Y4 ~ A Chosen One

                                    

                                          
A soft evening mist settled over the hills, casting a silvery glow on the countryside. Lupin Cottage lay at the edge of an ancient forest, where tangled roots and whispering leaves guarded secrets older than any spell. Surrounded by tall grass that swayed in waves under the breeze, the cottage exuded a quiet, worn beauty. Ivy climbed up its stone walls, curling around windows framed by weathered wooden shutters, while a crooked chimney puffed out wisps of smoke, filling the air with the comforting scent of burning wood. The last rays of sunlight slipped through the forest's canopy, illuminating the cottage with a dappled glow, as if magic itself was woven into the very fabric of this place.
Inside, the cottage was cozy and filled with the charm of a life well-lived. Every piece of furniture bore signs of care, from the old armchair patched in places to the shelves crowded with books and peculiar artifacts. The small kitchen was a warm, inviting nook, its counters cluttered with old-fashioned cookware, copper kettles, and glass jars brimming with herbs and spices that Remus had carefully collected over the years. Every evening, as the shadows lengthened, the cottage transformed into a haven of light and warmth, the soft glow of candles casting gentle patterns across the walls.
Y/N Nightengale had adapted to life here more easily than she'd expected. Her room, a world away from the orphanage's bare walls and narrow beds, was spacious and alive with small touches of magic Remus had left for her to discover. The curtains, enchanted to change with her mood, fluttered softly, now a deep, tranquil blue. The walls reflected the rich colors of the countryside beyond her window, blending the outside world with her new sanctuary.
Summer days unfolded in an easy rhythm, with Y/N spending her mornings curled up with a book or writing letters to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, eagerly sharing her thoughts and discoveries from her time at the cottage. But each time she sent a letter to Harry, a familiar thrill danced in her chest, an undeniable flutter that had settled in her heart. She had come to the clear, exhilarating realization that she was in love with Harry Potter. Every letter from him sent her pulse racing, filling her with a warmth that lingered through the day, and she'd read his words over and over, finding herself counting down the days until she'd see him again.
Though Remus was often busy, evenings were theirs. They shared stories over dinners, and Y/N found herself treasuring these moments as much as the words on Harry's parchment. The room filled with quiet laughter and, at times, a gentle melancholy that seemed to linger on Remus's face, like shadows softened by candlelight. She found comfort in these nights, even as her mind drifted to thoughts of Harry, wondering if he looked forward to their letters as much as she did.
Tonight, as they sat across from each other in the dimly lit kitchen, Y/N felt a strange pull to ask a question that had weighed on her heart. The faint glow of the candles flickered as she spoke, the words coming out softer than she'd intended.
"Do you think... my father will be able to write to me someday?"
Her question hovered in the air, and Remus's gaze grew thoughtful, a touch of sorrow shadowing his warm eyes. He looked at her carefully, his fingers gently encircling the teacup he held as if searching for the right words.
"He's out there, Y/N," Remus said quietly. "I believe he's thinking of you, even if he can't be here. And when the time is right, he'll find a way back to you."
Y/N's eyes lowered, comforted yet carrying the weight of longing. "I wish he'd hurry up, you know?" Her voice broke the stillness, and she forced a small smile, hiding the ache.
Remus chuckled softly, the sound filling the silence with its warmth. "You're patient, braver than most." He reached across the table, his hand resting over hers in a gesture that conveyed more than words ever could. "He's lucky to have you waiting."