Emma never thought that a book could bring back such an intense memory that had been tucked into her mind. Seeing War and Peace in Remus's hand jogged such a random set of memories that she was sure had to have involved him. She could have very quickly tested her theory by pulling the copy she had off of her bookshelf but going to Honeydukes was more important. She needed to recreate the exact moment that came up in her mind. Emma needed to know if Remus needed help remembering too.
She was dead set on getting into the village and quickly. Emma told Remus she would only be there for an hour and a half, and that was all the time she needed. Even less if the Muggle candy section of Honeydukes was as expansive as she'd heard – she wouldn't know, she still hadn't been. She would try and visit the other stores while she was there, just to say she had finally gone.
Emma quickly made her way down the marble staircase, giving Fred and George a quick wave as she passed them, but then she heard something that made her stop.
"Do you really think Moony was correct in telling us to give this to Harry?" she heard George ask Fred.
Emma's head whipped around so fast that she nearly stumbled back down the stairs. She held tight to the banister to keep herself from slipping. "I'm sorry, but did you just say Moony?" Emma blurted out, covering her mouth quickly as she said it.
George turned around to look at Emma, his brows raised. "Possibly," he said slowly, looking at his brother. "Why?"
"How do you know that name?" she asked, sure that her eyes were bulging out of her head in shock. "No one else should know that name."
Fred and George looked at each other, and slow smiles crossed their faces as they walked back down the stairs to meet her.
"Why, Emma, it almost sounds as though you know the identity of who Mr. Moony is," Fred said, standing in front of Emma with his arms crossed.
Emma felt her face turn red. She probably shouldn't have said a word, but she couldn't help it. The fact the name Moony came up so casually in their conversation made her a little worried. Did they know? "I, erm…I don't," she said, clearing her throat.
"Well, well," Fred said in amusement. "George, I think she's lying to us."
"Am not!"
"Emma Lupin, are you at all familiar with the names Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, as well?" George asked, stepping up next to Fred.
What? Emma looked between the twins in alarm. "How?" she asked, her mouth dropping open. "How do you two know those names?"
The twins looked at each other again, and George grabbed Emma's hand to pull her up the stairs and into one of the empty classrooms. He held his hand out, and Fred placed what looked like an old piece of parchment in his hand. She stared at George in confusion and tuned him out after he pressed his wand to the parchment and the words, "I solemnly swear," left his lips. There had been so many times that Remus had said those exact words to her that she couldn't believe George had just uttered them.
Fred pointed down to the parchment, and Emma gasped as ink began to spread across the parchment by themselves. She watched the lines in curiosity and then let out another gasp as words started to appear at the top:
Mssrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
The Marauder's Map
"Does this mean anything at all to you?" George asked, his voice brimming with excitement. He practically shoved the parchment into Emma's hands, and she took it reverently. It meant everything to her.
Emma ran her fingers over the inky text with a short laugh. "You've got to be bloody kidding me," she muttered, smiling at the strange bit of parchment in front of her. She was about to ask what it was, but it was spelled out right at the top – it was a map. A brilliant, incredible, and highly detailed map made by the Marauders.
She looked through the parchment in amazement. The map seemed to show nearly every detail about Hogwarts, and she shook her head. That wasn't the impressive part, though. While there had been a lot of care in detailing every aspect of Hogwarts, the amazing part was the small ink dots that moved around. When she peered closer, she saw that the dots had labels with names written in minuscule writing.
"This is amazing," she breathed out. She had so many questions she wanted to ask Remus about the parchment in front of her. The Marauders – her father and his friends, had made this intricate object, and she wanted to know everything about it. It seemed like fate wanted her to understand why Remus brought up the Marauders that morning. "How did you two get this?"
"You know who made this?" Fred asked insistently.
"I do," she said, staring at the map some more. "Very well, unfortunately. Or fortunately. Depends on the day, really." Her brow furrowed slightly as she noticed passages that she had never seen before. Suddenly it made sense to her how Remus seemed to know so many different paths around the school. They had to have wandered the castle from top to bottom to make the map.
Curious to see if Remus had left their quarters after she left, she searched the map for the third floor. She sighed as she found his name now moved to the classroom. He appeared to be pacing as his dot moved from one end of the room and then to the other repeatedly.
When she finally pulled her eyes away from the map, Fred and George were looking at her in amazement. George, perhaps, with a slight adoration that made her flush. Did he like her, too? Merlin help her if she fell for George Weasley because the boy was a different sort of trouble that Draco wasn't.
"How do you know them?" George asked.
"How well do you know them?" Fred added.
"Can we meet them?"
"When can we meet them?"
Emma's eyes widened. "Uhm, well…I know two of the four, though I knew all of them at one point," she said, trying to figure out how much information she could divulge. "Of the two I do know, I know one much better than the other." Again, not a lie. "For meeting them? I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea. They're dangerous," she added, cringing inwardly. Not quite a lie, but a lie all the same. She couldn't exactly explain that one was only dangerous once a month and the other was dangerous only because people thought he was.
"Dangerous?" George scoffed. "They're brilliant!"
"They single-handedly got us through our entire Hogwarts career thus far," Fred said with an amused grin.
"How did you get it, though?" Emma asked again. "I didn't even know that this existed."
"Well, it's a brilliant tale," Fred said fondly.
"We were in our first year," George added.
"We ran into Filch, you see. We had just set off a Dungbomb, and it bothered Filch for some reason."
"So, he dragged us off to his office with his usual threats. You know them, right? Just the usual -"
"- detention -"
"- hanging upside down by your ankles -"
"- ah, yes, my personal favorite that one is -"
"- you're forgetting disembowelment, but anyway, we noticed a drawer labeled Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."
Emma gasped, peering down at the map. "You two nicked it from Filch's office?"
"How could we not?" George asked. "I set off another Dungbomb, Fred whipped open the drawer, and grabbed this."
"The Marauder's Map," Emma whispered. "This is…brilliant. I never – I had no idea!"
"Took us a while to figure out how to work it, too," Fred said, looking at the map fondly. He looked at George and hesitated for a moment. "We were planning on giving it to Harry."
Emma looked up at Fred and then over at George, eyes darting between the two brothers in confusion. "Why? I would never let this go."
"Well, he can't get into Hogsmeade, you see," George explained. "We thought it might be a good Christmas gift. We already know all of the paths in and out of the castle and the passageways by heart." He pointed to a spot that was near where they were, further along the corridor. "This passage right here leads all the way into Honeydukes basement. It's through the one-eyed crone's statue."
"It goes right into Honeydukes?" Emma's jaw fell open again. "You're kidding."
"Maybe you ought to give it a try," Fred said, waggling his brows. "Go on an adventure. You just give the statue a tap and say, 'Dissendium,' and it'll open right up."
"I think I'm just a touch adventured out, but perhaps another time. I'll have to have you two take me," Emma laughed. She looked down at the map, wanting to keep the map for herself out of selfishness, but it made more sense for Harry to have it. She brushed her fingers over Prongs's name and sighed. Harry deserved it. She at least had the real Moony, and perhaps she had Padfoot, as well. "I think giving it to Harry is a wonderful idea. I think they would all like him to have it."
George was openly gaping at her now. "You know them that well?"
"Like I said, I know two of them," she said, handing the map back. "I can safely say that they would most likely want him to have it."
"Mischief managed," Fred murmured, tapping his wand to the parchment. The inky lines wiped themselves away, and Emma stared in amazement.
"Brilliant," she breathed. Once again, she found herself having a newfound appreciation for Remus. Her father was incredible, but why did he hide this part of himself? This was his Hogwarts legacy, and it was amazing. She knew Remus was talented, and the magic involved in creating the map was impressive. It was no wonder he was so good at charms work – there had to be at least half a dozen custom charms used to create the map.
Did he keep her from knowing about the Marauders so that she wasn't tempted to follow in his footsteps? That had to be why he brought up the Marauders that morning. He had to have realized that she already was, even without knowing the full story of who they all really were. It gave her a thrill that she could possibly be as brilliant as her father one day.
"We think so," Fred said with a grin. "Right, then. I'm going to see if I can go track down Harry. I'll see you in a few, Georgie." Fred looked over at George and gave him a wink before walking away.
Emma had never been alone with George quite like this before, and she immediately blushed.
"Uhm," George said, suddenly nervous, "were you heading into the village? Or were you just planning on just walking the grounds?"
"Oh, I'm going into Hogsmeade, but just for a bit," Emma said quietly, hoping that the cold air of the castle would be enough to explain her pink cheeks. "Have something that I need to take care of at Honeydukes, and I have to come straight back."
"Right, right," George said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Erm, do you think you'd maybe want to go together?"
Emma did, in fact, want to go with George to Hogsmeade, but she didn't have a lot of time to waste. "I want to," she said quietly, "I really, really want to, but I can't. Not this time." She grimaced at the look on George's face. "It has nothing to do with you. It's just Dad's a little worried about me going, and I don't want to keep him waiting. I told him I'd only be there an hour."
"Oh, right," George said, his face brightening up. "Because of last time. Well, perhaps the next trip then."
"Yeah, perhaps," Emma said with a grin. "I really should go, though, not much time, you know. Go help Fred find Harry." Emma started to leave the classroom before turning back to look at George. She gave a startled gasp as he stopped short to not walk into her. They were very close. "Uhm, are you staying for the holiday or going home?" Emma managed to choke out.
"I'm going home," George said quietly. "But Ron's staying."
"Right, Dad told me that," Emma blushed. "Uhm, if I don't see you before you leave, Happy Christmas, George."
"Happy Christmas, Emma," George said as Emma practically ran out of the room.
Emma could scarcely breathe by the time she made it to Hogsmeade. Fueled by her nerves, she found herself making it to the snow-covered village far quicker than she planned. A chill ran up her spine the moment she stepped foot into the village.
Fenrir was there again, and she knew it.
Taking a deep breath, Emma squared her shoulders and stepped further into the High Street. It wasn't as full yet as stores were just opening, and Emma was okay with that. She had an hour, and she was taking it – Fenrir Greyback be damned. If Fenrir was telling the truth, then there was no reason for her to be scared of him. If she had been okay with him growing up, then she could be fine with him now.
Emma had only intended to visit Honeydukes and leave, but she found herself walking past the bright pink candy store. She was going to enjoy more than just Honeydukes, even if it was a single store. Emma had the Portkey in her pocket if she needed it, but she was determined to hold her ground this time.
She felt his intense stare well before she saw him. She was determined to go to the bookstore this time, and the wide berth she was given told her to be prepared. He was following her. There was no doubt in her mind that was the case as she took in the furtive glances of other students. Emma felt herself begin to tremble, but she shook herself out to keep her nerves at bay. She wasn't going to give Fenrir a chance to trap her again.
His presence was looming closer, and Emma caught his reflection in the shiny windows she walked by. He was a decent length behind her but was getting closer. She dared to look over her shoulder to see how close he actually was and startled, not at all expecting him to be only several feet away. He cleared the space between them far quicker than she thought he would. Instead of scaring her, it made her angry.
"God damn it, what the fuck do you want, Fenrir?" Emma snapped, whirling around to glare at the werewolf who immediately stopped in his tracks. She was surprised at herself and slightly taken aback that he had stopped so suddenly, his eyebrows raising. Clearly, he didn't expect her reaction either. They stared at each other, and the people surrounding them stared as well before Fenrir turned to growl at them. It was almost funny how quickly people scattered, and she might have laughed, but then he turned to look back at her.
Fenrir studied her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that how you're going to greet me, Rabbit?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Emma scoffed, mirroring his stance. "I wasn't aware that we exchanged pleasantries, especially after last time. I thought we just cut to the chase, almost literally."
Emma was confused when Fenrir started to laugh. An honest to God, barking laugh that sounded absolutely bizarre to hear because it sounded wrong. He was clearly insane, and she felt her nose practically twitch with her aggravation – just like a damned rabbit. She wasn't dealing with him. He wasn't scary; he was infuriating, and she felt her anger bubble underneath the surface of her skin. She didn't want to use her wand to hex him; she wanted to rip out his cold, scheming, hungry eyes. With a derisive breath, Emma turned back around and practically stomped to Tomes and Scrolls. She dared Fenrir to follow her.
Despite having the werewolf in tow, Emma allowed herself to walk slower past Scrivenshaft's. That same beautiful quill was still in the window, and she wanted it. Perhaps she would treat herself to it as she admired the iridescent color shift in the feather. Her eyes lingered on it a little longer, imagining herself in class with the prettiest quill out of everyone in the room. But then she noticed Fenrir in the reflection of the window, and she huffed out her annoyance, making her way to the bookstore instead.
The twinkling sound of the bell as she entered the shop and the smell of old books made her relax visibly. It was as if a Calming Draught was swept through her, or a Draught of Peace which was relaxing instead of numbing.
The shop was small, with only a few aisles on the bottom floor and an apparent expansive second floor, but she loved it. She gave the shopkeeper, an elderly witch not much taller than her, a small wave and walked down one of the aisles, looking curiously through the books. The selection was similar to Flourish and Blotts, but there were far more educational books. Emma walked down another aisle and gasped as she stepped foot into a selection of new wizarding fiction books. Remus had a few fiction books from wizarding authors, but nowhere near as many as his Muggle selection.
She was about to pick up the first book she saw, but then she heard the twinkle of the door opening, and she waited. The shopkeeper gave a yelp, but then she listened to the growl that followed, and Emma groaned. The twinkling sounds that followed told her that the few people in the store were leaving quickly. Fenrir followed her after all.
Once again, Emma knew that no one would come to her aid, but she didn't care. She didn't need saving this time, and she didn't want the poor woman to try and help. That anger she felt was simmering just underneath the surface, and she almost dared Fenrir to provoke her.
It didn't take long for him to find her several aisles over. The store was too small to get lost in, and Emma just pressed her forehead up against the bookshelf, waiting and listening to Fenrir's low growls. Did he ever stop growling? He was like a cat with an incessant rumbling from his chest like a purr that didn't quite move with his breathing – it was just there at all times.
"Go away," Emma said with a growl of her own. She tapped her head on the shelf in aggravation. "I don't want to deal with you today. I'm busy."
"Funny. You never used to tell me to go away when you were younger. In fact, you used to cry when I would leave because we had fun."
Emma turned her head to look at Fenrir, her face twisting with disgust. "I find that incredibly hard to believe. I was probably crying about how disgusting you are and the sheer relief you were leaving. How did you even know I was going to come to Hogsmeade again?"
"I didn't," Fenrir replied, "but I thought I would visit anyway. Just in case."
One of Fenrir's eyebrows arched as he looked through the shelves. He hummed to himself, eyes narrowed as he tried to find whatever book he was looking for. Fenrir suddenly picked up a book, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He turned it around to show Emma the cover, and she just stared at him, shrugging as if it were to make any sense. She had no idea what was so significant about the book, and she had read Remus's copy a few times. Fenrir let out a long-suffering sigh and flipped through the pages.
"You know, it's funny that Babbity Rabbity was your favorite story for me to read to you," Fenrir said slowly, watching Emma closely. "Although The Fountain of Fair Fortune was always a close second." He watched her a moment longer before starting to read, "High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune. Once a year, between the hours of sunrise and sunset on the longest day, a single unfortunate was given the chance to fight their way to the Fountain, bathe in its waters and receive Fair Fortune for evermore."
"Stop it," Emma said quietly, straightening up quickly in alarm. It was alarming at how hard the words suddenly hit her as if someone had read them to her a million times. "Don't keep reading." She ripped the book out of his hands to read the next few lines and paled at the realization that when she read it at home, she heard Fenrir's voice reading it to her. He wasn't lying after all, but why didn't she remember that?
"It appears that you can remember things."
"Barely," Emma muttered, closing the book and setting it back on the shelf. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to understand. "I think I'm more impressed that you can read at all, honestly." She stared at Fenrir as he laughed again, and she finally bothered to take in his appearance.
He was wearing a red shirt this time, one that actually fit him correctly, she noticed, but had the same overcoat, pants, and boots. It was more impressive that he seemed to at least be cleaner than last time. She didn't smell him from where she stood, and that was a miracle in itself. He wasn't trying to be threatening today, and that worried Emma more.
"What do you want? I'm sure you didn't follow me to read to me."
"No, I didn't. I have something for you. A gift."
"A gift?" Emma snorted. "I don't want a gift from you, Fenrir. Knowing you, your gift is probably you trying to bite me in the middle of the store." She turned to walk down the aisle to leave and groaned when she realized her only way out was past Fenrir. Emma heard him chuckle in amusement, and she looked over her shoulder to glare at him. "What's so funny?"
"The fact that you keep getting yourself trapped with me."
"Oh, yes, absolutely bloody hysterical," Emma snapped as she turned back around, arms crossed over her chest. "Move."
"Not until I give you what I have."
"Fenrir, I don't want whatever you have."
"You'll want this," he said, looking at his nails, sounding almost bored.
Emma was surprised by the sudden feral growl that rolled up her throat, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. That was new, and it seemed wrong coming from her. Fenrir's eyes lifted just a fraction, looking at her in amusement.
"Well, well, you are a wolf in sheep's clothing, after all," Fenrir said slowly. "Or a rabbit's clothing in your case." He regarded Emma for a moment with a smirk. "You're incredibly like your father, but that's the one thing that separates you from him. You know deep down that your wolf is waiting, and I think you're starting to let her out to play because you're not resisting her pull. He never learned to accept what he is and pays for it. You'll accept it when the day comes. In fact, I think you already have."
As much as Emma wanted to deny it, she couldn't. Fenrir could read her just as easily as Remus could, and that worried her. Fenrir knew her, and he knew her well. He knew that she would learn to adapt and accept her reality just like she had with everything else so far. But she wasn't going to give Fenrir the satisfaction of knowing that he was right by confirming it with her words.
Emma schooled her expression to look bored as she turned back to the shelves of books. If he was going to stay, then she would at least look and see what the store had to offer. As long as he kept his distance, she could tolerate his presence.
Each cover offered something different, something new, but Emma knew to never judge a book by its cover. She glanced over at Fenrir, who remained where he stood. He was waiting for her to make the next move as if he had gone through this with her a million times.
"You're still here," Emma noted with a slight huff, not bothering to lift her gaze from the book she had in her hand. Wizarding books were weird, she mused as she read the book's description. So many books were similar to Muggle fairytales, but the books were very anti-Muggle, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn't sure she would enjoy the books as much as she thought.
"I already told you. I'm not leaving until you take what I have, but you've waited too long. Now you're not getting everything."
Emma looked at Fenrir with a sneer on her face, but it faltered as she looked at the folder in his hand. It was similar to the one Remus had, like her file from St. Mungo's, but this was plainer. Older, worn as if it had been moved hundreds of times. It was dirty but looked as though it at least preserved its contents.
"What is that?" Emma forced herself to ask, unable to pull her gaze from the folder.
"The answers to the missing decade of your life," he said as he opened the folder, flipping through what appeared to be expanses of paper. "You have a choice. You get one thing from here."
Emma immediately shook her head. "There's nothing in there that they haven't found already," Emma said, hoping desperately that she was calling Fenrir's bluff. She didn't want to be curious. There wasn't anything new in that folder, she was sure of it, and she picked up a new book on the shelf to inspect.
Fenrir hummed thoughtfully. "Tell me something – are you in possession of a diary, Rabbit?"
"I have several," Emma said with a shrug, not looking up. It wasn't a lie. She had received several diaries that she barely touched, keeping them in the event she decided to write in them.
"One that isn't yours? That's possibly missing entries?"
She froze – she couldn't help herself. How could he know about that? Emma dragged her gaze from the book in her hand slowly to see Fenrir holding a stack of pages that were far too familiar. It was the back of the page – completely blank so she couldn't see, but she knew. Those were the pages missing from her mother's diary. She reluctantly met his eyes, and she knew he had her captivated – hook, line, and sinker.
"How do you have that?" Emma asked, setting the book aside and turning fully to look at Fenrir.
"Everything in this folder was found with you," Fenrir said simply. "Well, nearly everything. A few things have been added over the years."
"But how do you, of all people, have it."
Fenrir's lips pulled back into his signature twisted, sharp-toothed smile. "I told you, Rabbit. Word travels fast, and I have my sources. I'm surprised that you haven't worked it out for yourself yet."
"What does that even mean, Fenrir?"
"It means that I hope I get to see your face when you finally figure it out," Fenrir smiled. "I hope that I get to see your heart break the moment when you realize what's been happening right under your nose this entire time."
Emma scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. There was the Fenrir she knew, saying absolute nonsense just to try and scare her. It wasn't going to work this time, though.
"Typical," Emma muttered. "All right then, fine – what are my other choices?"
It seemed impossible that Fenrir's smile could grow any wider, but it did. He placed the stack of pages back into the folder and flipped through. "There's paperwork in here that I'm sure you'd be interested in seeing. A letter, a long one from what it appears…and my personal favorite - the photographs."
"Photos? Of what?"
"You growing up – the photographs that weren't given to your father from the file they gave him when you left the hovel. There are even a few that would answer questions."
Emma hated that Fenrir seemed to know her so well. "I get one thing?" she asked, her eyes flicking between both of his. There was an uncharacteristic amusement to his eyes that Emma felt she recognized in him. It was more familiar than when he was cold and aloof, and then she understood why. They had done this before at some point in time. He was playing a game with her. He wanted her to ask for more, but she knew better.
"One. Single. Thing," he said slowly. "Because you waited too long."
"Don't be stupid," Emma said, clearing her throat to hold back the growl that wanted to come back. "You never would have given me the whole thing."
Fenrir shrugged. "Perhaps you're right, but you'll never know now, will you? What'll it be, Rabbit?"
She wanted all of it, but she wasn't begging. The paperwork she could care less about, though she was sure it had information she needed. The letter was intriguing, as were the photographs, but what would either of them hold? That left the diary pages, and her mother was very thorough in her entries.
"Let me see the first line of the first page of the diary. I need to make sure it's real," Emma insisted. "Your hands are big enough to cover the rest of the page. I can't make a decision until I see the first line."
For a moment, Emma was sure that Fenrir was going to deny her that request, but he slowly picked up a page, closed the folder, and tucked it under his arm. He held the page out, making sure to cover every line except for the first, but held it so that Emma was forced to get closer to him.
Rolling her eyes, Emma took several steps forward to read the page. It took everything she had to not immediately gasp at seeing her mother's writing.
'Sirius asked me to the absolute strangest thing of me today. He asked me –'
And that was it. That was all she had to go off of, and she knew that was what she needed.
"The diary pages. I need the pages – every single one," Emma said quickly, holding her hands out desperately, begging for what she was sure to answer questions. She didn't want to beg, but she needed the diary entries. "That counts as one thing because they're all from the same book!"
"A shame that you chose that of all things," Fenrir sighed, handing Emma the single page and reaching under his arm to pull the folder back out. He carefully gathered the rest of the entries. "The photographs were much more interesting."
Emma snatched the stack of papers from Fenrir's hands and held them close to her chest, worried he would take them back. She watched as he tucked the folder somewhere inside his coat, and Emma suddenly felt like a caged animal again. There was a weird part of her that wanted to growl at him again, and she hated it. Was this one of the changes Elara told her to look out for? She wasn't sure that she liked it.
"I have something else for you," he said, reaching into the front pocket of his coat. Emma watched carefully and wasn't at all expecting what he pulled out next.
In Fenrir's disturbingly clawed hand was the quill she had been staring at, sitting in a shiny black, windowed box and tied with a yellow bow. The damned thing was wrapped in Hufflepuff colors. Emma was speechless. Was that why it took him so long to get to the bookstore? Was he intimidating the poor shopkeeper to give him the quill? As if he knew her thoughts, he reached back into his pocket and pulled out a pouch, shaking it so that she heard the jingling of coins.
"Am I just going to hold it all day, or are you going to take it?" Fenrir asked, almost impatiently. "I got it for you, Rabbit. You were looking at it last time, and I saw you looking at it again. Hard to miss with how hard you were staring at it," he said with a low chuckle.
Was this like shaking hands with a Slytherin? Emma stared at the box, wanting to take it but worrying that she was agreeing to something if she did. What would Remus say if she took it? What was Remus going to say when he knew about any of this?
Fenrir was apparently tired of waiting for Emma to make a decision and took matters into his own hands. He grabbed onto her hand, ignoring her yelp of surprise, deposited the box in her palm, and closed her fingers around it.
"It's yours," Fenrir said slowly, his hand lingering on hers a touch too long before he let go. "I got it for you. Merry Christmas." He stared at her for a moment, bending low to be eye level with her. "You know me, Rabbit, don't forget that. Whatever your father tells you about me is what he wants you to think. I'm not entirely the monster everyone makes me out to be."
Emma watched in pure confusion as Fenrir finally started to leave. She swallowed hard, trying to understand what just happened and why this encounter was much different than the last.
She reluctantly went to stick the box in her pocket and huffed out a laugh as she felt parchment beneath her fingers. Emma turned the box over to see a receipt tucked underneath the ribbon. She was sure that he had made the poor worker give him the quill, but he had actually paid for it.
Emma stuffed the diary pages into the inside pocket of her coat, next to her wand. She made to leave but walked straight into Fenrir instead. She thought he'd left, but she realized she never heard the bell of the door opening and closing.
Fenrir stared down at her, and she backed up a few paces, but only so she could actually look at him. He studied her closely as if he were sizing her up for the future. Fenrir said nothing as he reached back into his coat, a move that made Emma nervous, but he only pulled the folder back out. "It wouldn't be right to give you a gift but not give one to my Pup," Fenrir said, pulling out what a photograph. "Tell him Merry Christmas from me," he added, handing the picture to Emma and finally departing the store.
Emma could only watch Fenrir from inside the store, her eyes wide.
"Oh, Merlin!" the shopkeeper shouted. "Are you all right, Miss? Oh, Merlin…Greyback! Of all the monsters in the world! A werewolf! In my shop! I'm so sorry – I would have called someone but –"
"I-I'm fine," Emma stammered, looking at the poor witch who looked petrified. "Really, it's fine. You did the right thing. He's…I don't know what he is." She deflated slightly as Fenrir was finally out of her view.
"Anything – absolutely anything you want – free!" The woman said, gesturing to the entire shop.
"No, that's not necessary," Emma said quickly. "I, erm…thank you, but there's somewhere else I need to be."
Emma quickly fled the shop and breathed out a sigh of relief when the atmosphere finally felt all right. She could breathe. As much as she wanted to finally enjoy the village, one look at the clock told her she had spent far too much time in the bookshop with Fenrir. She walked quickly back up the street towards Honeydukes, the photograph still in hand. Emma turned her head as she passed Scrivenshaft's, and sure enough, the very quill she had been looking at had disappeared. She wasn't even sure what the quill was, didn't bother to look at the receipt, but that wasn't her concern. It was hers, and Emma wasn't sure how to feel about it. Would she even want to use it now?
The smell of fresh chocolate and sugar hit Emma's nose hard the closer she got to Honeydukes. It seemed that the snow and the cold air was pulling the warm smells out of the shop, and even the air smelled sweet. She felt victorious, even though Fenrir hadn't been threatening at all. She had won, in a way, but Emma wondered to what cost as she finally looked at the photo in her hand.
Her breath came out in a sharp wheeze as she stared at it. Fenrir had told her the truth.
At the children's home, when they were lucky, one of the workers would bring them over to Rowntree park to play. It was a place she frequented just on her own on her personal secret excursions just because she liked to sit by the river. Whenever they went to the park, photos were taken to give to prospective parents to show that their upbringing wasn't terrible. It was a lie, a façade they showed to make it seem as though they were brought up like normal children.
It was a Muggle photo, of course, but she could still remember the day. She was either eight or nine, dressed in her pathetically shabby clothes from the children's home. It might have been when school had just started again, she wasn't entirely sure. There was something odd about herself in the photo, but she couldn't figure out exactly what. She was sitting on a swing with what appeared to be one of the more genuine smiles of her youth, but that wasn't what she was focused on.
Emma staggered a few steps back from the candy store, not caring how many people she stumbled into. It seemed impossible for this photo to exist, for this exact moment to be immortalized in photographic evidence, though she knew that it wasn't. It was the exact reason she had even bothered to go into Hogsmeade.
Just behind her, sitting on the nearby bench was Remus reading. But that wasn't what left her floored. It was the book that he held in his hands – the same book that had jogged her memory that morning.
In Remus's hands was a copy of War and Peace - the very same worn copy that was sitting in her room, given to her by a very kind man years ago. The very same man who just so happened to be her father.
A/N: Sorry, the big bad wolf had to come back.
Hi, Lu! Thank you for another review. :) Remus being Remus to punish Emma was definitely something that made sense to me. He absolutely loves Emma and as mad as she might make him, he's definitely always going to help her. He might not be happy about it, but he takes care of the people he loves. I hope you enjoyed this chapter~ :D