a/n: So, if you want a musical track for this chapter, I have one. You know that scene in Prisoner of Azkaban with Remus and Harry on the bridge? WELL, while editing this chapter I discovered that they did a complete score for the movie that included that track. I can't find it on Apple Music or Spotify - it doesn't seem to exist outside of YouTube.

It's a short track, so you can either be ridiculous like me and loop it, or pick a spot you think fits. 10/10 recommend - but also totally gave me too many extra feels

Put in this search on YouTube - Remembering Mother - Harry Potter & Prisoner of Azkaban Recording Sessions


Emma was startled out of her slumber with a sharp gasp by the slamming of her door opening. She sat up far faster than she should have, unsure of what she should be holding onto. Was it her head, which seemed to weigh more than usual and throbbed painfully? Or was it her aching body?

Her light was suddenly switched on, and she groaned, covering her eyes with her hands to try and shield her vision. When she felt her eyes had finally adjusted, she pulled her hands away, and a deep frown crossed her face. Of all the people in the world she didn't want to see, Ellis Moon was very high on that list.

"Get up," Ellis said sharply. "You're going to a different room for the night on Ministry's orders."

Emma grumbled, trying to look at the clock on her dresser.

"It's nearly ten," Ellis said before Emma could get her eyes to focus on the clock. Emma flopped back onto her mattress and waved him off. She had no plans on going anywhere for the night.

"Bloody hell, what is wrong with you?" Ellis muttered. "I just told you it's the Ministry's orders that you get placed in a different room because of what you are. Pack your things while you're at it."

Emma propped herself up on her elbows to shoot Ellis a questioning look.

"Do you not know how to talk all of a sudden? Just do it," Ellis said in annoyance. "I'll be back in fifteen."

Emma rolled her eyes, pulling herself out of bed as Ellis left. If she could find her voice, that would've been a point that she made a comment, but her throat was still too raw. She had no idea what she needed to pack her things for, but she did it anyway. It was something she probably would have done regardless, but she would have spent more time with it. She opened her drawers, shoved her clothes into her bag, and made her way back to the bed to retrieve everything hidden under her pillow.

Her collection of rocks sat on top of her dresser, and the coat Fenrir gave her was hung up behind her door. Emma stared at both items for a moment, trying to make a decision on what to do. With a grin, she knew exactly what she wanted to do to send a message.

She grabbed the box of rocks, leaned forward over her dresser, and tipped it upside down, dropping each stone underneath her window. Emma grabbed Fenrir's coat and looked out her door to make sure no one would approach right away.

With silent glee, she pulled out her knife and stabbed the blade into every possible spot she could, tearing the fabric. She stabbed the knife into the seams to break the strings, a smile on her face. When she was sure she could tear it apart with her hands, she closed the knife and shoved it back into her pocket. She pulled the arms from the body of the coat and threw those out the window first. Emma made quick work of the rest of the coat tearing it apart and throwing it out to join the rest of the coat. Out of curiosity, Emma tried to conjure the blue flames and let out a quiet noise of disappointment when she still couldn't make them. Setting Fenrir's coat on fire would have been an excellent bonus.

She sat back down on her bed to wait for Ellis to come back, holding her bag on her lap as she waited. It made sense for her to be moved to another room, but she certainly didn't want to move. As Emma tried to sort through her feelings over what had happened earlier, she wondered how the move came to be. She wasn't entirely sure that it was a decision made by the Ministry as it seemed silly to make it so last minute. Remus had mentioned talking to someone about getting her moved for the night to stay safe from Fenrir. Perhaps this was part of that mission.

When Ellis returned, Emma found herself freezing slightly as she really looked at him and remembered. That was an odd sensation for her to have with such clarity that it surprised her. It was much different than when she remembered bits and pieces of things that never quite fit anywhere. This was the full awareness that a memory existed, and it fit somewhere in the timeline of her life. She hadn't bothered trying to pull up any of her memories yet, too busy focused elsewhere, but looking at Ellis brought them up.

There were so many Saturdays spent at the park with Persephone, Ellis accompanying his daughter. Sage was absent from most of the memories, and Emma found that curious. Emma wondered what the explanation for that was, and she mused that Caspian was never there either. If she could remember that much, what else was she going to be able to remember? Did Ellis have any idea that she recognized him from her past?

"Are you going to just sit there and look stupid? Get up."

Emma shot Ellis a look of aggravation and stood up, reluctantly following him out of the room. They went out of the staff rooms, down the hallway, and turned left to head into the children's lounge. She followed him further still as they walked past the kitchens and towards where the basement stairs were. Were they going to keep her in the basement like some sort of dog? Another Auror was present, another man she was unfamiliar with, but she kept her gaze averted even as he followed them. She was far more curious to know where she was going.

She followed Ellis down the stairs into the basement, and fear started to settle into her stomach. Emma had never been in the basement before, but it was split into sections for storage and what looked like rooms for magic. There seemed to be a potions lab that Emma would have loved playing in and a space dedicated to dueling. If this was all dedicated to magic, what if this was a trap? What if Fenrir would be waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and she was going to be trapped with him as he transformed? Her mind began to wander, and her thoughts continued on that track until they finally stopped in front of a doorway.

"This is where you're staying for the night," Ellis said, unlocking the door with his wand and opening it.

Emma looked past Ellis to try and peer into the room. He let out an aggravated huff and turned on the light. The room was barren – no bed, nothing comfortable for her to sit on, and absolutely no furniture. All there was to the room was the four walls, the floor, and the door she was sure would be beyond enchanted. Was this what they did to her father, as well? Was he getting locked into a similar setup?

"Get in, Nickels. Last I checked, there isn't much time left until moonrise, and we don't need a wild animal running loose."

It took everything in Emma's power not to roll her eyes. She wasn't sure if Ellis believed that she was actually a werewolf or if he just wanted to make a dig at her status. Reluctantly, Emma stepped around Ellis, clutching her bag tightly and peering around the corner of the room. She was still worried that Fenrir would be lurking around the corner. Ellis, tired of waiting for Emma to move, shoved her hard into the room, and she stumbled, nearly falling. The door slammed shut behind her, she saw the glow of charms being set, and then the room plummeted into darkness.

The lights immediately going out sent Emma into a panic, and she tossed her bag on the floor to slam her fists hard on the door. She pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing – they had set a silencing charm. She couldn't be locked in the dark like this. Why did the light go out? When no one opened the door for her frantic knocking, Emma tried to conjure the blue flames again, but her magic still hadn't returned to her yet. How much longer would she be unable to use her magic? She couldn't recall if she had ever been told how long the potion could suppress magical abilities. All she knew was that none of this could be happening.

Emma got down on her hands and knees to try and find her things. It was fortunate that the flap of her bag remained closed, and nothing escaped the inside. With a whimper, she pulled her bag towards her and huddled into a corner, gripping hard to her hair. This was just like what they used to do to her when she was younger, and she felt like she was being punished all over again. She tried to take deep breaths to keep herself from slipping into a panic attack in her current state. If she did, she didn't think she would make it to the morning at all.

What would her father tell her to do? A wail left her lips when she realized what he would have her do. He would have her try to find five things to focus on, but she was in a pitch-black room with nothing to look at. She sucked in another deep breath, trying to quickly reframe her thinking, which was far easier when Remus was there to guide her. Remus would tell her to think about things differently, take things less literally. She could do this; she needed to be able to shift her thinking. If she couldn't see, what else could she focus on? There was nothing to hear other than her shaky breathing. There was nothing to smell except for the peppermint of her body wash and the leather of her bag. There certainly wasn't anything for her to taste. However, she did have touch to focus on.

Emma focused on the feel of the leather of her bag, memorizing the smooth grain underneath her fingers. One. She found her bracelet, running her fingers over the embossed pawprint charm. Two. Shaky hands moved to her jumper, and she buried her face in the fabric – this was her ultimate safety blanket. How many times had she gripped tightly to Remus's jumpers over the years just to find comfort? It was too many times for her to count. Three. Emma opened her bag to find something else to touch, and she immediately found a book. She brushed her fingers over the pages. The feel of the paper was just as soothing to her as Remus's jumpers, familiar and safe. Four. She was struggling to find a fifth item that could ground her. The floor was too smooth, too cold. The wall was too rough and scratchy from being unfinished beyond drywall. Her fifth thing came unexpectedly, and it was so needed.

Her panicked breath broke into a dry sob as her bracelet warmed up. She clutched tightly to it, tipping her head back to lean against the wall. Did her father know that she was struggling? She let go of her bracelet to comb her fingers through her hair and was surprised when she felt her bracelet grow warm again. It grew warm, then cold, and the action repeated three more times. Did that mean he was aware that she had touched the bracelet?

Curious, Emma returned the same pattern and held on for a fifth touch in hopes he understood she was questioning the four. When the four-touch pattern returned, Emma took in a deep, steadying breath. He knew she had touched her bracelet.

With her panic finally settling down, Emma tried to understand why the number four was so significant. It took her a few moments to run through her thoughts, trying to think of how their full moon conversations went. First, they would discuss how they were feeling, trying to get through pre-moon jitters. Even though Emma didn't transform, she still got nervous, always afraid that she would. Next, they would move along to discussing something mundane – something they read, a conversation they heard. They would snuggle up together on the couch and try to find something to laugh at. By that point, the moon would nearly be high up in the sky, and they would talk about how long the moon cycle would last for the night.

Emma finally understood what he was trying to tell her. The summer months had shorter moon cycles. He was trying to let her know that the full moon would only last four hours.

She could handle that. Four hours was nothing, she reminded herself. She had spent longer at Quidditch practice before. Four hours and the full moon would be over. She could go back to her room and sleep and know that she wouldn't be turned that night. A chilling thought crossed Emma's mind, and she thought of the idea of Fenrir being hidden in the room with her. But then she remembered that werewolf biology made most cloaking spells completely useless because of their biology. With Fenrir's bulk, it would have to be a powerful charm indeed, and knowing him, he would have been on her already. She was safe.

Emma settled herself into the corner of the room, trying to get her eyes to focus in the dark. This could be fine – it had to be fine. Curious, Emma tried to conjure her flames again, and she laughed when she had the smallest of sparks. It couldn't be sustained, but it was enough. The suppression potion Fenrir slipped her was starting to wear off. That was good. But what could she do for the time she was locked in the room in the dark?

She laughed again as she forced herself to lie down on the cold floor. She could use her bag as a makeshift pillow and try to ride out what was sure to be a rocky night. If there was ever a time as good as any to go down memory lane, it was right then and there. She had a whole treasure trove of old memories she could suddenly sift through as if they were new again. If she was going to be stuck in the dark, she could pretend she was dreaming. In a way, it was almost like she was.

She wasn't entirely sure where to start, and she tried to pull up memories of her mother first. It was bizarre to have such old memories be so fresh in her mind, but she wasn't going to complain about that. She had a lot of ground to cover to understand who she actually was and where she came from.

Anything earlier than her being a year old seemed non-existent and fuzzy, but that made sense if she remembered anything from her primary school. Babies couldn't see well at all, but they could have a recollection of voices and colors.

Her initial love of colors had to have come from her mother. Vague, brightly lit colors flit through her mind, though she couldn't decipher the shape. The frequency of bright colors led Emma to feel that those colors were always her mother. As she spun through her memories, trying to figure out how to pull up what she wanted, she pulled up a series of colors, almost like watercolors being brushed on paper. Deep down, Emma knew who each person was just by the colors they wore. She easily associated soft, muted colors with Remus. He was creams and browns, navy blues, and greens. Sirius was an eclectic mix of purples, blacks, scarlet, and even the rare pops of jade and cerulean. Her grandfather was a mix of Margaret, Remus, and Sirius. A smile made its way to her face when she found that she had strong associations with their voices. She liked knowing what Margaret sounded like outside of the memories her father shared with her in the Pensieve.

Blackbird by the Beatles was apparently Emma's lullaby of choice. Sometimes it was something Welsh that she didn't know the translation to, but it made Emma happy. It had to have made her really happy because the songs were sung so frequently by everyone. Even Sirius would stumble through the words, with guidance from her mother or Remus, depending on who they were with. Sirius preferred to sing her a pretty French lullaby. That was something that she didn't know about Sirius.

For curiosity's sake, she moved along to the one thing she had plenty of pictures of and thought about Christmas. It was a jump, but she could at least figure out if she remembered things correctly.

She had no recollection of her first Christmas, she was only three months old, but she could remember her second one. Emma thought of the photo taken from her second Christmas, a gathering of everyone close to them. She could recall baby Harry with his shock of black hair, Neville so blond that he looked bald, and of course herself.

She was walking – and very quickly, happily running between legs, squealing in delight whenever Remus or Sirius would pick her up. Sirius would give her little boosts of energy with raspberries blown on her stomach and tickling her just to make her laugh. He would tickle her feet, the spot on her neck that still made her giggle, her sides, and even a spot behind her right knee. She had a feeling that Sirius loved when she laughed because he tried to keep her laughter going all night. A brilliant, beaming smile would cross his face, and he would look around to see who was watching, wanting to share the moment with someone else.

When Margaret felt that Emma was getting too energetic, she would pull her from Sirius and promptly hand her to Remus. Remus was more than happy to take on the task of calming her down. He would either sit down somewhere with her on his lap and rock her or carry her around to show her something she might like. Remus had picked up very quickly that Emma adored the bright, colorful Christmas lights. She preferred the strands of Muggle Christmas lights but was equally enamored by the small, actual fairy lights set in the tree. The love he had for her was so evident in the way he would look at her and how he carried her around like she was the most treasured thing in the world. His looks never would have made sense to her as a baby, but now that she was older, she knew.

It must have been one of the first times she had met Harry and Neville as all three sets of parents slowly met up. Emma squirmed so hard to get out of Sirius's arms to look at both boys, very curious about them. She was going to love telling Harry that she had pet his head with Remus's guidance and proclaimed him a very nice cat. She had then gone on to say the same thing to Neville but had insisted to his parents that he have a hair growth potion because he must be very cold. It was all said in very broken sentences, but she said it, and it was funny to her that it felt like she just said the words the day before. When she was smaller, Emma didn't understand the stunned silence of everyone in the room, but she understood their laughter. She had been quite proud of herself and laughed along with them.

Though she saw the memory from herself at that age, she took in far more than she thought. It bothered her that Remus had absolutely no idea what he was to her when she could see it so clearly in her mind. Margaret looked happy to see Remus and Sirius with Emma, proud even. It was also evident that Remus downplayed just how much time he spent with her, and she wondered why that was.

These were all moments that she should have remembered right from the start. She should have known how much love her family had for her, known all the little things they did just for her.

Emma should have known how she could convince anyone to dance with her just by bouncing up and down to whatever music was playing. It seemed like an unspoken rule that if she went up to someone and she danced, they had to dance, too. Having any recollection of Harry's parents made her sad because it was the sort of thing Harry should know, not her. The Potters had learned very quickly to join in Emma's dancing sessions. Emma wondered if Harry would like to know that.

James would join her and look over at Lily for reassurance as she would laugh. Sirius was the silliest dancer, happily bouncing from side to side with her, while Remus was more subdued. Remus was more likely to pick her up and hold her close, holding her hand out as if they were in a waltz. Margaret would lead her through happy twirls and would sometimes get on the floor to dip her just to make her giggle. Her grandfather was most likely sitting on the floor with her to help guide her through a dance.

Remus read to her so often it wasn't surprising to her anymore that she had such a love of books. If there were words, he read them out to her. It didn't matter if it was something as mundane as instructions on a box or an article in the Prophet – he read it to her. She would sit and just watch him, content to listen to his voice. When he was done reading to her, he would give her such an incredibly fond look. He would pull her close and start to walk his fingers up her arm, which would make her start to giggle. He would continue up to her neck and find the ticklish spot there to keep her laughing. Remus would continue walking his fingers up the side of her face to the top of her head and then run a finger down the bridge of her nose. With that all done, he would lift her up over his head, kiss the tip of her nose, and rub his nose against hers until she couldn't stop giggling. She wondered if he remembered…

Sirius bought her the first broom she ever owned and taught her how to fly. The broom didn't go higher than two feet off the ground, and though he was excited by it, he played the part of a very nervous dad. He loved the idea of her flying and wanting to play Quidditch, but the moment she took off, he panicked. The moment she got the hang of flying, she zoomed as far as she could, laughing the entire time as Sirius chased her. Eventually, he remembered that the broom was charmed with every child-safety feature possible, and he relented and let her go. Still, he kept a close eye on her. At one point, she had flown straight into a wall and terrified Sirius something terrible. He had run over to her as Padfoot to get to her faster, worried that she was terribly hurt, but she only bounced off the broom and onto the floor giggling the entire time. It was a wonder that Sirius didn't go grey before Remus did. Emma wondered if that would explain why he had run off so quickly last Christmas – he didn't want to be reminded.

Margaret colored with her. Often. She let Emma paint anything and everything with her hands. If Emma wanted to paint on the walls, she could. If she felt the need to paint the carpet, Margaret let her and would often get down on the floor and join her. Margaret would squish her hands into the paints with Emma and cover everything – their clothes, the walls, the floors, and even Emma's face. It seemed that her messy ways came from Margaret as the woman didn't seem to do anything without leaving a mess in her wake. The kitchen was always a mess, especially if Emma helped, but Margaret encouraged it. She had very few cares in the world, and she found it funny when Emma would be covered in whatever food was made. Margaret never cared – a wave of her wand, and everything would be clean again.

She should have known that Remus was quick to put down whatever he was doing just to cuddle with her. Emma would walk up to him with her arms outstretched, silently asking for him to pick her up. She should have known that Sirius always pretended that she tugged his hair too hard just to pretend to be sad and get a kiss on the cheek from her in apology. She should have known that Margaret told her every day that one day she would get to be with both of her dads when the war was over. Until then, Margaret was more than willing to take on the job to keep her safe. The more memories she could pull up, the more evident it was that the woman did whatever she could for her. Even though Margaret was giving her to Remus and Sirius, she had no intention to abandon her; their relationship just would have changed.

Emma managed a weak giggle that her declaration of calling Remus Moomoo was a very deliberate choice on Sirius's part. It was close enough to Mama, just as Emma had suspected, but she didn't know it was on purpose. If Sirius was Dada, it only made sense that Remus was Mama, or in her case – Moomoo for Moony. Margaret took the initiative to try and change Moomoo to Papa early on. Sirius used to eat up being called Dada, his eyes lighting up in pure joy each and every time she said it. It made her feel a little guilty that Remus had been given the title of Daddy instead of Papa. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that she always struggled to call Remus Papa. It was only natural that both men had their titles switched.

Margaret, Sirius, and her grandfather made it very clear who her parents were and told her nearly every day. There was a photo of Remus and Sirius that they would show her and point to everyone to tell her who they were. The only person who didn't know was Remus. They made it very clear to her that Remus was a werewolf, and sometimes he had to go away to keep her safe. That was the reason they gave her to explain why he didn't know he was her father. It wasn't the best explanation. Margaret apparently expressed concerns over it, but Sirius was insistent; she had to be kept safe.

Emma wondered if that was why she so readily accepted he was a werewolf – she already knew. Knowing what she did, she didn't understand why her grandfather still kept the charade up of Remus not being her father. It was one thing to know that he knew the truth; it was another to know that he tried to make that information clear to her when she was younger. It didn't make sense.

Unfortunately, the more memories Emma decided to pull up, the more memories Jude started to invade. Jude, noticeably, did not have a name from her other than silence. He didn't seem to be around as often as she had thought, but when he was, he wasn't kind. She could recall him screaming at Margaret, though about what, she wasn't sure because she would cry. The loud noises and shouting scared her. He never hurt her when Margaret was around, but it was an entirely different story if she had to leave. Emma had learned quickly that crying got her into trouble.

Her crying one day had led to the first casting of the Cruciatus, which led to her only crying harder. The spell wasn't sustained for very long, but the very thought of the incantation brought along sharp, fire-hot pain. She stopped crying. In her earlier days, he didn't do anything obvious, but the older she got, the more evident it became. He would shake her violently, grab onto her roughly, not caring if he hurt her in the process. The only time he put up a front was in front of company, but he seemed to struggle with that. Jude would restrain himself, but everything about him was tense.

The hardest memory to visit was the one that involved Montgomery and realizing that Fenrir was telling the truth. Her screams of terror echoed in her mind, and she realized Fenrir was laughing because he couldn't believe what had just happened. Fenrir was furious with Jude and at Montgomery, and she saw another snippet of the monster Fenrir could become. He was quick to scoop Emma up into his arms after throwing Montgomery off of her. She never would have expected Fenrir to hold her so protectively to his chest, trying to soothe her. It only made what he tried to do to her earlier hurt that much more.

She wondered if Fenrir knew Jude let her loose on purpose, insisting that she go try and find Remus. It wasn't an accident like it had once sounded. Jude was hoping something would happen to her.

Not wanting to dwell on Montgomery, Emma decided to pull herself out of toddlerhood and into later, more recent days. She didn't understand how Jude was leaving St. Mungo's without people knowing, but sure enough, he was there. It always seemed so odd to her that huge chunks of time had been stolen from her, but she started to understand why.

Jude was unapologetic in his thoughts about her. He would look at her with such disgust that she was beginning to understand her attachment to Fenrir. The older she got, the more she understood what Fenrir told her about Jude and his acting skills. When she was a toddler, his accent was distinctly English, but in more recent years, she assumed from disuse, he slipped into his natural accent. She struggled to pinpoint whether or not it was Spanish or Italian, but she didn't have many experiences with either language to compare. Why wasn't that something Margaret wrote about in her diary?

With Jude came memories with Ellis, and by extension, Persephone. Her memories with Persephone were much easier to stomach because they were fun. Even though Persephone had lied to her for so long, Emma wondered if their friendship could somehow be repaired. Persephone was trying to help her when she didn't have to. She didn't think that Persephone would go through so much effort if she didn't want to still be her friend.

Persephone truly had been her best friend for the entirety of her life, and that was a confusing thing for her to process. Persephone never seemed to act as though she had a motive with Emma when they were younger. They were more than happy to just be children, and they were exactly that – children. While their friendship had been born out of Fenrir's need to have Emma "socialized" as if she were a dog, it seemed it had always been genuine. It wasn't until they were both to start at Hogwarts that they had a shift in their relationship.

As she cycled through her memories with Persephone, she found Boris showing up more and more as well. She had been very close with the werewolf boy, though she didn't see him nearly as much as Persephone. Sometimes other children would show up with Fenrir, but never as much as Boris. She wondered if it would be possible to become close with Boris again. Even though he was a little strange, he wasn't terrible to talk to; he just needed guidance. All he knew was life in the pack and nothing different. It wasn't his fault.

Emma had actually been around for Persephone's first kiss, and she burst into a fit of giggles. Persephone's first kiss had been with Boris, and it wasn't very good at all, just like Persephone had told her. Emma had watched on in pure horror, running away from them both with a scream of, "Boy germs!" and running right to Fenrir. Fenrir thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

It was weird to realize how much of a relationship she had shared with Fenrir at one point. Whatever shift in feelings Fenrir had for her seemed to shift when she was no longer in his care. It made the entirety of what transpired earlier hurt her more. If she had to have Fenrir in her life, she could have found peace in what they once had. It never would have been ideal, but she would have figured it out. What Fenrir wanted now was so much different, and it made her sick.

Emma ran her hands down her face as her exhaustion settled in. How much time had passed since she had entered the room? She tried to conjure up the flames again to try and look at her watch, but they were still weak, and she couldn't sustain them long enough to work. With a sigh, she touched her bracelet, curious to know if Remus had transformed or not. She was mildly concerned when she felt a returning warmth, and Emma wondered if barely any time had passed since she was placed in the room. With a slight frown, Emma touched the paw print again. What if her father was touching the paw print with his paw? That was a funny thought to think about.

She yawned, pulling herself into a tight ball on the floor. It was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. The cold tile brought her body temperature down, but it was solid and unyielding. When she was lost in her memories, she wasn't focused on the shooting paints she felt. They had to be in the middle of the cycle somewhere, and she immediately burst into laughter. Remus absolutely had to be touching his charm with his paw, and the idea of it was sweet. She didn't think it was possible for her to love the man any more than she did.

Deciding to dip back into her memories wasn't the best course of action as Emma was suddenly presented with an unfiltered view into who she was growing up. She didn't like it.

She had come to terms with the fact that she stole things often growing up. It was one of her worst traits, but she had confessed to it and knew it was wrong. Nothing was going to change the fact that she did it, but after multiple discussions with Dr. Wheeler, she accepted it. It wasn't something she would ever do again, and she hated that Fenrir encouraged her to do it in the first place.

Emma didn't like knowing that she had been a very mean child. She was happy, but she was mean, which was surprising when she only saw herself as shy. Her mean streak started because of Jocelyn and, of course, was encouraged by Fenrir. He wanted her mean and unwilling to take the injustices people dealt her. She was quick to fight physically, swift to cut someone down with her words, and quick to be nasty to other children her age. While she played the part of a perfect little student while in school, she hated obeying authority. It seemed so unlike her, but then she remembered her more recent moments where she was more than willing to throw a punch. Her short-tempered tendencies weren't because of the wolfish side she possessed; it was always there. Fenrir had been determined to turn her into the perfect little werewolf.

But then there was the other side of her that she knew very well - the compassionate and shy side. As far as Emma had known, that's all she felt she was. She loved helping others and absolutely adored animals. It didn't matter to her how big or small a person or animal was; she loved them with everything she had. She was quiet, preferring to observe than to interact with others right away. If someone was hurt, she was the first to comfort them. There had been many times where Persephone had hurt herself while playing, and Emma was over to her in a heartbeat with a tight hug. She snorted when she realized that she always followed said hug with a kiss. That seemed more like how she knew herself.

There were still moments of time that didn't seem to exist that left Emma bothered. So much seemed to fit back together, but things would get hazy, and she wasn't sure why. How could she have so much but still have thick clouds over specific memories? It made no sense.

She was lost in her introspection when the door suddenly opened, and Emma blinked blearily into the light. A slim and shorter figure than she was used to, backlit by the light from the hallway, stood in the doorway. Was this a woman? Emma strained hard to get her eyes to focus, unsure of who she was looking at. It certainly wasn't Ellis or the other man who had been with him.

"Oh, bloody hell, you're not actually a werewolf, are you?"

The voice was very feminine, and Emma was surprised to hear it. The entire time she was dealing with Ministry workers in person outside of the children's home staff, they were men. The only exception was Mrs. Bryce. Was this a woman that she could trust? The children's home workers were terrible and prejudiced, and she worried this woman might be, too, but she sounded concerned. She didn't speak in that patronizing tone that Emma had started to grow used to.

"Buggering fuck, did they leave you in the dark this entire time?"

Whoever this person was, Emma already liked them a lot. With a groan, Emma closed her eyes tightly at the glow of a wand, her eyes still unadjusted to the brightness. There was silence, and then the woman let out an aggravated shout.

"They left you with nothing? Wankers – the lot of them!"

The light dimmed considerably, and there was a shuffle of the woman coming closer. Emma slowly opened her eyes, hoping that her eyes could readjust faster.

"You all right?"

Emma realized it probably seemed strange to not be saying a word, but she still didn't have it in herself to speak. She gave a half-hearted shrug, and the woman sighed.

"Your name's Emma, yeah? I met your dad just before coming here, actually," the woman said brightly. She had far too much energy for Emma to handle, but it was a welcome change from what she was used to. "I'm not over in the werewolf division since I'm an Auror, but they were short-staffed, so I did a quick look around. He heard me talking to the guard I was with and called me over when he heard I was coming here. He said that they were putting you in a special room for the night even though you don't transform…I wasn't expecting this."

Emma looked at the woman curiously. Did that mean the full was over if she met her father before coming to the children's home? It had to, but Emma needed to make sure. She pulled her watch into the light and breathed out a sigh of relief. It was four in the morning, and she had made it through the night. She didn't have to worry about being turned by Fenrir at all.

The woman let out a sudden, "Oh," which drew Emma's attention back up to her. Her eyes were finally starting to adjust, and she took in the woman's appearance. She was surprised to see that the woman didn't look that much older than herself and looked cool. The woman had what looked like a bright, neon-colored blue hair cut in a mullet. Under her Auror robes looked to be ripped jeans with fishnet tights underneath. If Emma wasn't mistaken, she wore a pair of Docs as well, and Emma smiled. She was cool.

Suddenly, a hand thrust in front of Emma's face, and Emma stared at it for a moment before taking it. "I should probably introduce myself," the woman said, a smile forming on her face. "Wotcher! My name is Tonks. I was only recently put on your case, so I hope you don't mind me because I think we'll be seeing each other a lot."

Emma felt she was going to like Tonks a lot. She didn't mind at all.

Tonks got Emma back upstairs and into her room. The moment Emma saw her bed, she collapsed into it, exhausted. She had changed into her pajamas before being moved for the night, and she was comfortable. It was one of her easier full moons, but that was only because she was so focused on other things. She hoped it was easy for her father, as well.

"Oi, before you go to bed, do you need anything from me?" Tonks asked, standing in Emma's doorway.

Emma shook her head slowly, settling happily into her pillow and curling up on her side. Tonks bid Emma a goodnight, said she would be around until the daytime staff showed up for the day, and went on her way. Emma was never more excited to finally go to sleep.

If only she had realized that Fenrir seemed to have other plans for her.


a/n: I'm super slow with putting together the soundtracks because I struggle so hard to pick the perfect songs. There are so many that I like, and I thought I would do the soundtracks in chapter order, but I think it's just going to wind up being like a mix-tape deal. I swear I'm going to add more songs.

That being said, if you're curious, I do have theatrical themes picked for both Emma and Remus. Remus's was technically already built-in for him in PoA, but I'm keeping it.

Remus is obviously A Window to the Past from PoA. It was 100% written for him and I wish that he had more scenes in future movies so it could have been included. He shares the theme with Sirius in the movies, which is cool - they can share.

Emma's theme I see as Leta's Theme from Crimes of Grindelwald. It's a hauntingly sweet track in my opinion and I feel like it fits Emma really well.