tw: Jude warning. Oh the joy. How did we go from a Fenrir warning to Jude? *sigh*

Emma was positively buzzing with excitement over going to the World Cup. She was apprehensive about attending, knowing what Fenrir wanted her to do, but she was excited.

It was a small miracle that she could sleep in, especially after the conversation Fenrir insisted on having with her. She thought he was going to insist on pestering her more about it, but even the most savage werewolf of all time eventually felt the after-effects of the moon. Luckily, she fell asleep quickly immediately after and woke up with a delight that she hadn't felt in ages.

She was woken up at half-past eleven by Persephone, who kept casting furtive glances over at Fenrir, seemingly asleep. Emma thought that Fenrir actually managed to sleep through something for one long moment, but then he growled. Emma and Persephone let out matching squawks of surprise, and Fenrir wore a lopsided grin. Fenrir was an absolute terror, and Emma hated that his little joke was funny, even just a little bit.

Emma had no idea how Fenrir never looked affected by the moon, especially when she looked so tragic. Fenrir looked tired, there was no doubt about that, but he looked nothing like how Emma did. If it weren't for very carefully applied makeup, Emma knew she would have looked very ill and very scary to anyone at the World Cup. She still couldn't believe that she was going at all!

She stared at herself in the mirror for a while in the bathroom mirror. She was torn between hating herself for her scars and then finding a mild appreciation for how she looked. She was going to be at war with herself for a very long time, but Luna's words crept into her mind, and she felt a little better. Emma had absolutely been on a very long adventure. While it seemed manageable as she made her way back into the world, she couldn't wait for it to be over. Next week her adventure would reach a stalling point as she returned to Hogwarts. It felt like the summer was at least twenty years long, and she was ready for it to be over.

Emma felt very much like a child with a very attentive parent. Remus was equally as careful, but Fenrir was decidedly more vigilant. Emma had to suppress her groan as she realized that Remus wouldn't be any better the moment she could return home long-term. She felt odd listening to Fenrir asking Sage questions about what the plans were for the night. Sage had decided not to attend the match and gave Emma her ticket, though Fenrir had managed to procure one for her. Since Ellis was working as part of the security detail, the children would be heading to the venue themselves. They all watched curiously when Sage, to be polite, mentioned that Fenrir should go since he had a ticket. His laugh was loud and echoing.

"If I dared set foot anywhere near the camps, they would try to kill me on site," Fenrir said. "Your husband might be working right now and would know better, but I'll pass." He ran an affectionate hand down the back of Emma's head, and she felt her face heat up. "I think it's about time that Emma has fun. She, ah, could do with a release…from the stress of her holiday."

Emma's face grew even hotter, and she was so grateful that no one questioned why she had turned so red. Emma turned her head slowly to look at Fenrir, a scowl on her face, but he only grinned. She decided he wasn't as funny as he thought he was. His humor was just as terrible as Remus's.

"Er, right. Emma, have you ever taken a Portkey?" Sage asked, looking between Emma and Fenrir curiously. Emma knew how odd things seemed considering their history, and she could only imagine what they all thought. Since she stayed in her room, no one knew what was going on.

Emma slowly turned back to Sage. "I've taken one," she said.

"Excellent," Sage said brightly. "The four of you will need to head out in twenty minutes to catch your Portkey. It's out by the coast, and it's best if you're early. You lot should all go pack your things if you haven't already – remember, it's just for one night." The sheepish grins on Caspian and Elijah's face said they had a lot to do.

"Come on," Fenrir said, gently gripping Emma underneath her elbow to pull her up from her chair. "I want to talk to you and want to make sure you're actually packed."

Emma slowly followed Fenrir back through the house. She still hadn't had a chance to wander, and she no longer felt the need to. Fenrir was with her at almost all times of the day, and if she was hoping to look for answers to her questions, it was pointless. For the most part, Fenrir was an open book for her. Almost all of the other things he wasn't answering she could find out on her own at Hogwarts. She had a very long list of things to research.

Fenrir was quick to shove a cigarette in his mouth the moment they stepped back into her room – their room? It might as well be their room since Fenrir didn't leave, and he wasn't planning on leaving her again.

Emma could admit that their arrangement wasn't terrible; they had their own spaces. The room was more than large enough, and they had established silent boundaries. She had the entire area surrounding the bed, he took the sofa and the small table nearby, and they shared the large table for meals and the desk. The armchair was hers when she wanted it, and when she felt like being annoying, she joined him on the sofa. She tried to keep her intrusions to when he was playing guitar as he seemed less likely to comment on it, and that's how Emma liked it. Her goal was to survive and if aligning herself temporarily with Fenrir was how she had to do it, then she would do it. Remus had reluctantly admitted that it was the best course of action, but he was more than itching to have her home. She wanted nothing more.

He grabbed Emma's bag, set it on top of the bed, and began to go through it. Fenrir let out a pleased grunt, which was no small feat considering how critical he could be. He expected perfection from her, and Emma had nothing better to do than try to meet that expectation. She wasn't stupid enough to believe that Fenrir's subtle and not-so-subtle comments weren't to try and continue what he started with her when she was younger.

"You've learned," Fenrir said as he walked over to the table near the sofa. He hauled his bag off the floor and pulled out two pouches. "I'm proud of you."

"Well, considering you forced me to repack no less than five times, it was hard not to learn," Emma huffed. It was single-handedly one of the most annoying things he had ever had her do. What started as a near-idle conversation on essentials she should always carry with her turned into a lesson on how to pack her things properly. Fenrir was appalled to hear how she packed her trunk and nearly went to look at what was left in her trunk until she mentioned Remus helped her pack. He shot her an annoyed look, crossed his arms, and commented about how he was considering talking to Remus about what he was teaching her. Emma could only roll her eyes. That wouldn't go well at all if it came to be.

Fenrir looked at her with an arched eyebrow, his default look for his lack of amusement with her. "You were terrible, and if you can't get to the things you need, then why bother packing at all?"

"It's better to have everything regardless of how it's packed," Emma said cheerily. "If it fits in the bag, then it's perfect packing as far as I'm concerned."

Fenrir shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking in a deep breath. Emma was always silently pleased with herself when she annoyed Fenrir. It was one of her favorite games to see just how far she could push him just because she could.

"These are for you," he said when he finally calmed enough, holding up the pouches.

"You have two pouches there," Emma said.

"No shit," Fenrir said, motioning for Emma to hold her hand out. He dropped one of the pouches in her hand, and Emma was alarmed at the weight of it in her hand. "The tent you'll need to go to is on the west side of the campground, field 7. It's a dark green tent, and you are to ask for Raoul," Fenrir explained.

"And how do I know it's the right dark green tent? I've seen enough tents in the store to know that it's a common color."

"Trust me, you'll know."

Emma cast Fenrir a dubious look as she weighed the bag in her hand. It was heavy, and she was almost curious to see just how much was in the pouch. Fenrir was staring at her intently just as he always did, and Emma decided it was better to not know. She tucked the pouch deep into her bag where she hoped Fenrir wouldn't complain about it.

"And what exactly do I do after I ask for Raoul?" she asked.

"Just tell him that I want all of the gold on Ireland tonight. He'll know what to do from there," Fenrir said gruffly. He motioned for Emma to hold her hand out again, and she let out a dramatic sigh. Fenrir pinned her with a hard stare, and Emma quickly adjusted her attitude as best as she could. Oops. "And this is for you," he said, dropping the pouch in her hand, "but I'm reconsidering it since you're being a brat today."

"Oh, excuse me for being happy today," Emma said, weighing the second pouch in her hand. It was surprisingly hefty, though nowhere near as heavy as the first. "For me? How much do I get to spend? It's unnecessary…"

"It's all yours," Fenrir said, closing Emma's fingers over the pouch. "I'm aware that I haven't help to make your summer any easier. I'm more than aware that you don't need the gold, but until I can figure out what to do for you, consider it an apology. The first of many."

Emma's eyes narrowed slightly as she searched Fenrir's face. When she didn't find any signs of deception, she gave a small nod. Fenrir didn't apologize often, he was unapologetic in most things, but they had reached an understanding at some point.

"Thank you," she said, tucking the pouch into her bag with the rest of her things. "Anything else I need to bring?" Fenrir waved Emma off, and she snorted, closing her bag. "I guess I should head back down."

Fenrir gave a slight nod before dropping both of his hands on her shoulders. "Whatever you do, do not let your bag out of your sight. Do not take off my ring – you already know that I'll know if you do," Fenrir said pointedly, causing Emma's face to heat up. She really needed to figure out what exactly the ring was meant to do. "If Jude's sorry arse still decided to show up, do not let him push you around. He's a coward for avoiding me, and he's an even bigger coward for attacking you with your back turned."

"And here I thought that would be one of your favorite things to do," Emma commented.

"It's dishonorable," Fenrir grunted. "With me, you'll always see it coming. Even if there's no opportunity for your opponent to strike back, it's a courtesy."

Emma had to think hard about that for a moment – was that actually true? She supposed it was as everything he had done, she had more or less seen coming. He made it very apparent what he was about to do at all times; there were very few surprises with Fenrir.

"Then I suppose I should apologize," Emma muttered.

"No need. You warned me; I didn't listen."

"No, you didn't," Emma agreed. "I did, in fact, warn you."

"It was magnificent. I was very proud of you that day," Fenrir chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of Emma's head. He reached over to grab Emma's bag and slipped the strap over her shoulder. "Go. Enjoy yourself. I'm sure you're sick of seeing me."

"I'm sure the feeling's mutual," Emma said, giving Fenrir a cheeky grin. She bent down to lift Figaro into a quick hug. "Don't let Fenrir keep feeding you too many treats," she said, holding the kitten up in front of her. Emma couldn't believe just how much Figaro had grown in the past month, and she felt like an overly proud mother. "He's going to make you fat."

"Oh, please," Fenrir scoffed, taking Figaro from Emma's hands. "She's still growing."

"Fenrir Greyback – the cat expert," Emma said, shaking her head. "Can't wait until the Prophet gets ahold of that one. I swear, I'll be rich because of you."

Fenrir waved her off, and Emma burst into laughter. She had been so annoyed that Figaro liked Fenrir so much, but to find him so besotted by the black ball of fur was hysterical. He was fascinated that Figaro liked werewolves and treated her sweetly. Emma hated having to battle for Figaro's affection, but she found it funny to see Fenrir turn into a completely different person with the cat.

"Right," Emma said, snickering as Fenrir started cooing at Figaro. "See you tomorrow, Fenrir."

Emma was the last one to make it to the entryway. With quick hugs and kisses from Sage, they started their walk to the coast. Caspian and Elijah were walking ahead, singing some song they heard on the Wizarding Wireless. Persephone walked next to Emma, shaking her head. When they were far enough away from the house, Persephone let out a long breath.

"God, we thought you were going to be dead. Mum was going completely spare with the idea of you being with Fenrir," Persephone said as they walked down the length of stairs to the beach. "Spending the night with him as a wolf willingly? That was suicidal."

"But didn't you know? I'm the werewolf whisperer," Emma said dryly. "Honestly, he was like a puppy. Besides, he wouldn't have killed me, so it wouldn't be suicidal."

"He could have turned you, though," Persephone said. "That's not any better."

"He could have," Emma agreed. "But he didn't. I think I've got him convinced to not try until next summer, so I've got another ten months of being whatever I am. Hopefully."

Persephone studied Emma closely, worrying her lip. "It's Fenrir, though, Emma," she said. "He shouldn't be trusted."

That gave Emma pause, and she returned Persephone's searching gaze. "Well, I've had to put my trust somewhere," she said quietly. "He's one of the only people who seem willing to keep Jude away from me. I'd be stupid not to trust that he won't keep me safe from at least that much, especially after Jude attacked me."

"Jude attacked you?" Persephone squeaked out. "When?"

"When I was making the Wolfsbane Potion on Saturday," Emma said. "I think he knocked over one of the potion's bottles. I turned to stop it out of reflex, and he hit me with the Cruciatus like he used to when I was smaller…shattered everything I held. Even worse, ruined the batch of Wolfsbane I made."

"But he said…"

Emma skidded to a halt, and Persephone froze, looking at Emma with wide eyes. Persephone suddenly looked nervous, and Emma's blood ran cold, and her stomach dropped.

"Who said what?" Emma asked slowly, staring hard at Persephone. Persephone had told her multiple times that she didn't want to be a part of whatever was happening, but was that a lie?

"It's…it's nothing," Persephone quickly. She giggled nervously and gulped. "P-perhaps I j-just heard wrong. Come on, we'll miss our Portkey."

It didn't seem like nothing, and Emma felt sick. Every time Fenrir had given her a warning about Persephone, she thought he was just paranoid. It wasn't entirely unlike Fenrir to be always on alert, attempting to perceive threats that weren't there just yet. Sometimes it felt as though Fenrir was just pitting Persephone and her against each other just to cause issues. There was no way that Fenrir was genuine, but Persephone never clammed up like she just did either. What was she missing, and why wasn't Fenrir just telling her if he knew? Emma pushed the thought aside for the moment – she wanted to enjoy her day. Everything else could wait.

The four teenagers walked along the beach until they found a lone sand pail and shovel that they were meant to use.

"Are we sure that this is the right one?" Emma asked, taking a look around the beach to make sure there weren't any other buckets. She didn't see any other buckets anywhere, but it seemed silly to use such an object. Anyone could pick it up.

"I mean, mum said to look for a sand pail," Persephone said, looking around.

"Should be the one, then," Elijah said. "Have you lot taken a Portkey before? We know Emma has."

"I have," Emma shuddered. "Really not looking forward to it again."

Caspian looked down at his watch with a sigh. "Well, not much time to discuss it," he said, putting a hand on the edge of the bucket. "Might as well all be ready now." One by one, they held onto the edge of the bucket, waiting in anticipation.

"You know, I will say that this is a lot better than the hairbrush Dad and I had to use last we took a Portkey," Emma said. "We had to argue over who got the bristle end before trying to figure out how to share the handle."

"Do you think one of us should take the handle?" Caspian asked thoughtfully.

"No!" Emma and Elijah shouted.

"Not unless you want to be flung into oblivion," Elijah said sharply. "The thing looks about ready to break apart as is."

Emma was about to say something but didn't have the opportunity as the Portkey activated. She clenched her eyes shut as she felt her stomach do a flip as they moved through a kaleidoscope of colors. Their shoulders all hit each other as they traveled through the thick vortex of wind, and then suddenly, all four of them finally touched solid ground. Elijah stumbled into Caspian, who fell over into Emma. Then all four of them were in a pile of giggles on the ground as Emma fell over onto Persephone.

"Quarter to two from Traeth Porth Wen," said a voice as they slowly disentangled themselves from the ground.

They were greeted by two wizards, one holding a watch and the other a roll of parchment and a Quill.

"'Lo," Persephone said brightly.

The one wizard, a portly man in an ill-fitting tweed suit studied each of them in turn. His eyes lingered on Emma for a long moment, and she quickly looked away. She suddenly felt as though she understood precisely what Harry was talking about when people looked for his scar.

"Ellis's, eh?" said the wizard, finally settling on Caspian and Persephone.

"Yes, sir," Persephone answered.

The wizard hummed in response, taking another look at the four. "Right, Moon – you're with the Malfoys," he said, reaching into his suit to pull out a paper. "Head past the building. It's about a half-mile out from here. Follow the line on the map. Your father should be just finishing up his shift."

"Perfect, thank you," Caspian said, snatching the map from Persephone's hand, grabbing Elijah's shirt, and running ahead.

Emma swallowed hard and followed slowly. She had no idea that they were going to be with the Malfoys. Emma didn't think that Sage even knew because she didn't bring it up when Fenrir had asked.

"What's wrong with you?" Persephone asked, practically skipping as they walked through the field they were in.

"I didn't know we were going to be with the Malfoys," Emma said. "It was a terrible idea for me to come."

"Oh," Persephone said slowly. She then burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh, God. I just realized how much worse it is now that you've snogged Draco."

"To be fair, we weren't cousins…not yet," Emma huffed, crossing her arms. "Fenrir's already made fun of me for it. I don't need to hear it from you, too."

"Good thing we're so far out on the family tree that it doesn't matter," Persephone said, stopping to give Emma a kiss on the cheek. "Same with you and George, you know."

Emma sighed, scrubbing her hands down her face. "I'm aware."

"Have you decided what to do about that? Really it's not a big deal. It's not like you and Draco," Persephone sing-songed.

"Please stop bringing up Draco!" Emma shouted, covering her face as they walked. "I know. I still don't quite know what to do. I like George…a lot."

"So, then just go for it. No one ever said you had to marry him," Persephone pointed out happily. She grabbed onto Emma's hand and wiggled her eyebrows. "And if you change your mind, there can always be you and me again. We had fun, right?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Please, after dealing with Fenrir this morning, I think I'm officially swearing off any sexual activity, thank you."

Persephone froze slightly. "Did you two…Emma?" Persephone looked Emma up and down, her eyes widening. Emma looked at Persephone in confusion before bursting into laughter and doubling over from laughing so hard.

"Oh, God, no!" Emma laughed, clutching hard to her stomach. "Oh, Merlin's beard that's absolutely brilliant. I didn't even think about what I said." She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, still giggling. "No, he was asking me why I haven't had sex before, and it's a conversation that I really have no desire to relive. If you thought Dad's sex talk was bad, it's much worse with Fenrir, and I wish it on absolutely no one."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Persephone said. "Was worried that he somehow convinced you it was a good idea."

Emma could only continue to laugh as they walked. That would never happen.

The closer they got to the campsites, the more Emma found herself disappointed. Most of the tents appeared normal. A few had chimney stacks, others had weathervanes, but then they walked past a tent that changed colors. Emma couldn't help but smile widely at it. It was brilliant, and the old witch sitting outside it gave her a beaming smile.

"Well, this is it," Caspian said, standing outside of a light grey tent. There was a stake outside of the tent that read Malfoy/Moon. It seemed like such a small tent, and Emma frowned.

"How are we all meant to fit? There's four of us, and at least three Malfoys," Emma said. "That's not including your dad."

"Well, we're about to find out," Persephone said. She shrugged and opened the flap to the tent and stepped through. Caspian followed next, then Elijah and Emma followed next. She let out an awed gasp of surprise.

Had she walked into a mansion or a tent? Emma nearly walked back outside just to make sure she hadn't teleported somewhere. There was no way that they entered a tent that could possibly be as ornate as the one they were in. It was like a small mansion inside the tent, and she didn't understand why a tent would need to have a foyer. It was extravagant and clearly meant to be a status symbol, but it was too much. No one would ever know from the outside unless there was a secret tell that she had missed. Emma half expected to see the famed albino peacocks of Malfoy manor walking about being chased by the Crup puppies Draco so loved.

A tall woman with blonde hair suddenly appeared, and a polite smile crossed her face.

"There you all are," she said gently. "We were wondering where you all were." She took a look at each of them in turn, and just like most others, she stopped on Emma. Rather than looking at her with disgust, there was something there that Emma couldn't read. That was new, but it still made her duck her head.

"Ah, the children have arrived," drawled a man's voice.

Emma looked up to find an equally blond man and then spotted Draco following closely behind. Oh. These were Draco's parents, and as Emma looked between the three Malfoys, she could see how Draco looked like them. Lucius Malfoy looked just as smug as she thought he would, but Narcissa looked sweet. Emma had always wondered who Draco looked most like, but he had a mix of both of his parents.

"We've never met you before," Lucius said, his eyes finding Emma immediately out of the group. "And who exactly are you?"

That was an idiotic question, and they both knew it. The look on Lucius's face told her that he knew exactly who she was, and she glanced over at Draco, who promptly looked away. Why Emma thought Draco would bother helping her out, she had no idea.

"I'm –"

An arm slipped around her shoulders, and Emma froze. "This is my daughter Emelyn, Lucius. I thought she'd be too ill to attend the match, so I didn't think to mention her."

The tension in the tent could be cut with a knife, and Emma's stomach churned with her nerves. How dare he.

"Don't touch me," Emma snarled, trying to pull herself away from Jude. Just like he had done at the Ministry, his fingers dug into the bite on her shoulder, and her knees started to buckle with the pain. "I am not your daughter," Emma growled out through grit teeth.

"She's confused," Jude said with a sigh, tightening his hold and digging more into her bite. "She's been like this since the Ministry. It's such a shame, really."

"Ah, I can imagine that she's been confused," Lucius agreed. "However she looks a lot like –"

"Like Margaret? I know," Jude said with a sigh. "Such a shame about what happened to her. If only I could have done something to stop it."

Emma swore she saw red the moment Jude started to talk about Margaret. There was something incredibly cruel about him pretending he actually cared about either of them. Even if he had once cared for her mother, Emma knew that Jude had something to do with Margaret's death. What exactly he did, Emma had no idea, but she knew.

Very rarely did Emma want to give in to Soleil's angry snarls and snapping teeth, but she was going to be damned if she didn't. She didn't care what the Malfoys thought about her, and she certainly didn't care about what Jude thought. With Fenrir's words sitting in the back of her mind, Emma finally decided to take the chance to fight back. Jude might have gotten his win over the weekend, but Emma was determined to make sure that was the only one he ever had.

With a growl, Emma stomped down hard on Jude's foot. A small smile crossed her face as she slipped out from underneath his arm. She was about ready to run back out of the tent, but Jude's hand latched hard to the bite on her arm. Emma didn't even have a moment to cry out from the jolt of pain in her arm as Jude slapped her hard across the face.

The crack of Jude's hand connecting with Emma's cheek was almost deafening as the entire tent fell silent. Narcissa and Persephone might have gasped, but all Emma could hear was the ringing in her ears. Angry tears filled Emma's eyes, and she allowed herself a single sniffle as she composed herself. She tasted copper and darted her tongue out between her lips, and suppressed a whimper as she realized the scar on her lip had split. Emma didn't dare touch her face, didn't look at anyone else. She made her face completely blank and straightened herself out to look at Jude. Emma wished she had claws because she wanted to rake her nails into his face to rip his smirk off his face.

"Oops," Jude said with a slight shrug, rubbing his hand. "Guess you look like your mother after all. Guess you were right to bring up that little concern, pet."

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep her lips from curling into a sneer. She had never felt so much hatred in her life. Somehow Jude slapping her felt like a much larger offense than him using the Cruciatus on her. If Fenrir didn't kill Jude for her, then she was determined to do it herself. How she was going to manage to do that, she had no idea, but she would figure it out just like everything else.

In the commotion, no one seemed to notice that Ellis had entered the room. He cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look up at him. Ellis stood awkwardly next to Lucius, his hands in his pockets.

"Persephone, why don't you take Caspian, Elijah, and Emma out," Ellis suggested, casting a side-long glance over at Jude. "Just be back for dinner."

"Draco, why don't you join your…friends," Lucius said slowly. Lucius kept his gaze fixed on Emma for a moment before he pushed Draco towards everyone. "Show them where they'll be staying, and perhaps go and enjoy the festivities."

Emma didn't care to know where they were staying and stormed out of the tent. She didn't care where she stayed the night, but she wasn't staying with them. Even if she had to sleep outside somewhere, she would. A low growl rolled up Emma's throat as she realized exactly why Fenrir had her pack her bag the way she did. He had anticipated something would go wrong and made sure she would at least be mildly comfortable overnight if she couldn't stay. As long as Emma could find someone, she would be able to get back to the house, and it didn't matter who she left with. That was nice, she supposed.

She suddenly remembered that there was something that she needed to do. Since she had nowhere else to be, she might as well complete the task Fenrir gave her.

Emma approached the friendliest looking person she could find, a younger-looking couple who were sitting outside a tent.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Emma said apologetically, trying to ignore the looks they gave her. Remembering her lip, Emma lifted her sleeve to cover it, hoping it felt worse than I looked. "I'm afraid I've lost my map, and I'm trying to get back to my tent. Do you have one that I could have?" A complete lie, but Emma didn't care, and the tears still in her eyes must have sold her story.

"Oh, you poor thing, the campground is huge," the witch said, slapping the arm of the man next to her. "Go in the tent and make her a copy of the map!" He was quick on his feet, and the witch stood, her expression sympathetic. Her lips pursed slightly as she looked at Emma, looking as though she was debating with herself as she took in Emma's scars. "You're the girl that was attacked by the werewolf, aren't you? The one with the werewolf father?"

Emma nearly rolled her eyes – she didn't want pity from people for that, but she supposed it would help her case. She was sure she would do anything to try and fly under the radar. Might as well keep up the act.

"I am," she sniffed, ducking her head. "And-and even though it wasn't D-dad who d-did it, n-no one will let me go h-home. So n-now they're k-keeping me w-with…" she trailed off, rubbing the spot where Jude slapped her, secretly hoping it was still red.

The witch let out a soft gasp as she followed Emma's hand. "Oh…oh no. Did someone hit you?" she asked, reaching out for Emma's free hand and then stopping as if she thought better of it. The woman took another look and her eyes settled on the scar that cut through Emma's lip with a soft gasp.

"Y-yes," Emma whimpered. "M-my s-step father insists that he's my f-father! He hits me, a-and I c-can't tell anyone, b-because no one c-c-cares!" She made sure that her voice broke on a dry sob, and she curled in on herself. Emma was considering the idea of finding a magical theater school again; she was too good at this.

"Oh, you poor thing," the witch said. "Is it because you're a werewolf?"

"I'm n-not a w-werewolf!" Emma cried. "I d-don't even transform! I was just attacked by a different one, and my father would never hurt me."

The witch fell quiet, studying Emma, searching for any signs that Emma could have possibly transformed. Emma knew it was hard to argue with her when she was out just hours after the full moon.

Logically, most people wouldn't know what a werewolf would act like after a transformation and assumed the worst. Most wouldn't know that Remus just wanted to go to sleep right away, welcoming a cuddle before drifting off for as long as he could. Not many would know that Elara preferred to take a nice long bath, often having a short kip amongst the bubbles before going to bed. Emma was sure no one outside of Fenrir's pack knew that he still somehow had energy immediately after and could probably stay up for several hours more.

"I'm so sorry," the witch said, brown eyes searching Emma's as she passed the copied map over to her. "I…I don't know what I can do, but that's…that's not right."

"You really don't transform?" the man asked, looking at Emma curiously.

"No, never," Emma sniffed, thanking the witch profusely for the map. "The werewolf who attacked me wasn't transformed at the time. He…he just wanted to attack me to make a point." Emma gave a small shrug with a watery smile and thanked the couple again before turning to head on her way. She momentarily froze seeing that Persephone and Draco were watching her, but Emma pushed past them.

"Emma!" Persephone shouted, running after Emma. "Where are you going?"

Emma wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, straightening up and walking faster with purpose as she looked at the map. "I've got something I need to do," she explained.

"That was impressive, Lupin," Draco drawled. "Didn't know you had that in you. Did Daddy teach you that one, or did you learn that one on your own?"

"What do you need to do?" Persephone questioned.

"Doesn't concern either of you," Emma said, stopping where she was to really look at the map. She turned it around, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she tried to orient herself. "As for my little act, that one was all courtesy of Fenrir."

"I meant the one back in the tent," Draco said, his eyebrow arching.

"Oh," Emma laughed. She gave a slight shrug with one shoulder as she turned the map back over. She was definitely going in the right direction. "Also Fenrir, actually. Told me not to let Jude push me around before leaving, so I decided to listen to him for once."

"Fenrir? You don't mean Greyback, do you?"

"She does," Persephone sighed. "He's, er…been living at my house since Emma arrived."

"Not my fault that Jude's a cunt," Emma said. "If he would have kept his nose out of our business, I would be home with Dad right now. Also, I'd really appreciate you don't say his name too loudly. Don't think it would be a good idea to scream it half-way across the camp. Call him…call him Puppy because he was like a puppy last night."

Draco made a choking noise, and Emma started to giggle and started to walk in the direction she was headed.

"She spent the night with…Puppy…while he was transformed," Persephone explained, pulling Draco along. "Thought she was going to be dead by the morning."

"He didn't even try to nip at me," Emma said. "Actually, that's a lie. He did try to nip at me. He wasn't too pleased when I tried to shove him off the bed because he was annoying."

"You can't be serious," Draco said. "He slept in the same bed as you?"

"Well, he's like a dog, so it was fine," Emma shrugged. "Dad and I did it all the time while at school. It's normal for us."

"But you're not –"

"I'm enough of one. I smell like one; it's relatively safe for me to be around wolves while transformed, even without the Wolfsbane – I think. Though, I wouldn't want to see how Fenrir would be without the potion," Emma said, groaning as several heads turned as they passed their tent. "Ah, fuck, I said his name. Oh, well."

"You still haven't said where you're going," Persephone said in exasperation.

"If you must know, I'm doing him a favor, I guess," Emma said, tilting her head from side to side as she thought about it. "Yeah, I suppose it's a favor because he's mostly kept me from being killed by Jude."

"So he's a bodyguard?" Draco questioned.

"Best way to put it, really. I'm sure there's some super twisty nonsense going on, but I will take the assistance," Emma sighed. "Trust me, a month ago, I never would have said I can tolerate being around him. He hasn't been terrible the past week, honestly. Overbearing, bit pushy, but compared to how he's been in the past, I'll take it."

"What exactly are you doing for him?" Persephone asked, sounding even more exasperated than before.

"Meeting, er…another one of our kind to make a bet for tonight," Emma said. "You two might as well just leave. I'll be fine."

"Emma, you don't even know them! What if they hurt you?"

"Ah, but you forget that we got engaged the other night –" Draco made another choking noise as Emma lifted her left hand to show the ring still on her finger "– I'm kidding, Draco. It was a joke I made a few days ago that I still find hysterical. Anyway, I'm not going back to your tent, so I'll take my chances. Maybe I'll be lucky and have somewhere else to stay."

"What do you mean? You have to come back to the tent."

Emma stopped where she was and whipped around, flinching slightly as Draco and Persephone skidded to halts just in front of her. "No, I don't," Emma said. She touched her lip with her finger to check that it had stopped bleeding and then looked between Persephone and Draco. "I'm not going to be around Jude more than I need to. The Ministry said I was only meant to be with Jude this past weekend, and he might have left, but he's been around every other day. I just want to get through the rest of this week, so I can go home to Dad this weekend. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"We're coming with you," Persephone said, cutting Draco off before he could protest.

"All right," Emma said, turning back around to continue. "Clearly, I can't convince you that I'll be fine, so come along, I guess."

The further they went towards the outskirts of the camp, the quieter it became. The moment they stepped into the correct field, Emma needed to take a moment to take a breath, her stomach roiling. Now that she had time to calm down, her nerves were kicking in. With the lack of people around outside despite the number of tents, Emma grew even more nervous. The tents weren't as cramped together here. The tents were spaced out, but why was there no one around? Why was no one out? The entire campground was devoted to witches and wizards for the World Cup, but these tents didn't seem to belong to anyone magical.

Emma couldn't pinpoint anything inherently wrong with where they were headed. The tents looked just like all of the others, possibly more Muggle than the others. Nothing seemed out of place, but then Emma realized that she wasn't paying attention to Soleil who was becoming more excited as they continued on.

Friendsfriendsfriends, Soleil kept shrieking, leaving Emma feeling uneasy.

Friends? The very word put Emma's senses on alert, and more than once, she wished that she had been lucky enough to have half of a werewolf's senses. She had been unfortunate enough to get all of the bad symptoms and inherited none of the good. Curse her terrible genetics; she was the worst half-werewolf ever, too short and too un-werewolfy enough. She couldn't hear better, couldn't smell better, couldn't see better; she was decidedly human in that respect.

The hairs on the back of her neck began to raise, and she walked a little slower as Soleil began barking happily in her mind. Emma took a really close look around and began to notice that they were being watched, heads popping out of tents, eyes wary and unsure. So many of the curious tent owners looked exhausted. Draco was first to point out that someone had a bite mark on their arm, just like the one half-concealed by her rolled-up sleeve, and Emma froze. Soleil's sudden happiness and the field's relative quiet was for a reason – they had just walked into werewolf territory. Everyone was recovering from the previous night's full moon.

"Oh, shit," Emma hissed to herself as she really took a look around. This wasn't at all what she expected to walk into, and she was going to make sure to give Fenrir a piece of her mind about this one. She would see someone sniff the air and then look at her curiously and look at Persephone and Draco with disdain. Some looked like her, with scars on their faces; others only had bites just barely seen under clothing. There were infinitely more men than women, but her eyes seemed to find the women first. "You two should really go."

"These are all werewolves, aren't they?" Persephone asked quietly. To her credit, though she sounded nervous, she was holding up much better than Draco, who was shaking like a leaf.

"Yes," Emma said quietly. An odd, almost overwhelming feeling swept through her that she couldn't explain. "You should go…"

"We're already here. We might as well keep going."

"You're not…" Emma trailed off, a deep frown crossing her face. What was she supposed to say? That they weren't werewolves? That they weren't like her? That they didn't belong? Did Emma even belong there? Even if she had diplomatic immunity from Fenrir, did she truly and honestly belong?

Emma met the curious gaze of a woman that didn't appear that much older than her. She took in the scars that lined the side of her neck, her blue eyes boring into Emma's, as her head tilted with her curiosity. As the woman turned her head to talk to someone, Emma noticed the scars that trailed from her hairline and down the side of her face to her chin. These were people like her…

"All right," Emma said slowly, straightening up. She supposed she would have to try and fake things a little further. Anyone associated with Fenrir wouldn't be so cowed and would have a cocky arrogance that spanned miles. "But don't do anything stupid, please. I feel enough guilt as it is, and I don't need you two adding to it."

Loud laughter echoed somewhere up ahead, and Emma had a sneaking suspicion that was where she needed to go. Emma squared her shoulders, casting a look over her shoulder at Draco and Persephone, and continued on.

When Fenrir said she would know exactly when she was where she needed to be, he wasn't kidding. Just to the left was a dark green tent, with a crowd of men and a single woman sitting around a fire with plates in their hands. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the air, and it seemed as though the occupants of the other tents were waking just for the scent. They were laughing, wide smiles on their faces looking far more rested than anyone else. Emma didn't want to be scared, but the sheer bulk of half of the men worried her. Just like Fenrir, if they wanted to, they could break her clean in half.

Emma clutched hard to the strap of her bag, and she looked back at Persephone and Draco. They looked horrified, and Emma felt beyond horrified. This was too much. As a small child, half-dressed in his pajamas, ran past them with scars littering his chest and arms, completely ignoring them, Emma felt herself stop breathing. Her heart shattered, and even Draco suddenly looked affected by seeing the child.

"Emma," Persephone said quietly, lifting a hand to point over Emma's shoulder.

Her heart stopping, Emma turned back to find the group outside the tent staring at them curiously. Soleil was howling with joy, and Emma's mouth went dry with her nerves. Emma was frozen where she stood, at a loss of what she was meant to do. Suddenly one of the men rose and started walking their way.

This. Was. A. Problem.

a/n: Heheheheheheh. We've got more werewolves. With how many people there were at the World Cup, you cannot tell me that there weren't werewolves at the World Cup. Sorry, not sorry. Also, this particular note won't make sense later on, but it's fine - a second chapter is going up later. Have to rename someone, but struggling to come up with their new name. It has to be a good one!

To all of my late night readers - go to bed! I love you, good night!

ShardAura - I am 100% guilty of enjoying writing it. It's his charm, and you know he's a complete shit who had to have been charming af to get as far as he did. His savagery and the whatnot absolutely helped, but there had to be a disturbing amount of charm there. Brutality wouldn't have been the only thing that kept him going for 30+ years as a werewolf. Love to hate him. I totally screamed from laughter at your review. JUDE IS TRAAASSSHHHH. (I also love bashing my own characters - no shame). I'm glad you had a good Christmas! Mine was quiet - I'll take it. :3

Lucasjan - you'll get another two for one special! (Break? What break?) Juddeeeee suuuccckkkksssss. But also, I still can't figure out how we all started to like Fenrir along the way. Ooops!