Emma had a very long day. She could feel herself getting sick the previous night, but it really took hold that morning. Her body was not reacting well to the stress it was going through without the Wolfsbane. She had no idea how her father dealt with the effects monthly without the potion, but then again, in a way, he was lucky. Moony at least had somewhere to go; Soleil was trapped until she received a bite.

She had her second ballet class earlier that day, and it turned out to be a feat that she handled it at all. The pull of the moon was more intense than ever, and her exhaustion made her movements sloppy and weak. When she found herself on the floor, slipping out of a pose that shouldn't have made her fall, Emma had stayed on the floor, laughing until she cried. It seemed almost fitting that she would fall and sprain her ankle after everything she was going through. The only good thing about her current situation was she wouldn't have to deal with any comments about her "bleeding." Elara had given Emma a very nice stockpile of potions with the promise of making sure Remus would remind her to take it. She had no intention of having a repeat incident that summer.

Elara had given Emma a hard time about not telling anyone she wasn't taking the Wolfsbane Potion. It was even harder for Emma to explain that it wasn't on purpose. Though Elara promised she wouldn't say a word to Remus, Emma didn't believe she would keep it a secret. Emma had a sneaking suspicion that her father already knew, but in typical Remus Lupin fashion, he didn't say a word.

Emma had an attitude with him when he checked her ankle as Elara talked to her dance instructor. She was supposed to have a second class that week, but Elara could already tell that Emma wasn't going to be able to handle it. Remus gave her a questioning look at her snarky comment but didn't comment on how snippy she was. Instead, he gave her a sympathetic smile. He pressed his forehead to hers, gently massaging her scalp and pulling her into a brief moment of peace. He always knew how to keep her grounded and bring her back to a calmer state of mind.

"Only a few more days," he said gently, kissing the tip of her nose, "and then it's all over."

"Until next month, and we get to do it all over again," Emma said dryly. "'M sorry."

Remus only gave her a small smile in response and kissed one cheek and then the other. Sometimes he said so much without having to say a word. He understood completely.

Knowing she wasn't going home and had to return to the children's home was getting easier in its own way. She allowed herself to cry a little bit over it the moment her door was locked for the night, and she was safe from most prying eyes.

For the most part, she was proud of herself for not crying much since being in Saint Nicholas's. There were so many moments where she wanted to cry, but she kept herself together as best as she could. Crying wasn't going to change her situation, but it certainly made her feel a lot better about things, and she needed a good cathartic cry.

She jumped when she heard something drop over by her dresser. Emma wiped her face off, sitting up and looking at the shoes sitting there. She looked up to meet Fenrir's gaze.

"Why do you have my old pointe shoes?" she asked, sniffling. "Better yet – why did you decide to bring them?"

Fenrir stared back at her for a moment, his thick brows knitting close together for a moment. "You left your things at the dance school the last time you were here, and I picked them up. Never got around to doing anything with them," he said, looking at the shoes and then over at Emma's feet, which she immediately pulled underneath herself. "I don't think your feet have grown much, if at all. You wouldn't have to get a new pair."

Somehow, it was not the strangest thing that Fenrir had said to her in the entire time she had known him. "I don't have any need for them," Emma said quietly.

Fenrir's eyebrows lifted slightly as he leaned into her room. "If you're going to lie to me, at least make an effort, Rabbit," he said, nodding towards her dance clothes that she had left in the corner of her room.

She would if she felt it was worth the effort of trying to make a believable lie. Emma stared at the shoes for a moment, part of her tempted to see if they fit. She didn't grow much at all, and she didn't think her feet grew in the past few years. There was a possibility the shoes still fit. Emma sighed at the realization that she had only worn them twice – once when she was fitted, and once more to show Fenrir. What a strange life she had once lived…

Emma got up from her bed to turn off her light, ignoring Fenrir as best as she could. Before she could make it to the light switch, Fenrir was right in front of her, and she crossed her arms. It was ridiculous how fast he actually moved for his size, and she frowned at the shoes held in his hands.

"Just try them on," he said, jerking his head towards her bed.

Emma sat back down on her bed with a heavy sigh, annoyed that Fenrir insisted that she try the shoes on. It wasn't like it mattered when she had to work back up to the level she was. It would be a very long time before she was good enough, especially with going back to school in nearly a month.

She took the shoes from Fenrir's hands slowly, hesitating for a moment before running through the motions. Emma had been so proud of earning her pointe shoes, something that she worked so hard for. Every time she was reminded that she did it to prove to Fenrir she was good at something, she broke a little. Remus would have always been so incredibly proud of her, and it made her feel terrible that she had been nasty to him earlier that day. He knew nothing about ballet, but he was so proud and beyond happy to be a part of something that had been important to her growing up.

Emma wanted nothing more than for the shoes to not fit, but they seemed to fit perfectly. It was like a twisted little Cinderella moment for her, but Fenrir was a monster, not a prince. It would have made the entire situation much different if it was George presenting her with the shoes. He would have been even more confused than her father, but no less enthusiastic, she was sure.

"You know that you have to stand in them before you can decide if they fit or not," Fenrir said, his voice surprisingly soft. It was much different than the night before, and Emma let out another sigh because he had a point.

She stood up and looked up at Fenrir as he held his hands out for her to take. The entire thing felt incredibly wrong, something she should be doing with her father and not Fenrir. As the thought crossed her mind, another idea settled itself in place. Whatever Fenrir felt towards her couldn't be just a pack thing like he tried to make it out. But he couldn't have grown to see her as his daughter when she was growing up, could he? That would make things so much more complicated.

Emma couldn't allow herself to think about it, especially after how he treated her the night before. It would be something else that didn't fit the narrative she had with Fenrir and left a bitter taste in her mouth. The very idea was as impossible as it could get, but when Emma hesitated to do anything, and he gently took her hands, it left her wondering. The gesture was delicate in the same way that Remus or Sirius handled her, with practiced ease that she felt could only be reserved for beloved children.

"Try," Fenrir said simply. "You won't know unless you try."

She detested Fenrir encouraging her to try; she hated how gentle he was suddenly being. It drove home the point of how wrong the entire situation was. Still, she was as far as she was and moved her hands to his arms to have a more solid base. Tucked away in the recesses of her memories, she remembered they had done this before. Taking a deep breath, Emma lifted herself up and immediately rolled her ankle again. It was stupid of her to bother trying, and she pushed herself back from Fenrir to sit back down on the bed.

"This was fucking stupid," Emma said, ripping the shoes off of her feet and massaging her ankle. At least she had rolled the same ankle and not the other.

Fenrir smacked her hand away to check her ankle himself. "I noticed you were favoring this foot earlier. What did you do?"

"I fell," Emma shrugged.

"You fell?"

"Yes."

"Well, that was fucking stupid," Fenrir said with a slight growl.

"I had no idea," Emma said dryly. She let out a yelp as Fenrir manipulated her ankle the same way Remus had earlier. "You absolute bastard."

Fenrir snorted, a slight smile crossing his face. "Shouldn't have fallen. You never used to fall before."

"How would you know? It wasn't like you ever watched me practice or went to my recitals," Emma said sharply. Fenrir only gave a grunt in response, letting go of Emma's ankle, his lips pressing into a thin line as he crossed his arms. Even Fenrir knew he couldn't deny that claim.

"Come on, let's go out. I'll carry you," Fenrir said, his expression shifting into the one that told her he wouldn't take no for an answer. Two could play that game.

"No," Emma said, tossing the shoes onto the floor and sliding herself up the bed to slip underneath the cover. "I'm going to bed."

Fenrir pulled himself up to his full height, eyes narrowing slightly. "No, you're not," he said slowly. "You're coming out with me."

"No, I am not," Emma said, nodding her head towards her dresser. "You can leave and take your coat. I don't need it."

"It's raining. I'm sure you've figured out it's been charmed to keep you dry."

"Yes, but I'm not going out, so you can take your coat and leave me alone," Emma huffed, laying down and half hiding her face in her pillow.

"Rabbit, don't be ridiculous. Come out."

"No."

"I will drag you out of that bed like you're one of the pups if you don't get up. You're small enough to be one."

"What? No threatening to rip my throat out tonight?"

"Keep it up, and I just might," Fenrir growled.

Emma shot Fenrir a glare and burrowed further into the mattress, eyebrows raised in a challenge. "Why are you so insistent that I come out?" Emma asked.

Fenrir was looking less and less amused by her. "I want to talk to you," he said.

"Then talk," Emma said, making a vague gesture to the room. "Better yet – you can go out in the rain, and I'll stay right here and act as if I'm paying any attention to what you're saying."

"You are acting like such a brat."

"Hmm, yes, well, I think considering our current track record, my responses are appropriate," Emma muttered. She was fully prepared to continue challenging Fenrir until she most definitely wasn't. All it took was the energy change in the room, the slight darkening of his eyes, and a single step forward for her to jump back out of bed.

Being carried piggyback by Fenrir Greyback was notably not amongst her summer's bingo board. If everything strange that had happened had been on that board, there was a chance she would have cleared the entire board. Emma wondered if her prize would have been a good one for winning the game.

The rain had let up half-way to the river and had become a fine mist. She had no doubt that she was going to have a full-blown cold the next morning with the constant shift in temperature her body was going through. Emma half expected Fenrir to just drop her on the ground when they arrived at the riverbank, but he let her down off his back slowly. She pulled her bag off of her shoulder and dropped it next to her as she sat down, eying Fenrir warily. She wasn't sure if he planned on repeating the previous night's events. Emma left her boots on just in case; hopefully, he wouldn't throw her back into the river again if she had shoes on.

Fenrir sat next to her, his arm nearly touching hers. He reached into his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes. Emma wondered just how often he smoked and almost let out a sigh of relief when he didn't ask her to light it for him. Instead, he pulled a lighter out of the box, and Emma was left slightly stunned by just how non-magical the situation felt.

It was a rare occurrence, but sometimes Fenrir would do things that would make her forget he was a werewolf. For brief moments, she could fall back into her strange fantasy of not living in the magical world. She still sometimes wished that particular fantasy was a reality – where werewolves and magic were only stories. What a life that would be; the Muggles had things so easy, and they had no idea.

"How are you feeling?" Fenrir suddenly asked, breaking Emma out of her thoughts.

Emma looked at Fenrir in confusion. "Why do you care?"

"You were crying earlier, so clearly something is wrong."

Buggering fuck.

There were at least eight different ways Emma could answer that question, and each answer came down to Fenrir in one way or another. She was frustrated with her current situation, and she was tired of having to sneak around. Trying to toe the line at the children's home was miserable, and it was only because the staff just didn't care to deal with her that she got away with so much. She wanted to be home sleeping in her bed, or most likely her father's bed with the full moon so close. Emma craved routine, and though she had started to slip into one, it was born purely out of the need to cope.

Her mind was pushed and pulled in so many directions that she had completely lost count. She was still reeling from the revelation that not only was there nothing wrong with Jude, but there had also been nothing wrong with her mother. It had left her with more questions than she had no answers for, but she couldn't convince herself to ask. If she wasn't so concerned about making it through the summer, she would focus on that situation more, but she couldn't. She hated that she had any positive feelings towards Fenrir, though her brain was slowly bridging that gap of the "old Fenrir" and the "new Fenrir." The day she could finally come to terms with who Fenrir really was couldn't come soon enough.

She was aggravated that Peter escaped, that Sirius had to be on the run still. She was beyond pissed that her wand, something that had become so treasured, had been broken by the rat. Her heart was broken that the person she thought was her best friend really wasn't, or at least didn't appear to be. Persephone had insisted that she truly loved Emma, but she was still helping Fenrir and her father. Some days Emma could reconcile with herself and admit that she would do the same thing if she were in her shoes, but it still hurt. The fact that she had been friends with Persephone since birth and Persephone was working to hurt her? It was heartbreaking.

Emma wanted to tell someone that she was terrified of going back to Hogwarts, terrified of what would happen with the Ministry. She wasn't sure that she had friends anymore at school other than the few who wrote to her, though she doubted they would be her friend anymore. It wasn't like she had made an effort to talk to someone other than Harry, but she hadn't heard back from him. Maybe he didn't like her either….

She worried that the Ministry would find some reason, any reason, to execute her father for his transgressions. After all, that was the fate that met most werewolves met...unless they were Fenrir Greyback. Though Emma knew that Remus wouldn't go down without a fight when it came to her, would he do the same for himself if he had to?

He wasn't at all like Fenrir in that respect, though he had been more than willing to murder Peter in the Shrieking Shack with Sirius. The cold expression on both of their faces still stuck out in her mind and sent a shiver down her spine. She understood why they would want to, Peter had destroyed so much for more than half of the group present, but it was terrifying.

"I don't know," Emma finally said. How was she supposed to answer that question when she honestly didn't know? She was always on edge, fearing the worst and hoping for the best.

"You don't know?"

"No."

"Then what do you know?"

That question was much easier for her to answer. "I know I don't want to be here."

"Why?"

The answer to that question was even easier. "Because I fucking hate you."

A near-satisfied smile pulled at Fenrir's lips as he took a drag of his cigarette. "I think that's the first sincere thing you've ever said to me. I was beginning to think you were going to be a problem, but you apparently do know how to tell the truth."

"Oh, do you want the truth about what I think about you? Because I have plenty more to say."

"By all means," Fenrir shrugged. "I confess that I'm curious to know."

"Oh, are you?" Emma said, turning her entire body to glare at Fenrir's profile. "This is perfect because I've had a ton of time to think about this over the past week and a half. I think you are an absolutely foul and despicable person. You're so bloody controlling and demanding for no reason other than you can be. You have spent seemingly your entire life trying to create this disturbing image for yourself to strike fear into people. I bet you absolutely adore that when parents tell their children about you, it's because you are the monster under their bed.

"You thrive on the power you have over others – it was quite evident last night. You say you care for your pack, but I'm not sure that you really do unless it benefits you somehow. I don't think that you even can love someone. You're too bloody concerned with yourself and the things that you want. You take, and you take, and really, what does it matter to you? You've got, I don't bloody know – how many people are in your pack? – but you've got all of these people do to the things you want for you. You're no better than what Voldemort was, and it's no bloody wonder you two worked together. You two should have been a couple when he was around."

"Well, well, Rabbit's claws have come out to play," Fenrir said, peering up at the moon. "I was starting to think that they wouldn't. You have an incredible amount of restraint, even without taking Wolfsbane."

"It's not easy," Emma muttered.

"Feel better?"

Emma turned herself back towards the water, crossing her arms. She wasn't going to dignify Fenrir's question with a response. She didn't want to prove him right.

"That's what I thought," Fenrir said, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. "You were wrong about at least half of what you said."

"At least half? I think I've got you pretty spot-on, really."

"Bits and pieces, sure. I enjoy the power that I have, but not for the reason you think. I'm demanding because I know what others are worth; I want the best. There's a reason why I do the things I do, but I bet you would never even consider that as a possibility; you would never believe that there's an ounce of good to what I do," Fenrir said, fixing Emma with his unwavering stare. Emma turned her face away – there was no possible way there could be an ounce of good to what Fenrir did. "The things you know about me have been filtered through your father, to paint a narrative that he wants you to believe. For years, you've had no recollection of who I am, and he has painted a picture for you that's not entirely true."

Fenrir gripped Emma's chin lightly, turning her face back towards him. "I want you to think very carefully about this before answering - can you still believe everything he says when you've known me nearly your entire life? Can you honestly say that everything he's told you is the truth?"

Emma hated Fenrir more than anything, and she felt her entire body heat up as she held his gaze. She wanted to say yes more than anything, but instead, she let out a very bitter, "No."

It wasn't a lie, not exactly. She knew Remus filtered his stories, but only to keep out the worst of the details, instead allowing her to fill in the blanks. Elara mostly told Emma the stories but deferred to Remus on certain details. They gave her enough information to understand how things had been for them at the height of the war. Boris had given her an unfiltered view into life with the pack and with Fenrir in the current. Emma having her old memories, as hard as they were to work through, provided additional insight. Every piece of information she knew about Fenrir came down to one God awful sliver of advice – do what it takes to survive.

It was the right answer as Fenrir's growl came out as a purr, and he let go of her. "We share the same cause, you know," Fenrir said, stubbing out his cigarette and flicking it somewhere into the night.

"We do not share the same cause," Emma spat. "I'm not going around attacking children. I'm not attacking others because they disagree with me. I certainly don't pretend to act like I'm not a witch and act like an animal all the time."

"Is that really what you think I do?"

"Because it bloody is!"

"And here I thought you knew me…"

"I do! It's you who doesn't know me!"

Fenrir seemed to take that as a challenge. "I don't?" he asked, humming thoughtfully. "Let's see, I know that you've a proven aptitude for Herbology and for Potions. You're miserable at Astronomy, which makes absolutely no sense to me when you have a werewolf for a father. You never pay attention in History when you should because it's important – history repeats itself, you know. You're all right with Transfiguration, but you do a much better job at Charms. You decided that you like Quidditch all of a sudden - so much so that you decided to play for your team. Your favorite color changes nearly every week, you prefer most things Muggle, and you spend more time with Slytherins than your own house. Does that sound right?"

Emma felt herself grow paler and paler, the more Fenrir said. How much did Persephone actually tell him? "Well, clearly someone has had no issue in telling you a lot about me," Emma said quietly.

"Oh, I know plenty more. Would you like me to continue?"

"No."

Fenrir hummed again, reaching into his pocket to pull out another cigarette. "Our causes are the same. You want to make the lives of werewolves better. So do I. We're stronger than wizards, better in every possible way –"

"See, that's where you completely lose me, Fenrir."

"Shut up and listen to me," Fenrir said sharply. "We're better, stronger, faster, but the wizarding community has decided our powers are a problem. Our resources are limited. I do what I do to ensure that my pack has a better life. People fearing me and fearing the pack is what keeps us safe. Wizards hate us –"

"Because you attack them –"

"I said shut the fuck up and listen. You are not listening to me," Fenrir growled. Emma fell silent and gestured for Fenrir to continue. "Such a fucking brat," he muttered before continuing, "Wizards hate us because they know what we're capable of. Our magic is old magic, something most wizards wish they could harness. We don't need wands because our magic isn't built around using wands."

"Yet you have a wand and nearly attacked me for even looking at it," Emma pointed out, flinching slightly as Fenrir tensed up in aggravation, his hands balling into fists.

"Do you not understand how to fucking follow directions? I said shut up."

Emma shrugged. "I follow them when I feel it's necessary," Emma said, daring to lay back on the grass. The grass was wet, but it was cold and felt pleasant on her overheated body. "Explain the wand thing to me, then."

"A werewolf with a wand is far more dangerous," Fenrir said simply. "Sometimes, all it takes to get someone to bend to your will is a wand."

"So you think I'm dangerous?" Emma asked carefully.

"No," Fenrir said, "but I don't have your loyalty yet. From what I've heard, you know what you're doing with a wand. I can handle you with no issue, but I would rather avoid the headache. Without your loyalty, I don't trust you."

"Real rich coming from you," Emma laughed. "Asking me for blind loyalty when you're a bloody monster. I think I'm the one who shouldn't be trusting you."

Fenrir gave Emma a once over. "Has your father told you nothing about what you are?"

"He's told me enough…"

"He has only told you what he wants you to know, and you only experience half of it because you're so averse to just accepting what you are."

"I don't want to be a werewolf."

"You already are."

"I'm only half. It's different, and you know it," Emma said quietly. "I don't want to be like you."

"Like what? Powerful?"

"Evil."

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"Is that not what you are? Did we not establish this earlier that I fucking hate you?"

"I don't believe that you do."

Emma chose to ignore Fenrir's comment. She was determined to say it enough until she felt it was undeniably true. "Right, well, that still doesn't explain attacking children. What does a child have to do with anything adult wizards do?"

"Everything," Fenrir said, laying down next to Emma.

"My God, you really need to bloody explain yourself. What is everything?"

"I don't attack children; I give them a gift."

"By turning them into werewolves? By forcing them into a life that they don't want?"

Fenrir turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Emma. "You know, I take children whose situations are not too dissimilar to yours."

"What does that even mean?"

"Abused. Neglected. Disowned… Sometimes I even kill their parents, but that's a generosity they don't deserve."

"I'm not abused or neglected," Emma scoffed. "Neither was my father."

"But you were. And Lyall pissed me off – he needed to learn a lesson. Would've gotten your mother as well if I had the chance. Then Lyall ran like the coward that he is."

"If you knew I was being abused, why didn't you take me then? Why bother waiting?" Emma sat up and shot Fenrir a glare. "And then why didn't you bother killing Jude if that's the case? At least then maybe I would find a reason to like you better."

"Which means you like me."

Emma hesitated for a moment. "It means I tolerate you," she said slowly.

Fenrir grunted in response, a smug smile on his face.

"You know, you're like a bloody caveman sometimes," Emma said. "Why use words when you can just make noises at everything?"

"Words are noises."

"Astute observation, Sherlock Holmes. I had no clue that words were noises. Thank you for that wonderful lesson. Wanker."

"Not the first time I've been called that."

"Let me guess, not many live after calling you that."

Fenrir grunted again in response, and Emma ran her hands down her face in frustration. "How do people have conversations with you?"

"They don't. You have an incredibly filthy mouth, and you're a brat. If you were with me in the pack right now, you can bet that mouth of yours would be shut up by now."

"It's fine for me. I haven't had any complaints about myself so far."

Emma decided that Fenrir was in a much better mood that night. He was still grumpy but seemed less likely to lash out at her. She let the silence settle for a while before deciding to ask him questions again.

"How old are you anyway?" Emma asked.

"You're nearly fifteen," Fenrir responded, sitting back up.

"Are you so old that you can't understand how to answer a simple question? I'm well aware of how old I am, thanks. That's not what I asked - how old are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just trying to figure out who you are," Emma said quietly. "I've seen you nearly every day, and I apparently don't know much about you."

Fenrir was silent for a moment. "Forty-eight."

Emma turned her head to look at Fenrir, studying him closely. "I thought you were…I dunno how old I thought you were." Emma wrinkled her nose as she took a good look at Fenrir, trying to understand how he didn't look that old at all. Her father looked closer to forty-eight than Fenrir did, and it didn't make sense. Was it because Remus resisted Moony so much that it affected him much more than he let on? Or was it due to everything he was doing before Emma came back into his life?

"I can't decide if it's better or worse, knowing how old you actually are," she admitted.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're like…you're like a very creepy grandfather."

"I'm not that old."

"You are that old," Emma said, humming quietly to herself as she tried to think of what question to ask next. "How old were you when you were turned?"

"Why are you asking me so many fucking questions tonight?"

"For the same reason I've asked every other question – I'm curious. Do you want my loyalty or not? Aren't you the one who said they did their research before getting into anything?"

Fenrir let out a soft growl. "You learn fast."

"I'm smart."

"Questionable," Fenrir said. "I was eighteen."

"And my father was your first successful turn? Is that correct?" Fenrir gave a slight nod in response, and Emma frowned slightly. "You haven't been a werewolf that much longer than my father, then."

"That's correct," Fenrir said, sitting up again.

Emma pursed her lips slightly. This was the most she had been able to get Fenrir to talk, and she was wondering just how much information she could get out of him. In her aggravation, she had completely forgotten he was the one who wanted to talk. "What did you want to talk to me about," Emma asked.

"Oh, am I allowed to talk? Thought you decided tonight was all about you." Fenrir asked sarcastically. Emma huffed, crossing her arms and flopping back onto the ground again. "You know I just had my coat cleaned."

"Don't care," Emma said. "Talk, Wolf Man."

Fenrir took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm not going to be around as much the next few days," he said slowly.

That was surprising to hear. "Oh, abandoning me all over again?" Emma asked.

"I'm going to be away because of you, brat," Fenrir said, shooting Emma a glare.

"Because of me?" Fenrir nodded slowly, and Emma stared at him expectantly.

"Certain…individuals…are being difficult," Fenrir said after a while, "which means I have to do things my way. Almost everything is ready."

It took Emma a moment to understand what Fenrir was referring to, and her stomach dropped. "What if I don't want the rest of my memories?" Emma asked, her voice trembling far more than she wanted it to.

"Well, that's too damn bad," Fenrir replied. "You're going to want them."

"But why?"

"I don't think you understand just how much damage Jude can actually do, how much he's already done."

"Because you haven't told me anything else," Emma said quietly.

"It would be easier if everything was in that brain of yours," Fenrir said pointedly.

"Doesn't mean that I don't want to try and understand now."

Fenrir sighed, rubbing his jaw before giving a slight shrug. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

"I won't want you to."

"Then what do you want to know?"

Emma thought about it for a moment. "I want to know more about Jude," she said after thinking about it for a few minutes. "I want to understand that situation."

"You waste no time, do you?"

"Well, it doesn't appear as though you're particularly fond of him either," Emma said. "I can't imagine that a lot of people make you feel that way, so I'm just wondering why."

"You call me a monster, but Jude's far worse," Fenrir said with a dark chuckle. "You're aware that Jude gave you to me, yes?"

"Unfortunately," Emma muttered.

"But do you know why?"

"Not really," Emma said. "A few years ago, I think I dreamed of when that…deal or whatever took place. Something to do with working with Voldemort."

"I'm surprised that wasn't one of the memories pulled from you," Fenrir said.

"So that's true?"

"It is, but it's not the full story."

"Then what is the full story?"

Fenrir considered his answer for a moment. "One of the important things to know right is that Jude is a very jealous bastard. He wanted a son. You, very clearly, are not a son at all."

"So, this all started because I'm a girl?"

"To a degree, yes, which is incredibly stupid on his part, especially with how smart you actually are. But you're focusing on the wrong part - Jude is jealous."

"Jealous of what? I was never meant to be his in the first place."

"Ah, but that's where it gets interesting. You weren't a son, and you weren't an heir to the Nickels name. You recall how I said he's Muggle-born?"

"Yes," Emma said, slowly sitting up to pull her knees up to her chest.

"By having a son, he could have played into the Pure-blood charade. He's not from here, you know."

"I didn't know that."

"Hmm, suspect you wouldn't with his bullshit. It didn't matter to him that you weren't meant to be his – he didn't want you to exist at all. Consider it a failed attempt at an heir, if you will. Regardless of who you went to, by you existing at all, it was proof that he didn't have an heir. Not by your mother, at least. I can say that Jude did love her. For a time…"

"It didn't seem like it."

"She wanted to leave him when she realized what he was trying to do. But by then, it was too late. Jude had already promised you to me, and she did everything in her power to keep you away from me. Then Jude fucked up. He let you loose around the pack, and Monty got to you – I wasn't letting you get away that easy after that. There's more to it, but those details don't matter just yet – they'll come in time."

"But you didn't kill Jude."

"No, because I wanted him to suffer."

"Doesn't sound like he's suffered too much."

"Because he hasn't. Not yet. He's played the long game, but he's getting tired of it. Your dog escaping from Azkaban had given him the incentive to finally leave, but he couldn't. Not when you were still going to the hospital for different reasons."

"People will notice that he's missing."

"I can't stand the bastard, but Jude's talented in many ways. No one will even realize he's gone now. You've no need to go to the hospital; no one would bother checking."

"How will no one realize that he's gone?"

"Because he's talented in memory charms like that one idiot was that got himself locked in the ward – they were friends. Has anyone ever bothered checking you to see if your mind's been altered?"

That just made Emma have a million more questions. Jude was friends with Lockhart, too? She supposed that made sense – they were both Ravenclaws. "It's…it's come up, but it was decided there was no point when I was remembering things."

"You'll want to get that checked out. I wouldn't have put it past him to have not done something. Anything with the mind is easier with children. Your minds are still pliant and easily swayed," Fenrir said.

"Can we go back to that for a moment? Back to when Jude decided to give me to you? If he didn't want me around, what was he hoping to accomplish by giving me to you?"

"He was hoping that I would wind up killing you."

"But he said something about me being of age –"

"That was just a courtesy I extended to you," Fenrir scoffed. "Do you really think I gave a shit about that? Jude only said it to try and save his ass if he got caught. If I was smarter, I would have just taken you years ago."

Emma frowned as she tried to let that settle in amongst the rest of her thoughts. "So then why didn't you? Why did you decide leaving me was the best option?"

"Because I most likely would have killed you," Fenrir said simply. "You were too small. When I finally decided that it would be time to take you, you were much smaller than I expected you to be. Add that to the fact you were not taken care of properly. You were quiet and refused to talk. It wasn't normal." Fenrir took a look at Emma. "You're still too small."

"Well, can't change that. Missed out on those genes," Emma said quietly.

"Clearly," Fenrir snorted. "Thought you having your father's blood would have at least give you some of his height. Can't complain too much; he gave you something much better."

"My eventual demise," Emma said dryly.

"Oh, shut up," Fenrir said, rolling his eyes. "You're so fucking overdramatic; I don't understand how your father deals with you. He just made things so much easier for you – you're not going to die from being turned. Take advantage of the gift he's given you."

Emma fell silent, not sure of where the conversation could go. "Why are you telling me any of this?" Emma asked after a while. "I don't understand what exactly made you decide that you're changing things."

"You asked me yesterday if I love you," Fenrir said quietly.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with any of this?"

"Everything."

Emma swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "You see me as yours," Emma said carefully. "Your…your child?"

"Funny how that happened when you were growing up," Fenrir said, going into his pocket to pull out his third cigarette of the night with a smirk. "Now that you're older, well, can't say that I see you the same way..."

Fenrir didn't have to finish his sentence for her to understand. It was the conclusion that Emma had come up with, but she didn't like knowing that she was right. She opened her mouth to say something but found her mouth was dry. She studied Fenrir's profile for a moment before looking down at her feet. Emma had hoped that by having the information she did, she would understand what to do next. Instead, she was left with uncertainty, and she didn't think Remus would know what to do either.

"There are rumors about the Dark Lord's return. They've grown stronger the past month or so," Fenrir stated. "And Jude never received his mark. Killing you would have given it to him…Your mother wouldn't be enough. If the rumors are true, then you're Jude's easiest target."

Emma slowly lifted her gaze to meet Fenrir's, beginning to understand what he was telling her. If Jude left St. Mungo's because he believed the rumors, then it would make sense he would go for her first. "You're trying to keep me safe," Emma replied, her brow furrowing in confusion. "But you're doing this without me saying that I'll be loyal to you. Why?"

"Your loyalty means you'll be kept safe – the pack will be willing to serve. Your loyalty doesn't change that you're mine, and I take care of what's mine," Fenrir said with a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm not doing this for nothing, but you already know that. One day you'll serve at my side where you belong. It comes down to whether or not you're going to come willingly." Fenrir leaned towards Emma, stroking his fingers along her jaw. "You belong to me, Rabbit," he purred around the cigarette held between his teeth. He lifted his hand to brush his knuckles against the scar on Emma's cheek. "And everyone is going to know it."


a/n: Fenrir is ultimately Fenrir at the end of the day. There's no getting around it, aaannndddd I'm sorry. I'm not going to sugarcoat it because he's a grooossssss man. I like writing Fenrir because he's an interesting character to write, but I hate writing him because he's just super icky. I'm not going to lie, I have to sit and take breaks when writing scenes with Fenrir because it's hard. If you need to take breaks, please - take them! It's hard to get through.

Fenrir's characterization has been very, very, veeerrryyy deliberate since I introduced him to the series. He really doesn't get any better - please, do not let me fool you.

Poll of the Chapter - I asked this before, but I'm curious to see if opinions have changed - Who's worse? Jude or Fenrir?

Hi Lu! Hahaha oh goodness - the situation with Emma and Fenrir 100% fits into "Creepy Fenrir" category. He's a super gross dude, and while he has his moments, he's really just…not an okay guy. So, short answer - yes, Fenrir does love Emma. I think this chapter (and the next few - dundundunnn) start to really explain Fenrir's true feelings and intentions.

It seems very innocent in certain lights, but at the end of the day, weeellll...you'll see!

Hello Visenya - Hello, welcome - thank you! :D :D I really appreciate it!

WOW - for face claims? I quite honestly have no idea! Each character I see completely different from the movies - like my version of Remus is not David Thewlis, my Sirius isn't Gary Oldman, etc. I do enjoy the actors immensely (especially David - I loved him before he ever played Remus, so ugh! I'm gutted I don't see him as Remus haha). I've been meaning to sit down and *find* similar people for my characters. I've drawn them before, and I've posted them on Twitter, but I've never made real life counterparts. If I start finding face claims, I'll definitely include them in the notes. :)

I love the idea of Emilia Clarke as Elara! I'm obsessed with that and might have to readjust my thinking. She's absolutely adorable and I can see that as a really nice fit. Fenrir as Henry Cavill? 100% yes. I compared how I drew Fenrir to Henry, and it's a pretty close fit. Plus his voice when he's Geralt? *chef's kiss* Pure perfection for Fenrir! Henry Cavill in Night Hunter is the perfect "every day" Fenrir.

Hiii Maricate - hello, friend! I am so, so, sorry that I sent you through an emotional roller coaster.

To address Teddy - Oh, boy. I am 100% not sure how to pull that little baby in yet. Do I want to bring Teddy in? Yes. I adore Teddy. Do I know *how* or if I'll be able to? Eeehhh, not sure.

I hope that this doesn't seem like a spoiler because I've mentioned it in a response in Daughter of the Moon - the dog lives! I can assure you that Sirius makes it past year five. As for past that? Wweeeelllll…just kidding, this is a fix it fic…of sorts.

I will say that the entire ending of the series has already been written. Everything is going to come full circle one way or another for the series. But remember - the series DOES NOT end after the seven Hogwarts years are over. There's a trilogy that I've already started work on (and several almost prequelish one shots?). ;) Do what you will with that information. :)