Emma couldn't figure out where to go to hide, and so she went to the only place she could think of – the alcove near the Defense classroom. She had spent so many hours hidden in the small nook when she couldn't stand to be in her room. Remus always knew where to find her, and that was all that had mattered at the time. Now? All that mattered was that she was hidden.

Every time Emma thought she couldn't possibly be angrier or more terrified, there was always something to prove her wrong. Emma had been teetering on the edge of not knowing what to do about Fenrir, but things had become much clearer. She couldn't lose any part of her pack, and Elara was such an integral part of it. It was her, Remus, Sirius, and Elara – it wasn't their pack if they weren't all together. Emma was more than willing to do anything it took to ensure that they could all be together, but the question was could Fenrir follow through? If Emma took her place in the pack, she had no doubt that Fenrir would move mountains for her, but would it be enough?

For one brief panic-induced moment, Emma thought that Fenrir had orchestrated the entire thing and not Jude. The thought quickly left her mind, and she shook her head to clear it – Fenrir would never do such a thing. She could recall the way he snarled when they spoke of his thoughts on the Ministry and the way his entire expression darkened with his anger. He would never sell out one of his own wolves to the Ministry, especially not when he knew how important Elara was to her. Fenrir already knew her answer; all that was left was to turn it into a magical contract. He would never stoop so low if he wanted to keep her willing.

She wasn't entirely sure how long she stayed hidden in the alcove, but the sky was beginning to darken outside the tall window. Emma couldn't keep herself still, pacing frantically in the small amount of space she had.

Her panic was growing quickly, the walls feeling as though they were closing in on her, and she felt her chest begin to tighten. She leaned against the wall with a heavy thud and unknotted her tie, throwing it to the ground with a growl. A whine escaped her lips when that did little to relieve the pressure closing in on her. She practically ripped her robe and her jumper off and tossed that to the ground as well, undoing the top few buttons of her blouse. It had been so long since such a severe panic attack started to talk hold where Emma couldn't think straight. She slid down the wall and pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to even out her breaths.

What was she supposed to do when she got like this? Count colors? No. Touch scents? That made even less sense, and Emma could feel her frustration growing.

Emma rubbed her hand over her chest, praying that the action would somehow kickstart her breathing, but her chest was tight. Her chest was so tight that it was painful, and she was getting dizzy, and God damn it, she was alone, and no one knew where to find her. The fact she could just die behind the tapestry, and no one would know struck Emma hard. It was such an irrational thought for her to have, and she knew that – she told herself repeatedly, but she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Desperate, Emma reached shakily for her robe to find her wand. She could make a Patronus – that would help her. Seeing her Patronus always reminded her that everything would be all right. She had worked so long with Remus to form her Patronus and loved that it was such a huge part of her and gave her a closer connection to her father.

"Expecto patronum," Emma muttered shakily, trying to pull everything she needed to bring forth her Patronus. "Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum. Expecto patronum," she continued to repeat to herself. She could feel her resolve quickly starting to break and the whine in her voice was more persistent. "Expecto…Expect…Patronum…Expecto…" She couldn't do it. As hard as Emma tried to concentrate, her Patronus wasn't coming, and she stared helplessly at her wand. What if she couldn't make her Patronus ever again? What if, what if, what if?

Her head snapped up and over to the tapestry as it moved, and she watched nervously, breathlessly to see who it could possibly be. Emma wasn't sure if it made her more frustrated or relieved that it was Greyson who stepped around the heavy fabric. Greyson, to her surprise, looked momentarily relieved, but Emma didn't miss the way he scanned her entire body. His eyes fell accusingly on her wand, and Emma felt herself break a little further, her chest still impossibly tight. She suddenly felt embarrassed – how bad did Snape make her out to be that Greyson felt the need to immediately check if she'd hurt herself?

"I can't…I can't cast my Patronus," Emma choked out in explanation, blinking quickly to keep her tears from falling. She couldn't cry in front of Greyson; she couldn't. But he gave her a confused look, and then she couldn't stop her tears from flowing freely.

Emma threw her wand somewhere in the direction of her things and pressed her forehead to her knees and started to sob. Why couldn't one thing go right for her? All she wanted was to be held and told that everything was okay, even though it most definitely wasn't.

She knew she was truly desperate when she felt Greyson's arms snake around her body and draw her close to his. Emma knew she was even more desperate when she found herself clutching to him as if he was her lifeline. For all she knew, in her current state, he was. Greyson was solid and warm, and he was something real for her to hold onto, and – if Emma could strangle Soleil, she would.

The sudden surge of emotions that Soleil brought forth made Emma feel better and worse at the same time. Soleil made Emma very aware of how nicely she fit in Greyson's arms, even though she was a sobbing mess. He smelled wonderful, and the odd familiarity of his cologne was soothing, and she had to resist breathing in his scent. She had to look mental enough without burying her face into the crook of his neck to smell him. Though Soleil was aggravating, Emma wasn't about to pass up the overwhelming feeling of safety that Greyson surprisingly brought her. She could feel herself melting into his embrace, her sobs ebbing into broken hiccoughs as she relaxed. When Greyson adjusted his hold on her to be just a little tighter, Emma found herself doing the same.

Her nerves started to calm, and as Emma began to return back to her more rational thinking, she became aware of how close they were. He was kneeling down next to her, and she had practically thrown herself into his lap in her need to be close to someone. His arms were wrapped tightly around her middle, hers around his neck, and Soleil was howling in sheer delight at the press of his body against hers. Emma found herself enjoying it, too.

"Everyone's looking for you," Greyson said softly, his hands coming up to rub her back softly. "It's, ah…a bit of a situation right now."

Emma could hear the apology in his voice, and she groaned. She released her hold just enough so that she could drop her forehead to Greyson's shoulder.

"Picking between you stubbed your toe, and the world is ending, how bad are things right now?" Emma whispered, an errant smile crossing her face at Greyson's disbelieving chuckle.

"Possibly just below the world is ending," Greyson admitted. "You've got a lot of people worried about you."

"Who snitched on me to my Dad?" Greyson tensed up slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid," Emma muttered. "He's the only one who knows I used to come hide out here. Which means he's now got something else to worry about…" When Greyson didn't answer right away, Emma forced herself to let go just enough to meet Greyson's eyes. She couldn't convince herself to let go of him just yet, relishing having him be so close. Soleil was practically screeching at her to just move forward and kiss him, but the timing of such a thing would be awful. Emma searched his gaze, trying to push Soleil's invading insistence away, and her lips parted with surprise in an understanding of the situation. "You snitched to my Dad?"

"Not entirely," Greyson said, his brows furrowing slightly. "I've heard the way you talk about him, and if anyone would know, it would be him. I asked McGonagall to call him…"

"Because you knew he would know exactly who you are?" Emma asked. Greyson's lips twitched slightly, and he nodded, swallowing hard. Emma pulled away from Greyson a little further just so she could study his face better. She couldn't figure out exactly what expression he had on his face, but she desperately wanted to brush her thumb over his brow to smooth out the crease forming. What scared her was that thought was hers and not Soleil's.

"I worried you again," she said, her head tilting slightly. She rubbed hard at her eyes and wiped at her face to clear her tears. "Why?"

"I don't know," Greyson whispered. "I really don't. I just…I don't know." Greyson only held Emma's gaze for a moment longer before he averted his gaze, clearing his throat. He reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief and held it up for Emma to take. "I should…I should probably tell someone I found you so everyone can stop searching."

Emma frowned, slowly disentangling herself from Greyson and taking his handkerchief, amused that he was the sort of person who carried one. She ran her hands over her face, shaking her head. Emma sat back against the wall with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, twisting the thin fabric of Greyson's handkerchief in her hands.

"I've just earned myself a night with Madam Pomfrey, haven't I?" she asked, huffing out a bitter laugh as she looked up at Greyson.

"It's just precautionary," Greyson said lightly. He stood up, rocking slightly on his heels for a moment and then holding his hands out towards Emma to take. "I think we should probably try and start over while we're at it."

Emma hummed quietly as she reached up to take Greyson's hands so he could pull her up. She looked at Greyson expectantly, waiting for him to say something, but he seemed more focused on looking at her hands in his. Emma found herself taking a moment to do the same, trying to ignore how nice just this felt. It felt much different than in Flourish and Blotts.

"I, uhm," Greyson's thumbs brushed over Emma's knuckles, and he met Emma's eyes with an almost shy smile. "I'm Greyson Fenmore. And…you are?"

"Emma Lupin," Emma replied with a snort. "And I believe you're meant to be hauling me off to Madam Pomfrey's."

"Yes, that would probably be a good idea," Greyson sighed, pulling his hands away and shoving them in his pockets. "Do you need me to, er…carry your things?"

"No," Emma said quietly, crouching down to grab her things. "I've just been pegged as a flight risk, not an invalid. I can handle carrying my things." She tucked as much as she could into her bag and stood, her face heating up with embarrassment. "I'm…really sorry that it was you who actually found me. But…thank you." Emma was about to sling the strap of her bag over her shoulder, but Greyson grabbed onto it, pulling it out of her hands. She made to protest, but Greyson already had the strap over his shoulder and was over to the tapestry.

"It's fine," Greyson said lightly, one corner of his lips lifting. "Come on, let's get you out of here. I'm sure you're probably hungry and could use some rest." Greyson Fenmore was never more of a mystery to Emma than right then.

It was just as well that she had to see Madam Pomfrey as she managed to kill two birds with one stone. Emma managed to pass Pomfrey's overly comprehensive questioning that she was sure came from Dr. Wheeler, but she also finally followed through on Moody's suggestion. She was just glad that it was so early in the year that the hospital wing was completely empty except for her. If anyone else was in the room

Madam Pomfrey was horrified during the physical testing she ran on Emma. Emma hated every single moment of her sympathetic and angry looks. She knew that Pomfrey's anger wasn't directed towards her, but it didn't make Emma feel any better.

"Miss Lupin, I don't understand why you didn't bring this up sooner," Pomfrey said, writing hurriedly in Emma's chart. "Do you not understand the gravity of this curse being cast on you?"

"I do," Emma said quietly. "But I…I was scared. Professor Moody tried to get me to come here sooner, but I just didn't." Pomfrey's lips pursed, and she tutted softly under her breath with a soft shake of her head as she continued to write.

"Well, I suppose it's better late than never," Pomfrey sighed. "And you're aware that I will have to report the use of the Cruciatus, yes? And that tonight's incident will be added to your records? And if this behavior continues, we'll have to implement similar measures to last year?"

"I don't care anymore," Emma said quietly, crossing her arms. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the unamused look on Pomfrey's face. Emma knew all of this already, the year before. They had drilled every possible scenario into Emma's head at every potential opportunity they worried about her.

"Mr. Fenmore, you are free to leave," Pomfrey said to Greyson, who waited at the entrance of the hospital wing.

"I was actually hoping to stay," Greyson replied. "If you don't mind, of course."

Emma whipped around to look at Greyson so quickly that she tweaked her back. She gave him a funny look, but he ignored her and gave Madam Pomfrey a wide smile. Emma's stomach did a delighted little flip at his smile – she loved his smile – and Soleil was practically purring at the idea of him staying. What was Greyson doing?

"Oh," Pomfrey said. She hesitated for a moment and then glanced at Emma. "Well, I suppose for a night it would be all right. I'll make sure that Miss Lupin gets situated if you don't mind. Come back in an hour."

Emma begrudgingly put on the scratchy hospital pajamas that Madam Pomfrey gave her and settled into her usual bed. The fact she even had a usual bed was both annoying and amusing to Emma, and she reached for her notebook. If Emma didn't tell Remus she was actually okay, she knew he would completely lose it. It was a wonder that he didn't just burst through the hospital wing doors at any given moment, but she knew he had to be home.

Remus was more than relieved to hear from her, just like she thought he would be, and Emma felt guilty for scaring him. She wrote exactly that, and Remus made her feel a little better when he said he understood, and he wished he could be there. It took everything in Emma's power to not burst into tears again. She wanted nothing more than for Remus to be with her, but she knew how terrible of an idea that would be. He needed to be home for now, and that was where Emma wanted him to be. Remus needed Sirius, and though Emma needed them both, she would be fine.

She ate her dinner slowly, if only to prolong the moment that Pomfrey would insist that she go to bed. The slower she ate, the longer it meant she could stay up just writing to Remus, but when Greyson returned, Emma was curious.

Greyson had a small messenger bag with him, and he had changed into something more casual. Emma's stupid butterflies went through her stomach again at the realization that Greyson seriously meant to stay. She found herself looking down at her hospital pajamas and immediately blushed. Why didn't she think to stop and get her actual pajamas so that she wouldn't look like a child in the hospital issued outfit? Thin blue stripes were not a good look for her.

Her blush only grew when Greyson stopped in front of her bed. One of his eyebrows arched slightly as he took in her pink cheeks, and his lips twitched at the corners. He reached into his bag and pulled out what looked like clothes, dropping them on her bed.

"Thought you'd be more comfortable in these," he said quietly, reaching into his bag once more and dropping a book on top of the clothes. Emma had to admit that she might have fallen a little in love with Greyson when she saw it was The Hobbit. "I haven't seen you carrying a book in a few days. I noticed that you normally read Fellowship of the Ring, but I wasn't sure if you had it with you. Didn't think you'd appreciate being stuck here and being bored if you didn't."

Emma followed Greyson with her eyes as he made his way to the bed next to hers and frowned slightly. She was very appreciative of Greyson bringing her different clothes to wear and a book, but she had no idea he paid that much attention to her. To be fair, she did the same with him, but to find out he knew that much about her? It was somehow endearing.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, looking between Greyson and the clothes. Would it be too weird to wear his clothes? They obviously weren't hers – she certainly didn't own anything in Slytherin green. Looking down at the hospital pajamas, Emma decided it wasn't weird at all. She leaned forward to scoop the clothes up in her hands, setting the book aside, and practically ran to the bathroom to change.

When Emma saw what Greyson brought her, she had to burst into hysterical laughter. He was lending her a very comfortable pair of flannel pajama bottoms that were obviously too long in the legs, but that wasn't the funny part. Greyson had brought her a Slytherin Quidditch t-shirt to wear – with his last name on the back.

She giggled to herself as she pulled it on over her head. Emma was sure he tried to find the smallest thing he could for her, and it fit surprisingly well, but it was funny. She shook her head as she spun around to look at herself in the mirror, shaking her head as she looked at it.

"Really?" Emma asked when she left the bathroom, giving Greyson a pointed look.

"I didn't want you to be swimming in my clothes," Greyson said, giving Emma an appraising once-over, smirking at the rolled-up hem of his flannel bottoms. "Besides, Persephone said the Sorting Hat considered you for Slytherin. Was curious to know what you'd look like in Slytherin colors."

"That is the most Slytherin thing you have ever said to me," Emma said, climbing back into bed and pulling the covers up. "Thank you, by the way. The hospital pajamas are scratchy."

"They're miserable," Greyson said. "Been in them far more times to count from Quidditch injuries that I started to leave clothes here just in case. Might be worth considering if you continue to play Quidditch."

For some reason, with Greyson there, Madam Pomfrey wasn't as overbearing as she would usually be. She was often firm with Emma, never mean, but she seemed to be more relaxed than usual that night. When Emma was sure that Madam Pomfrey would tell her off for still being awake, she made her way to her office instead.

"You know where to find me if you need me, dear," Madam Pomfrey said lightly, giving Emma a smile. "Good night."

Emma worried that the sudden silence and close proximity to Greyson would be weird, but it felt natural. It wasn't like they hadn't been alone together before, they spent at least an hour every morning together, after all, but this was different. Not only were they having an impromptu sleepover that he didn't need to stay for, but she was wearing his clothes. If they were friends, they had somehow crossed from friends to very close friends in a matter of seconds. Emma found that she didn't entirely mind, and for once, it wasn't Soleil that was prompting her thoughts.

When Emma peered over at Greyson, her stomach squirmed in delight when she realized what he was reading. She didn't peg Greyson as the poetry type, but she found herself fascinated to see him reading something by Pablo Neruda. Part of her wanted to ask him to read a poem to her, but she noticed the title was in Spanish. She didn't want to embarrass herself if she asked for the translation, and it was one of his books of love poems. Instead, Emma returned to reading more about Bilbo's adventures. It didn't matter how often she had read through Tolkien's collection over the years; the stories would never get old. Emma didn't think she would ever be able to read any of Tolkien's books without thinking of her father.

"You didn't have to stay," Emma eventually said when she couldn't continue reading any longer. She turned on her side to look at Greyson, curling up underneath the thin blanket and pulling her pillow closer under her head.

"I know," Greyson replied. "But I felt like we should finally talk, and what better way than to be stuck in a room with someone all night?"

Emma rolled her eyes. It was such a Slytherin thing to do, but Greyson had a point. There never seemed like a good time to talk, and it appeared he felt they had reached a time where they needed to.

"What can we even talk about?" she asked quietly.

"A lot," Greyson shrugged, dogearing the page of the book he was reading. He closed his book, setting it to the side, looking over at her. "I wanted to apologize for judging you so quickly. I judged you for being exactly the same as me when it should be the other way around. You didn't ask for the life you have, and I never realized…I didn't realize just how lucky I actually had it growing up."

"I don't want your pity –"

"I'm envious of you."

Emma blinked owlishly at Greyson, her head tilting slightly. "Why would you be jealous of me? You're the one who gets to go through life with very few people knowing who you actually are. I have to walk around with my story literally written on my skin."

"Because I could never be brave like you. You just…you take everything that people throw at you. I would want to run."

"I do want to run. I want to run every single day of my life," Emma said, cursing herself silently for the crack in her voice. "All I've wanted is to be home. I never wanted to come back here, and I feel like I don't get to control any part of my life anymore. I have to pretend that I don't hear what people say about me, but I hear it every single day. It's even worse feeling sick all the bloody time with the damn full moon and trying to navigate being here alone." Emma gestured weakly in Greyson's direction. "And then you…You change everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Greyson, how much do you actually know about your father?"

Greyson's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "Only a few things people have told me and the things I've researched myself. I don't know much about him at all."

"Do you want to know more about him?" Emma asked. Greyson looked incredibly torn, and she didn't blame him for the unsure look on his face. He eventually gave a slight nod, and Emma let out a long breath. "Well, settle in, I suppose. Do you want to know the good things about him or the bad?"

"There are good things?"

"I've been told that I'm one of the only few people in the world who can find good qualities about just about anyone. Drives a lot of people mental, really."

"Then…I suppose start with the good things," Greyson said quietly. He did some quick thinking and turned off his lamp so that the only light left in the room filtered in from the moon outside. He slid himself down on the bed to turn on his side, facing Emma. "I didn't think anyone could ever say that he has good qualities. Bit terrifying that you could even say that considering…considering what he's done for you."

"Believe it or not, he's helped me far more than I care to admit," Emma replied with an almost nervous giggle. She tried to think of where to start, trying to think of the last few weeks of the summer. "Well…the first thing to know is that he's got a terrible sweet tooth. I had at least a three-month supply of sugar quills, and he ate every single one I had…"

They talked all night. The more they spoke, the scarier it became how similar they were, but just how different their experiences were. Greyson was the first person Emma felt comfortable telling everything to, even the things she should keep quiet. Emma had a feeling that she was that person for Greyson, too. The two carried such massive secrets that they seemed to have built a rapid trust that the other would never tell them. Emma had never felt like she could do that before.

Greyson didn't have anything like Soleil living in his mind, which Emma was envious of, but he still had other symptoms. Greyson was very careful to tell her what symptoms he had. His careful phrasing made Emma wonder if he struggled to be around her for the same reasons she struggled to be around him. Though he danced around the topic, he told her that he grew more agitated around the full moon, sometimes falling ill, but he managed. Greyson thanked Emma no less than seven times just for the tip about the chocolate – he had no idea. He admitted that up until meeting her, he had no desire to learn more about that side of himself because he wanted to ignore it. As far as he was concerned, he was entirely human, and that's how he wanted to stay. His symptoms could be written off as "odd, but normal," and he had no idea just how bad things could be.

He was disturbed by how different werewolf culture was and how much lycanthropy changed a person's biology. Greyson confessed that he felt that he thought it would but didn't elaborate further and let Emma explain things further. The more Emma spoke, the more he looked as though things started to make sense.

"I had always wondered why I had to start shaving at fourteen," Greyson muttered, almost to himself. "I tried to research it once, but nothing existed. Was a bit of a rough time for me."

Greyson wasn't sure where his roots came from entirely, just that his mother's side of the family was Spanish. Emma felt guilty that she couldn't answer that question for Greyson, and his face fell slightly at her admission. It wasn't the sort of thing she ever talked to Fenrir about as it didn't seem to matter. Fenrir was a werewolf, "a superior magical creature," and that was most likely what he would tell her, but she vowed to try and find out. Greyson had been two when his mother had passed, and it was just one of the many things where Emma could find their similarities.

For the entirety of his Hogwarts years, Greyson had done research to try and figure out more about the Fenmore line. Greyson knew that Fenrir was a pure-blood, but as the Fenmore's were not considered part of the sacred families, there wasn't much literature. He had been able to find information about Fenrir, but that was where things stopped. As hard as he tried, it was like nothing existed earlier than Fenrir's entrance into the world.

"It's like it just never existed," Greyson said quietly, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "With all of the paper trails that exist in our world, you would think that there would be something, but there isn't."

"But who's to say that wasn't on purpose?" Emma asked quietly. "If anything existed here, and Fenrir had a plan…what if they don't exist on purpose? Which means that my job is going to be that much more difficult."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I need to figure out exactly who Fenrir is before it's too late. Just that bit of information will help me so much."

Greyson had become so quiet that Emma thought he may have fallen asleep. She was settling herself into her pillow to do the same, but then he spoke up.

"I could show you," he said quietly. When Emma opened her eyes to look at Greyson, he was already looking at her. She took a moment to understand what he was trying to tell her, and she was appreciative. Greyson had no reason to help her, but he was willing to do so.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "That will…that will help a lot."

Greyson's anger with her had been entirely from the articles published in the Daily Prophet, and he apologized for it. Emma had a sneaking suspicion that's what it was about, but she didn't think it went even further than that.

"I think I was startled to realize that there was someone else like me. It's not as though half-werewolves go around broadcasting it everywhere," Greyson said quietly. "Imagine you're sitting with your very Muggle aunt one morning, and you read all of those articles knowing the reputation your father has. And even worse – so few people know that fact, but Skeeter seemed to be digging all information up about you two that I worried I was next. If people were to find out who I am –"

"That's the end of your reputation," Emma finished for him. "Believe me, I know. I often wonder if I've become an outcast from the whole werewolf thing, or if it's because of my relationship to Fenrir."

"But why do you have one in the first place? I don't…why you?" Greyson's face immediately turned red, and Emma had to laugh at his embarrassed flush that seemed clear as day in the light of the moon. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that at all."

"No, I get it," Emma said quietly. "I'm sure that has to be absolutely weird for you to know. I feel like I'm the one who should be sorry."

"But you clearly didn't ask for it. I highly doubt a two-year-old would actively decide to have a relationship with my father."

"Ah, but you forget the part where that's courtesy of my sperm donor. And that's where things become complicated. I can't explain that part of my story because Fenrir's never told me."

"But he told you that he wants to –"

"Greyson, for the love of God, please do not repeat that bit. It'll make the…whatever this is, whatever we are right now…just that much worse."

"Well, according to what you've told me, I should be asking you when I should start calling you step mum."

Emma's eyes grew wide as saucers as she stared at Greyson. His comment had been completely deadpanned, and Emma had no idea what to make of it. She was silently cursing herself for even telling Greyson that part of things, but he asked, and for once, he didn't seem to judge her. Emma began to splutter with her confusion, unsure of how to come back from that one, but then he began to laugh, and the sound was absolutely wonderful.

"Greyson Fenmore, you absolute arse!" Emma shouted, grabbing her pillow and chucking it at Greyson. "It's not funny!"

"It's a little funny," Greyson said, laughing even harder as he pulled Emma's pillow close to himself. "And now you have no pillows, and I have two. That makes it even funnier. Remind me to send you a Mother's Day gift this year. Oh, and do I get to see you at holidays? I'm sure my aunt would be keen to meet you. We can all sit about the fire at Christmas with hot chocolate and trade really embarrassing stories. At least I can say that you're pretty, so that's nice."

"Oh, bugger," Emma said, covering her face. She wasn't at all expecting Greyson to say that she was pretty, and the blush that crept across her face felt as though it covered her entire body. Emma felt incredibly hot, and Soleil was preening at the compliment. "Greyson, I swear if Mother's Day comes around and you get me a gift, I will literally hex you. My Dad's an excellent duelist, and I'm sure I could convince him to help me find the perfect spell to use."

"I make no guarantees," Greyson replied with a cheeky grin. He stood up from his bed and crossed over to Emma's, handing back her pillow. With a small moment of hesitation, he sat down on the bed next to her, his expression more serious. "But really, why? I can understand the parts where my father helped you, but other than that, you owe him nothing."

"Coping mechanism," Emma said with a one-armed shrug. "I've spent nearly my entire life in his company to some degree. Add in needing to survive and making sure my father gets taken care of to some degree during this time, and, well, there are a lot of reasons why one would sell their soul to the devil. And unfortunately, I've been given another reason to do exactly that."

"What do you mean by that?"

Emma sighed, sitting up and hugging her pillow to her chest. "I mean that I can't lose Elara, too," Emma said quietly. "Elle's the closest thing I have to a mother, though she insists she's my cool aunt, but really she's everything for me. My entire life, I have been surrounded by men, both good and bad, and Elle's the one good woman I have in my life. Well, I suppose I have Aunt Minnie –"

"Aunt Minnie?"

"Professor McGonagall," Emma explained, smiling at Greyson's surprised expression. "But Elle…after my mum died, and after I tried to off myself, Elle really stepped up for me. She didn't have to, and I know you won't have an awareness of this because you're entirely alone in your head, but she's pack. Soleil pulled her into my pack, and she's family now. I'll do anything for my family."

"And that means giving yourself willingly to my father?"

"He already owns me," Emma said quietly. She reached up to her neck to touch the necklace Fenrir gave her, playing with the pendant. "Consider this a collar. I give myself to him, and he'll do everything in his power to keep me, which means everyone I love is kept safe."

"But you don't know that."

"I know him well enough to know that he's blinded by power, and he has it in his head that I'm part of that reason. It's not without risk, but I can't lose everyone. Not now."

"But he's –"

"Dangerous? Terrifying? The very definition of a monster? I know all of that."

"Why don't you tell someone?"

"Who am I going to tell?" Emma asked. "The Ministry's already pegged me as a full-blooded werewolf, and I'm expected to sign the registry in a few years. Nearly screwed myself over with the whole being of age thing at fifteen, but Dad's solicitor put his foot down on that. Said if they weren't going to acknowledge that I can legally do things now and would still go after me if I got caught doing 'under-age magic' then they couldn't force me to be added before I turned seventeen. If I really wanted to, I could just drop out today and end my education, but right now, it's one of the ways I ensure I stay mostly safe.

"At the end of the day, I've been outed for being something I'm not, and my current prospects are slim. If things don't change in a few years, then I'm completely done for. I know it seems mental and makes no sense, but you haven't had to live how I have the past few months. Everything I've done has been to make sure I live another day because it's not just one person I have to worry about. And it's all only gotten worse, not better, and I have to do what it takes to survive."

"Why doesn't your father do something about it?"

"What is he going to be able to do? He can't make my decisions for me – Fenrir was quite clear on that in my last conversation with him. My Dad'll fight for me, of course, but in the wizarding community, he's just seen as a creature. We both are. And that's where the whole Ministry thing and them keeping us apart is bloody stupid, and we don't know what to do. I'm human when they want me to be, but I'm a creature every other time. We don't have the same rights as everyone else, but I do with other werewolves. And that's why I have to go after my sperm donor. If he's the reason for Elle…The point is I need to do whatever it takes and hope the Ministry sees me as human enough that Jude using the Cruciatus on me matters."

Greyson looked to be very lost in thought, eyes focused on some spot on the floor. Emma wasn't sure exactly what Greyson was thinking about, but he was thinking about it hard.

"Don't do it," Greyson finally said, meeting Emma's gaze.

"What?"

"Don't do it," Greyson repeated. "Don't go to the pack or whatever it is you plan on doing. You honestly can't tell me that you think that your life has been reduced to…serving my father. There has to be another way."

"Greyson, there isn't –"

"You're too talented to have your skills wasted like that. There has to be – we can work together!"

"What?"

"I'll…I'll get my Potion's Mastery, and then we can…we can open some sort of apothecary and brew together. If I were to start now, it would be perfect. We could work together during the summer and the holidays, and in a few years…you said you want to help werewolves, yeah?"

"Well, yes, but Greyson –"

"Then it's perfect. We can grow almost everything on-site, find a decent distributor for everything else we need, offer the Wolfsbane Potion at low cost," Greyson said quickly. "If we do it right, then maybe we can offer it at no cost at all. I'm sure we could figure it out."

"Greyson, wait –"

"What? You can't tell me that you need to go running off to a werewolf pack. You don't belong there."

"Greyson, all of that sounds wonderful because it's something I would want to do, but…you don't even actually know me. You can't say that you would throw off your teaching plans just to – I don't even know what you're trying to do. You don't even like werewolves."

"I don't like my father," Greyson corrected Emma. "I don't like my father, and I'm not fond that I'm not entirely human like I keep trying to tell myself." Greyson trailed off, looking away from Emma. "And you're wrong about me not knowing you. I feel like I've known you my whole life. I was short with you in Flourish and Blotts because that terrified me, and I felt it the moment we both went to reach for the same book."

"So, you actually were following me then?" Emma asked in disbelief.

"A bit, yeah," Greyson admitted. "I just wanted to see what you actually looked like, but you kept your head down the entire time. However, I genuinely didn't mean to actually run into you…"

"Ah, so you admit that you did run into me, then."

"I got scared," Greyson whispered. "You were this ridiculously tiny little thing, and you weren't at all what I expected. I spent so much time being angry at you because of the articles in the Prophet, and then I couldn't believe that someone like you existed. I couldn't decide if I wanted to hate you or be jealous of you or if I wanted to try and talk to you, and then suddenly, you were right there. It's like everything and nothing made sense."

"And then when you came here?"

"I don't know," Greyson said. "I know I've been an absolute arse, and you don't have to tell me that. But the more I learned about you, the more terrified I became that I was going absolutely mental. You're nothing like what the Prophet made you out to be, and nothing compares to actually watching you. And it kills me that you don't see yourself the way that other people do."

"A dangerous monster? An absolute –"

"Emma, please just listen to me," Greyson said. His tone was not sharp but firm. Emma immediately clamped her mouth shut, her eyes growing wide. "All it takes is spending time with you for someone to realize just how beautiful you actually are," Greyson continued. "You are talented and brilliant and incredibly fierce. I thought that before I even met you, before I…" Greyson trailed off, running a hand through his hair and looking away.

"I don't know what it is about you or why I feel the way I do about you, but it doesn't matter. All I'm saying is every opportunity where you could run, you haven't – until tonight. If I were you, I would have gone somewhere to hide, too, just to be alone. I can't imagine how terrifying it is to possibly lose someone that you care about so deeply. I don't know much about the pack, but I know about family, and if something were to happen to my aunt, I'd be devastated. But you care so much more about other people than yourself, and that's wonderful, but when do you think about what you want?"

Emma was left speechless, and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she swore the sound echoed against the walls. She had to tuck Soleil into the deep recesses of her mind to try and process what Greyson just said. He didn't…did he? Did Persephone's insistence of being with Greyson go even further than Trelawney's nonsense? Was she reading into things more than she should?

"I don't…" Emma frowned, her brows knitting tightly together as she studied Greyson's profile. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? What doesn't matter?"

Greyson was quiet, looking down at his hands in his lap. Emma had never seen him look so pensive before, an air of uncertainty surrounding his entire being. His lips lifted into a half-hearted smile as he turned his head to look at her.

"Even if I thought I had a chance, you would never want to be with me because of who my father is. I could never blame you for that."

Oh. Emma wasn't reading into things further than she thought. Every part of her grew warm with pleasurable delight at the idea that Greyson wanted more, but did she?

"Greyson, you're not your father," Emma whispered, her head tilting slightly. She moved her pillow off her lap and put a hand on Greyson's arm. "And you're wrong, too, you know."

"Wrong about what?"

Emma took a moment to think about what she wanted to say. Was she about to let Soleil talk for her, or was she speaking for herself? She couldn't deny that she was almost immediately attracted to Greyson and had given up on telling herself that she wasn't. The more they had talked that night, the more she had come to find other parts of him attractive.

Greyson was devoted to his family and loved the work that he was doing. He loved that he could go anywhere in the world with his line of work and had dreams of going wherever he could. His humor was so similar to hers that it was almost annoying because he was quick with his responses. He was a half-blood with strong Muggle roots, which she adored. The Potion's classroom had never been livelier as Greyson played music while they worked.

Emma had to force herself to breathe as things started to fit into place in her mind. She knew why Soleil was so insistent – Soleil knew Emma's thoughts before she did. The more she learned about Greyson, the more perfect he was for her. But did she dare?

"You're wrong in saying that I would never want to be with you," Emma said quietly, a blush crossing her face at the stunned but hopeful look on Greyson's face. "And you're right, I don't ever really think about what I want." Emma's heart was racing even faster, her stomach a nervous flutter of butterflies. She could pick out every possible reason why she shouldn't do what she wanted, how wrong it all was, but Emma could find even more reasons why she should. The opportunity was within her grasp, and with every single one of her thoughts finally aligning with Soleil, who was she to pass it up? It was all so fast, so sudden, but a niggling voice in her brain said that it was right, and she needed to know. With a shaky breath, Emma slid herself closer to Greyson, not quite able to meet his gaze any longer.

His hand came up to cup her jaw, and Emma would be damned if his hand against her face didn't feel like fire against her skin. Greyson very gently lifted her face so that she was forced to look at him. Emma had never realized just how much his eyes were like a molten amber, warm and rich even in the cool silvery light of the moon. Had she ever actually seen anything more captivating in her life?

"And what do you want?" Greyson asked her, his expression and tone of voice hopeful.

"You," Emma whispered after a long pause.

Neither of them moved, both searching the other's face for any flicker of doubt. For a moment, Emma thought she had said the wrong thing, and her stomach started to sink. Emma started to move away, but Greyson suddenly pulled her closer with such unexpected softness that it made her gasp. He searched her face for one more long moment, their nervous breaths intermingling as he asked her silently for permission with his eyes. Emma managed a weak nod in response, and that was all Greyson needed before his mouth was on hers.

The brush of his lips against hers was featherlight at first, and then more urgent as if they were both afraid the moment would pass too quickly.

Emma didn't believe in a lot of things. She didn't believe in fate, didn't believe in Divination, didn't believe in destiny, but she believed in whatever led them together. Emma believed in the power of the universe, believed that it was a cosmic joke that she felt such a peacefulness with Greyson, but she didn't care. With her hands pressed to Greyson's chest and his tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, Emma only had one thought as they both smiled into each tender press of their lips.

If she was the sun, then Greyson was, too. For nothing could be more radiant than what they suddenly shared.


a/n: So…this chapter was 100% fan service for myself. I'm not going to lie. Also, we're playing in the wizarding world and rules just don't apply anymore. Plus they're half-magical creature, so ya know what? I WROTE IT FOR ME.

I wanted these two to quit being stupid for .435435243 seconds and SOOOOOO we have this. Ultimate fan service for me (also I wrote that as fen service for way too long before I noticed it….I hate myself). These two little boogers are my loves. We stan Gremma in this household. Also, this complicates so much so THAT'S going to be fun ehehehehe.

Maricate - Oh, no, no, no, they're definitely not the only half-werewolves that exist! The issue is that they're the only two half-werewolves that they've come across in everyday wizarding society. Someone who's half-creature isn't going to broadcast it, either. Emma knows who Greyson's father is, and Greyson obviously 100% knows who she is. As Emma's not with the packs, she doesn't really get that exposure, and Greyson has had absolutely no contact with someone else like him until Emma. It's a whole new worlddd~. Also, I literally love Elara and the amount of times I sobbed over just the headline just about killed me. I wrote it around the time I started book 4, too, so I've been sitting on that for a looonnnggg time. I couldn't push it off any longer. As for Persephone? Eeeeehhhhh…whoooo knooowwwsss.

Shard - Yes Elara T-T. Jude's sshiiiiitttttt. And yes, Greyson is a sweet little bean and omfg I love him lmffaaao. At least things are going to sloooowwwww the fuck down a bit. Soonish. Hopefully. THEN IT'S TRI-WIZARD TIMEEEE. But in the meantime~ lol