinned, driving carefully down the wet and busy streets, watching as a bit more snow came down. He was unexpectedly tense; he had very little driving skills and was relying on an easing charm and his minimal experience to get him through the bad roads. Farren smiled at him, laughing slightly, and he nudged her with an exaggerated huff.
"I don't see you attempting to drive in such weather!" He joked and Farren grinned.
"What are we going to see?" She asked as they arrived at the theater, which was relatively empty on such a day.
"Didn't I ask you that earlier?" Remus countered. "I don't know what's playing anyway…do you?" Farren shook her head and climbed out of the car. Remus grabbed her hand before she slipped in the ice. Smiling, she jokingly gushed, "My hero!" He laughed, and together they walked towards the box office to chose what movie they would see.
Interlude One; Remus Lupin
Years later, I can still remember everything about that afternoon. The sun was shining bleakly as we walked up the slush-filled walk, stopping to browse at the movie posters. Farren's eyes were brighter than ever that day, and sometimes, right before I transform back into a human, I will see those eyes flash above me. They were so beautiful, so very Farren.
The movie we choose was one that we both agreed on; though it was not our first choose. Though I cannot remember the title; I remember the story. *A boy, on his way to visit his divorced father in a private plane, watches as his pilot has a heart attack and dies in front of him. In desperation, he tries to find a place to land the plane, which is running low on fuel, and manages to land in a lake. Unfortunately, the lake was deeper than he thought, and the entire plane sinks to the bottom before he can grab a radio to call for help, and so, he is stuck in the woods and must learn to survive until someone finds him. *
The movie was captured both of us, not least because it was my first time seeing such a muggle thing. When it was over, we went to a café and sat, much to my amusement, outside in coats, ordering hot coffee to keep us warm. I would have preferred to sit inside, but I soon learned that Farren enjoys all things and takes advantage of them when they are there. I soon learned that I should have cherished the little things that are so Farren more then I did. Now, I see only a fuzzy picture of the woman I once thought I knew.
End of Interlude One
"Favorite food?" Farren sprouted at him.
"Mmmm, turkey and stuffing! Same question," Remus answered, keeping up their game of getting-to-know-each-other.
"Hmm, spaghetti, I think. What about…you favorite colour? And your least favorite colour?"
"Umm, I don't really have…"
"I like…French blue and hat red. What about…your favorite time in history?"
"Classical, I'd say. You?"
"Renaissance, definitely!" Farren laughed and their game continued for a while, each enjoying the others company as they got to know each other more fully. Then, Remus asked the question.
"Well, you know my biggest secret…care to tell yours?" He was shocked as he watched her turn away sadly. "You don't have to, of course!" He said hastily, but she was opening her mouth to speak.
Interlude Two; Farren
How could I tell Remus- wonderful, caring Remus- about my secret? It was not much of a secret, I suppose, because if you knew me long enough you would be able to look back and see that I had never…will never…cry. That I was an emotionless person who had not enough tears to spare for the sick and needing. That I was a monster inside; that I could not feel.
Later, when I did tell him, he told me that I was the most wonderful person he knew and that my feelings showed in my eyes, if not in my actions. I smiled then; I did feel better. But sometimes, I look back, and wonder if I was smiling simply because I was not as I had always feared... a feelingless, beast. Even today, if ever I indulge in such thoughts, I remember his words to me, and I feel better, not just because of his words, but because when I remember him, I feel an ache in my heart so hard that I know I can feel.
End of Interlude Two
"It's just… long ago, I was sent back from yet another home, and I began to cry silently in my room, like always. But I began to feel anger; why should I be cast off like an old lamp…and why should I allow it to upset me? And so I promised myself something. I told myself, 'I shall not cry'. And I haven't…not since then. I am unemotional. It didn't bother me at first, but then I began to notice that I felt nothing when I did not cry... not joy, or helplessness, or sadness. I… I cannot feel." Farren lowered her head; she did not want Remus to see her shame.
"Farren…you feel more than anyone I know! You find joy in the littlest things, you find peace in the harshest conditions." Remus had jumped to his feet and he gently caught Farren's hand and pulled her up as well. "You feel sadness when you see bad things, I know you do, because I've seen it in your eyes. Tears mean nothing, Farren. You mean something…you are wonderful. You are the best." Farren looked at him, hope shining from her orbs, and Remus, caught in the moment, pulled her into a sweet kiss.
It was the first kiss of many to come. The two forgot about life; they were caught in time. They forgot about the fact that they lived in different worlds. They forgot about time difference and traitors; they forgot about dying and spies. They remembered only each other, and it was because of that, that their love extended through time when they could not.
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Give credit where credit is due
*Don't stick your tongue out unless you're going to use it- a quote told to me by Le'A from her cousin; meant to be funny, but it fits well with the excitement of that part of the story.
**A boy, on his way to visit his divorced father in a private plane, watches as his pilot has a heart attack and dies in front of him. In desperation, he tries to find a place to land the plane, which is running low on fuel, and manages to land in a lake. Unfortunately, the lake was deeper than he thought, and the entire plane sinks to the bottom before he can grab a radio to call for help, and so, he is stuck in the woods and must learn to survive until someone finds him.** The basic plot line of Hatchet, by Gary Paulson. The book, as far as I know, is not actually a movie.
All right, everyone! I have, made a very important decision and decided that I am going to stop this fan fiction. This will be the last chapter, sorry it so abrupt, but it will end sweet and nice. I do have a sequel in mind, which is the reason I'm in such a hurry to finish this one.
To Le'A, who read the HP books, just so she could join a club. Thanks for reading, and being such a good friend. I'm glad you joined M.E.F.A.M.A.U.T. and enjoy the books jut as much as I do.
Disclaimer- I am J.K. Rowling and you love me. I secretly write fan fictions under various pennames to see what people think of my ideas and you love me. Now, since I trust you with this secret, I must ask you to do something for me because you love me. Grab a dictionary; look up the word naïve and…LEARN FROM THIS BRUSH WITH REALITY!
One last thing; A little quote from today's chapter to get you interested.
"*Don't stick your tongue out unless you're going to use it, *" Farren murmured softly, fear erupting in her stomach, unexplainable fear.
"Oh, don't worry…I will," he answered, and with frightening expertise and swiftness, he swooped in on her, one hand still on her arm, the other in her hair, and Farren, pinned against a wall and him, could not move.
Farren woke at the impossible hour of seven thirty the next morning. The room was terribly cold, and she was very uncomfortable in her day clothes. She sat up in bed, stepping onto the cold impassive floor and adjusted her jeans and shirt. She realized that she had not even gotten under the covers the night before, and now she was paying for it terribly. She pulled a fleece blanket from the bed around her and padded softly out into the hall to check the thermostat. It read sixty-nine degrees, which seemed to Farren to be quite a normal reading, yet she was still shivering nastily. She frowned and went back into the room, peering out the window as she did.
Farren stopped dead. In contrast to the lovely warm weather of yesterday, icicles hung from her window. The tree was practically wilting from the weight of the frozen water and beyond it, snowflakes swirled in big, heavy chunks, accumulating on the ground. She estimated there to be at least three inches all ready, and the snow showed no sign of stopping. Farren's eyes lit up against her pale face and she shrieked joyfully.
"Snow! Snow! Snow!" She proclaimed loudly, waking up Spencer in the next room and alerting the older Smith's of her awake state. Downstairs, they smiled. Martha was sure she'd never heard a more joyful sound.
Farren rushed to the radio and turned it on. A news forecaster was predicting at least a foot before nightfall and more snow throughout the night. She shrieked again, happily dancing to nothing, and began to fiddle with the switch. She soon found a holiday station which was proclaiming, "Oh, the weather outside is frightful-"
"But the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let is snow!" Farren sung along. Grinning, she pulled open her closet and surveyed her winter clothes. She pulled out two loose pairs of jeans that would easily overlap each other, a long sleeved plain white shirt, a t-shirt to go over that, and a huge sweatshirt exclaiming, "I'm from Texas!" Grinning, she pulled one pair of pants and the white shirt. Then she brushed her hair quickly, pulling it into a low braid. Grabbing thick socks and her tennis shoes, she hastened to put them on. Finally, she grabbed her extra layers and went pounding down the stairs, singing as she did so.
Once she made it downstairs, she slid into the kitchen, laughing and singing. Warm scented candles burned everywhere, and a fire had been lit in the hearth. Martha was putting up Christmas decorations in the huge clean house while Mr. Smith finished eating. He waved her in and gestured to the food, as his own mouth was full. She sat down with him, eagerly buttering a biscuit and spooning some bacon onto her plate.
Once she had finished her speedy breakfast, Farren leapt up and began to sing along with the soft Christmas music playing from somewhere. She danced into the family room, where Martha was adjusting a strand of tinsel. She walked up to her happily.
"I'm going to go play in the snow, okay?" She asked joyfully.
"Certainly, dear," Martha answered without even looking at the dancing juvenile in front of her.
"Can I borrow Spencer's truck?" the absurdness of this question made Martha stop staring at the slightly uneven tinsel and she turned to Farren, questioning her with her eyes.
"There's a few people I have to pick up for a snow ball fight," Farren said shrugging. Martha's eyes sparkled as well and she gladly handed over the keys.
"It's the green truck in the farthest corner of the garage," she informed Farren. Farren grinned, and ran back into the kitchen, pulling on her multiple layers as she did so. A coat and hat later, Farren, feeling as if she'd gained fifteen pounds, rushed into the garage.
The Smith's had a four-car garage. Spencer's new green truck was at the very end, and Farren's eyes lit up happily. The truck was much better than Mrs. And Mr. Dugs car, which is what she normally drove, if it was available. She climbed into the truck, wrinkling her nose at the football sports bag that was sitting in the seat next to her. She pulled it out and placed it on the floor next to the truck. Then she pulled out.
Nearly five minutes later, she, was driving down the road in Woody Hollow, her eyes straining down the road to the end, where it curved around in a circle. According to Martha's directions, the driveway surrounded by trees at the end of the cult-i-sac would be the boy's. She drove down it. About half way down, her truck stopped.
Rolling her eyes, Farren thought vaguely that the boys probably had anti-muggle charms on the house. She climbed out and trudged through the snow towards the house. The house looked about average size and clean. Farren wondered if the boys were staying here alone if they hadn't really gotten adopted. She ran up the steps, sliding a bit, and knocked on the door.
After five minutes of loud knocking, Farren got fed up. She reached for the knob and pushed the door open. It was typical that they wouldn't look it. The house inside wasn't very clean though it was not really dirty either. It was more…. Busy. Lots of clothes, books, food and plates spread about the living room. She laughed and sprinted upstairs.
Farren began throwing open doors, closing ones that led to rooms she didn't need to be in. When all the bedroom doors were opened, she found a radio and quietly found a Christmas station. Second later, the radio was turned all the way up.
"Deck the halls with boughs of Holly, Fa la la lala lala la la!" Farren sang at the top of her voice, still not being heard over the loud music. The boys didn't even stir. Rolling her eyes, she ran into the first bedroom, which happened to be Remus's and launched herself onto the bed. Laughing, she sat next to Remus as he covered his ears in his sleep.
"Remus, Remus, get up it's snowing," Farren, said happily. Remus blinked blearily. That wasn't enough for Farren. "Remus, Remus, Remus, Remus, Remus!" She said, shaking his shoulders with each word.
Remus blinked up at her, shock registering on his face. Knowing he was awake was enough for Farren. She leapt off the bed and pulled him with her. He stumbled out, his pajama bottoms twisted. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window happily, dancing in front of the window. He gazed outside.
"It's just snow, Farren," he said sleepily.
"I know! Isn't it wonderful?" She questioned happily. He shook his head in confusion. Laughing, Farren pulled him in a circle holding on to one of his arms and spinning. They spun and laughed, Farren thinking distantly that this was one of the funniest things she'd ever done.
"Snow!" I joyful yelp that Farren recognized as Sirius came floating across the hall. "Snow, snow, snow, snow!" Farren laughed, loving that there was someone else with her childish love for frozen water. Farren let go of Remus's arm, sending them both crashing to the floor.
"Change into something warm, Remus!" she said joyfully, picking herself up and rushing to the hall, closing the door behind her. In the hall, Sirius was doing some sort of snow dance. Farren laughed.
Sirius jerked around to see her, and, picking her up, twirled around in the hallway with her in his arms. "I love snow," the two chorused together.
Sirius put her down and very seriously looked her in the eye.
"Farren," he said softly, "I really am sorry about, well…" He trailed off and gently reached a hand up to touch her bruise. Farren laughed and brushed his hand away.
"It's okay! Nothing can be bad when there's snow!" She laughed.
"Snow?" came James sleepy voice. "Snow!" he answered himself, and, judging by the pounding, scrambled out of bed and to the door. He closed it and began to dress. Farren noticed Sirius was already dressed in warm clothes. He tickled her, and despite all her layers, she felt it. Dropping into her arms, she laughed. She was extremely ticklish.
"Help," she chocked out between laughs, "I'm being attacked by the tickle monster!" Remus rushed out from his room, fully dressed, and pulled her from Sirius's arms, all of them laughing. James came out and, with an evil glint in his eye, pulled Farren from Remus's arms and tickled her too. Sirius, of course, joined in. Farren laughed and trembled under their fingers.
"Remus," she choked out, "help!" He laughed at her, but pulled her from their grip anyway. Peter wandered out into the hall, dressed warmly, and sniggering at the group. Farren ignored the traitorous little thing. Farren scrambled from Remus's grip and began to tromp down the stairs.
"Farren," Remus said suddenly, "You can see the house!"
"That is the most stupidly obvious thing I have ever had the misfortune of hearing," Farren said dryly, expecting the other's to back her up, but strangely, they too were giving her odd looks.
"No, Remus is right. Muggles can't see our house," Sirius said, looking at Farren oddly. She grinned.
"I'm not just any muggle," they continued to give her an odd look.
"Come on!" She yelled suddenly, distracting them. "Snowball fight at the Smith's house!" Laughing, the five worked their way down the stairs, giggling. Farren slipped on the porch, and slid all the way down the icy and tilted driveway to the truck. Remus and James hauled her to her feet. Sirius exaggeratedly mocked her, sliding and shrieking loudly. Farren laughed, shaking her head, and climbed in.
"Come on," she said loudly and started the truck back up, backing away from the house once they had all piled in. She drove carefully in the snow, which much infuriated Sirius, but she ignored him, singing loudly to the holiday tunes.
As they pulled up at the house, Farren leapt out, leaving the truck in the driveway. She scrambled into the huge back yard, sprinting away from James, who was all ready throwing snowballs at her.
"Wait," she cried out. "We need-to establish-teams!" She gasped out, ducking to avoid Sirius's handful of frozen water.
Sirius grinned nastily, "Me and James and Peter, against the love birds!" He sang out. This statement was met by cries of protest, many snowballs, and giggles.
The furious battle that ensued was wet and drippy. Jokingly enraged at Sirius's matchmaking, many snowballs 'mysteriously' found their way down the back of his coat. A giggle, screams, yells, and war calls (from Sirius) issued loudly across the no longer peaceful yard, and the snow continued to fall down in inch wide flakes. Farren soon found she couldn't see anyone except for Remus, who she was kneeling with, gathering a gigantic snowball.
"Where'd they go?" She asked him, glancing around and seeing only white. Remus shook his head and snorted.
"They probably left us for the warm inside. Peter would be hungry by now." Farren laughed and fell back into the snow, beginning to make a snow angel.
"Come on, Remus," she said, catching his gloved hand and pulling him down next to her. "Make an angel." He dispiritedly made one.
"Close as I'll ever get to heavenly status," he murmured sadly. Farren reached out to grip his hand again, preventing him from sitting up.
"Remus," she began softly, turning in her angel imprint to survey him. "Don't talk that way." He looked away. "Remus," she said gravely, "I'm being truthful. It's not your fault you were bitten, and you most certainly shouldn't feel bad about it. We all have cobwebs in our past. Yours, unfortunately, continue to affect you now. But, it's not your fault. You are a wonderful person, Remus. Don't ever let anyone tell you different. Don't even let the little voice in your mind tell you. Let me tell you, Remus. You're perfect."
He stared at her, his face shocked and pale.
"You know?" he finally said. "That I'm a- a werewolf?"
"Of course."
"And you d- don't care?"
No! Do Sirius, James, or Peter care? No! So why should I?"
"You're different."
"Because I'm a girl, or because you haven't known me as long?"
"Both," he said softly.
"I'm still you're friend."
"Yes…" he said softly, trailing off.
"Farren," he said softly, taking a deep breath and trying to regain color to his face, "Would you like to-er-be, you know, more…" He let the sentence trail off, looking as though even he hadn't been expecting to say that. Farren got the feeling that he had never met a girl who knew about his lycanthrope prior to dating him. She felt strangely ecstatic inside.
"Do you even like me?" She asked softly.
"Any person who doesn't care and who already knows is worth it," he said, and Farren nodded. They had not known each other long. They were not in love. They were just friends. But they would try this, because it seemed right. Because it seemed good. Because, as soon as it was spoken aloud, they both knew they wanted it.
"I'd like that," she said softly. He grinned and gently turned over.
"How about we go to one of those muggle picture things Sunday? Around four?"
"I'd like that too," she said shyly.
"We'll conjure up a truck and I'll come pick you up, k?" He said, and Farren nodded.
She dropped back into her angel print and looked the other way, trying not to blush too hard. He grabbed her hand, and together they made another set of angels, only this time, their wings ended at the edge of the other's.
~…~…~…~…~…~…~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~....~...~...~...~...
"I knew it!"
Farren laughed at Sirius's excitement. The five were sitting in her room, soaked and dripping, and Sirius had managed to catch Remus reaching for Farren's hand inconspicuously while they sat next to each other on the bed. Sirius's eyes were glowing happily, almost as much as both Remus and Farren's cheeks.
"I knew that it didn't take fifteen minutes to realized we had gone inside. I knew there was something else…." Sirius trailed off happily. Farren threw a pillow at him and he stuck his tongue out at her. Remus happily gripped her hand.
"So…. Where are you guys going tomorrow? The picture thing…perhaps… around four, maybe?" Sirius said slyly.
"You guys were listening?" Farren asked incredulously. Shaking her head and laughing, she launched herself at Sirius, forcefully attacking him and tickling his stomach.
"It was James's idea!" Sirius choked out. Farren heard a noise that sounded an awful lot like Remus dog fighting James behind her. Shouts of laughter and Sirius's prolonged yelping filled the room. Farren suddenly let go of him, allowing him to sit up.
"Show me your animagus forms," she said to the room, turning her eyes onto the three boys. They looked surprised, but then Sirius happily nodded.
"It's so much more fun to be a dog anyway," he said happily, and suddenly he and the others transformed. Farren slid over next to Remus and gripped his hand gently, surveying the animals in front of her.
A magnificent stag, with antlers that rose into the air, stood before her, it's tawny coat glistening and it's calm hazel eyes sparkling mischievously. A black mutt, who was so huge that it's head, could reach the stag's back stood before her, wagging its tail and looking playfully at Remus, slobbering on him. The rat was nowhere in sight. Farren pretended to have forgot about Peter.
'He's a traitor, anyway,' she thought meanly, 'and no one needs a traitor around them.'
~…~…~…~…~…~…~...~...~....~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...~...
That night, Farren went to sleep still remembering the way her hand had felt in Remus's. She smiled softly, snuggling beneath her covers, enjoying the warmth that radiated from them. A heater was sitting beside her bed, and the room had been cleaned after the five had dripped snow all over it. The rest of the day had been spent watching an old musical called Oklahoma. Sirius had found it very amusing to make fun of it profusely. Farren giggled remembering the way the boys had reacted to the rather sappy old-fashioned film and fell asleep with a smiled on her face.
The next morning, Farren woke up slowly. She glanced at the clock, which revealed to her that it was hardly six, but she climbed slowly out of bed anyway and stretched. The room was sweltering and she quickly switched off the heater and tried to ignore the fact that her room felt like a sauna. She grabbed some warm clothes and headed for the bathroom, being careful to make sure that the door that connected it and Spencer's room was locked. She then climbed into the shower and let her hot body cool under semi-cold water. After shampooing and conditioning her long mane, she stepped out and dressed, pulling her hair back into a simple ponytail as she went. Soon, she was downstairs. She was rather surprised to see that everyone else was awake as well.
"Hello, Farren. I was just about to come wake you. Change into something more dressy, church starts in thirty minutes," Martha told her. Farren nodded and, grabbing a biscuit, ran back up the stairs. She pulled a blouse out of her closet and a black skirt and quickly changed into them. Then she pulled her hair up into a higher ponytail, smoothing out her part and ran back down the stairs.
"We'll be back before four, won't we?" She asked the family as they climbed into the car.
"Of course, dear. Are you meeting your friends?" Martha asked her.
"Kinda…" Farren mumbled, wondering how the family would react to the fact that she was going on a date.
"Oh…." Martha said slyly, and Farren knew that she knew, "going on a date, are we?"
"Kinda…" Farren said again.
"With who?" Spencer's voice broke through forcefully. His face was screwed up angrily and his eyebrows had contracted together. He no longer looked handsome. He instead looked like some kind of bird of prey.
"Remus…" She said softly. Spencer actually screeched beside her and she bit her lip and scooted farther from him. He shot her a nasty glance, seeming to enjoy the trembling response he got from her. Farren clenched her jaw; she would not allow him to scare her.
"We're going to the movies around four. He's picking me up," she said, knowing as she did that she was practically giving Spencer a signed invitation into the conversation, but not caring. Spencer made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Farren shot him a smug glance, as if to say 'you see…I can do better than you!'
"And what sissy movie are you to going to see? Kindergarten Children, part three?"
"Actually, I don't know what we're seeing. The fact that you know that there's three parts is vaguely amusing though."
Spencer shot her a glance that would have melted a fool. Luckily, Farren was not one. She stared him in the eyes, raised her eyebrows, and made a little 'humph' noise in the back of her throat. He ignored her the rest of the ride. She was glad.
When they arrived at the church, Farren had to catch her breath. Her eyes feasted upon the site in front of her, and it was obvious she had never been to such a large church. The building was huge and had many high stain glass windows. The parking lot was enormous and wrapped around the building while fancy cars of all different colours drove slowly and respectfully around. The doors were huge and wooden, and Farren could see where a small older church had been expanded. A bell tower, complete with a huge old bell, still rested high above most of the church.
Spencer gave her a nasty look and snapped, "What, never seen a church before?" Farren sent him her 'McGonagall' look and he backed off, sulking as he did so. Farren climbed from the car carefully, looking around in mild amazement. The family walked forward, beckoning Farren with them, and she walked through the snowy parking lot. Snowflakes were still falling, but no one seemed to notice them as much as the ever-excitable Farren. She grinned and wondered if the Smith's would become angry with her if she didn't avoid the snowdrifts. She decided they would.
The inside of the church was even more magnificent than the majestic outward appearance. Farren could tell they were in the older part, as the floor was a deep and ancient wood and the walls were constructed of a similar deep wood panelling. The stained glass windows rose high above the floor and showed scenes of Jesus' life. Farren peered inside the congregation area, and smiled in pleasure. A window, taller and grander than the rest, headed off the front of the room, stationed so that it was behind the preacher. The window showed a beautiful woman whose hair was long and light brown, whose eyes were a French blue that reminded Farren of Remus, and whose arms were clutched around the most holy and realistic baby Jesus Farren had ever laid eyes on. She smiled wider, wondering whom the artist was who had created such a thing. It was brilliant.
Farren glanced around, looking for the Smith's and finally spotted them among the throngs of people talking to a man and woman, both rather old, and smiling brightly. Farren walked over.
"Aw, yes, here she is. This, Pastor Prestano, is Farren Alma, the foster child we're hosting. Farren this is pastor Dave Prestano and his wife, Marilynn." Mr. Smith said, smiling over brightly at the wizened couple.
"It's very nice to meet you, pastor, Mrs. Prestano," Farren said sweetly, shaking each of their hands and breathing in the gentle perfumed smell that seemed to continually linger around older generations, just whispering of their past and heritage, just hinting at their knowledge and reference. Farren breathed in deeply, albeit quietly, and smiled at the pair.
"Call me Mrs. P, dear, it will be so much more convenient. And how wonderful, Mr. Smith, that you've found such a polite dear to host. Children these days have no regard for anyone beside themselves. And teenagers! Well, don't even get me started on teenagers. Why just the other day, Billy Ingrid comes riding his motorbike across my lawn, after I'd spent all day-" Farren tuned out the woman, wondering how the elder Smith's tolerated her.
"Farren, dear, follow Spencer, you two will be late," Martha broke through Mrs. P's tirade against Billy Ingrid and Farren smiled gratefully, turning to follow Spencer into the newer part of the building.
Spencer gave her a glowering look and Farren, resigned to the fact that being spiteful would only lead to worse things, attempted a brave smile. Spencer looked surprised; after a few seconds he too smiled and, grabbing her hand, pulled her down a hallway. The newer part of the building was fashioned to look old and antique, but its unnatural cleanness gave away the build-on that the old church had experienced.
"It's just down this way," He explained, pulling her along. She gently but firmly pulled back, giving him a subtle reminder that she could walk on her own. He gave her a sheepish grin.
"See, we have a local band who play first, and a food table, and then we split into little study groups. Then we all go to Sunday school to listen to the choir and preacher and stuff," Spencer explained to her, leading her end to a shadowed room with burgundy walls and beige carpet. A band was tuning their instruments inside a roped-off area that served as their stage, and teenagers flocked the area, as well as one off to the right that hosted two tables filled with punch, cookies, and donuts. Farren looked shyly around. Spencer gestured to her and she followed him over to the stage.
"Hey, Godhawks!" He greeted the band, which comprised of one base guitar player, a drum-set, one obviously second-hand electric guitar, and a lead singer. "This is Farren, you know, the foster kid I told you we would be sponsoring." The boys of the group nodded to her and she smiled politely, albeit disinterestedly.
The boy holding the rugged looking electric guitar stepped forward, the strap of his instrument strung casually across his shoulder. It was then that Farren realized who he was.
"Randy! I didn't know you went to church here," Farren said happily, her spirits raising somewhat. Randy grinned and looked partially amused.
"Everyone in Collins either goes here or to Collins Town Catholic Academy. Everyone at our school comes here, everyone and their families that attend that private place go there." She nodded slightly, looking at his guitar with slight amusement.
"Oh, I wouldn't look at it that way, if I were you," A voice said lightly, and Farren looked up into the eyes of another boy she vaguely recognized from her few days at school. He had dirty-blonde hair and equally speckled gray eyes. He grinned and snapped his two drumsticks together, looking at the guitar with relish.
"Yes, when he brought that here, all proud that he bought it with his own money, well…I still have the scars from what he did when I-er told him my opinion on it. I'm Chris Beck, by the way," he held out a drumstick-less hand and she shook it. She glanced around at the others. The boy tuning the bass looked up briefly, his black hair falling unkempt into his gray eyes. He held her eyes for a moment, staring into her soul, and then turned back to his work.
"Gabe Hortess," the boy offered simply and then went back to tuning with all his soul. Farren watched him for a second, admiring his strong profile and grip with the music.
"Don't mind Note over there, he's too into his music to acknowledge the human existence," Chris said lightly.
"Which is a nice way of saying that Gabe, or Note, as we call him, is a music addict. He is thinks more deeply and philosophically than anyone I know, but he barely speaks," another boy, this one with black curly hair, dark eyes, and copper skin.
Gabe just shrugged, but Farren thought she saw in his eyes a slight glimmer of sadness, perhaps at the fact that his deep and silent nature could not go unmentioned. She smiled at him knowingly. Somehow, she understood what he felt like.
"I'm Juan Gurei," Said the copper skinned boy. He was tall, lean, and muscular. Farren glanced at him, wondering…
"He's native American, Cherokee." Randy explained to Farren, who nodded. She scrutinized the boy with her eyes he looked so familiar…
"Hey! Are you the number 27 football player?" She blurted out suddenly, remembering how he had been reminding her of someone all week. Juan stared at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.
"Yes?" He answered questionably. And then Farren realized…
"My dad was number 27...in the picture…and he wore Collins colors…and the older teachers…the watch me…because they knew my parents," Farren said wonderingly. The other's looked at her with varying expressions.
"Hey, Farren, we ought to go now, they'll be starting soon," Spencer said, breaking the awkward silence, and Farren nodded, backing up as a tall balding man stepped over the rope and grabbed the microphone.
The two hours couldn't have gone fast enough for Farren. Though the band was excellent, and the study group interesting, and even though they all trooped back into the main part of church for Sunday school, Farren was preoccupied. Her date with Remus loomed ahead, uncertain, exciting. She felt that drive home took three times as long as the drive there, and that Sunday brunch was a continual bore. Finally, Finally, it was three o'clock and she had an excuse to leave the table and sports talk and go get ready.
She climbed into the shower excitedly, jumping slightly as the water hit her. Her favorite bath gel (spring rain) was almost gone by the time she was done and her hair glimmered from excessive shampoo and conditioner. She climbed out and toweled her hair so it wasn't so damp. She then ran her hair dryer through her long locks, each auburn strand become strait and gleaming in the light. She pulled the sides of her hair up, but let pieces fall from the neat hairdo so that it looked more natural. Each fallen piece framed her face, and she allowed these to curl like corkscrews around her delicate face, giving her an almost Victorian look.
Her outfit consisted mainly of blues. She decided on deep blue jeans, which would make the shirt look less fancy. A French blue belt hung on her waist, and her eyes glittered with big blue specks in their hazel depths. She wore a French blue camisole under a navy, French, and sky blue slightly see through blouse. Each of the colors blended perfectly with one another and Farren looked nervously in the mirror at herself. She applied, with a shaky hand; light blue eye shadow that she had never before worn and dusty pink blush over her smooth pale complexion. Her lips were adorned in gentle pink; nothing too frosty or fake and she put the teeniest bit of foundation over her still yellow bruise. She then put on a gold-chained necklace with alternating pearls and pearl earrings. Glancing one last time at her reflection, she hesitantly crept downstairs.
Spencer stood at the bottom of the steps. She looked at him, cocking her head, not liking the way his eyes traveled over her. She squirmed beneath his gaze. He looked at her, delight in his eyes, and she blushed slightly, muttering,
"Hey Spencer." He continued to look at her in a similar way, but she ignored it, seating herself on the edge of a chair in the entranceway, waiting for the doorbell to ring.
"Farren," Spencer said suddenly. She looked up at him, and he fastened one strong fist around her lower arm, pulling her up.
"We had fun today, didn't we?" He asked, fire in his eyes. Farren nodded and tried to pull back from his death grip. He held on harder.
"Why are you going with that…that…inbred?" He burst out angrily, his fist clenching on her.
"We had fun today. You should like me! Me! I thought you'd realize-"
"You thought wrong!" Farren burst out. "Let me go!"
"You look really good, Farren," Spencer said, his fist still hard on her arm. "Too good for a guy like that…" His tongue poked out from his mouth slightly, wetting his lips, in what he must have thought was a tempting way…
"Don't stick your tongue out unless you're going to use it," Farren murmured softly, fear erupting in her stomach, unexplainable fear.
"Oh, don't worry…I will," he answered, and with frightening expertise and swiftness, he swooped in on her, one hand still on her arm, the other in her hair, and Farren, pinned against a wall and him, could not move.
She forced her head as far back as possible and squirmed beneath him, fear, terrible fear, eating at her, driving knives at her. He growled, holding tightly, trying to force her to be intimae with him and Farren prayed for anyone…anyone…to help her.
The doorbell rang. That one little noise of answered prayers filled her with hope and strength, and, with renewed vigor, she pushed him from her, his tongue leaving a trail of salvia on her cheek and stumbled backwards. Her had reached the doorknob and, turning it, she fell backwards, one foot connecting solidly with the door, slamming it in Spencer's shocked face. But, still, Farren was f
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Falling, and then…
Strong arms encircled her waist. (A/N yes, a know, little dramatic there, but…I couldn't help myself!) Breathing deeply, she met the eyes of Remus, her chest heaving with fear and rage, her body shaking in desperation. Remus offered no words, no consolations, at least not then. He led her to a green car, not a particularly fancy model, nor an outstandingly old one. She slid inside, breathing deeply, calming herself. Every molecule in her body was on high alert, her ears picked up the tiniest sounds, and her eyes seemed to take in a narrower, more detailed perception. Her breath seemed loud and unnatural; even in her own ears. Finally, emotions controlled, she looked into her rescuer's (so to speak) eyes and saw the unease in his glowing orbs.
His right hand reached forward and, cupped in a loose fist, wiped the saliva trail from her cheek. He was close; so close, and Farren realized, no matter that they had been just a friend moments before, she did like him, even if it she had just then realized it. He held one of her hands gently, asking with his eyes more than his mouth about what had happened.
"Did he hurt you?" Remus asked, emotion concealed in a huskier than normal voice. Farren wondered, had he asked her out simply because she already knew and accepted his secret, or had he, like her, deep down known he liked her and was only just then letting his feelings surface. She realized he had asked a question; she had yet to answer.
"Not physically…as of yet," she answered, and it took Remus, lost in her eyes, to realize that she was answering his question.
"I suppose it was more of an emotional and psychologically pain?" Remus questioned, too coolly; he was afraid he would betray himself and his building feelings if he were too friendly. Farren nodded in response to his question and, eyes unfocused, snuggled against him, needing his embrace. He gave her a gentle hug, yearning for more; not knowing the same stirring was inside her also.
"Shall we go?" Farren said, sounding more normal as she did so. Remus nodded.
"What movie would you like to go see?" He asked his head cocked at her, his grin trying to lighter her mood. She shrugged and her normal grin returned as she reached down and flipped on the radio, searching for a station. She finally found something of satisfaction and Remus shook his head, laughing.
"You and your country," he said, grinning as she snuggled as close to him as the seatbelt would allow, humming along with the country music.
"Yes, I'm very patriotic!" Farren joked and Remus grinned, driving carefully down the wet and busy streets, watching as a bit more snow came down. He was unexpectedly tense; he had very little driving skills and was relying on an easing charm and his minimal experience to get him through the bad roads. Farren smiled at him, laughing slightly, and he nudged her with an exaggerated huff.
"I don't see you attempting to drive in such weather!" He joked and Farren grinned.
"What are we going to see?" She asked as they arrived at the theater, which was relatively empty on such a day.
"Didn't I ask you that earlier?" Remus countered. "I don't know what's playing anyway…do you?" Farren shook her head and climbed out of the car. Remus grabbed her hand before she slipped in the ice. Smiling, she jokingly gushed, "My hero!" He laughed, and together they walked towards the box office to chose what movie they would see.
Interlude One; Remus Lupin
Years later, I can still remember everything about that afternoon. The sun was shining bleakly as we walked up the slush-filled walk, stopping to browse at the movie posters. Farren's eyes were brighter than ever that day, and sometimes, right before I transform back into a human, I will see those eyes flash above me. They were so beautiful, so very Farren.
The movie we choose was one that we both agreed on; though it was not our first choose. Though I cannot remember the title; I remember the story. *A boy, on his way to visit his divorced father in a private plane, watches as his pilot has a heart attack and dies in front of him. In desperation, he tries to find a place to land the plane, which is running low on fuel, and manages to land in a lake. Unfortunately, the lake was deeper than he thought, and the entire plane sinks to the bottom before he can grab a radio to call for help, and so, he is stuck in the woods and must learn to survive until someone finds him. *
The movie was captured both of us, not least because it was my first time seeing such a muggle thing. When it was over, we went to a café and sat, much to my amusement, outside in coats, ordering hot coffee to keep us warm. I would have preferred to sit inside, but I soon learned that Farren enjoys all things and takes advantage of them when they are there. I soon learned that I should have cherished the little things that are so Farren more then I did. Now, I see only a fuzzy picture of the woman I once thought I knew.
End of Interlude One
"Favorite food?" Farren sprouted at him.
"Mmmm, turkey and stuffing! Same question," Remus answered, keeping up their game of getting-to-know-each-other.
"Hmm, spaghetti, I think. What about…you favorite colour? And your least favorite colour?"
"Umm, I don't really have…"
"I like…French blue and hat red. What about…your favorite time in history?"
"Classical, I'd say. You?"
"Renaissance, definitely!" Farren laughed and their game continued for a while, each enjoying the others company as they got to know each other more fully. Then, Remus asked the question.
"Well, you know my biggest secret…care to tell yours?" He was shocked as he watched her turn away sadly. "You don't have to, of course!" He said hastily, but she was opening her mouth to speak.
Interlude Two; Farren
How could I tell Remus- wonderful, caring Remus- about my secret? It was not much of a secret, I suppose, because if you knew me long enough you would be able to look back and see that I had never…will never…cry. That I was an emotionless person who had not enough tears to spare for the sick and needing. That I was a monster inside; that I could not feel.
Later, when I did tell him, he told me that I was the most wonderful person he knew and that my feelings showed in my eyes, if not in my actions. I smiled then; I did feel better. But sometimes, I look back, and wonder if I was smiling simply because I was not as I had always feared... a feelingless, beast. Even today, if ever I indulge in such thoughts, I remember his words to me, and I feel better, not just because of his words, but because when I remember him, I feel an ache in my heart so hard that I know I can feel.
End of Interlude Two
"It's just… long ago, I was sent back from yet another home, and I began to cry silently in my room, like always. But I began to feel anger; why should I be cast off like an old lamp…and why should I allow it to upset me? And so I promised myself something. I told myself, 'I shall not cry'. And I haven't…not since then. I am unemotional. It didn't bother me at first, but then I began to notice that I felt nothing when I did not cry... not joy, or helplessness, or sadness. I… I cannot feel." Farren lowered her head; she did not want Remus to see her shame.
"Farren…you feel more than anyone I know! You find joy in the littlest things, you find peace in the harshest conditions." Remus had jumped to his feet and he gently caught Farren's hand and pulled her up as well. "You feel sadness when you see bad things, I know you do, because I've seen it in your eyes. Tears mean nothing, Farren. You mean something…you are wonderful. You are the best." Farren looked at him, hope shining from her orbs, and Remus, caught in the moment, pulled her into a sweet kiss.
It was the first kiss of many to come. The two forgot about life; they were caught in time. They forgot about the fact that they lived in different worlds. They forgot about time difference and traitors; they forgot about dying and spies. They remembered only each other, and it was because of that, that their love extended through time when they could not.
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Give credit where credit is due
*Don't stick your tongue out unless you're going to use it- a quote told to me by Le'A from her cousin; meant to be funny, but it fits well with the excitement of that part of the story.
**A boy, on his way to visit his divorced father in a private plane, watches as his pilot has a heart attack and dies in front of him. In desperation, he tries to find a place to land the plane, which is running low on fuel, and manages to land in a lake. Unfortunately, the lake was deeper than he thought, and the entire plane sinks to the bottom before he can grab a radio to call for help, and so, he is stuck in the woods and must learn to survive until someone finds him.** The basic plot line of Hatchet, by Gary Paulson. The book, as far as I know, is not actually a movie.