Emma had finally reached the point where she couldn't cry anymore. The rest of the night was spent in silence. Emma didn't know what to say, and Fenrir understood her need to process everything. When she was ready to leave, he followed in silence, only getting close enough to help her back into her room. At least he had the sense to stay outside and not join her, sitting outside her window again like a silent sentry.

When she woke up, she was annoyed to find that Fenrir had clearly come into her room at some point before he left. She certainly didn't fall asleep with the thin blanket covering her, but it was welcome. The temperature dropped considerably as the rain decided to make an appearance.

She felt stupid for not considering the need for wellies and a raincoat as she watched the rain fall harder and harder. She had grown so used to her life at the cottage that rain wasn't even a factor – she could just stay indoors. At the bare minimum, an umbrella would have been smart. With a heavy sigh, Emma decided to get up. It was going to be a long day.

It hadn't even been a full week at the children's home, and Emma was completely and utterly over being there. She had been spoiled being home, and she knew it, but it didn't stop her from wanting to go right back. The temptation to take the bus into the closest town and just walking home was right at the forefront of her mind. Unfortunately, even if she went back home, no one would be there, and she didn't have her keys to even pretend to be non-magical. Remus was working until the late afternoon, and Elara was at work until noon. She had no idea at all where Sirius would be, and no one had heard from him.

The more she tried to focus on other things, the less she found she could. How could nothing have been wrong with her mother? Did that mean she had suffered the entire time she was in St. Mungo's? Her mother didn't seem like the sort of person who backed down without a fight. Emma couldn't even begin to piece together anything that made any sense, and she couldn't bring herself to ask Fenrir. Jude she understood, had known since the first time she saw him, but her mother, too? It seemed ludicrous, impossible – Fenrir had to be lying to her, but Emma wasn't entirely sure that was true.

So far, Fenrir hadn't lied to her. What purpose would it serve for him to lie to her over something so significant? Emma stopped right in the middle of the busy walkway, ignoring the indignant shouts of the people who had to scramble to get around her. It would make sense for him to tell her that her mother had been fine the entire time. If she had been fine, they all would have known…but Margaret spoke just before she passed. It was only Emma's name, but there was enough recognition there.

Emma decided it was better to believe that Fenrir was lying to her. She couldn't imagine the possibility that they had all failed her. Emma was grateful that it was raining hard so that it wouldn't be obvious that she started crying. The summer was shaping up to be even worse than the last.

Even though Emma knew that Remus didn't cashier, she still found herself looking at the registers out of sheer principle when she walked into Sainsbury's. It was jarring how much clearer the memory suddenly became. She wished that Fenrir would have explained just how new every memory would feel, but she felt he probably didn't know.

Remus was already looking up when she found him, clearly anticipating her arrival. She still wasn't quite sure what tipped him off to when she was around, especially in public settings. It wasn't something she wanted to ask him, but she desperately wanted to. He stopped what he was doing, blinking at Emma in surprise, looking slightly embarrassed. His embarrassment was overshadowed by confusion as he took a good look at Emma and frowned. "You are completely soaked through," he said. "Why did you come out?"

"I couldn't stay there," Emma said, her voice breaking.

Remus straightened up slowly, concerned. "What is it, baby?"

Emma let out a whimper, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "I…I need a hug, but I'm drenched," she said.

Remus held his arms open with an understanding smile. "Come here, baby girl," he said, holding Emma tight when she stepped into his embrace. "I would never deny you a hug. Even if you smell like wet dog…"

"I don't smell like wet dog, do I? I didn't think that I would when I don't…" Emma trailed off as she tried to calm her mild panic at the idea. She tried to move away from Remus out of worry and the dawning realization he was teasing her. Remus snickered, holding Emma exactly where she was, and Emma huffed, hugging Remus tighter to get his clothes wet. "You're terrible…"

"Trust me, if you smelled like a wet dog, I would never tell you. Besides, I already told you that you smell just like sunshine to me." Emma gave a non-committal hum in response as she buried her face into his chest. "But what is? What's happened now?"

"I'm not sure you would believe me."

"Try me."

"Right here?"

Remus stepped back from Emma, considering it for a moment, and then sighed. "Let's get you dried off." Remus looked down at his clothes and sighed. "Let's get me dried off, too."

Hidden somewhere in the corner of the store, Emma told Remus what had happened the night before. He very carefully cast drying charms on her clothes, adding a few for warmth just to bring her body temperature back up. Emma wasn't sure which parts of her story he was displeased about as his eyes darkened slightly at each twist. He would never voice his displeasure, careful not to hurt her feelings, but his purposely blank expression made her worried.

When Emma had finished her story, Remus suddenly looked down at his watch. "I've chosen a very convenient time to fall ill," he said dryly. "Come on, we're going to go home for a bit."

It was fitting that Emma and Remus were sitting at the kitchen table nursing cups of tea when Elara arrived. A flash of understanding crossed Elara's face as she took in their expressions. She knew that something was terribly wrong if Emma was home. Rather than question it, Elara fixed herself a cup of tea and sat down to join them, not bothering to change out of her Healer robes.

"All we're missing is a very hairy black dog to join us," Elara said, taking a slow sip. "Now what's happened?"

Remus finally let his mask slip as Emma went through her story for the second time. He wasn't thrilled about any of it, but Emma knew he still wouldn't say a word. There was nothing he could do to change anything in their present situation.

"I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary with Jude, but that doesn't mean that you're wrong," Elara said thoughtfully. "Judas? Really?" she questioned after a moment.

"It gives us something to look into," Remus said. "If that's really his name, it'll be easier to look up whatever records there are. There was no doubt he was very secretive, especially around us."

"But it sounds like he's been in contact with Fenrir and Ellis," Emma said.

"That doesn't mean anything, though," Elara said. "I've seen Ellis come and go."

"Which means Fenrir can be getting his information from Ellis and not directly from Jude," Remus added.

"He has to be talking to Jude, though," Elara said.

"Jude's not an Animagus, too, is he?"

"We would know," Elara pointed out, tapping her nose. Emma wrinkled her nose at the reminder and took a long sip of her tea just to avoid saying anything. "I'm going to try and move my shifts to the ward so I can keep an eye on him and be on call for bites."

"Is that wise so close to the full?" Remus questioned.

"Other than Ward coming in, it's been slow. I've been bouncing around to where they've needed me."

"Ward?" Emma asked in alarm. "What happened?"

Elara grimaced and apologized to Remus. "She's going to find out anyway," Elara said to Remus before explaining to Emma what exactly happened. Emma was very white-faced and slowly turned to Remus with wide eyes.

"Daddy, you lied about something when we first met again," Emma said softly.

"What did I lie about?" Remus asked.

"You lied and told me that we need our memories to become stronger and that they're important for us to become the people we're meant to be," Emma said over the top of her cup. "I hate this. I don't like that all I can remember is random moments at the children's home. I hate that all I can remember is Fenrir. I just want to remember you, and I want to remember Papa, and I want to remember mum. I don't…This all hurts, and I'm so confused. I didn't ask for any of this, and I don't really like Ward, but that doesn't mean I wanted something to happen to him. I know what Fenrir is, but now I'm stuck with this weird version of him in my mind that doesn't fit what I know."

"Knowledge is power," Elara said gently. "This is going to be like everything else. You are going to need time. If you had these memories before, you would have had an easier time separating your feelings. You've had nearly a decade worth of memories thrust at you and unexpectedly."

"And there'll be more!" Emma said, slamming her cup down on the table. "I don't know that I want them, I really don't! You both know that Fenrir would never listen to me!"

Neither Remus nor Elara could argue that point, but they were both skilled in deflection. Elara took advantage of the situation to bring up the potential of Emma taking ballet again while she was in the children's home. It was such a sudden and unexpected twist that Emma's anxiety was momentarily forgotten, and the conversation shifted.

Emma wasn't sure that she wanted to take ballet again, not wanting to give Remus another thing to spend money on. She knew that dance classes couldn't be cheap, and he did more than enough for her. When Elara said she had already paid for several classes, Emma was floored.

"Elle, I don't know –"

"Emma, it sounded like it was something you enjoyed growing up. Since you can't do magic right now, we want you to at least find something enjoyable while you're here," Elara said, trying to keep Emma from protesting further. "Humor me – the both of us, please. If you're elegant on the Quidditch pitch like your father says, I can only imagine how you are with dance."

"I'm really not…a good dancer," Emma said weakly. She wasn't sure if she was any good, she wasn't a dance teacher, after all, but it made her nervous. What if she really liked it like she liked Quidditch?

Elara cast Remus a knowing look and leaned towards Emma. "I have a feeling that you are, and you don't want to show us," she said with a grin. "Besides, I need to be the cool aunt and spoil my niece."

"Cool aunt?" Emma questioned, a smile slowly creeping on her lips.

"Someone needs to play the role," Elara winked, nudging Remus's side.

"I have no clue when this happened," Remus said to Emma, his arms crossed. "I've just accepted it because Elara refuses to give up. Congratulations, you have inherited an annoying aunt."

It turned out to be the thing that Emma didn't even know that she needed. Rather than disrupt Emma's memories, Elara suggested going back to the dance school she started in. The familiarity of the building put her at ease, but Emma was thoroughly embarrassed to have to go through a consult. It meant being able to put off purchasing dance clothes, something that gave Emma mild anxiety. What if she wasn't good enough? She worried that she would have to start all over again since it had been so long. It took her a few moments to remember the terminology, but muscle memory kicked in quickly.

Emma found herself giggling through her consult at the sheer hilarity at how much she found herself thinking of Quidditch. It wasn't professional of her, and she was grateful the teacher was on the younger side and had a sense of humor. She felt silly telling the woman that she kept thinking about football, the only Quidditch equivalent she could think of, but the teacher understood. It apparently wasn't the first time she had heard someone compare ballet to another sport. If only the poor woman knew what Emma was laughing about.

It was going to be a comfortable ache she felt when she went to bed, thoroughly stretched out and loose. Emma had no idea that something so simple would lift her spirits so much – and she hadn't even had a real lesson yet. She was delighted to hear that she wouldn't have to start all over again and could be placed back where she had left off. It would take her time to get caught up, and despite Emma protesting, Elara decided private lessons would be best. With the summer term coming to a close, Elara didn't want Emma to lose out on any extra time. Emma never felt more loved or luckier to have Elara in her life.

Even though the day started out rough, it ended well. Fenrir didn't arrive that night, but someone else did. Emma had to cover her mouth to stifle her scream when she saw a completely different face staring at her through her window.

"Who the fuck are you?" she hissed, staring at the boy looking at her curiously. The boy couldn't have been that much older than her. He had longish honey-colored hair with light brown eyes. A small scar cut through his eyebrow, and a clear bite mark could be seen on his neck. She had been expecting Fenrir, not an entirely different werewolf and certainly not one so young.

"Boris," he said, sniffing the air and frowning. "Fenrir said you were a werewolf. You smell like us, but you don't."

Emma shook her head, trying to clear her head. This was getting weird. "Where the fuck is Fenrir? Why are you here?"

Boris looked very offended. "I'm one of Fenrir's best," he said, puffing out his chest and straightening up.

"Wonderful, that's not what I asked," Emma said. "Where is Fenrir?"

"He had somewhere to be. Didn't want you to be alone just in case, so he brought me before leaving," Boris huffed, crossing his arms and giving Emma a once over. He sniffed the air again, and Emma rolled her eyes. She could only imagine what he was trying to decipher from her scent alone.

"Are you going to stay out there and try to sniff me? If you're so fascinated, you might as well come in."

"Can't."

"Why not? It's raining."

Boris shook his head. "Alpha's orders."

Of course.

"He doesn't need to know," Emma shrugged. "I'm sure you're much better company than Fenrir. Other than complaining about me not smelling werewolf-y enough, I suppose you're all right." When the boy didn't make any moves, Emma found herself at a loss. "You said your name is Boris?" Emma asked, biting back her amused grin when he nodded. "That's what I named my teddy bear."

"Your what?"

"My…teddy bear?"

"What's that?"

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – and Merlin's saggy tits, for good measure, Emma thought to herself, staring at Boris in utter horror. "You don't know what a teddy bear is?" Boris shook his head, and a stream of expletives that would surely make her father blush in embarrassment left her lips. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Boris said slowly. "Why?"

"Good, we're the same age. Get your arse in here and out of the rain. Fenrir can bugger right off if he has something to say about it. I won't let him do anything to you."

Boris seemed doubtful of the claim but slowly slipped through Emma's window with all the ease she expected him to have. He was tall, and Emma let out a shout as he shook himself out like a dog sending water droplets everywhere. Boris acted every part of a wolf and gave her a lopsided smile, showing sharp teeth. Did they all have oddly sharp teeth? It was unnatural, and Emma had to ask her father about it because Remus had very ordinary, slightly crooked teeth.

"My God, if I tell you to sit, are you going to do that?" Emma said, wiping off her face of water droplets and watching in horror as Boris sat down immediately where he was. "Why did you just sit?"

"You told me to."

"I…buggering fuck, Boris. If I tell you to go back outside and run laps around the building, would you do that, too?"

Boris was quick on his feet and halfway out the window when Emma shouted for him to stop. He looked at her in confusion. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, forehead wrinkling as his thick brows knit together.

"Yes!" Emma said sharply. "What are you doing?"

"You told me to go –"

"I was asking you if you would!"

"And I would, so what did I do wrong?"

Emma could only stare at Boris in confusion, not understanding the underlying distress in his face. "Why are you listening to me, Boris?"

"Because Fenrir told me to."

"But you didn't come in the first time."

"It was a test. If you insisted that I come in, I was to listen to you."

"But why?" Boris hesitated, and Emma arched an eyebrow. "Boris? Tell me."

"The alpha wants you as his mate," he said by way of explanation.

Emma gagged at the declaration. She already knew that, but it wasn't any better to hear out loud, especially from someone she didn't know. "Right, but what does that mean? I don't understand."

"He's given you a higher rank than me," Boris explained. "As his mate, he's given you privileges and says that I have to listen to you." Boris gave Emma a funny look. "You're a werewolf, aren't you? Didn't your pack teach you this?"

Right. Emma forgot that Fenrir ran his packs as if they were actual wolves but took advantage of the human aspect. She was sure that Fenrir made his own rules up as he went along, so she could only imagine what Boris knew.

"I'm afraid that my pack did not," Emma said, hoping she masked her face well enough so that it didn't betray how weird she felt saying it out loud. She had joked about it before, but now it seemed the terminology was required for Boris to understand her. "We do things differently in my pack."

"Is that why you're here? Because your pack does things differently?" Boris asked curiously, looking around Emma's room. "Fenrir said someone took you away from your pack before you were ready."

"They did take me away before I was ready," Emma said bitterly. She thought about it for a moment, tilting her head from side to side. "I suppose you could say it's because we do things differently."

Boris nodded, still half in, half out of the room, and Emma sighed. "Boris, come in and sit down. You're allowed to relax," she said, grateful that the boy finally decided to come back into the room but not looking any less stressed.

"I don't know how to relax," he admitted, looking around the room. He sniffed the air and looking at Emma curiously again.

"Yes, I am bleeding," Emma huffed in annoyance. "Don't be weird about it."

"Sorry," Boris murmured, casting his eyes downward and making Emma feel guilty about it. "I just…I smelled blood, and I was curious. But I'm also trying to figure out why you smell familiar to me." Boris inhaled deeply, and Emma's face twisted in disgust. She shouldn't be so bothered, he was young, but it was still weird. "Fenrir said to take whatever punishment you give," he suddenly said.

"Punishment? Punishment for what?"

"Disobeying you. I don't know that I can follow all of your orders. It's too –"

"Difficult, I understand," Emma said. She frowned as she looked at Boris. Being a werewolf was all he knew, and Emma wondered just how long the boy had been in Fenrir's pack. She studied Boris a little closer and brought her hand up to her mouth in realization. Boris had to have been one of the werewolf children Fenrir introduced her to when she was younger.

Her teddy bear had to be named after this boy – his hair was the same color as the bear's fur, and he had the same light brown eyes. That made the poor bear's name even weirder. At least Bee was Bee for no reason other than it was easy for her to say. She smelled familiar to him because she was familiar, she just looked different.

With a heavy sigh, Emma crouched down in front of Boris, tilting her head to get in his line of vision.

"Boris?"

"Yes?"

"Your punishment is to not tell Fenrir the truth of what happens tonight," Emma said slowly.

Boris's eyes snapped up to meet hers. "But Fenrir is –"

Emma felt it was very manipulative what she was doing, but this was what Boris knew. It was strange to her, but this was his everyday life. If she had power, she was using it for good and not evil. She wasn't Fenrir.

"I know what Fenrir is, but I'm telling you it won't be okay if you don't listen to me about your punishment," Emma said. "I'll…I'll come up with another one if you disobey me. That would be something Fenrir understands, right?"

Boris seemed terribly unsure, his confident resolve breaking, but he nodded. Emma stayed where she was for a moment and sat down next to him on the floor. She wasn't going to let him on her bed when he was soaking wet, but she didn't want to be rude and stay on her bed. The floor would have to do. Boris seemed off-put by the action and gulped, wary of her. Emma didn't like it.

"Why don't you tell me what your pack is like," Emma said after a while. Emma knew that if she asked Elara, she would get answers, but Remus would never answer her questions the way she wanted. Boris would give her an unfiltered view of life among werewolves.

Emma learned that that Fenrir seemed to be a mostly fair leader. He was mercurial but cared for his pack provided everyone kept in line. Everyone had a role, a place within the pack, no part unimportant unless you were at the lowest possible rank. Werewolf pack life was similar to real wolf pack life when it came to children – everyone cared for them. There weren't many, but the ones that were there were well-loved. Whether or not they were turned by Fenrir or not didn't matter; they were all considered his children. There were more males in the pack than females as females didn't often survive to turn. Fenrir was apparently delighted that Emma would be guaranteed to survive her bite because of her blood.

Lucky me. Thanks, Dad, she thought to herself.

Females weren't treated any differently than the males, which made Emma ill. It meant that the women were hit just as often as the men. They weren't considered property and had free-will, but they were expected to submit to the men. The children were off-limits for punishment and were encouraged to be active, fighting amongst their playing and learning. If a werewolf was turned when they were older, the expectation was that their wand would be broken. They were werewolves first, wizards never. Wands were useless to werewolves, at least that's what Fenrir said, according to Boris. Emma doubted that anyone in the pack realized Fenrir had a wand at all. It took Emma a while to understand that children learned magic, but it wasn't magic – it was considered "their gift."

Werewolf magic was different, more reliant on the earth. They knew how to use their powers and use them well. Werewolf magic was old and ancient magic and relied on connection; connections to the earth, connections to their wolf, connections to each other. Their connections made everything about their predatory nature easier – hunting, tracking, and sneaking were aided by their magic. The wolf was meant to be an extension of a werewolf's self, not a second personality. Boris was only Boris – not Boris and who he was before.

The more she learned, the more it explained why her father was so skilled and powerful. He saw both sides of life and picked the pieces he liked and would benefit from. He took advantage of the power he had, making him a fierce dueler, but he avoided letting Moony forward. There were things that her father couldn't avoid, his heightened senses and impulses, but other things he ignored because it meant relying on Moony.

Touch was such a vital component to being a werewolf, something that Emma had started to work out herself. She had always found it funny how quick Remus was willing to humor her and snuggle at almost any given time. It was soothing for him just like it was for her – it was an innate need for packmates to be close. Sleeping together in piles in the pack was expected, both expected and needed for their well-being and comfort. She idly wondered if that was the same for Sirius as a dog Animagus. It would better explain why both her fathers were more than all right with her intrusions – they were truly their own little pack.

What Emma didn't realize was how much touch actually did. She knew about the pain transference, had experienced that herself, but she didn't entirely understand the other things Boris told her. The near-telepathic connection that could be shared left her frazzled. She didn't realize that it was all the time and wasn't left to just their wolf forms. It wasn't the type of telepathy where she could just hop into her mind and talk to her father like in movies. If there was no physical connection, the mental link didn't exist.

There were levels to their telepathy; not all werewolves could do it successfully. The stronger you were, the more likely a werewolf could do it. With a sickening jolt in Emma's stomach, she realized that's how Fenrir knew Soleil's name. He knew how to pull Soleil forward to ask himself without Emma even picking up on it. That was important information her father could have told her.

It was bizarre to Emma to find out that she was spoken of among the pack, especially recently. As far as the pack knew, she didn't really exist, she was only a stroy. Her father seemed to hold a special place within the pack – he was Fenrir's first successful turn. It gave her a baseline to understand her strange status. Emma and her father were the exceptions to the rules. It wasn't just her that Fenrir wanted; he was determined to have them both.

Her wolf having a name had been a cause for celebration, just like it was for each new werewolf. Births and deaths were celebrated and given reverence, but name days were extraordinary occasions. She couldn't imagine what that could be like and tried to picture dozens of werewolves she didn't know celebrating her. It was the sort of thing that you read in stories, strange fantasies for the power-hungry – it was never meant to be real.

"Fenrir said you would be joining us soon," Boris said into the silence that settled between them.

"I'm sure he did," Emma murmured.

"Is it true?"

That was a difficult question for her to answer, and it scared her because a part of her wanted to say yes. She wanted revenge, but she didn't know what she wanted revenge on. Her mind was pulled in too many different directions. "I don't know," Emma admitted.

"Soleil?"

Emma jolted at the use of her wolf's name, not expecting it. It was still strange to her, and she wasn't sure she would ever get used to it. "Yes?"

"You're, uhm, you're very kind."

"That's the way of my pack," Emma said slowly. "I won't tell Fenrir about what you told me."

"You won't…you won't tell Fenrir any of this?"

"Never. Fenrir has no power over me, even if he thinks he does."

Boris's eyes widened in surprise, and he opened his mouth several times to speak but promptly closed it. That was the last they spoke until Emma decided she couldn't stay awake any longer. Boris was instructed not to harm her, and Fenrir's orders held a strange power over the boy. She wasn't worried about falling asleep with the boy in her room, though it was odd.

Emma had a lot of research to do. Once again, everything had changed, but Emma's path was much clearer. It wouldn't be right then, but she would have to join Fenrir's pack if she was going to change anything. She had figured out why her father failed his mission in overthrowing Fenrir's reign – he didn't start with the children.

Never in her life did she think she would actively look forward to taking Wolfsbane. She was already exhausted. The dull throb in her head that hadn't quite left came back full force, but her cramps had subsided, and the rain had stopped. It would be the first day that she wouldn't see her father or Elara, and she had no idea what she would do. Remus was expected at the Ministry to discuss his arrangements for the full moon and her custody case. She knew both were important things to do, but she still felt disappointed. Elara was starting her double shifts at St. Mungo's to prepare for the next week, meaning she was unavailable as well.

She was still in bed, staring at her notebook, re-reading her conversation with Remus before he had to leave.

'You have to ask Ward for the potion, sweetheart. Severus is very busy and couldn't stay very long.'

That was the last thing Emma wanted to do, but she knew the sooner she had it, the better. With a heavy sigh, Emma gathered her things to hide them on her person and made the walk to Ward's office.

She stood outside his door for a few minutes before knocking anxiously. The idea of just skipping the potion crossed her mind the moment she did it, and she started to turn back to leave, but the door opened. With a shaky breath, Emma pushed the door open, keeping her eyes cast downward.

"Oh. It's you," Ward said. "What do you want?"

"I, uhm…I'm here for my potion, sir," Emma said, fidgeting nervously.

"What potion?"

"The…Wolfsbane Potion?"

"I thought you said you weren't a werewolf. What do you need that for?"

Emma forced herself to look at Ward, gulping as she took in his appearance. Outwardly, other than the eyepatch across his left eye, she wouldn't know anything was wrong with him. He sat behind his desk, staring at her with disgust. She took a quick look around the room, hoping that the potion was just sitting somewhere. She knew what it looked like and would recognize the vial, but none was found.

"I'm…not a werewolf, sir, but I still get very ill without the potion," Emma said quietly.

"Well, nothing's come for you," Ward said with a slight shrug.

That didn't sit well with Emma when Remus very specifically wrote to her and said Snape had stopped at the children's home with the potion first. "Are you sure?" Emma asked. "I…Professor Snape should have brought it."

"Professor Snape has not been by," Ward said dismissively, picking up a pen and turning his attention to the papers on his desk. "If he arrives, someone will let you know."

Emma stood in the doorway for a moment, her stomach sinking. The first day without Wolfsbane wouldn't be terrible, the effects only just starting to kick in. Maybe Snape truly didn't bring the potion. She wouldn't put it past him, but she had hoped that he wouldn't make her suffer.

"All right," Emma finally said. "T-thank you."

Rather than dwell on it for too long, Emma decided to wander the children's home in between naps. She was starving, but she didn't want to go out if she wasn't seeing her father or Elara. Out of curiosity, Emma finally made her way to the tree she had buried a shoebox under. She dug into the still-wet dirt, not having to search far to find the box.

It had never occurred to her as a child that the box should have been destroyed, but it had been charmed to repel the rain and dirt. Every rock had a story attached to it, some of her own, some with Fenrir, some shared. There were quite a few that she didn't recognize, and she frowned slightly. Fenrir had told her he still added rocks out of habit. To give herself something to do, Emma decided to bring the strange box of different shaped stones in. The rocks had stories to tell, and it wouldn't hurt to remember them.

Emma eventually made her way up to the girl's dormitory. She decided to stop by her old room, glad that its current occupants weren't present. Emma huffed out a quiet laugh, touching the doorframe. How many times did Jocelyn shove her into the doorway just to be a brat and get into the room first? Emma had lost count.

She was lost in thought when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. A girl just a little shorter than her with auburn hair was looking at her curiously.

"I'm sorry, but you're in my way," the girl said, scratching her head as she studied Emma. "You're new."

Emma gave the girl a small smile. "Not new, just back temporarily," Emma said. "Is this your room?"

The girl nodded, and Emma stepped aside. "Why were you staring into my room like that?" the girl asked.

"Oh," Emma laughed, gesturing to the bunk bed. "That bed over there used to be mine, right at the top."

"Really? That's where I sleep."

Emma took a look at the girl and nearly burst into laughter. They were different and yet so similar. Auburn hair, brown eyes, pale skin – the girl in front of her reminded her of herself. Hogwarts letters still hadn't gone out yet, and Emma just had a weird feeling this girl was magic. She was going to be disappointed if she was wrong. "How old are you?" Emma asked curiously.

"I'm eleven," the girl answered, her brow furrowing slightly. "Why?"

"Was just wondering," Emma said, her smile widening. "I'll leave you alone. Sorry for intruding."

Emma was nearly at the door to leave when the girl called out to her.

"How old are you?" the girl asked.

"I'm fourteen," Emma replied. "Why?"

"Just wondering," the girl parroted back with a smile. "You seem familiar. Have we met?"

"Not sure. How long have you been here?"

"Only a year or two. I think," the girl said, looking unsure.

"I'm afraid not, then," Emma said. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

The week before the full moon, Emma found she came alive at night. It had been an accidental discovery at Hogwarts when Remus kept finding her up in the astronomy tower most nights. She felt the pull of the moon differently than he did, but it was there, sitting just underneath the surface.

When neither Fenrir nor Boris showed up by the time Emma's door was locked, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Gathering her things, Emma slipped out the window and out into the quiet streets, keeping to the shadows. It was well past curfew, and she didn't relish the idea of being picked up for being out after hours. That wouldn't do her any favors, and she wasn't even sure who would pick her up.

The idea of having to have Remus bail her out of the police department made her giggle as she made her way to the river. At some point, she would have to find an open corner shop to get something to eat since she hadn't eaten all day, but the river called to her. She needed to take advantage of whatever peace she could find.

The night felt nice. The muggy haze that had been surrounding the area all day had melted away to sweet breezes. Emma was almost tempted to close her eyes as she walked – she felt free. When she made it to the river, she quickly shucked off her boots, rolled up her jeans, and dipped her feet into the water. With a content sigh, Emma laid back on the grass, closing her eyes and kicking her legs lazily through the cold water. It was pure bliss.

"You know you're not supposed to be out by yourself."

Emma cracked open an eye to watch Fenrir sitting down next to her. Peace – gone.

"No one showed up, so I assumed I was on my own tonight," Emma said, not bothering to sit up. She gave the air a slight test sniff. "This whole cologne thing, while appreciated, is very odd. It smells like you just put it on."

"Because I did," Fenrir grumbled. "I didn't think you would be happy if I didn't."

"Well, thank you, I suppose," Emma said. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Busy. Carried into today, and it wasn't supposed to," Fenrir said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes. He offered one to Emma, but she declined. That was one of her limits, but she offered to light it for him. "How was Boris? Obedient?"

Emma nodded, finally sitting back up. "Disturbingly so," Emma said, shooting Fenrir a look. "That was unnecessary. I don't need a watchdog, thank you."

"It's precautionary," Fenrir said, giving the air a slight sniff. "Did you not take Wolfsbane today?"

"No," Emma muttered. "And I would appreciate it if you would not do that."

"Hard not to. Why didn't you take it?"

"I would think someone like you would be against the potion, not wanting to subdue the wolf and the whatnot."

"Answer the question."

Fenrir spoke like a true authoritarian, powerful and unyielding, and Emma couldn't help but cow slightly at the tone. No wonder Boris was surprised by Emma. "I, uh…wasn't given it," Emma said, looking at Fenrir with wide eyes.

"Why?"

"How in the bloody hell am I supposed to know? It wasn't like I didn't take it on purpose."

Fenrir grunted in response, and that was the end of their conversation. Emma didn't mind at all; she wasn't too sure she wanted to talk to Fenrir still.

The need for food was swept away as the desire for sleep took hold. Emma felt her eyes starting to close, and she quickly pulled her feet out of the water. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rest her head against them, ready to fall asleep right there. Emma knew that she couldn't, but she certainly wanted to.

"You're shivering," Fenrir suddenly said, startling Emma out of her sleepy haze.

She blinked at him blearily and frowned slightly as he pulled off his coat and dropped it over her shoulders. She didn't even realize that she had been cold, too tired to care. "'M fine," she said, starting to shrug his coat off. Before she had the chance to, Fenrir swiftly pulled her into his side.

"Rest," he said firmly, his grip tight on Emma's arm. "I'll bring you back. You have my word."

The rational side of her brain said to not fall asleep around Fenrir, but sleep was closing in quickly. With his grip on her arm, he wasn't giving her a choice in the matter, and she didn't have enough energy to fight it. Despite knowing it was a risk, Emma closed her eyes. Hopefully, she wouldn't regret it in the morning.


a/n: Surprise upload because I'm both grumpy and in a good mood (it's a long story - Twitter has the details lol).

Lu - Ahhh! I knew you would freak out at the last chapter hahaha! The big question right now is definitely, "Who is Jude?" It's a question that's been needing an answer since book one and that answer will finally come this book! Fenrir is very...interesting. He has his moments, but we'll see how long it lasts. ;)