She was a lighthouse keeper on a small island off the coast of France.
It was a lonely occupation, albeit one that provided free housing within the lighthouse and a livable wage for someone whose only marketable skills were not something she could pitch to the muggles living in the only village within 25 kilometers of her home.
After tending to her daily chores, she walked a short distance to a nearby inlet within a copse of trees, the perfect place to have a little picnic and get a bit of reading in before her evening duties.
Having been down to this inlet many times over the years, the last thing she expected to find was a small rowboat jutting up against the shore, and a young man tending to a fire a couple of feet away.
Drawing closer, her blue eyes met his green, and she somehow knew her quiet life wasn’t going to stay quiet for much longer.