It seemed that fate had decided that Emma had more than enough fun. After luxuriating in the joy of sleeping in, Emma's good mood came crashing down. Posted up on the bulletin board in the common room was the date of the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. The last of her freedom had an expiration date and made reality seem that much more real.
Fenrir's letter weighed heavily in her mind. He specifically said to not make him wait to hear about the date, but she didn't want to tell him. She feigned excitement over the idea of going to the village when Wayne shouted it across the common room. How could she be excited over what she was going to do? She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and made her way back into the dorm, settling herself on her bed to grab her notebook. Emma knew that Remus wanted to know the date as well, and as she flipped to the next empty page, she found herself stalling.
What was Remus going to be able to tell her? There was nothing he could do to change it; she knew that he had absolutely no agency to change werewolf customs for her. Remus couldn't take back what she was, and he still continued to beat himself up over it. She knew that he didn't entirely accept her decision, but he promised to support her no matter what. What did she really want him to do for her?
Emma groaned, twirling her quill between her fingers as she tried to think of what to do. She found herself studying the feather, watching the way the light reflected off the plume with iridescent sparkles. Emma regretted still using the quill Fenrir purchased her. Looking at it made it seem like she was preparing herself to write that she was going on a suicide mission. She still wasn't entirely sure it was the right move, but she didn't know what to do. Even though she didn't think Remus could really do much for her, she pressed the nib of her quill to the page.
'Daddy, the date of the first Hogsmeade trip was posted today,' Emma wrote, taking care to try and keep her writing steady. She didn't want to admit it, but she was scared.
'When is it?' Remus wrote back slowly.
'The fifteenth of next month. What do I do?'
'What do you want to do?'
Emma felt that was a dumb question, and she set her notebook down so that she could reach into her nightstand to fish out a sugar quill. She popped it into her mouth with a grumble and grabbed her notebook again with a huff.
'Run. Hide. The usual,' Emma wrote back. 'But I have a feeling I wouldn't be able to get very far since you refuse to let us go elsewhere.'
'Because we wouldn't get very far.'
Emma huffed out a sigh, nibbling on the end of her sugar quill. She knew her father was right, but that didn't change anything. The desire to flee the country was so strong that it bristled underneath her skin. Every part of her was poised to run straight out of the castle and far away. A laugh escaped Emma's lips at the thought; it would just be the Ministry going after all of them. If she were to try and disappear, Emma had a feeling that Fenrir would try his hardest to find her. When she peered down at her notebook, she noticed that Remus had added more.
'Have your thoughts changed since we were able to last speak?'
'No,' Emma responded back. 'I still know what I want to do, but it's different now. It's real now.' What followed was a terribly lengthy response about how she still wanted to move forward, but the idea of it was terrifying. She took in a shaky breath, setting the quill down to press her palms into her eye sockets. It had been a very long time since Emma had felt her current level of fear.
She wanted to throw up, her stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a decision she should be meant to make. It was incredibly unfair that her life had been reduced to either living off Sirius's money, taking terrible Muggle jobs, or joining Fenrir. All three options seemed like miserable prospects, and the idea of taking Fenrir down seemed better when it was just an idea. When Emma pulled her hands away, she looked down to find that Remus had replied.
'You know that no matter what you do, I will always be here to support you. You know my thoughts and know my feelings on the situation, but I am not here to judge you. My job is to guide you as best as I can. All I want for you is to live a very long and happy life that you can look back on and feel accomplished. I am not going to sit and tell you that your decision is wrong as I have been in your shoes more times than I can count.
'I don't want you to go into this worried about my feelings. My relationship with Fenrir is far different than yours, and you didn't grow up in fear of Fenrir as I did. I reluctantly have to concede that he has taken care of you where I couldn't. We both know that things could have turned out much differently. While Fenrir's decisions have been incredibly flawed, he has mostly kept you safe. I will never agree with him, and you know that, but that's from my experiences.
'Remember – you are the most important person in my life. The last thing I want is to ever see you hurt. I can acknowledge that the current laws are terrifying and backward. I know that they worry you, but the pack isn't the only option. There will come a time in your life where things will change, and I love to believe that it will be you that changes everything. Just always remember, where you go, I go. I love you more than anything, Emma Hope. Do what you feel is right, and we'll figure things out as we go. We always have, and we always will.'
Emma stared at Remus's words for a long while to let them sink in. It wasn't the first time he had told her that wherever she went, he would go, but she hated the idea of that. Emma knew that he wanted no parts of being around Fenrir, but she wasn't entirely sure that the pack wasn't her only option. Spending time with all of the other werewolves had been different – new and exhilarating in its own way. It was the first time Emma felt that she genuinely belonged somewhere, which was an odd revelation to make.
And the children. The sweet children had managed to worm their way into her heart in a matter of seconds: Ducky and Killian's little girl, Belinda, and the other children. How could she leave them? Even if there was no possibility of things changing in the wizarding community, she still wanted to make sure that things would be better for the children in the packs. Even if she were to fail and not take Fenrir down… Emma couldn't think about it just yet. She couldn't scare herself out of something she hadn't done yet.
With a long exhale, she reached into her nightstand to pull out a blank piece of parchment. Against her better judgment, she picked up her quill and started to write. She didn't need Fenrir to find out the date of the Hogsmeade from someone else. Emma didn't want to know what would happen if he did.
Saturday was spent as lazily as possible and almost in the entirety of the comfort of the common room. It was a lovely day, and most went outside to do their work, but she didn't want to go too far. The only trips she took were to the owlery to mail off her letter to Fenrir and the Great Hall for meals. Justin stayed with her all day as they worked on their homework together, trying to make jokes to break through her thoughts. As the night rolled in and people returned to the common room, Cedric asked if Emma wanted to have her first guitar lesson. It was just the distraction that she needed, and though she was terrible at it, Cedric was encouraging.
"You'll pick it up quickly," Cedric laughed as Emma plucked a very off-tune chord. "It doesn't help that the guitar is practically the size of you."
The next day brought along the unfortunate reminder of what the next week would be as she looked at herself in the mirror. Emma let out an annoyed groan as she noticed the starts of dark circles that looked like light bruising around her eyes. How had so much time passed since the last full moon already? She felt like everything had moved at a warp speed, and she had nothing to show for it. Still, she gathered her things after breakfast to head down to the dungeons. She had her first dose of Wolfsbane to make for the week.
Emma felt stupid stepping into the Potion's classroom on a Sunday. She felt even more ridiculous when it wasn't just Snape that looked at her but Greyson. Was Greyson going to earn himself the nickname of Dungeon Bat?
"To what do I owe this displeasure, Lupin?" Snape drawled.
Emma was slightly taken aback, lips parting with her surprise. "Er…the, uhm," Emma cleared her throat, entirely thrown off by Greyson being present. "The full moon is, er…next week, sir. I need my first dose, and I didn't believe it entirely appropriate to make it in the dorms."
Snape stared hard at her, his dark eyes refusing to leave hers, but Emma looked away quickly, squirming under his gaze. "And I assume that you were smart enough to keep the…donations…you received from your mate?"
Emma's eyes narrowed as she lifted her gaze back up to Snape. "I was smart enough to keep the donations, yes," Emma growled out through gritted teeth. Greyson's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of "mate" and Emma wanted to kill Snape for even mentioning it at all.
"Well, then I suppose you can use those, then," Snape said dismissively. "Don't you dare consider using any of my supplies."
Greyson looked between Emma and Snape with confusion. Emma could tell he was curious, but he wasn't about to ask questions with her right there. She knew Greyson's inquisitive expression well from other Slytherins. Emma had grown very accustomed to it lately when she dodged the pure-blood's questions, wanting to get to know who Emma Black was.
"And if I don't have enough to complete the potion, sir?" Emma questioned.
"Well, you'll just have to be careful then, won't you?"
Emma nodded, plastering a tight smile on her face. "And what about the rest of the week?"
"Sir."
Emma sucked in a deep breath, rubbing her forehead in aggravation. "And what about the rest of the week, sir?"
"You will be provided fresh ingredients daily," Snape said after a long pause. "I trust that I will not need to elaborate on who they will come from."
"No, sir," Emma said quietly.
"Per my last conversation with your mate, it appears as though instructions will be included for you to follow. You are expected here before breakfast tomorrow to begin," Snape said, rising from his desk. "Mr. Fenmore, if you would so kindly supervise Miss Lupin – I must speak with Professor Dumbledore."
Emma sighed, setting down her potion's kit and rubbing her temples when Snape left the room. This was far worse than she expected, and she predicted it would be a very long week. She could feel Greyson's questioning look boring into the back of her skull, but she tried to ignore it as she pulled ingredients out.
As Emma pulled out what she had left of her aconite, she frowned. She would have to ask Remus how the plants were growing and see if he could send her some clippings. If Snape was serious about her not using any ingredients, she wanted to keep some extra on hand. Fresh was always better, but she could cut it and have it pre-measured just in case.
"You don't have to watch me, you know," Emma said into the silence, looking at what she had laid out in front of her. It would be just enough to make a decent enough dose of Wolfsbane for herself. As long as she was careful, then it would be fine. With a sigh, Emma thought perhaps she could ask Fenrir who his supplier was, or at least ask for him to send more if he could. By telling him the date of the first Hogsmeade trip, she hoped it would be a show of good faith that she was following through with things.
"I do, actually," Greyson replied.
Emma looked over her shoulder at Greyson with a frown and let out a derisive breath as his eyes swept over to a particular table. Her eyes flicked over to where Greyson's attention was momentarily drawn, and a dark chuckle left Emma's lips.
"He told you, didn't he?" Emma asked, her tone sharp. She shook her head when Greyson gave a slight nod. "I can't fucking believe him."
Greyson's eyes grew wide in surprise at Emma's tone of voice. "I…your language," he said, clearing his throat.
"Oh, get over it," Emma huffed. "Nobody else listens to me or cares about what I say. It's not like it matters if I get any privacy anyway, so why care about my language?"
"I asked him not to tell me," Greyson said.
"And yet you still know," Emma said, turning around to face Greyson fully. She had to remind herself to breathe when she met his eyes – that was never not going to be weird to her. "I can see you want to ask me questions about it. Might as bloody well. I'm sure that means you regret Friday, now."
"I wanted to apologize for that, actually," Greyson said, shifting nervously. "I never should have –"
"No one's going to know," Emma huffed out. She searched Greyson's face for a moment before turning back around to work on cutting and measuring ingredients. "Even if I were to tell someone, they wouldn't believe me anyway. I'm afraid I've lost a fair bit of credibility."
"Why?"
"For the very same reason you judged me in Flourish and Blotts," Emma said over her shoulder. "I'm just the weird half-werewolf girl…" Emma trailed off for a moment to look back at Greyson, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But I'm not the only half-werewolf in this room."
Greyson immediately tensed up, his eyes darkening. It took Emma by surprise, and she felt herself flinch back almost instinctively. That was a surprising look to see on someone who wasn't Fenrir, but it was there all the same. Greyson seemed to catch himself quickly as he quickly looked away, looking anywhere but at her, but his brows were still knit together.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Greyson said tightly.
"Please, you can leave," she said, gesturing towards the door. "I already said you don't have to watch me. Despite what good ol' Snip Snop has told you, I'm not about to go and off myself again. I certainly wouldn't want to have to inconvenience you so terribly that you would be the one to find me." Emma began to snicker as she continued to prepare her ingredients. "Oh, that would be absolutely poetic," she muttered under her breath.
"Well, unfortunately, supervising you has become part of my job description," Greyson said sharply.
"Oh, lucky me."
"Yes," Greyson drawled. "Lucky you. Even luckier for me, really since I get to deal with a little brat."
"You're the one who insisted on going for a Potion's Mastery for teaching," Emma said with a shrug. "Should have realized that meant you would have to work with students."
"I didn't think it would mean having to work with you."
"And I can say the same, Fenmore," Emma laughed. "I don't need you judging me since you're ah…you're the same as I am, just without all the fun bits, clearly."
Greyson looked livid, and Emma quickly turned her attention to what she was doing. She couldn't look at him, and she could practically hear the snarl in Greyson's voice when he spoke next, "You say that you're not a werewolf and yet –"
"And I don't need you judging me," Emma said sharply, cutting Greyson off. "I didn't ask for this - I told you that back in Flourish and Blotts. I know you didn't either."
"And yet –"
"Shut. Up," Emma growled, whipping around to glare at Greyson. "You should be bloody thanking me right now."
"Thanking you for what?"
"Keeping Fenrir so bloody distracted that he doesn't even know you exist!" Emma didn't mean to let it come out so sharply, and she felt guilty at the look that crossed Greyson's face.
"I'm sorry," Emma said quietly. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Yes, you did," Greyson snapped. "You knew?"
"Of course, I bloody knew," Emma said dismissively. She made a vague gesture in his direction and deflated. It was obviously a sore subject for Greyson if his expression was of any indication. "You look a lot like him. Bit shorter, but you look like your father all the same. Quite honestly, it's a bit difficult to look at you because you look so much like him."
"Well," Greyson said sharply, his face twisting with his sneer as he glared at Emma. "I'll make things easier for you, then. I have better things to be doing."
She jumped as Greyson stormed over to the door, threw it open with a harsh slam, and walked out. The door swung closed with a near echoing thud in the silent room, and Emma's mouth fell open. She was startled at Greyson's outburst, and she swallowed hard as she tried to process what had just happened. Emma didn't mean for that conversation to go that way, or at all, but she couldn't take it back now.
Emma didn't want to feel guilty, but she did. Greyson being half-werewolf didn't even cross her mind until just moments prior. Was his anger because he knew that – or perhaps he didn't realize? Or was it because he didn't accept it? Either way, Emma felt like an idiot.
"Good bloody going, Lupin," Emma muttered to herself as she worked. "You meet the one bloody person in the world who's at all like you, and you're a proper cunt about it."
In Emma's defense, she didn't like Greyson because he was Fenrir's son, but it was unfair for her to judge him on that. It wasn't as if that was something he could control. Emma stared at her half-cut ingredients with a groan. If Greyson was going to have to supervise her, it would be an even longer week than she thought.
Much like dealing with Fenrir at six in the morning, dealing with Greyson so early the next day was aggravating. He hadn't gotten over their terse conversation if his glares at her were of any indication. The moment she stepped foot into the Potion's classroom, only half-awake, he shoved an envelope at her. She took it very slowly from Greyson, finding a table further away, pulled out the letter, and read it with a groan.
Apparently, her work on the Wolfsbane Potion was well-received, and Fenrir expected her to brew for him to sell each month. How he would be receiving said potions, Emma had no idea, but she wouldn't question it. Emma's looked at the bottles sitting next to the fresh ingredients at the front of the room with disgust. At least it meant Remus would still be getting a high-quality potion, and that was all she cared about.
Emma didn't think Greyson was going to talk to her at all. She didn't particular enjoy him glaring at her, silently seething from several tables away, but she had gone through far worse. Emma was in the middle of stirring the potion when Greyson finally spoke up.
"The ingredients were from him, weren't they?" Greyson asked, his voice holding the hints of a growl.
"Unfortunately," Emma replied, glancing up at Greyson.
"When Snape refers to your mate –"
"I'm not," Emma said, quickly cutting Greyson off. "It's…it's complicated."
Greyson looked as though he wanted to say something else on the topic, but he changed the conversation entirely.
"Why do you have to take the Wolfsbane Potion?" he asked.
"Ah, so Snip Snop told you that as well?" Emma asked bitterly. Greyson gave another small nod, and Emma sighed. "It's from when I tried to off myself. Part of that requires another story, but the easiest way to sum things up is to go with a Muggle explanation. I essentially received a very infected blood transfusion with my father's blood to keep me alive."
"And that made you half-werewolf?"
"Yes. Which means I get all the fun except transforming or the super senses. I do get to heal pretty fast, so that's fun. I could cut myself with this damned knife. In thirty minutes, it would look like it healed all week," Emma said, a forced smile crossing her face at Greyson's sudden nervous expression. "I'm essentially a walking vessel for lycanthropy, just without the actual activation. There's not a lot of research into what causes it exactly, just that it's a potential side-effect to what they had to do to keep me alive," Emma added in a more serious tone. "Now, if I were to receive a bite from a werewolf –"
"You were bitten twice."
"But he wasn't transformed," Emma said, shaking her head. "That's what the Prophet never reported and why everyone seems to hate me. Fenrir wasn't a wolf at the time, so the venom that would be introduced through his saliva wasn't present. Other than presenting typical werewolf symptoms, I'm not dangerous." She stopped stirring the potion, taking a quick look at the clock. She had a brief five-minute break before she had to continue onto the next steps. "I know there was a lot written in the Prophet about my Dad and me over the summer. None of it was true."
"So, he didn't kidnap you?"
"No, never. Dad and I found that one of the funnier articles," Emma snorted. "My dad went through every possible step to ensure he could adopt me legally, or as legally as he could, rather. We didn't know that I was actually his until last year. It would have saved a lot of heartbreak if we knew…"
"How wouldn't he know that? If you were his child –"
"Have you seen my records?"
Greyson hesitated for a moment before nodding. "You're really a Black, then?" he asked.
"Yes," Emma said quietly. She let out a deep breath – she wasn't meant to be telling anyone that piece of information, but it didn't seem fair. It was already in her school records; there was no getting around it. "But I prefer Lupin. I have enough targets on my back without being a Black, as well." Greyson looked at Emma with confusion, one of his eyebrows arching in his curiosity.
"I know your secret; you might as well know mine," she added, with a sympathetic look. "I'm…I'm sorry about that, by the way. I really didn't mean for it to come out the way that it did." Greyson didn't respond at all to Emma, only stared at her until she finally looked away. She cleared her throat and continued. "Sirius had asked my mother to be surrogate for him and my Dad. She wound up getting pregnant with her boyfriend at the time, and she was still in school. My mum offered to still have me provided that Sirius still wanted me, and obviously, I'm here now. My Dad didn't know because the war was going on, and you know, the whole werewolf thing didn't really help."
"What do you mean the whole werewolf thing didn't help? If he's supposedly not dangerous –"
"There were rumors of a spy for Voldemort being close to all of them. Considering the nature of my father's work during the war…"
"What work was he doing?"
It was Emma's turn to hesitate, and she took a look at the clock. It felt like time was moving terribly slow, and she just barely met Greyson's gaze.
"My father was meant to infiltrate Fenrir's pack to turn people to Dumbledore's side in the war," Emma said. Greyson's face flashed with thinly veiled anger.
"So, it's because of your father you're now working with…with Greyback?" he spat, gesturing to the bottles on the table. "You both are?"
"Ah, and that's where my story gets complicated. My Dad wants nothing to do with him – he's not a part of this. And in case you're wondering, I'm doing this because I'm not stupid enough to go against him," Emma replied bitterly. "Like I said, it's complicated, and if all you're going to do is be cross with me, then it's not worth explaining. Now, if you don't mind, I don't think Fenrir would be too pleased with me if I ruined these. Sales to make and other werewolves to rip off, you know."
There was silence for a long while until Emma started to bottle up the potions.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Greyson questioned as Emma ladled the potion into one of the bottles.
"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.
"You're fifteen," he said slowly. "You shouldn't know how to make that potion at all. I didn't even see you look at a recipe."
"Well, good news for everyone involved – I've been making the potion for nearly a year now and can practically make it in my sleep," Emma said with a derisive breath. "I spent a lot of time learning the ins and outs of the potion. I tested out the end results of my work on myself before ever giving it to my father." She sighed, looking at the bottles before casting Greyson a nervous look. "You didn't touch any of the bottles, did you?"
"No, why?" Greyson questioned.
"Something tells me that you don't want Fenrir to know you exist," she replied, looking up briefly from the bottle she was filling. Emma wasn't sure if it was weeks with Fenrir that made Greyson easy to read or if his eyes were just that expressive. His eyes flashed with uncertainty, and Emma gave a small nod in understanding. "Make sure Snape knows to make sure everything is cleaned just in case. If Fenrir catches his scent when he's nowhere near me, he'll be skeptical."
"Are you finished, Lupin?" Snape asked as he walked back into the room a few moments later.
Emma inclined her head towards the bottles in front of her as she filled a goblet for herself. "One dose for Dad and the rest just as requested," Emma said, casting Greyson a quick glance. He looked even less amused than before, his gaze sharp as his face twisted with a sneer. "And then the remainder for me."
She started to clean everything up silently, ignoring the goblet next to her for a few minutes. Emma lifted the goblet in her hand, trying to ignore the looks both Snape and Greyson were giving her.
"I think I'll just take this up with me so I can eat something first," Emma muttered.
"Absolutely not, Lupin," Snape drawled. "None of my belongings will be leaving this room."
"Professor Snape, I haven't had the potion without eating something beforehand," Emma said pointedly. "I don't know if it'll make me sick."
"You'll recover," Snape drawled. "Best drink it now, Lupin."
Emma wasn't sure why she was at all surprised by Snape's behavior. She stared at the still-smoking goblet in her hand and grimaced. Her eyes darted between Snape and Greyson, and she shook her head, tipping the potion back into her mouth, face twisting with disgust. She slammed the goblet down on the table, shooting Snape a scathing look. If she got sick, it was going to be Snape's fault.
Luckily taking the Wolfsbane Potion so early didn't bother Emma as much as she thought it would. She felt ill like she would taking any other medication without food, but it was manageable. More than half of her Monday was taken up by her electives. She only needed to worry about Herbology and Charms. It was one of her easy days, so she wouldn't mind.
The next day made Emma realize that it wouldn't be a typical full moon week for her. Her head was starting to hurt far earlier than usual. She wasn't sure if she wanted to blame Snape or the stress of being at Hogwarts for her pounding head. Still, she pulled herself up and out of bed; she had another morning of brewing ahead of her.
Greyson seemed content to ignore her again, but Emma was not willing to overlook his insistent staring. Or at least it seemed that he was staring at her. Every time she would look up from what she was doing, Greyson was looking at her, and it was mildly off-putting.
"Stop looking at me!" Emma practically shrieked, grateful for Snape's lack of presence in the room.
"And where am I supposed to bloody look?" Greyson huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm supposed to be supervising you!"
Emma began to splutter with her aggravation. "I don't bloody know! Just don't look at me!"
"Oh, would looking at your shoes be fine, then, Princess?"
"Don't call me Princess!"
"Well, you're acting like a bloody spoiled Princess because I dared to look in your direction, so excuse me."
"You're a prick," Emma said through grit teeth as she glared at Greyson. "Did you know that?"
"And you're doing that wrong."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
Emma glowered at Greyson for a moment before looking down at what she was doing. She swore under her breath and readjusted how she was stirring, her lips twisting up into a sneer as she looked over at Greyson.
"If you stopped bloody staring at me, I wouldn't have done that!" Emma growled.
"Well, excuse me, then," Greyson scoffed. "Princess," he added under his breath.
"I heard that!" Emma shouted.
"You said you weren't a werewolf, and you heard me say that?"
"Sound echoes in the dungeons, you idiot. Don't need to be a werewolf to hear that one."
Emma was delighted when Greyson clamped his mouth shut, crossing his arms over his chest. She was quite happy to work in silence, and the rest of her morning went just the same as it did the day before.
That night, people were starting to notice that Emma wasn't acting as she usually did. She grew exhausted very early in the night, taking over one of the sofas in the common room and stretching out. She wanted to go to sleep half-way through dinner and relied heavily on George to get down to the common room. When he only kissed her cheek as they parted, Emma didn't even have the energy to question it.
Emma found her thoughts on Greyson far more than she ever wanted. She found him just as confusing as she found Fenrir – very hot and cold, never settling on one particular mood. It annoyed her to no end. Every time she would consider trying to be nice to him, he would say something that infuriated her. For someone who had absolutely nothing to do with Fenrir, he was so aggravatingly like his father that it was disturbing.
"Hey," she heard Justin say, pulling her out of her thoughts. Emma turned her head to give Justin a small smile.
"Hi," she said with a yawn.
"How are you feeling?" Justin asked, pressing his hand to her forehead. "Bloody hell, you are warm."
"Happens every time the full moon comes around," Emma said, turning on her side. "It's rubbish. I'll be fine – this is normal."
"Are you sure?"
"Bit of a headache, but it's all right."
"Sit up a minute," Justin said, slipping into the spot where Emma's head was. He gently pulled her head back down to his lap. "Right – direct me," he said.
"You don't have to do this," Emma laughed.
"Yes, I do," Justin said, picking a spot at random on Emma's head to massage. "Is this fine?"
"It's perfect," Emma said, closing her eyes.
Being an absolute saint, Justin stayed with her all night on the couch even after she fell asleep. She woke up very early in the morning, sitting up groggily. Someone had placed a blanket on her, and Justin's blanket was only covering his upper body. Emma gave Justin a gentle shake.
"Hey," she said, rubbing her eyes with her other hand. Justin cracked open his eyes with a yawn, and Emma grinned at him. "You could have gotten me up."
"You needed to sleep," Justin said, stretching his arms high over his head. "What time is it?"
Emma peered down at her watch. "5:30," she said, looking around the empty common room. "You've got some more time to sleep. I need to take a shower and head off to the dungeon to go make my potion."
"Why doesn't Snape do it?" Justin asked, pulling his legs onto the sofa when Emma stood.
"Would you want Snape making a delicate potion for you?"
"When you put it that way – absolutely not. I can walk you down to the dungeons if you'd like."
"It's all right," Emma smiled. "Sleep a bit longer. At least you can stretch out now."
Emma should have known better and realized Justin would walk her down to the dungeons regardless of what she said. It was nice to not have to make the walk by herself so early in the morning. The walk from the Hufflepuff dorms down to the Potion's classroom wasn't terribly long, but it was often cold and lonely. The warmth of the kitchens would rapidly descend into cool dampness from the lake surrounding the area.
Greyson still didn't appear to be in a good mood when she stepped into the classroom, and his gaze narrowed slightly when he saw Justin. Emma gave Greyson an annoyed look over Justin's shoulder as he hugged her, thankful that Justin was facing the door.
"See you at breakfast," Justin said happily, ruffling Emma's hair affectionately. Emma smiled at Justin as he walked out of the room and turned her attention back to Greyson.
"What is your problem?" Emma snapped, her hands on her hips.
"Nothing," Greyson said, with a slight shrug. "Wasn't expecting your little boyfriend to be walking you down this morning."
"He's not my boyfriend!"
"Well," Greyson said with a huffed out laugh, "should probably tell him that, then."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"My God, you don't even see it?"
"See what?"
Greyson's chuckle was one of amazement, and he shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Wow," he said slowly, sitting back in his chair to cross his arms in front of himself. "I had no idea you were so oblivious. I've had quite a few people tell me how smart you are, but you don't even notice that?"
"Oblivious to what?"
"Finch-Fletchley is clearly into you," Greyson snorted. "He's not the only one."
"You are beyond annoying. You don't know anything," Emma said, setting about the room to collect her things to start working. "I'm with George, anyway."
"And didn't you tell Persephone that he doesn't even act like your boyfriend?"
"He's still my boyfriend," Emma muttered. Greyson shrugged, looking more and more amused by the minute. She scoffed, shooting Greyson another glare, her lips curling. Greyson was wrong; there was no way Justin liked her as more than a friend. She doubted that anyone would be interested in her after everything, and Greyson's claim that others were annoyed her even more. "Besides, what does it matter to you anyway? Why were you listening to our conversation in the first place? Are you jealous?" she asked sharply.
The amused grin on Greyson's face quickly disappeared, and though his eyes narrowed at Emma, he didn't look annoyed. Greyson looked oddly resigned, and Emma didn't understand that look at all. He cleared his throat, turning his attention to the book and parchment in front of him.
"You should start working on the potion," he said, not looking up at Emma. "The sooner you get it done, the faster you can go get breakfast. I'll make sure that Severus lets you take the potion with you today. I did some research, and you really should be eating something before taking the Wolfsbane Potion."
Emma searched Greyson's face for a long moment, trying to figure out his sudden dismissal. Her comment about him being jealous had just been her being annoyed with him for making fun of her. Did she touch an unexpected nerve? The more Emma thought about it, the more annoyed she got – what did Greyson know anyway? He didn't know her, didn't know the truth of her life outside of what she told him. The only things Greyson had to go off of were the things other people told him. It wasn't like he bothered to ask her more about herself, and she certainly wasn't going to ask him questions either. Emma pushed the thought to the side with an aggravated hum and did what she was meant to do. The potion was more important anyway.
In typical Lupin fashion, Emma found herself fixating on what happened that morning while trying to eat her breakfast. Greyson didn't talk to her at all the rest of the time she worked on the Wolfsbane Potion. She would cast him curious glances, trying to take quick moments to study him, but he never looked her way. It seemed like such odd behavior when he always seemed to watch everything she did. At least with him not looking at her, she could really look at him.
The more Emma looked at Greyson, the more she could separate his looks from Fenrir, but they were there. His hair was darker than Fenrir's, more black than dark brown. If she looked at the top half of his face, he was purely Fenrir, but the rest of his face wasn't. His lips were much fuller, his facial hair kept much neater – Emma had to keep reminding herself to stop staring. He was shorter than Fenrir, standing somewhere between Sirius and Remus's height, and he was thinner. Greyson was muscular, but not disturbingly so like Fenrir, but it was evident he took care of himself. At least Greyson knew how to dress in clothes that fit…Once more, Emma had to force herself to stop staring at him. Apparently, she wasn't any better than Greyson with staring.
Typically, Emma's mood would vastly improve after eating, but an odd fluttery feeling seemed to sit in Emma's stomach. Emma's first thought was to blame the upcoming full moon, but for the most part she was faring much better than usual. Other than the headache and the slightest start of a fever, and her exhaustion, she felt fine. She had been delighted that her symptoms finally matched the ones Remus had, but the feeling in her stomach was weird. It was unexplainable, and the more Emma tried to figure it out, the more confused she became.
Professor McGonagall had asked her no less than five times if she was well during Transfiguration and asked if she had to go to the hospital wing. Each time, Emma insisted that she was fine, but she was slowly drawing attention from the others. Harry's forehead wrinkled with his concern as he stared at her from across the room, and Justin offered several times to walk with her. Emma could see McGonagall's concern written clearly on her face, and Emma forced herself to perk up. Even though she wasn't a full werewolf, Emma was sure that McGonagall remembered how her father must have been in class. She didn't need McGonagall going to Remus, especially not now.
The truth was that she didn't tell Remus that Greyson was in the castle. She had every opportunity to tell him, but for some reason, she couldn't do it. Emma wasn't sure exactly why she didn't tell him, but something told her to not say a word. It was almost like she was compelled to keep his secret because he was the only half-werewolf she had come across. Even if she couldn't stand Greyson and hated his father even more, he was still like her. It made her feel a little less lonely though he obviously wasn't affected the way she was.
Greyson seemed a little more himself when she stepped into Potions after Transfiguration. However, he still seemed to try and ignore her very existence. The few times she would bother to raise her hand to answer a question, he seemed to look past her as if she wasn't there. Eventually, she gave up and spent her time lost in thought. They were still revising undetectable poisons, and she only lifted her quill to add something new to her notes if it came up.
Emma found that casual Greyson's personality was a fierce dichotomy from his teaching personality. She had grown used to seeing him in jeans and either a long-sleeve shirt or t-shirt while working on the Wolfsbane Potion. He was sharper outside of teaching, his quips quick and cutting, and often sarcastic if he bothered to talk to her at all. It was almost jarring for her to see him in something similar to what Remus wore while teaching – trousers, a button-up shirt and tie, and robe. He embraced Muggle-wear more than wizarding fashion, which was refreshing to see.
What disturbed her most about Greyson was his teaching personality matched her father's. He seemed genuinely interested in making sure the class understood things. If someone had a question, he was quick to answer, and he appeared to have an encyclopedic knowledge of everything potions. It felt like she was sitting in her father's class, but with potions instead.
"I wonder when it would happen to you," Mandy whispered to Emma, leaning in close to her from across the table.
"Wondered when what would happen?" Emma whispered back out of the corner of her mouth. She refused to take her eyes off Greyson out of fear he would turn back around from what he was writing on the chalkboard and call them out for talking.
"I always wondered if we would get a professor who would finally catch your attention," Mandy replied with a quiet giggle. "About time considering you couldn't stand Lockhart, and we all got to enjoy looking at your dad until, well…you know."
"Oh, yes, because him being a werewolf changes things, right?" Emma said dryly.
"You know that's not what I mean," Mandy said. She looked over at Greyson, who was still facing the chalkboard, her gaze drifting to his arse. "He's fit, isn't he? Not that much older than us, I hear."
Emma's eyebrows raised, and her eyes grew wide as she looked at Mandy. "You've got to be kidding," she said.
"What?" Mandy hissed. "Come on, you can't tell me that he's not good looking. I mean, look at his arse. When was the last time you looked at a bum like that?"
Mandy wasn't entirely wrong by that statement. Even Emma could appreciate that Greyson was good looking, but it still made her feel weird – he was Fenrir's son.
However, Emma wasn't entirely immune to his good looks; she was a teenage girl, after all. A slightly older, good-looking young male in the castle that wasn't actually staff meant he was the very definition of temptation. If she could look past who his father was, she could find herself getting lost in the idea of Greyson. But Emma could easily write her attraction towards Greyson off as full moon hormones. It wasn't the first time she had been attracted to someone she usually wouldn't be, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time.
It was unfortunate that Greyson turned around just as Emma allowed her gaze to drift, and she felt her face heat up at his questioning look. Mandy immediately had to stuff her fist into her mouth to keep from giggling too loudly. Emma swore she wanted to die right on the spot. She wanted a random bolt of lightning to spontaneously appear in the classroom and hit her, or she wanted to get bitten by a venomous spider. Emma didn't care how her death came – anything would be better than her being caught staring at Greyson's bum.
"Care you share what you were just starting at with the rest of the class, Miss Lupin?" Greyson asked, one corner of his lips lifting into a smile.
"I wasn't looking at anything," Emma said quickly, shaking her head.
"Are you sure?" Greyson questioned. "You seemed quite…interested."
Mandy only began to giggle more and ducked her head to try and hide her face. Emma was humiliated, and she continued to shake her head, her face growing even hotter with her embarrassment. Greyson was beyond annoying.
"I already told you, I wasn't looking at anything," Emma said, unable to meet Greyson's eyes. This was somehow worse than when Remus figured out why she was nearly late to his class multiple times. When Greyson didn't say anything, Emma reluctantly met his gaze, and she felt her face heat up even further. The odd feeling in her stomach was suddenly fluttery, and Emma felt like a complete and utter idiot. She knew exactly what the feeling in her stomach was.
The feeling in Emma's stomach was butterflies. Greyson bloody Fenmore gave her butterflies, and somehow she didn't think it was because of the full moon at all. It was the same feeling she initially had with George and the same one she had with every other one of her crushes. But that's all it was, right? It had to be just a crush, nothing more, but it didn't change the fact that her attraction towards Greyson existed.
Emma suddenly had an even bigger problem than everything else combined. This was worse than having to deal with Fenrir, far worse than being labeled a werewolf and a social outcast. This was even worse than every other terrible thing she had ever done. This couldn't be happening.
a/n: Did anyone else realize earlier that Greyson's half-werewolf too, orrrrrr? Ya know. Stick two half-werewolves in a room, you get one whole werewolf...
That sounded a lot funnier in my head, but you know. It's fine.
Anyway, to all of my late-night readers, please go to sleep! Have very sweet dreams!
Come join the Gremlin pack and join the Discord if you'd like to help me out from time to time! Either punch in the link below (just remove the spaces) OR head over to my twitter bio and grab the link from there (link in my profile) -
discord . gg / 9gXkaaq2qJ
Lu! I love Greyson so much. He's such a fun character and very conflicted. There's going to be a lot of complicated situations going on. And ahh I was struggling really hard with Castelobruxo mostly because it takes all of South America. I'm sure my Brazilians are screeching at me over it , but I've read fics that have Castelobruxo use Spanish as the primary language instead of Portugese! It's not very clear with the school, so I'll admit I'm taking creative liberty. My Brazilian friends would probably scream at me if they read this though. Thank you for the catch, though - I don't think a lot of people actually realize that!
Lucasjan - Was this another successful one? Well, I suppose you shall let me know. Snape is absolutely an arse. I will say it time and time again that I love Greyson, but everyone on Discord knows that ahahah. As for George? Oooh boy.
Shard - I am SCREAMING. GREEEEMMMMMMMAAAAA.
Maricate - Hehehehehe. That's all I'm going to say is HEHEHEHEHEHEHEH. I feel like they absolutely still do that in fourth grade. I feel like that's something that should transcend all generations, but instead of writing it down on paper maybe they stick it in their phones? Eek - that's a disturbing thought...fourth graders with cellphones. o_o
