A/N: Hello, friends! I wasn't expecting to be back so soon after finishing Dark Tranquility, but year three has started to write itself. I have been desperately waiting to get to this point and I think my little muse is ready to launch into her third year. After the challenges of Dark Tranquility, I think we all need a reprieve from Emma's chaotic second year.

Of course, not everything will be all rainbows and butterflies, but this year will be a lot better. It's a huge turning point for Emma and Remus and I can't wait for their journey to play out. Also, who's ready for the start of some Wolfstar?

I'm going back to adding trigger warnings for each chapter as they arrive, but this chapter will be updated with all relevant tags as they come up.

Welcome to Daughter of the Moon and thank you for being a part of this crazy, crazy, crazy journey.

Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, panic attack mentions, past suicide attempt mention, self-harm, past self-harm mention, past drug abuse, past alcohol abuse, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced sexual assault, implied/ref non-con, suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, underage drinking, implied/ref non-con

Remus Lupin had always considered himself a dreamer. His mother had always told him stories, weaving brilliant tales that captured him in the ways that only a mother's stories can. He fell in love with books and fell in love with the idea of true romantic love. He grew up as a very lonely child, dreaming of friendship, of hope, and of adventure. Remus Lupin lived for his dreams. They were the only thing that kept him going; until one day, all of those dreams started to come true.

No longer was he a lonely child, for he had friends. He continued to find solace in books, but less frequently as he had friends – real friends. Remus was terrified of them learning his darkest secret, of them learning that he was a beast, but they didn't care. He had everything he could wish for. He had hope, he had adventure, but most importantly, he had friends. But then Remus fell in love, sharing awkward first love, first kisses, first everything with someone he thought he could keep forever. Remus believed that he could never love someone as much as he did.

That was until he fell in love with the tiniest little human he had ever laid eyes on. He could tell anyone who asked the moment he fell in love with his niece, pink-faced and exhausted from her entrance into the world. He could tell when his friends began to fall in love with her as well, their fear melting into pure joy at a new life born into the world. And then there was two and then, in less than a day, three babies for them all to love. Secret playdates, stories, toy broomsticks, and so many tears from laughter, of joy, of pain…

Even in the middle of a war, Remus could still hang onto his hope. He always dreamed, but his dreams were different. Instead of wishing for friends, Remus wished for a family. He wished for children, for marriage, and everything life would bring.

In an instant, he lost everything. Gone were the friends, the possibility of love, and family. All of the things that Remus held near and dear to his heart were gone. Remus fell into such despair that nothing seemed to matter. His happy dreams had turned to nightmares. Instead of finding solace in books, Remus found joy in the empty bottles of alcohol that littered his home. His happiness was found in the rare hits of Muggle drugs that he could get ahold of. He slowly began to succumb to the beast that he was, no longer remembering his humanity for he could no longer care.

Remus had given up on caring long before he had decided that he was tired of caring about not caring. If the world was no longer going to be kind to him, there was no point in him worrying about the world thought.

Fate was cruel and felt the need to thwart Remus's plans. It sobered Remus up quicker than he ever would have wanted, his recovery too fast-paced and painful. After nearly a decade of fate treating him as if he meant nothing, mocking him, and cutting him to the core, it gave him a gift. Maybe life wasn't a nightmare.

That gift came in the form of his niece, green-eyed, nervous, and looking much more like a young adult than he would have liked. She was not the small child that he remembered, and that was hard for him to accept. Emma was a child that grew up much faster than she should have, already seeing the darkness of the world. Broken and bruised, Emma approached the world carefully, always thinking well before she acted. She was guarded and unsure, and frequently needed reminders that it was okay to have fun.

Remus worried that their relationship would always remain cold. Emma didn't talk much, finding solace in books and dreaming of friendship, adventure, and hope. Remus could never blame her for the way she would skirt around him, observing him, waiting for something to happen. She didn't want to trust, didn't want to let him in, but then she decided to be brave – she chose to love.

When Emma finally let her wall down, she became an entirely different person. She allowed herself to finally relax into the idea of affection, though she approached it shyly. Hugs were few and far between until they weren't. She had questions – so many questions – about everything and the world surrounding her. She asked questions that forced Remus to think, and often found answers before Remus had the chance to. She still sought solace in her books, but she allowed herself to be her brilliant and beautiful self. Emma was a gift worth cherishing.

Emma blossomed as a person right in front of his eyes. She was extraordinarily caring, very trusting, and sensitive. Emma saw the world through rose-colored glasses, and it was beautiful to witness. Her curiosity was unyielding, and she didn't let herself be held down. When Emma loved, she loved with her whole heart. It might not always be obvious, but she had a way of letting people know that she loved them.

One night when Emma, who frequently feared her dreams, lay asleep on his chest, Remus found himself lost in thought. This wasn't new for them, at least not anymore. It had come to be a sporadic routine that he had come to look forward to. It was something that she had done frequently when she was younger, and he didn't realize how much he had missed it. He found that it was always comforting to listen to the sound of her breathing. He found the weight of her body partially on his was soothing. It forced him to take the time and relax and not let his mind wander (too much). It had taken that night for Remus to realize two things – Emma was terrifyingly just like him, and he would do anything for her.

It was on one of those nights that Remus realized that he could have a family. It wasn't like how he always imagined, and sure Emma was his niece, but he was her godfather. His life plan had never involved having biological children, though he wanted them. It might not have been opportune, he would have certainly preferred to have a different home, more money, more time…but Emma didn't seem to care. Remus, as hard as he tried, couldn't figure out for the life of him why Emma couldn't be his.

But then he remembered, and the thought haunted him. He was a werewolf. Not only was it bad enough that he was a werewolf, but it also turned out Emma was terrified of werewolves. He had no idea where her fear came from, but it chilled him to the core. If she ever found out what he was… He couldn't allow himself to think of the possibility.

Instead, Remus did the only thing he could think of – he lied as much as he could. He never told her what he was (though he could write it off that she never asked). Remus lied to everyone who would ensure that he could adopt her. He even lied to himself to convince himself that what he was doing was okay. Remus wanted to adopt her if she wanted him to, but he didn't hold his breath, didn't allow himself to hope. It didn't matter that her parents were still alive, right?

Remus supposed that it had been incredibly selfish that he never told Emma the truth about her parents from the start. It had been on Dumbledore's suggestion that they wait to tell her about her parents. It was all that they could do. Wait to see how she did with the changes, wait to see how she handled school, wait to see if she could handle the reality. That's all he could do – wait. Remus had found himself almost hoping that the day would never come, but then it arrived, and he wasn't ready for it.

Having to tell Emma just that one single truth had nearly broken him. She had been delighted to see him, clearly prepared to bombard him with stories from her first term at Hogwarts, and then he had broken her. It wasn't betrayal that she felt; he could see that in her eyes, but she was hurt, and it was his fault. All because he was the one who had to tell her. But Emma bounced back, her sunny disposition wading through her fear, but it was tainted. If just that one reality had hurt her, he could never tell her what he was.

Rather than dwell on the bad, Emma seemed to throw herself into things and go through life with optimism. It was an optimism that Remus had wished he possessed at her age. He wondered if it was a coping mechanism, but then oh Merlin, whatdidshesay? The thought had fled his mind as quickly as it came because Emma had done the unthinkable. After months of never knowing what to call him, Emma had finally said his name and even said that she loved him.

Happyhappyhappyhappy. That's what Remus was. It didn't matter that the holiday was marred by the full moon. It was the best Christmas that he had been able to have in years. He had been able to begin to repair his relationship with his father, and they were both able to spoil her. She deserved to be spoiled. But then Remus learned of Emma's fears and found himself very worried and very confused. How did she know of Greyback's den?

It didn't matter that the den was no longer in use and hadn't been in years. It was the fact that she knew about it. Emma wasn't just scared of werewolves – she was somehow afraid of the most savage beast of all time. He couldn't blame her for the fear, but he wished he could understand where it came from. For Remus, it no longer became a want to adopt her, it became a need. There was a reason why she had the fear, and he needed to – no – he had to keep her from that fear. He had to keep her safe. It was his job.

The holiday had gone much too fast, not just for him, but for Emma as well. It was with resounding disappointment that Emma had to return to Hogwarts.

As happy as Emma was, it was clear that something bothered her. Remus was floored when she had expressed that she felt like she was just there. Emma didn't feel like she belonged in the family and was just floating. It didn't matter that she had been in Remus's care for a few months – she wanted a concrete family. To his disappointment, when he had mentioned the idea of adopting her, she seemed lukewarm to the idea. Emma never said no, but she didn't give an outright no.

To his surprise, that night, Remus received a letter from Emma. She wanted to be adopted. He had no doubt that Emma's answer had come with the insistence of her best friend, Persephone. He had quickly learned that Persephone was pure Slytherin but in the best ways possible. She was smart and ambitious and extremely loyal. Persephone knew how to manipulate the people around her, but she used her powers for good. There was no doubt it was a skill that she had learned from her parents, who were wealthy and brilliant in their own way.

Remus once again ran into his problem – he was a werewolf. There was no way that he would be able to adopt, but then he remembered one crucial fact. To keep his family safe, Lyall never allowed Remus to be added to the werewolf registry. Unless someone were to sit and research, no one would know that he was a werewolf. It would take someone having to say something to a Ministry worker, but the people who would tell his secret were either dead or incapacitated. Remus didn't have to worry; not that it ever stopped him from worrying anyway.

Remus knew that he needed to take things one step further. He couldn't just adopt Emma, he needed to make sure that she had the most reliable protection. It wasn't just a case of a simple name change and simple bonding magic – she had to be adopted through blood.

The thought made him ill. By blood. It was by magic and blood. One of Remus's biggest fears was passing on his lycanthropy to someone. The last person he would ever want that person to be was Emma. There was no choice in the matter – it was the only way it could be done.

Of course, Remus had spent most of his life researching his condition. He knew all of the ways that lycanthropy could spread, and though it mostly required the full moon, it was always a possibility. Cursed wounds could occur at all times, which meant taking extra care to make sure he never scratched her. Transmission through bodily fluids at other times of the month wasn't as well researched. Some literature said yes, others said no. The only concrete proof he had was Animagi were not susceptible to the spread of lycanthropy, whether as an animal or human.

But that wasn't a possibility. By blood seemed like an impossibility.

He spent long nights pouring over ancient blood magic rituals. He poured through whatever updated literature on his condition that he could find. He didn't want Emma to become an experiment for what he felt he needed to do. Every ritual involved the sharing of blood and of ingesting. It wasn't something that Remus was interested in. There had to be something that existed that didn't require blood transfer.

After three months of searching, when Remus was ready to give up, he finally found what he was looking for.

It was a new ritual, one that had been used for around forty years that didn't require the transfer of blood. It was susceptible to failing, but all it needed was a blood donation as a sign of good faith. The potion that was used could imbue through inhalation alone – there was no risk of transfer. Of course, it was expected that both parties partake in sharing the potion that bonded them together, but it wasn't needed. It ended like the other rituals, with a process very similar to the Unbreakable Vow. It was perfect. They would both have the family they wanted.

The idea of suddenly having a family terrified Remus more than anything, but he was excited. Emma was excited - everyone was thrilled - she was finally right where she belonged. She felt secure, she was happy, and she was finally able to be a child. Until she no longer felt any of those things.

Just like Remus, Emma's nightmares manifested and took hold. Emma having complications from the adoption didn't allow him to correctly set the wards around the cottage. He had expected Emma's friend to spend the night with her so she wouldn't be left alone. They would be fine left to their own devices. In a cruel twist of fate, it only seemed appropriate that Greyback planned to let himself be known.

He knew that it wasn't a coincidence that Greyback made an appearance, and he should have better prepared. He should have known. He couldn't be the father that he needed to be for Emma. He was only grateful that Persephone wasn't there as well. Greyback would have had a field day with two girls instead of one.

Emma was never quite the same after that night, and it showed. Emma's terror gripped fiercely to her heart and didn't let go. Remus could only send Emma back to school for a few months and hope that he could make things up to her when she returned.

His transformations started to become difficult again.

Instead of being able to fully enjoy the summer holiday, his sister's health took a turn for the worse. After being stable for a decade, something had changed, and no one knew what was happening. Remus's knowledge in healing magic was rudimentary, and his suggestions weren't of any use. Emma tried to put up a strong front, but deep down, she was struggling. The summer was spent with him working, worrying, trips to St. Mungo's, worrying some more, and doing his best to keep Emma happy.

But Emma was growing up faster than he was prepared for. He was grateful that Emma's sudden introduction to womanhood was in the company of other women as he was hopeless. It wasn't as if he didn't understand a woman's monthlies, but he was a man and could only really offer his support. He could understand the pain, but he couldn't understand the rest of what it entailed. It bought him time to prepare for the future conversations that they would eventually need to have. Remus was sure that he would never be ready for "the talk."

Emma experienced frequent panic attacks, became jumpy and anxious in her own skin. The confidence that he had come to admire had all but disappeared. She always did her best to try and be strong, but it was always just a mask. Remus did his best to remind her that she was loved, and he spent as much time with her as he could. As long as she was safe and whole, he could be content.

Their first full summer together went even quicker than the first, which was saying something. Emma, who had never seemed to really recover after Greyback's visit, departed for Hogwarts with a forced smile and promises that she was okay. He knew that she wasn't.

Guilt was the dominating feeling that Remus had when Emma returned for the Christmas holidays. Emma hurting herself was not on the list of things Remus could prepare himself for. The list of things he was ill-equipped for was growing. Remus knew of the panic attacks, knew of her anxiety, but self-harm was new. It was scary, and it hurt him in ways he never expected. He hurt because she hurt. Remus knew that Emma couldn't be happy all the time, but he never wanted her to get to the point of self-destruction.

Getting answers from Emma had been practically impossible, and he had to resort to unconventional methods. He wasn't proud of it, and when she would finally fall asleep, he would finally allow himself to break down. Remus wrote hurried and rushed letters and made sure that others knew. This was far beyond something he could handle by himself.

Just when Remus didn't think he could have his heart shatter anymore, Emma managed to surprise him. In a very sleep-induced haze, she said the one thing that he didn't know that he wanted – she called him dad. It didn't matter to him that he didn't think he would hear it again, but he broke. He had to do more, be better – he had to be the father that Emma needed.

Emma had managed to find a small bit of hope in her best friend, now girlfriend (though she didn't know that he knew), and that was a relief. It had been startling to him because Emma had never expressed any interest in relationships. It was even more shocking that said relationship was with another girl, but he didn't care as long as she was happy. How could Remus care when he had been with…

That was the past, and he needed to remain in the present.

Emma's smile was back, and Remus would allow himself to believe in the power of young love. However, Remus couldn't stop his guilt. He knew that a lot of Emma's issues resided in the walls of the castle, but all he could do was send her back. It wasn't something that he wanted to do, but it was all he could do. Or at least that's what he thought.

Before they left his father's home to return to the cottage, Remus took the opportunity to go into the attic. There had to be something that he could find, something extra that could hopefully give Emma to hang onto. It had taken him a few hours, but Remus stumbled upon boxes of not just his old things, but his sisters. He felt guilty going through her things, but a black leather-bound journal struck inspiration. Just underneath it was a floral-patterned blanket that he had carried Emma in so many times. They were perfect. But what gift could he give from himself? He dug through the boxes, never finding anything of note.

Old quills, spare bits of parchment, and outdated textbooks weren't things that Emma would want. The final box Remus went through made him feel like he struck gold. He carefully pulled out his old Hogwarts uniform, memories flooding back to him in droves. Brushing his fingers over the fabric of the old black robes, Remus realized precisely what to give her. He continued digging through the box until he finally pulled out his school cardigan. Emma always stole his cardigans, and she was more than deserving of wearing Gryffindor's colors. It was perfect.

And so, Remus sent Emma back to Hogwarts with the promises that he would be better and a way for her to learn who her mother was. He still wasn't sure if it was the best idea he had.

Her return for the Easter holidays had been surprising. Emma was once again broken, but not in the way he had expected. His heart stopped when he first took in her appearance, but luckily a very familiar face helped to fix her up. It was in Elara Douglas that he found a rekindled friendship, and he was grateful for it – it came just on time.

Margaret's passing had been a strain on everyone, especially Emma. Sweet and beautiful Emma tried so hard to try and be okay, but every moment was challenging. Nothing Remus could ever do would ever make it better.

And still, he sent her back. Remus knew things were bad, but he didn't realize that there was the potential he was sending her back for the last time. He didn't know, and he should have known.

He should have realized that Emma's desire to live had been ripped away from her. Her spirit was broken, she had no faith in the world, and she had lost hope. The very things that had kept Emma going had been stolen away and slowly strangled until she felt that she had nothing left.

Remus had nearly lost her again, and the thought still made him sick. It had been forty days since he had seen her alive and not lying in a bed, struggling to survive. It had taken another ten for her to finally open her eyes, and the wave of emotion he felt was overwhelming. He was angry, he was sad, he was confused, he was lost. Guilt pitted itself right in his stomach, never ceasing to leave. And he knew why – the only reason Emma even survived was that he had to do the unthinkable.

That Godforsaken monstrosity of a potion from the bonding ceremony was kept in storage. Remus didn't understand why, still couldn't understand why, but that stupid potion was the only reason she lived. It seemed almost like a joke that the one thing he hated about himself was the one thing that kept her alive. Lycanthropy wasn't a gift; it was a curse. Even if she would never be a full werewolf, he had still tainted her blood.

When Emma finally woke up, Remus felt terrible. He had been so incredibly angry with her. It wasn't her fault, not wholly, but the disappointment and the terror he felt nearly killed him. Emma could do nothing but apologize over and over and over again, but nothing was ever going to change what she had done. Nothing was going to change what he had done.

It had taken Remus a few days to get over his anger at Emma. It wasn't until he finally was able to see what she saw in Dumbledore's Pensieve that he understood. That anger was quickly replaced with heartbreak. The place in his heart that Emma had nestled herself into was now fractured and bruised. He didn't blame her, could never blame her, but he was terrified of what the future held.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

Emma's return home for the summer had been, for lack of a better word, miserable. If she wasn't crying, he was. If they weren't fighting with each other, it was stony silences. Both of them knew it wasn't healthy, knew that it wouldn't help, but they were stubborn to a fault. Their relationship as father and daughter was holding on by a thread. It got to the point that his father finally had to intervene.

Lyall had decided that he should stay at the cottage for a while to help aid in Emma's return. He knew the transition was going to be difficult. Emma could no longer be trusted to have freedom, and by extension, neither did Remus, but he had to work. Remus couldn't sit and watch her all the time. It eventually got to the point that Lyall, as he so eloquently put it, was "sick of their shit." He got them the first international Portkey out to Paris that he could. If they weren't going to be able to figure things out at home, then they needed to go someplace else and figure it out.

Lyall didn't care how much money it cost; he was paying for the entire trip. Emma, who had always wanted to travel outside of Great Britain, couldn't even find herself excited. Remus found himself considerably less enthusiastic.

However, it appeared that his father had been onto something.

The first three days of their trip had been terrible. Emma hated the Portkey, Remus hated not knowing what they were doing. Emma and Remus weren't people who generally got loud and could work out their differences in a mild manner, but even that was a struggle. After a day of far too many scream-filled arguments in the streets of Paris, they both gave up. There was an unspoken moment of understanding, but they realized the stupidity of what was happening. They were away from the cottage and in Paris – how could they be fighting so much? The next morning when they woke up, they both apologized to each other and then laughed. That laughter quickly gave way to crying and holding each other.

It would be a long road to recovery, for both of them, but they had each other, and that was what was mattered.

Realizing that they had already lost three days out of seven, they made plans. Remus wanted to show Emma all of Paris just like his parents had done for him and Margaret as children. It was her first time traveling somewhere other than London or Wales, and they had already lost so much time. As much as Emma wanted to do everything and go everywhere, she had to remind Remus that she was still exhausted.

Instead, they stayed near the hotel. Emma grew tired quickly, and as much as she wanted to see everything, her body was still recovering as well. Remus had to spend a lot of time supporting her as they walked, and he knew that Emma was disappointed.

"If we do everything this time, then there's no point in coming back," Emma said quietly over breakfast one morning. She looked thoughtful with her cup of espresso in hand as she met his gaze, her eyes holding the faint hints of their old sparkle.

"You're right," Remus answered with a smile. "We'll come back. There's no rush."

Emma had fallen in love with Parisian wizarding fashion, finding the colors and fabrics of the robes far more beautiful than in London. The fabrics were made of smooth, bright silks that she loved to touch. She enjoyed venturing into the French shops, always amused by how easily Remus could converse with the shop keepers. If Emma didn't know that he was Welsh, she would swear he was born and raised in France.

However, nothing made Emma happier than the hidden bookshops that Remus introduced her to. She couldn't understand any of the words, but the books were beautiful to look at. They were wrapped in leather with crisp, gilded lines that drew her in. The books were works of art that she could look at all day.

"I always try to come here when I'm in Paris," Remus said wistfully in one of the book-filled buildings. "You never know what you'll find."

On the sixth day of their trip, Remus had found himself feeling optimistic. They weren't yelling at each other during every waking moment. Instead, they were able to talk openly and honestly with each other. Everything seemed normal, and that was all either of them could ask for. Nothing could spoil Remus's mood. Things were finally getting better. Or so he thought.

That morning, when they visited Place Cachée, Paris's wizarding shopping area, Remus became distracted. As they walked by one of the magical newsstands, a familiar and haunting face was staring back at him. He anxiously purchased a copy of Le Cri de la Gargouille. He tucked it under his arm as he followed Emma down the street. Emma gave him a funny look but accepted his answer of "crossword" and left it at that. She had grown to be very attuned to Remus's emotions on their trip, but she didn't push, and for that, he was grateful.

The rest of the day had gone well enough, but Emma was growing tired.

"Emma, we'll come back, I promise," Remus said, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. He wasn't sure if it was because she was tired, but it was the first time she readily leaned into him. An arm snaked around his waist, and she rubbed her eyes with her other hand as she closed her eyes sleepily. She trusted him to lead her back while she rested her eyes for a moment.

"Fine," Emelyn muttered with a yawn. "Only because you promised we'll come back."

Remus had been grateful that Emma had needed an early night. They had a light dinner in the hotel's restaurant, and he tucked Emma into bed and sat out on the balcony to read his book.

The waxing moon had risen high in the night sky when he finally decided to look at the newspaper. His eyes refused to stray away from the man in the photograph blinking back at him. Remus could recall a time when the man in the photo didn't look haunted and had brilliant sparkling silver eyes. He could still feel the way the man's hair felt soft in his fingers and his barking laugh and –

Remus pushed the newspaper off the table, his breath catching in his throat for what felt like the millionth time. He shoved the palms of his hands into his eye sockets, finding solace in the different colors behind his eyelids. This was a nightmare, it had to be. Things had finally started to turn around, he had fallen asleep, and he was dreaming. That was the only logical explanation he had.

When Remus pulled his hands away from his eyes, they immediately found the paper lying on the ground. The paper was still there, the man was still staring, and Remus felt sick. He wasn't having a nightmare – he was living in one.

Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, and against all the odds, Remus was still hopelessly in love.