The Farland Files

Jersey City Hall, New Jersey

"For as long as we both live."

""For as long as we both live."" There was something hot on her cheeks and she knew that a tear had slipped down her cheek, the slight wobble in her voice betraying her.

With a sad smile, Tom reached up and brushed away the tear.

The minister gave them a moment before speaking up again. "The wedding ring is a symbol of eternity, so as an expression of your desire to be together, heart and soul- Lena, please repeat these words to Tom and place his ring on his finger."

Wednesday stepped forward and held out the ring of black titanium with a line of obsidian across it that was magically strengthened to resist practically anything with a barely-there smile on her lips, for her to take.

Taking the ring, she handed off the bouquet to Wednesday.

"I give you this ring,"

Taking his hand, she slid the ring onto his finger. "I give you this ring,"

"As a promise to love,"

"As a promise to love,"

"Honor,"

"Honor,"

"And Cherish you,"

"And Cherish you,"

"Today,"

"Today,"

"And for all eternity."

With just the faint thought that there was weight in vows, even if not magical, she smiled and said the last line. "And for all eternity."

Taking her ring from Lowan, a band of silver titanium and moonstone that was equal and opposite to his own ring, Tom repeated the same vow as he slid the ring onto her finger. And though she knew that she would eventually end up carrying both with her when he reverted back to being the locket, when they clasped hands, it felt like he was really here with her.

"And by the authority invested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you wife and husband. Congratulations." The minister sounded as if he was smiling too, with how happy they must have looked. "You may now seal your vows with a kiss."

Pulling her forward, Tom put a hand to her cheek gently, leaning in so their lips were just a breath apart. "You're stuck with me now." His voice was a murmur, grinning at her.

"Shut up and kiss me then."

With a short laugh, he pressed forward to kiss her gently, warmth seeming to spill over her as she reached up to mess with his perfect hair, laughing brightly when he jabbed her side softly, one of his warm hands lingering on her back as he smiled back at her. Leaning in to press another kiss to her lips and smirking slightly when she tried to follow him when he pulled back, he finally glanced up at where everyone was clapping happily before looking back at her. "Allow me to dance the night away with you?"

Lena brushed a thumb over his cheekbone, still smiling. "It would be my absolute pleasure, husband of mine."

Eyes flashing at the words, he pressed forward to kiss her yet again, this time with more urgency and she met him with the same enthusiasm as her nails curled into his shoulder. Finally pulling away when Wednesday started to threaten to throw a snowball at them, his eyes were just a bit redder than normal as he looked at her with a wide grin. "Darling wife of mine."

(Okay, so maybe now she understood what he'd felt, her heart skipping a beat in her chest at the reminder that they were tied together so thoroughly and unequivocally.)

And if they spent the whole night never once letting go of each other, dancing together in the ballroom long past the sun had set, she blamed it on the fact that Wednesday was right. They were completely, and almost sickeningly, besotted with each other.

Dearest husband of mine,

I haven't written to you like this in quite a while, as I have not felt the touch of regret or grief in quite a while, being so newly married, but I suppose I should catch you up.

The golem lasted longer than expected for a magical artifact to support a form, almost a week, and that whole week Riddle and I spent it attached at the hip. Playing chess, reading together, waging war via the snow that came in, we spent the time just being close to each other. I even took him to a massive chocolatier shop, where we spent a while trying different chocolates (and sometimes getting into small tiffs about each other's taste buds, as you apparently dislike sweet things and that is an affront to my whole person) before walking around the city talking about how our experiences at the orphanages we grew up in were much the same.

I know it's not the most romantic subject, but Riddle's getting better about opening up because he knows that I'll understand him and it's healing for both of us to be able to talk about it, even after all this time.

As Dumbledore's mystery contact still hasn't shown up and no one is looking for me too closely, I went back to Ilvermorny for another semester- which is amusing because I might be able to get out of taking Herbology, Astronomy, and History if when I return to Hogwarts.

All my love,

Your wife, Lena ♥

Her last letter to him, quite a bit later, was written in a hasty scrawl- none of her usual flourish present.

Tom,

I think... that I made a mistake.

Riddle's not with me anymore and I don't know if you'll ever get this because my bag may never leave this place so you may never be able to read these letters, but I made a horrible horrible mistake looking inside that roo-

I have to go.

I love you.

Lena.

Severus stared at the letter before him, eyes stuck where a smudge of something wet and red was smeared across the bottom, his hand shaking as he cast a spell.

The results were immediate and left him feeling as if something sharp had speared him through the chest.

He sunk back into his chair, feeling the eyes of the room watching him. "It... she can't..." His voice caught in his throat, eyes burning with unshed tears as he put a hand to his face. His whole body shook, something so raw and painful crushing his lungs. "Albus..."

"The spell I put on her vitals before she left confirms it." Dumbledore's voice was without emotion as if the man couldn't even process the words he was saying. The man looked up across the table he was sat at in the back of the Malfoy Manor. "Lena Farland... is dead."

The words echoed like a gunshot through the garden and there was almost a sense of disbelief, though the weary tone to the Dumbledore's voice held no deception or lie.

There was no trick.

No game.

The letter fell from his hand to the table, the smudge of his daughter's blood drying slowly in the air as it sat on the table.

No, Lena... you promised- you promised me you wouldn't-...

You were supposed to live.