Daughter of a Witch

A Rainy Day

The sound of rain against the windows had been steady since morning, a soothing rhythm that filled the quiet house in Westview. Outside, the skies were dark, a curtain of mist hanging low over the town, and the streets were empty save for the occasional gust of wind. The storm had moved in overnight, bringing with it a chill that lingered in the air.

Inside, though, it was warm and inviting.

Y/n sat curled up on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket. Her legs were tucked beneath her, and she held a steaming cup of tea between her hands. The soft light from the fireplace cast flickering shadows across the living room, and the scent of burning wood mixed with the fresh, earthy smell of rain. It was the kind of day that made the world outside seem far away, as if time had slowed down just for them.

Agatha sat beside Y/n, casually leaning back with her arm draped over the couch. She wasn't holding a book yet, but her eyes kept wandering toward the shelf as if contemplating which one to grab. Meanwhile, Rio stood at the tall bookshelf on the far side of the room, her fingers lightly tracing the spines of the many volumes there.

"Today feels like a day for something special," Rio murmured, pulling down a large, worn book. The cover was old and soft to the touch, its pages weathered from years of being passed down through generations. The title, written in gold script, shimmered in the dim light. She held it up, a small smile playing on her lips. "This was the first magical tome my abuela ever gave me."

Y/n's eyes widened as she leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "I've never seen that one before."

Rio crossed the room and settled beside Y/n, holding the book out for her to see. The pages crinkled softly as she opened them, revealing intricate illustrations of water, wind, and fire spells. Small, handwritten notes were scribbled in the margins, adding a personal touch from whoever had used them.

"You never told me about these notes," Y/n said, pointing to a faint scribble next to a drawing of swirling water. "Are these yours?"

Rio chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, those are from my mother. And some are from my grandmother before her. They taught me magic through this book when I was your age." She turned the page carefully, her fingers brushing over the text. "This one here," she said, tapping a spell, "is for summoning a gentle rain. It's good for keeping crops healthy or needing a calm atmosphere like today."

Y/n smiled, leaning into Rio's side as she listened. The warmth of her mother's presence and the knowledge she was sharing made Y/n feel deeply connected to the magic of her heritage. She loved how Rio's lessons always carried more than just the practical side of magic-they were filled with stories of family, of generations before her who had wielded the same spells. It made everything feel more alive.

"Magic isn't just about the spell," Rio continued, her voice soft but full of meaning. "It's about understanding the balance, the energy behind it. That's why I wanted to wait until now to show you this. You're ready to learn how to respect it."

Y/n nodded, her eyes fixed on the pages as Rio explained more about elemental magic. There was something so calming about Rio's way of teaching, which was gentle, almost like the rain outside, and Y/n soaked up every bit of it.

As they sat together, Agatha stood up from the couch and stretched. "I'm feeling left out over here," she teased, though her voice was full of warmth. "But I think I'll leave the magic lessons to you two for today. I've got something else in mind."

Y/n glanced over at her mama, watching as Agatha walked over to the bookshelf and pulled down a familiar, well-loved book. A grin spread across Y/n's face as soon as she recognized the cover.

"You're not too old for this, are you?" Agatha asked, raising an eyebrow as she held up The Secret Garden.

"Not even a little," Y/n said without hesitation, her voice filled with excitement. "I love it when you read that to me."

Agatha chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

She settled back onto the couch, this time pulling Y/n closer so that Y/n's head rested comfortably on her shoulder. Agatha flipped open the book, and Y/n felt a sense of nostalgia wash over her. The Secret Garden had been one of her favorite childhood stories, and listening to her mama read it had always made her feel safe, especially when she would curl up in Agatha's lap.

Rio smiled at the two of them, but the fire in the fireplace needed attention. She stood up, crossing to the hearth to stoke the flames. The fire crackled as she added another log, and she gently poked at the embers until the flames danced higher. The warm glow spread across the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Once the fire was roaring again, Rio returned to the couch. This time, she eased herself behind her wife instead of sitting beside Y/n. Gently, Agatha shifted her body slightly, turning so her back rested against Rio's front. Rio wrapped her arms around Agatha, resting her chin lightly on Agatha's shoulder as she settled in.

Y/n watched them, her heart swelling with affection. She loved how naturally they fit together, how their small movements showed just how deeply they understood and loved each other. Moments like these made Y/n realize just how lucky she was to have both of them.

"Now," Agatha said, her voice soft as she began to read aloud. "Mary Lennox was a sour little girl..."

As Agatha's voice filled the room, Y/n snuggled closer to her mama, resting her head in Agatha's lap now. She felt Rio's hand gently brush against her hair, a comforting gesture that made Y/n feel even more at home.

Agatha read slowly, letting the words wash over them, while Rio's fingers gently traced patterns on Agatha's arm. Occasionally, Agatha would pause to share a memory or make a playful comment about the story.

"Do you remember when you tried to create your own secret garden in the backyard?" Agatha asked with a grin. "You were convinced it would grow overnight if you used enough magic."

Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I was so sure it would work."

Agatha chuckled softly, leaning her head back against Rio's chest. "We ended up with more mud than flowers. I had to save the poor plants with a quick counterspell."

Rio smiled, gently brushing a strand of hair from Agatha's face. "That was the first time we knew you were going to be just like us," she teased, her voice filled with pride.

Y/n laughed, her cheeks flushing. "I'm still learning. But I had a pretty good example to follow." She glanced between them, her heart full of love for how they had both shaped her life.

As Agatha continued reading, the room fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the steady rhythm of rain against the windows. Y/n felt the warmth of the fire and the comfort of her mother's presence surrounding her, wrapping her in a cocoon of love and safety.

Eventually, Y/n closed her eyes, letting Agatha's soothing voice lull her into a state of calm. She wasn't paying attention to the story anymore, really. Instead, she focused on the quiet, intimate moment they were sharing. The way Rio's hand rested gently on Agatha's shoulder, and the fire's gentle glow made Y/n feel so loved and completely at home.

In the room's stillness, as the rain continued to fall and the fire crackled softly, Y/n realized just how much these quiet moments meant to her. They weren't about magic or lessons or grand gestures. They were about the love that filled the space between them, the quiet, steady kind that made everything else disappear.

As Y/n nestled deeper into the blankets, she smiled softly to herself, feeling utterly content.

This was what home was-three of them, wrapped in warmth, love, and the quiet beauty of a rainy day spent together.