Kindness used to be a contagious nicety in her life.
When she was kind to herself, not only it was reflected in her periphery but her own self also felt more at peace while doing whatever that sparked her lifelong interest. Bringing her wondrous thoughts and fantasies on paper was one of them. But then somewhere in time, she turned into a stranger, letting constant weakness and fear consume her until she didn't know who she was anymore.
Her books had learned it the hard way, but it seemed that they were slowly getting used to mirroring the innermost emotions of their creator. They didn't want to treat that shattered ghost with kindness.
Just like what she had done to herself.
She was unable to write anything on the blank papers. If she had allowed this change, at this point, no one could put her back together again.
That night, right after one of the prefects found Y/N crying her eyes out on the bathroom floor, she made it her mission to find and look into every existing mirror in the castle and ask if others could see the broken patterns in them or she was just suffering from a foolish delusion. At first, she was shocked to see their reactions.
Many torturous days passed.
The effects of alcohol had long worn off, but the shock was still there.
It finally dawned on her that all of the mirrors around her were perfectly fine, and with each weird look she received from people, certainty grew in her and screamed the words of affirmation. She had most likely lost her mind.
To add to the burden of her thoughts, one day she'd visited the dusty shelf in her room. With a pen tucked in her quivering hand, the other one reached for one of the books. She thought it would help gain back the surge of courage she had once felt while she was drunk.
It didn't help.
Taking a deep breath to calm her frustrated state, she sat on the edge of the bed and flipped through the pages until a blank one came into sight. No words could appear on the first line.
She tossed the quill aside, picking another one.
Then she tried writing with three other pens. It was impossible for all of them to run out of ink. Something was wrong with the books.
They didn't want her to finish them. At least not yet.
And even after all of those agonizing moments, troubles weren't over yet.
"Miss Y/L/N, careful there... It is probably enough for-"
The alerting voice broke through her train of thoughts and brought her back to reality. Her eyes widened at the sight before her and she quickly drew her wand away from the poor pot. She was supposed to be careful while watering those plants and now water had overflowed, dripping down the table and dampening the ground around them.
She mentally face-palmed herself. Could it get worse than this?
"I really am sorry. It shouldn't have happened. I wil just-"
Madam Sprout's hand on her arm stopped her before she could tidy up the mess. The old witch shoot her a sympathetic smile.
"Don't sweat the small stuff, my dear. I will take care of that. How about you go and take a rest?"
That was a good idea.
Minutes later she was running out of the damp greenhouse with a face flushed out of embarrassment.
Taking the witch's suggestion into account, she thought of a place she could finally rest. There was only one destination in her mind. It wasn't her room. It wasn't even inside the walls of Hogwarts.
She was headed somewhere she always wanted to visit, but never had the chance to.
.......
Like a grave to blotted-out pieces of the past.
Each time she visited Hogsmeade, that old, derelict building never ceased to awaken her curiosity. It always stood in a corner isolated from the rest of the world, exuding a mysterious aura around its realm of power. Sofie and Elara had stopped her one too many times from approaching it.
The rumors used to be intimidating and frightening.
But they all faded to nothing when she finally grasped what that place meant to Remus Lupin.
Even though in some of her sleepless nights she had seen him disappearing behind the Whomping Willow, in one of the Order's secret meetings, Dumbledore had given everyone specific instructions on how to enter the building in case of emergency. She still remembered the enchantment but chose to track the same pathway Remus used to take each month.
With every beat of her quickened heart, a voice from deep inside told her that peace was waiting for her at the end of the day. She just had to be there at that moment of time.
Hopefully nothing could go wrong this time.
Except that the thick branches of that tree had left a stingy scar on her cheek.
Without much care for the pain, she kept on walking. The air was dank and dark beneath the ground. A rickety staircase appeared at the end of the road and she cautiously ascended it, finally approaching the shack. With each step, the floor beneath her groaned in protest. With each touch, the weathered walls showed more roughness towards her fingers. She stopped by one of the shattered windows, staring out at the passers-by in the village. Even after all this time, people's avoidance towards the Shrieking Shack was consistent.
As she slowly passed the stairs that led to the second floor, creaks reverberated around her like a haunting melody and specks of dust came floating in the air. It really had been suspended for years. A sigh of relief escaped her knowing that Remus didn't have to relieve his pains in that haunted place anymore. Those Wolfsbane potions helped him with his sanity during the full moons, so even though she hadn't been there with him for so long, she knew that he'd spent almost all of those torturous nights at his office.
Alone.
The impatient beating of her heart quickened again as she found herself standing by the entrance of that specific spot she had been yearning to see.
She swallowed heavily. Her whole being already ached for him.
It was as if the room was a portal to his distant memories. Claw marks and maroon stains had painted a stark contrast against the worn-out state of the place, a ghostly reminder of the nights he had spent there as a werewolf. The furniture was smashed and cobwebs clung freely to every corner.
The atmosphere was thick with melancholy and abandonment. She walked over and rested her cheek against one of the jagged marks on the wall, feeling herself on the verge of tears as his agonizing shouts and ear-piercing silences echoed in her ears.
It pulled at her heartstrings when she realized that Remus had once stood right where she was now, and his mind was overflowing with countless thoughts about being a lonely monster.
He too, had slumped onto the floor and cried his eyes out after losing his friends and beloved ones. He too, had lost sight of his own self a few times.
It was isolated, ignored and abandoned. It was full of haunting voices and long-forgotten memories.
She was familiar with it.
And yet, despite the painful wreckage, rays of sunlight kept on penetrating through the cracks of the decaying wall.
The silent tears turned into loud sobs as she slid down the wall. She had built the walls too high in her mind that her thoughts had left no space for him. He had stayed true to his word all this time and she had done him wrong by abandoning his presence altogether.
If there was someone who knew about survival and revival in this way, it was Remus. He knew how it felt to be surrounded by endless cracks and drown in pain. The same kind of pain he had once concealed inside this tumbledown place in an attempt to make it invisible, but it ran through his veins every day.
He knew all about fighting in invisible wars.
He also knew how to forgive her, right?
She was full of guilt, sorrow, and regret.
On the way back towards the castle, a mixture of the words she had never said and the words he had always said kept replaying in her head. The nights that he was away in a hard mission, she used to sit until morning and write letters for him until morning, confessing every feeling that she had kept buried in her chest.
"Just be there this one time. I've got a hundered thrown-out speeches I almost said to you."
The same almosts that used to return to her chest everytime he returned safely.
"Whenever you're ready to talk it out, you know the pathway. I won't break my promise."
Which pathway did he mean? The one that led to the coldness of his shelter or the warmth of his embrace? Either way, she was grateful for the fact that both of them led to him.
She panted breathlessly, knocking on the door of his office. It stood slightly ajar, casting a dim light on the floor nearby.
Footsteps drew closer.
Seconds later the light completely wrapped around her trembling figure.
He already had his arms open and ready to envelop her. Her thumbing heart wanted to jump out of her chest at the mere sight of him.
"Help me hold on to you."