The small, cozy cottage you called home sat surrounded by the wild, untamed woods at the edge of the village. The full moon had long since set, and the dawn was just beginning to stretch its fingers across the sky. Inside, the living room was a warm haven, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as its glow danced along the worn bookshelves and mismatched furniture.

You sat cross-legged on the rug, brushing stray leaves out of your hair and shaking them off your clothes. Your transformation had ended just hours ago, and the aftereffects of running under the night sky as a wolf still buzzed faintly in your veins. It had taken years of practice, guided by Sirius’ mischievous but determined lessons, to master the animagus transformation. He’d never let you give up, even when it felt impossible. And now, the freedom of running on four legs, your senses heightened and instincts sharpened, was a part of you.

Remus was sitting in his armchair, sipping a steaming cup of tea as he watched you with a soft, knowing smile. His robes hung loosely around him, the faint lines of exhaustion beneath his eyes a telltale sign of his own recent transformation. Unlike yours, his was a burden he bore each full moon, but he never let you or Sirius fret too much over it.

Sirius, on the other hand, was stretched out on the couch, his hair still tousled from sleep. He had been the first to meet you when you returned to the house in your human form, tossing you a blanket and declaring your transformation “perfect, as usual.” Now, he was watching you with a mix of pride and mischief, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch.

“Not bad for a morning romp,” Sirius drawled, his voice light but carrying that familiar edge of approval. “Though you’ve got a bit of mud on your cheek, pup. Adds character, I’d say.”

“You always say that,” Remus said mildly, taking another sip of tea. “She doesn’t need character. She needs a proper breakfast and some rest.”