tw: Mild? Fenrir is a warning of himself (but also not really), Jude is 100% a warning of himself
It had been nearly a month since Emma's last nightmare, and it made her embarrassed to sit up quickly in bed with a sharp, gasping breath. Whatever her nightmare was had scared her in a way that she immediately forgot what it was in her frantic search of the room. Her eyes flicked over to the door, half expecting Jude to be there, but finding it closed, she found herself looking for Fenrir. That was something she never thought she would ever do, but he was familiar.
He was watching her from the window seat where he was smoking again. His forehead was wrinkled as he studied her in the moonlight. It was the first time Emma had ever seen him look at all exhausted, and she wondered if he had just gotten up. Emma felt her face heat up when she realized he wasn't wearing a shirt and was only in a pair of shorts, and she quickly looked away.
Taking a deep breath, Emma made sure Figaro wasn't next to her and flopped back on her mattress. What was her dream even about, and why did it make her heart race so quickly? Her heart was beating hard in her chest and was making her sick from her nerves.
"You all right over there?" Fenrir asked.
"Yes," Emma choked out, wiping at her surprisingly wet eyes. "No. I don't know." She felt stupid as a sob threatened to take hold, and she turned on her side, so her back was facing Fenrir. "I want Dad…"
Fenrir had taken to making more noise than he usually would to keep Emma more aware of where he was. It was appreciative but always made her nervous, especially when she wasn't facing him. She frowned when she heard him cross the room to the bed and sit down at the edge of her mattress. Emma startled slightly when she felt the warmth of his hand on her back, and she stiffened automatically.
"Relax," he murmured. "You're anxious for no reason right now. Let me help. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Your track record with that has been abysmal," Emma muttered.
"And have I hurt you since you've been here?"
"No." It had been quite the opposite.
"Then let me help."
Emma took a deep breath and nodded. She instinctively flinched as Fenrir's hand slipped under the back of her shirt, but he was patient and waited. When she forced herself to relax, Fenrir started to rub soothing circles on her back. His hand felt massive on her small frame, but the warmth that radiated from him was calming. It wasn't Remus, but it would do for now.
"Are you always this tense?" Fenrir asked as he rubbed the spot between her shoulder blades. "There is no reason for your muscles to be this tight."
"It's pretty normal, I think."
"Does your father not take care of this for you?"
"He does if I ask," Emma said quietly, "but I don't ask him often. I don't want to bother him. I usually just cuddle with him…" She grimaced as Fenrir paused what he was doing.
"He should know better," Fenrir said with a slight growl. "Roll onto your stomach. No bloody wonder you always look stiff – it's because you are. A cuddle isn't going to help with your muscles."
"Are you taking the mickey?" Emma asked, looking at Fenrir over her shoulder. "You can't be serious right now."
"You are terrible at taking care of yourself and even worse at asking for the things you want or need," Fenrir said firmly. "Roll. Over."
Emma felt positive that she had cleared several bingo boards in one fell swoop, but she obeyed. She rolled onto her stomach with a thinly veiled pout and rest her head on her arms. A sharp hiss escaped her lips as Fenrir managed to find a particularly sensitive spot on her back with his hands. He uttered a soft shush as he massaged her back, and Emma was trying to figure out how wrong the entire thing felt. She frowned as she remembered that it wasn't the first time Fenrir had given her a massage, and like a petulant child, she made a noise of displeasure. If she was having a particularly rough week and he was around after her dance class, he always made sure to work out her sore muscles. What a strange life she had lived.
"When was the last time your father did this for you?" he asked, ignoring Emma's whine as he worked out another knot.
"Dunno," she said. "Easter hols, maybe. Ow!"
"Merlin, if you stopped tensing up, this wouldn't hurt," he said, giving her a slight shake to remind her to relax.
"You…you went near my shoulder, and it made me nervous."
Fenrir sighed, pausing again. "Do you trust me?"
"Questionable."
"Bloody hell," he growled. "Just relax. It won't hurt."
Emma doubted that Fenrir going anywhere near the bite on her shoulder wouldn't hurt and braced herself for shooting pain. His hand slid over the bite, and when no pain came with it, she finally relaxed. She was sure that she would spend the rest of her life refusing to admit that what Fenrir was doing for her actually felt nice.
"Told you," he said as he dug his fingers into the muscles of her shoulder. It hurt, not with shooting pain, but with the slow burn of her muscles returning to where they should.
"How, though?" Emma asked.
"Our magic," Fenrir said simply as he slowly made his way to the back of her neck. "It's similar to when we're our true selves under the full moon. The initial transformation is painful, but our magic flows out to each other to ease the pain of the shift. Wolves aren't meant to be solitary creatures, even if they can survive alone. Our magic feeds off others of our kind; it's a give and take. This is where we're all equals."
"If we're all equals in our magic, how do werewolves like you become leaders?"
Fenrir's chuckle was low. "Finally admitting that you want to feel what it's like to be truly powerful?"
"It's curiosity," Emma corrected.
"You keep telling yourself that. I'll keep your secret safe," Fenrir chuckled. "It depends, but you can't be afraid to take what you want. It's not something I can easily explain – not for my case, at least. There's a reason why I have my reputation, after all. The less you care about what others think, the better."
"I don't imagine you make a lot of friends that way."
"Friends are useless. Your pack is your family, and that's what matters at the end of the day. You're there for your pack, and your pack is there for you."
"But that also sounds lonely – not having friends."
"Family is better, no? I would think you, of all people, would feel that way."
Emma wondered if she could argue that point, but she wasn't sure if she could. Family was everything to her, and at the end of the day, if she had to pick, she would choose her family over friends. She hated when Fenrir made valid points, but she also saw the appeal of having friends. Who was to say that friends couldn't be considered a form of chosen family in the way that werewolves could find an innate bond in a pack? She had a lot to research.
"Why are you telling me all of this now when you wouldn't tell me a month ago?"
Fenrir paused what he was doing and bent low, waiting for Emma to turn her head to look at him. Emma had grown used to his dark gaze, angry and dangerous, that it nearly startled her to see the rare glimpse of warmth his eyes held.
"Because you made your decision already, even if you don't want to admit it just yet," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "But I told you I would give you until your birthday, and I keep my word. If I'm wrong, then that's on me, and I'll cut my losses, but I have a feeling I'm going to be very pleased with you."
He let his words hang out in the open for a long moment before he straightened up. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better," Emma muttered, stretching her arms out as far as she could in front of her. "Thank you."
Fenrir grunted in response as he lowered Emma's shirt. He started to stand as Emma rolled back on her side, and she felt an overwhelming sense of panic.
"Fenrir, wait," she said quickly, looking over her shoulder at Fenrir. She opened her mouth, a part of her wanting to ask him to stay. The wolfish side of her craved having another werewolf close, but the very human and very rational side of her said she was mental. She shouldn't want Fenrir close by, but there was safety in having him near. Emma couldn't convince herself to ask for what she wanted – it felt like such an ultimate betrayal.
Fenrir searched her face and then sighed. "Move over," he said, giving Emma a gentle shove. She moved over, making sure that she wasn't facing him, and he slipped into the space next to her. "You're learning," he added as he figured out how to get himself comfortable.
"What do you mean?" Emma asked, flipping over to face Fenrir. He turned his head to look at her.
"All you have to do is ask."
"I didn't ask, though."
"You did," he said. "Turn back around. I have a feeling you could talk all night if I let you. If you're not facing me, you'll actually sleep."
Emma let out a long, dramatic sigh and turned back over. He wasn't wrong. She reached out for Patches and Bee and curled herself around both stuffed animals, pulling her blanket up high. She almost asked if Fenrir needed a blanket, but Remus rarely ever used one in the summer, and it suddenly felt stupid to ask. She felt herself rapidly getting lost in thought. When Fenrir started to rub her back again, Emma didn't automatically flinch and just let it happen.
"Sleep fy lleuad bach," Fenrir said with a yawn. "Rest. I'm not leaving you."
Oh, that made her heart ache painfully, wanting to have her father close. It took Emma a little longer to settle, but if she finally relaxed around Fenrir long enough to close her eyes and sleep, no one was there to witness it. She could pretend that she wasn't half-werewolf and that her life wasn't a complete jumbled mess. She could pretend that she wouldn't feel guilty in the morning and that the entire night didn't happen. Even better, she could pretend that she wasn't at all like her father, victim to her bitter thoughts and slow descent into self-loathing. If nobody was there to see it, it never happened. Nobody needed to know.
Emma should have known that her time before the full was going too easy. She had never gone so long without having to struggle through it before. It was the first time she had been able to partially forget about her condition and live almost normally. With Fenrir around, she didn't worry about Jude, and she was more than willing to accept how overbearing he could be. All she had to do was make it to next Friday when she could go home. Certain battles weren't worth fighting, and her safety was more important – she would do whatever it took to survive.
The dawning realization of how different she felt made her more conflicted than usual, especially when she woke up with an explosive headache.
It was the type of headache that made her sick, waves of nausea rippling over her in a monsoon of blinding pain. She felt that she would be in for a rough day until Fenrir pulled her to sit sideways across his lap and held her close. The immediate relief made her lean against Fenrir, already feeling exhausted just from the sheer effort of waking up.
As she let her brain recalibrate itself, Emma slowly became aware of how awkward the entire situation was. This was something that Fenrir never did for her growing up, even when she had begged him when she was sick. It had stung when she was a child, craving the comfort of someone holding her close when she felt ill, and he refused. What made now so different that he was willing to do the things he previously wouldn't do for her?
Light shone from behind her eyelids, meaning it was daylight. However, Fenrir was still very much in a state of half-dress, and her cheek was resting against his very naked and hairy chest. It nearly made her laugh, but she was afraid laughing would bring back the pain. Not wanting to ruin things, she stayed quiet and graciously allowed Fenrir to massage her aching head. The moment the nausea went away, she would be fine, but she would take all the help she could get until then. Having to rely on Fenrir sat firmly on her long list of "I've Done Worse," and she had the excuse of not being of age just yet. To Fenrir, she was still just a pup, and she wasn't stupid enough to pretend that wasn't her bargaining chip.
"This is going to be a problem," Fenrir suddenly said.
Emma forced herself to try and open her eyes and winced at how bright out it really was. She looked at Fenrir through half-closed and pained eyes, silently asking for him to explain.
"I have to leave for a few days," he said gravely.
If it weren't for Fenrir's hold on her, Emma was sure her fear-filled anger would have been explosive. "Fenrir, I swear if this is one of your stupid bloody tests for me –"
"It's not," he said, running a hand through Emma's hair. "There was an incident in my pack that I need to take care of. I received an owl just before you got up if you don't believe me. It appears that some of my wolves find issue in where I've been spending my time."
"But days?"
"If all goes well, I can be back tonight, but realistically I can't say for certain. I can give you my word that I'll be back before the full moon on Sunday, but I can't guarantee if I'll be back sooner." Fenrir sighed, finding the wavy strands of her hair and running them between his fingers. "I felt much more confident in the idea of leaving you alone until you woke up. I don't have enough time to come up with a different plan to keep you safe."
That seemed so unlike Fenrir – he had plans for his plans, always several steps ahead. For him to have no idea what to do wasn't reassuring, and Emma wasn't entirely sure he was telling her the truth. He never let his guard down, but she didn't think he would put her in harm's way if it came to Jude. Fenrir was quick to let her get into trouble growing up, but something about Jude put him on edge. Anyone who could scare Fenrir was dangerous.
Fenrir pressed a tender kiss to Emma's forehead, and her stomach did a funny little flip. She didn't want to enjoy the gesture – if she was honest, she loved it. It soothed the part of her childhood where she wanted Fenrir's attention when he refused to give it to her.
Emma didn't want to think about it, and she rested her head on Fenrir's shoulder, trying to keep herself calm. She would have to go into things with a calm mind – any moment of distraction would be a problem. But her mind was suddenly focused elsewhere.
She had never really looked at Fenrir's body before, certainly not in the daylight. It was never something she was interested in, but the long scar that cut across his chest fascinated her. She had seen his muscles before, his shirts were often worn half-open in casual settings, but she had never really looked. Being up close to him like this gave her the rare opportunity to not feel strange about looking.
He seemed to have infinitely more scars over his torso than Remus did, all of varying sizes. There was a mixture of bite marks and thick scratches. Emma wondered just how many were inflicted by himself and how many were from fighting other werewolves. There were tattoos that she had never noticed before, and she wanted to ask questions, but it wasn't the right time. Her eyes finally settled on an ugly set of bites on his ribs.
"Are you only just now noticing?" Fenrir asked a touch of amusement in his voice. "It's not the first time I've been around you without a shirt."
"I've never bothered looking," Emma admitted. "That and it's mostly been at night. I'm not a wolf, Fenrir. I don't have your vision at night. On your ribs – is that from when you were turned?"
"It is."
"It looks like there was more than wolf."
"There was."
"And you survived?" Emma asked. "How?"
"That's a story for a different day," Fenrir said. He lifted Emma off his lap and deposited her back on the mattress. He crossed over to the sofa he usually slept on and pulled something off the side table. "Give me your left hand," he said, sitting back down on the mattress.
Emma eyed Fenrir suspiciously but did as he asked. "This feels an awful lot like you're about to propose to me," she said. "Not like I know what that would even be like, but I imagine it's this awkward."
Fenrir snorted, his lips twisting up into a smile. "Well, depending on how you want to look at this…" he muttered as he slipped a ring onto her finger. "This will keep my magic tied to yours for the time being, so you won't be completely miserable while I'm away," Fenrir explained, giving Emma a lopsided grin. He grabbed his wand and tapped it to the band so that it shrunk to fit. "Consider it the werewolf equivalent of marriage."
"Oh, excellent," Emma said dryly. "Because being an underage bride is exactly what I planned for my summer."
"Not a child for very long," Fenrir said pointedly as he stood up once more. "Are you still feeling all right?"
Emma shifted her blanket up over her shoulders, pulling Figaro close as the kitten jumped onto the bed next to her. "Yes," she said quietly. "Still a bit nauseous, though."
"That will pass," Fenrir said, tugging on his shirt and collecting his things. "Stay in here for the day and relax – have a bath all day for all I care. Take advantage of the house-elf. I'll make sure that everything else is taken care of for you – don't take Snape's Wolfsbane. Don't you dare consider getting up to make it, either. I'll make sure you and your father get a quality potion. Do not leave this room – you're not going to dance class today."
Watching Fenrir prepare Figaro's breakfast made Emma start to grin, but she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She didn't mind Fenrir like this when he wasn't letting the wolf take over. This was how she grew up knowing Fenrir – as normal as he could be. He was always scary to her, but in a stern but loving parent way, like McGonagall. She hated it.
Emma hated it even more when Fenrir walked back over to her to press another tender kiss to her forehead. Figaro abandoned her lap to go eat, and Emma felt oddly exposed without holding the kitten. Fenrir reached over to the nightstand to place Emma's wand next to her.
"It goes without saying, but keep your wand on you at all times and don't take off my ring," Fenrir said, lifting Emma's face to look at him. "If Jude comes anywhere near you, give him hell. I expect you in one piece when I return."
It was the closest Emma would ever get to hearing Fenrir admit that he loved her.
Staying in her room all day was a dull prospect, and Emma had no idea how empty it would feel without someone else's presence. Other than the first few weeks at her grandfather's, she hadn't been left alone for long the entire summer. If she didn't have Figaro, Emma swore she would have gone spare.
Mitzy brought Emma a very filling breakfast, clearly made to Fenrir's standards if the amount of meat was of any indication. It was the sort of meal that Emma would have laughed over with Remus like they had done before each full moon. Emma usually shared a lighter breakfast with her father until the full moon came around, and they both gave in to a more carnivorous diet. However, there was an addition to her breakfast that gave her pause – cinnamon sugar toast. That created a deep ache in her chest, and she immediately pulled out her notebook to write to Remus. There was a lot she needed to tell him now that Fenrir wasn't there to interrupt her.
When Emma finished eating, she wasn't entirely surprised to find Mitzy bringing her a dose of Wolfsbane. The brew came in a rippled, light blue bottle, giving the potion an almost purple hue. It was an extravagant bottle for a potion, and Emma wondered just who Fenrir used for a potioneer. There was no reason for the potion to be held in something so flashy, even if it made it look pretty.
Emma's idea of not taking the potion was quickly thwarted when Mitzy wasn't leaving the room.
"Mister Greyback said I am not to be leaving until Miss Emma drinks the potion," Mitzy said in her high-pitched squeak.
Bastard, Emma thought to herself as she downed the potion, her face twisting at the taste. It was fascinating that Fenrir would plan for that but not consider the possibility of having to leave her alone. At least it told her that she was correct in the thought he was interested in turning her that moon like she thought. Fenrir Greyback was just as stubborn as her and her father – that was a dangerous prospect.
With nothing important to do, Emma decided to take Fenrir's advice and take a bath. If she had only a few days of being human, she might as well take advantage of her relative peace and the massive bathtub.
The bath Mitzy drew for her was possibly the most luxurious Emma had ever had. The wide claw-foot tub was filled with oils and fragrant bubbles that nearly overflowed over the edge. The bath's water was the perfect temperature, and Emma thought she would fall asleep. The baths she had at home were wonderful, but nothing compared to this one.
There was a lot that Emma had to think about, and she mulled over everything in turn. Her current situation was dangerous, no matter what way she looked at it. Jude was a threat, but Fenrir seemed to think there was more at play. He was hyper-vigilant in reminding her to be careful of who she trusted. The only other possible source of his worry was Persephone. Whenever she was around, Fenrir was careful with his words, keeping conversations to mundane things. He never said anything of note around Persephone, instead leaving that for when they would retreat to Emma's room for the night.
Emma had tried to pry several times, but Fenrir was adamant in not explaining.
"I would rather be wrong than be right," he said to her gruffly. "If you knew even half of the truth before you came here, you would be heartbroken."
She had tried to get Fenrir to expand on that thought, but he refused. "I would rather you be angry with me for not telling you than having you dwell on things you can never change," he said, his eyes pinning her with a piercing stare. "It's not something you had control over, and I know you'll blame yourself – I'm tired of watching you take the blame for others. Some things are best not knowing."
They had surprisingly talked about Remus a fair amount. She knew that Fenrir's views on Remus's time with the pack were how he perceived them, but it was fascinating to hear all the same. Fenrir was careful to keep the grittier details out, but out of everyone she had talked to, he was the most willing to be open with her.
"You know, if he just learned to accept what he was, he could run a pack of his own. I wouldn't have minded having him as an ally," Fenrir had said in between cigarettes. "That's where you two differ. I see a lot of him in you, but I've always said that you'll accept things easier. You grew up differently, and you're more accepting. You're afraid now, but I know that you won't be."
That had somehow led to their conversation shifting back to her, and the conversation was stuck in her head.
"Fenrir, I have a stupid question," she had said. She was curled up on her side in bed, petting Figaro, and she felt Fenrir's gaze fall on her.
"You haven't had a stupid question so far," he replied to her, his tone serious. "You're trying to learn and understand – that's not stupid."
"It feels stupid sometimes," Emma said with a sigh. "It's about Soleil. Sort of."
"And what is your sort of question about Soleil?"
"I know about the whole being able to talk to Soleil, or is it through Soleil? I still don't understand that part, not exactly," Emma admitted, scrunching up her nose as she tried to work through what she knew. "No, I'm the one who can talk through Soleil, but I have no idea how to do that. Anyway – if Soleil exists as…not quite a concept of my mind because I'm her, and she's me, does that mean she already has a physical form? To me, she just appears as a blur, but I don't know if that's me just imagining her. Like, do you know what she looks like even though she can't present herself in her physical form yet?"
Fenrir was quiet until Emma finally looked at him. "Yes," he had said.
"Really?" Emma asked, feeling slightly awe-struck by the idea. She would be asking Remus and Elara just to make sure that Fenrir was telling her the truth. "What does she look like?"
"Beautiful," Fenrir said simply. "Small, but that's where her strength is. Remember, your wolf is you, Emma. Don't be afraid of her. She – you – are beautiful."
The conversation had ended there as Fenrir insisted that she go to bed, but it left her wondering. Was she afraid of herself? He made her question herself in an entirely different way, challenged her to think critically. Like Remus, he never had anything bad to say about her, and even if he called her stupid, there was a fondness to it. He never truly meant that she was stupid, but that he found the way she looked past the obvious foolish. This version of Fenrir was precisely why she could be fine with him around, but he could change his mood quickly. She wasn't sure she could handle always having to walk on eggshells around him. Emma would deal with her current situation, but she wasn't sure what to do for the future.
Emma lifted her left hand out of the water to look at the ring on her finger. She had seen Fenrir wearing it a few times, startled to see him wearing jewelry at all, but like everything else about him, she didn't look closely. It was a slim band that she was sure was made of silver. The idea of it being silver made her giggle.
She had quickly picked up that silver jewelry amongst werewolves was like an inside joke. Werewolf myth was so steeped with the idea of silver being harmful, but it affected them no differently than anyone else. Even Remus found humor in the silver myth and was more than happy to bring Emma in on the joke. It was why she loved her pawprint bracelet so much – the entire bracelet was a joke of itself.
Emma slowly spun the ring around her finger, looking at all of the runes etched into the silver amongst the braided design. She had found Fenrir's name first, the easiest of the runes for her to understand, and shortly after the word "wolf." The others she was unsure about, and she planned to write them down to look them up. Curious to know exactly what would happen if she took off the ring, Emma did exactly that. She didn't think that it could genuinely be tied to Fenrir's magic, but she was sorely mistaken.
The moment the ring was off her finger, she nearly dropped it from the sudden return of her headache. She quickly shoved the ring back on her finger and sunk deep into the bubbles, closing her eyes tightly to wait for the pain to subside. Emma wondered if Fenrir would have any idea if she took the ring off and could practically hear him calling her "stupid girl," and she wouldn't blame him. Whatever charms placed on the ring clearly did exactly as Fenrir said, and she had no idea why she thought otherwise.
The moment Emma crawled back into bed and her head hit her pillow, she fell asleep. She wasn't entirely sure if she had any dreams, but she only managed a light sleep. When her door opened, Emma was sitting up right away, hand clutching her wand tightly.
"Hey," Persephone said softly. She grimaced, seeing Emma's wand in her hand. "Sorry, thought I'd come to check on you since no one's seen you all day. Fenrir said to leave you alone, but you know me."
Emma let out a sigh of relief, rubbed her eyes, and nodded. "Always have to come and bother me," Emma said, setting her wand down.
"Where's Fenrir, anyway?" Persephone asked, making soft noises at Figaro to draw the kitten closer.
"He had a few things to do, but he'll be back," Emma said.
Persephone nodded, gathering Figaro up into her hands. "You and Fenrir seem a lot closer than I thought you would be," she said. "It's almost like a view of what could have been. He's like the scary and intimidating version of Remus, except you look nothing like Fenrir."
"To be fair, I didn't look like Dad in the beginning either. Could you imagine, though? Me as Emma Greyback and not Emma Lupin," Emma said quietly. "Actually, do you think he would have let me keep the Lupin name? He mostly likes my dad."
"Maybe," Persephone said with a shrug. "I just…he's very protective of you."
"He's always been protective of me, except for when he attacked me, of course. That's a bit hard for me to work through, but it's all difficult. I'm ready to head back to Hogwarts just so I don't have to deal with the whole werewolf thing."
"Unless he turns you…"
"Unless he turns me, and currently, all signs point to yes."
"But you said you had a plan?"
Emma chuckled, shaking her head. "I don't think it'll work, though," Emma said. "When he comes back, Fenrir's only going to watch me make the potion, and I won't be able to sabotage it with him right there. I just need to avoid taking one dose, and that'll set off the chain of events to making me sick enough to avoid him biting me while transformed."
"You just need to miss one dose?" Persephone asked, an eyebrow lifting conspiratorially.
"Just one," Emma confirmed, looking at Persephone curiously.
"Well, who said you had to be the one to sabotage the potion?"
Emma straightened up and searched Persephone's face, a slow smile crossing her face. "I mean, no one said that, of course. It would be such a pity for me to set my dose to the side while bottling up the potion for Fenrir to sell and for my Dad to have."
On paper, it seemed like the perfect plan, even if it had its flaws. There was a strong possibility Fenrir would know that Emma had orchestrated, but doubt could easily be cast. Persephone had immunity from Ellis, and Fenrir wouldn't dare touch her. All there was to do was wait and see what would happen the next day.
Emma was disappointed when Fenrir didn't return around dinnertime. She was even more disappointed that Fenrir didn't return by the time she had gotten ready for bed. The room felt too big, and she felt lonely, but she didn't dare venture outside her door. It wasn't the right time for it.
Instead, Emma turned off all of her lights, sat in the window seat, and wrote to Remus under the moon's light with Figaro next to her. She told him of her fears for the full, and he wrote back reassuring words that made her feel a little better. It wasn't like at the children's home where he could try to keep her safe, and she was on her own.
'You know that I don't want that life for you, and I would give everything I have to get you out of there,' Remus wrote, not quite finishing his sentence. There was a long while before he continued on. 'You know my advice will always be the same – fight back and for as long as you can. If the worst comes to be, we'll figure it out like we always do. I love you fy nghariad bach – don't ever forget that."
Emma never would, but her final thought before going to sleep was that she wished Remus would be the one to turn her, not Fenrir. Maybe she would bring it up to him again if she somehow managed to come out of this full moon bite-free.
When Fenrir still hadn't returned by the morning, Emma felt like her younger self. She felt much better than the day before, but it seemed odd. Just as Emma stepped out of the bathroom, Mitzy popped into her room.
"Miss Emma has a note from Mister Greyback," Mitzy said, passing an envelope to Emma. "He said to be telling Miss Emma that he apologizes that he couldn't stay long."
"Thank you, Mitzy," Emma said politely, carefully opening the envelope and pulling out the parchment enclosed. She immediately flushed when the first line mentioned her taking the ring off, mention of "stupid girl" included – he knew right away. That was embarrassing. It was a generic note that said he needed more time before he could return and to try and enjoy herself in the meantime. He reiterated that he expected her in one piece when he finally returned. To her surprise, Fenrir also added a note to say if she had to attack, to hold back and not show Jude her full strength, and Emma sighed. She supposed that she could do that, but she hoped she didn't have to at all.
Emma was less than enthused when she walked into the kitchen to see Jude with everyone else.
"Oh, good morning, Emma!" Sage said brightly, immediately sweeping Emma into a hug and putting her in the seat furthest from Jude. "How are you feeling today, love? Fenrir said you were having a rather difficult go of it yesterday."
"I'm doing much better today, thank you," Emma said politely, eyes growing wide at the number of sausages Sage was adding to her plate. She bit back her grin, looking up at Caspian with amusement.
"Mum, I think Emma has enough," Caspian said, covering his face.
"I'll take some more, please!" Elijah piped up.
"Oh, Merlin's beard," Sage said, looking at what she had done. "I'm so sorry."
"It's quite all right," Emma smiled. "Honestly, it's one of the best things I could be having right now."
"What's with the ring?" Jude asked from the other side of the table, his face twisted in disgust.
"Pardon?" Emma asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.
"The ring," Jude said slowly as if she were stupid. "Are you marrying the beast? I know that's his."
"Oh, is it really?" Emma asked, feigning surprise. She hummed quietly to herself, looking at the ring on her hand. "Well, it's a lovely ring," she said. "Practical, really – he knows what I enjoy, the sweetheart. He proposed just the other night, got down on one knee and everything like a gentleman and all. We'll be getting married in Paris near the Louvre and honeymoon in Italy and spend plenty of time in Rome. Fenrir promised me a beautiful castle to live in when we return, and we'll have several litters of pups. I can't wait."
The looks on everyone's faces made the entire thing worth it. Persephone had walked in halfway through her story and was staring at Emma with wide eyes. Caspian and Elijah looked appalled, while Sage looked stunned. But nothing would compare to the matching looks of disgust on Jude and Ellis's faces. If Emma had her camera, she would take a photo because she wanted to remember it forever.
"I think I'm going to go be sick," Jude said, standing up and abandoning his breakfast. "Come on, Ellis. We have more important things to do right now."
"Dear Lord, Emma, he didn't really propose to you, did he?" Sage asked urgently when she felt Jude and Ellis were far enough away.
Emma burst into laughter, shaking her head. "No! But did you see his face? Absolutely brilliant!"
"Oh," Sage said, pressing a hand over her heart. "Oh, thank Merlin. I was trying to come up with every possible way to get you out of it if it were true."
"Then why do you have Fenrir's ring?" Persephone asked, finally sitting down.
"It's just a bit of magic to help me," Emma said with a shrug. "He would have to do a bit better than this if he were going to do anything of the sort. Although, if I ever said yes, please someone check me into St Mungo's because I clearly need the help."
It was somehow just the trick to keep Jude away from her for the rest of the day. As she made the Wolfsbane Potion, she debated whether or not to follow through on her plan. The temptation was there, but something told her to go through the process as usual. She didn't want to jeopardize the luck she was having with Fenrir and felt it would be better to go a different route. He was acting reasonably, and she was sure he would listen to her concerns.
Dinner went precisely as well as she would have hoped. Caspian and Elijah took Fenrir and Jude's usual seats forcing Jude to sit on the other side of the table and further away from Emma. When no one was looking, Emma gave Caspian's hand a tight squeeze in appreciation. Even though she had never talked to Caspian about Jude, he understood. Hufflepuffs stuck together no matter what. It made Emma understand the importance of what Fenrir was trying to tell her with the pack – she already lived that way, what difference did it make? Perhaps he really did know her decision before she had officially made it. She tried not to be disappointed when Fenrir still didn't return.
With or without the assistance of Fenrir's magic, Emma knew that the day before the full moon would be one of the worst. The next day would be miserable, of course, but the day before was a special type of Hell that she had to endure. It was always the day where Emma was fully prepared to beg to be bitten, Soleil howling loud in her mind. The words would sit on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be said, but she would never utter them aloud. Remus hated it, and Elara would only give her a sad smile and say that she couldn't do it. If Fenrir had bothered to show up that morning, she would have begged him. She never understood why it was always so much worse the day before, and no one had answers, but she forced herself to move forward.
Jude was overly attentive to every movement she made, and it didn't bode well for her. She knew enough to fight back if she needed to fight, but she wasn't sure that she could. Every part of her body was shaky and weak, and Jude was studying every move. It forced Emma to try and perk herself up as best as she could, needing to fall back into her old motto – never let them see you weak. She couldn't be anything less than strong.
Emma thought she was in the clear for the morning and was quietly working in the potion's lab. She was slowly starting to learn the house's layout even though she hadn't traveled out much. She was more concerned with staying out of the way, especially without Fenrir as a buffer.
Being in the potion's lab was a comfortable place for her. She felt at home among potion's ingredients and creating. Emma smiled slightly, thinking about the previous Christmas and Elara's comments over how messy she was while baking. She could never explain it but cooking and making potions seemed like two completely different worlds. So much about potion making was about precision, while cooking and baking could be fiddled with, and accuracy wasn't as needed. Of course, there were intricate recipes in cooking, but potions were magic, and some days Emma really loved magic.
She faltered slightly when the door opened, her blood running cold when Jude walked in instead of Fenrir. Emma's eyes narrowed as she watched him and frowned deeply as he leaned against one of the counters.
"What are you doing in here?" Emma asked, paying closer attention to what she was doing. She refused to let him be the reason why she missed a step.
"Wondering why you keep avoiding me," Jude drawled.
Emma's head snapped up and her lips twisted into a sneer. "You know, that would be a good question if I gave a shit about you," she snarled. "Don't you have another illness to fake?"
"There was no faking it."
"Jude, you really need to stop with your act."
"Don't call me by my first name," he said through gritted teeth.
"If you expect me to call you father, you've another thing coming," Emma scoffed, carefully stirring the potion. "Fenrir was more of a father than you ever were. Besides, it's not as though you have any real interest in me."
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"And that's supposed to make things better? I'm supposed to run to you and pretend that I want you in my life? It doesn't work like that."
"And yet you run to the beast after he made you uglier than you already were."
Emma glanced up from what she was doing. "Dad, Papa, and Fenrir think I'm beautiful," she shrugged. "That's enough."
"That's not saying much," Jude said lazily.
"Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror lately?" Emma laughed, taking a moment to give Jude a once over. "You pretend to be everything you're not. Perhaps you should get together with Snape – the amount of grease in your hair rivals his with all the product you insist on using." Emma leaned over the cauldron with an innocent smile. "And your nose is equally as horrid as his. I'm so bloody glad that was one of the first things that changed about me because I couldn't stand the beak I inherited from you."
"Oh, so you think you're so beautiful now, don't you?" Jude scoffed, his eyes darkening.
"I know I am," she shrugged. She didn't really feel that way, but Jude didn't need to know that. "And at least I don't pretend to be something I'm not."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Absolutely nothing," Emma said, cutting the heat to the cauldron. She frowned slightly, looking between Jude and the empty potion bottles and the cauldron. She didn't trust him not to do anything with it. Ordinarily, Emma wouldn't consider the possibility of showing off, but she pulled her wand out and levitated two bottles over. She could do the rest after she had her dose for the day, and she hoped it would make her day a little easier.
"Mitzy," Emma called out, finally no longer reacting at the crack of the elf's arrival. She handed the elf the two bottles. "You know what to do with these. Tell Dad hello for me."
With the crack of the elf's departure, Emma found herself in a conundrum. The cups were next to Jude, and she wasn't about to use magic to try and get them. She wasn't going to use more magic than she needed, though it was tempting.
"What are you waiting for?" Jude asked.
Emma frowned, already starting to get a read into the type of person he was. He was the type of person to duel dirty, and she wondered just how much of a fighter he was. She didn't anticipate that Jude had done too much dueling over the years, but she wasn't entirely sure what he did with Ellis during the day. Emma was glad that Jude wasn't a werewolf because her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she swore it would leap from her chest.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, scared her more than being stuck in a room with Jude. She could see his fingers practically itching to reach for his wand, and Emma already knew what he would strike with. He was still angry from the meeting at the Ministry, even if he had gotten Emma in the best possible place for whatever he planned. Could she be fast enough if he tried to attack? She trained with her father, and he was a skilled duelist, but she was arguably out of practice. The only reason she even managed with Fenrir was she had the element of surprise. Did she have enough energy to cast a silent disarming spell?
"You know, if I really wanted to, it would be effortless to have you arrested," Jude said with a longsuffering sigh.
"For what?" Emma spat out. "I haven't even done anything."
Jude gave a slight shrug. "I mean, you're not meant to be doing magic outside of school, so that's one offense," he said. "Would be a shame if you were expelled just for a levitation spell. I believe consorting with the mangy mutt could possibly be another charge – who knows what you two could be planning? I'm not too sure the Ministry – especially Umbridge – would be too pleased to hear that. And just think of what that could mean? The laws that would be passed? It would change a lot, no? Not that your kind need rights in the first place. You're all dogs, after all, and need to be put down."
"Ellis would have to arrest himself for harboring a known fugitive, then," Emma shrugged. "We all know Fenrir's been a wanted criminal for years."
"No one ever said anything about Greyback," Jude said. "I know there's more than one dog, and wouldn't St Mungo's be interested to know they've had one in their midst for years? I can almost guarantee they would put her down if they knew everything she's done. I suggest putting your wand away. You don't want any trouble, do you?"
A chill ran down Emma's spine. She expected Jude to go after Remus, she expected him to go after Fenrir, but she never expected for him to go after Elara. Emma knew the gravity of what Elara had been doing over the years and knew just how much theft she had done. Elara's need to help others extended into using whatever resources she could get, no matter what. As far as they were all concerned, it was a victimless crime as people received the proper care, but that wouldn't be the case in the Ministry's eyes. But how did Jude even know that?
Reluctantly, Emma placed her wand in the back pocket of her jeans. It wasn't ideal, but she could hopefully grab it quickly if she needed it.
"Ah, so the dog does know how to be obedient," Jude said. "What a surprise…"
Emma could just pass on taking the potion and just leave, but that still meant walking past Jude. If she made her way to the rest of the potion bottles, it would put more space between them, but they were glass, which was a problem. She could possibly cast a quick shield just in case, but she wasn't sure. Emma hoped that by not doing anything, it meant Fenrir would magically show up, but the effectiveness of the potion was going to deplete just sitting. Emma had no idea what she should do.
She ran her hands through her hair and ran them down her face. Her options were terrible, and Jude wasn't going anywhere. The only seemingly viable option was to try and pretend he wasn't there like she had done with Fenrir in the beginning. She slowly made her way over to the wall of bottles, careful to not have her back turned towards Jude. It was an awkward walk, but she needed to see what was coming.
Emma grabbed several bottles at once, and she thought she was somehow in the clear. She was beginning to think Jude was there just to make her nervous, but she refused to let her guard down. But then she did the stupidest thing she could possibly do – she let instinct take over at the worst possible time.
She had no idea how one thing led to another. A potion bottle began to fall off the shelf as she was readjusting the ones she already held. Just as she went to grab it, Jude had taken his opportunity to strike.
It had been years since she had felt the Cruciatus Curse, and somehow her mind had managed to forget how crippling it was. Every part of her body felt like it was lit up in white-hot flames. She felt as though she was being torn apart from the inside, knives stabbing her everywhere, even her bones. Emma had always thought that the wolfish side of her would help ease the assault of the curse, but she wasn't so lucky. Fenrir biting her was nothing compared to the pain she was experiencing, and then it was gone. At least most of it was. Emma didn't understand why her hands hurt so badly, and she forced her eyes open, panting hard through the residual shocks.
She shrunk back when she realized Jude was right in front of her. He grabbed her face hard, his fingers bruising as he squeezed her cheeks.
"You don't want to fuck with me, Lupin," he snarled. "You ruined everything the moment you were born, and I have been waiting for the moment I can finally get rid of you. You weren't even wanted – remember that. How you got that beast to like you, I have no idea, but I hope he ruins you."
Jude shoved her back roughly as he stood, and Emma flinched as he spit at her. Emma watched him shakily as he left. She couldn't make a sound as he knocked the cauldron full of Wolfsbane off its holder as he walked by, spilling its contents on the floor.
She was in danger, and Emma felt that all of them had it all wrong. Fenrir was right – he wasn't entirely the monster people made him out to be; Jude was.
When Emma called for Mitzy, she had no idea why she lied to the elf about the mess. It was stupid, she knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. Even worse was letting the elf try to fix her up as best as possible.
The potion bottles had shattered spectacularly, and Emma was much more worried about the idea of glass being left. The damage was bad enough from the Cruciatus, and she didn't need any other issues. She didn't even bother letting the elf heal her cuts – they would heal on their own.
Emma made her way back to her room as quickly as she could. She threw her bloodied clothes on the floor of the bathroom and washed herself off, trying to check herself over. Elf magic was excellent, but she wasn't sure if it worked differently with her. Not seeing anything visible, Emma got into her pajamas and climbed back into bed. She didn't want to move from where she was, and the only movement she made was to write to Remus. While she didn't tell Remus everything that happened, she made sure to tell him to warn Elara of what Jude said. She knew that she should tell him, but he didn't need to be even more worried before the full. Things had gotten much more personal, and it felt like everything around her was suddenly a target. Emma could tell him everything when she could finally go home – if she survived that long.
She wasn't entirely sure when she had fallen asleep, but she awoke to familiar and furious growls. Emma's eyes snapped open, her entire body tensing with the anxiety of Fenrir being there when she wasn't expecting him. The sky was just beginning to darken, and she wondered exactly what time it was.
Emma was equal parts relieved and terrified that he was back, but he was angry and holding her bloodied clothes that weren't cleaned up. It seemed questionable as if she had slipped back into old habits. Even worse, she knew her behavior was shifty – she usually held no issue holding his gaze, but she couldn't. She was ashamed of herself.
"What the fuck is this?" Fenrir growled, shaking her clothes in his fist. Emma thought Mitzy would have come around to get her laundry, but she wasn't that lucky. She flinched violently as his hand came up to turn her face to look at him, and he was quick to pull back. The growl that followed was deadly, and it sent a chill down Emma's spine. He was much slower about his actions, his touch featherlight as he lifted her face. "What the fuck did he do to you?"
Fenrir was demanding but patient with her as she stuttered out what had happened. She was proud of herself for not crying, but everything about her was shaky, and it was difficult to speak. Her throat felt raw, her voice beyond hoarse. If it weren't for Fenrir's gentle urging, Emma didn't think she would have managed to tell him. By the time she finished telling him what happened, Fenrir appeared eerily calm, but his eyes were dark. He combed his fingers through her hair, and he straightened up, looking like he was on a mission.
"I'm sure it goes without saying, but don't leave this room," he warned. "I'm casting a silencing charm, but I can't guarantee it'll hold. If you hear anything, ignore it. I think it's about time Jude finally learns a little lesson."
a/n: Happy belated Christmas/holidays! I meant to write that in the last chapter and then completely forgot.
Anyway - BAH. I knew there would be a warning for Jude at some point, but ya know...he's actual trash. He's like...I hate him. I know his motives behind everything he does, but also I HATE HIM. I thought I hated Fenrir, but Jude...Ooooooooh boy. There's a lot more to Judas than written so far.
Now, Fenrir...OH, FENRIR. That's all I'm going to say about that - take that how you will. Could mean I absolutely love him, could mean I absolutely hate him. Time will tell, eh? :)
I guess because the dynamic is coming out now rather than later, I'm going to admit something. I 100% have always had it in my head that Emma and Fenrir together radiate STRONG Jaskier and Geralt vibes from The Witcher. It was a very unintentional move on my part, but as their arc has evolved in the super hidden secret parts of my mind and my notes, it happened. Fenrir is still a terrible person, but when he's not terrible, they get along well enough. There's enough history there that Emma's comfortable not really giving a shit about what Fenrir thinks, and vice versa. However, PLEASE remember - Fenrir is NOT a nice person, and I want to make that very clear.
To all my late night readers, go to bed! I love you, good night! :)
Lucasjan - Good ol' Snivellus, while good, definitely does bare minimum where he can. I'm sure he takes pride in his potions, his old potions book was covered in notes, but that doesn't mean he put all of his effort into things he did.
ShardAura - giving Fenrir the capacity to have some sort of...decency? was one of my hardest decisions, but there's always a motive. I'll allow it because Fenrir's playing nice, but...Definitely have to laugh or else you'll cry (or in my case - do both anyway). Merry Christmas! I hope you had a happy holiday! :)