Emma hated the walk to Hogsmeade. Everyone surrounding her was happy and excited to be out for a day of shopping, but Emma felt she was talking to her death. At least she thought that she looked nice if she would be attending her own funeral.

She was more made up than usual and felt very self-conscious about it. If it weren't for the fact that she would see Greyson later, she wouldn't have bothered dressing up at all. Then again, Emma wasn't too sure she was dressed up much at all.

Emma opted to try and find a middle ground between girly and fierce. She wanted to look pretty for Greyson but somehow look strong when dealing with Fenrir. Her boots were a signature staple to her wardrobe but paired with a dark red dress, she felt just feminine enough for it to work. She made sure that her hair was set in pretty waves, her fringe pushed to the side with a marigold-colored headband. Paired with her usual cat-eye and a darker lipstick than usual, and when Emma looked at herself in the mirror, she felt that she nailed the look she was looking for.

With a soft sigh, she ran her fingers over the scars on her face; at least she could say they didn't stand out as much as they did a month ago. They had finally healed enough to a point where they weren't jarring to look at, a light pink versus the red they once were. She still hated them, but she was far more accepting of them in their current state. Emma felt that they wouldn't be the first thing that people would focus on anymore. They were a part of her, and always would be, but they weren't the only thing that mattered.

One of the things Emma still had yet to do was find herself a new coat. It was unfortunate that she found out the air had a significant chill in the air when she hauled herself out of bed. The only option of keeping warm was Fenrir's coat, and Emma begrudgingly threw it on over her outfit. At least she could say that she looked somewhat cool. Oversized clothing had seemed to have started to come into fashion, especially amongst the Muggle-borns. She didn't entirely understand it, but it worked in her favor.

Walking into the village felt oddly normal. It wasn't like the previous year where she was very aware of Fenrir's presence, but perhaps she had just gotten used to it. Or, if she was lucky, he had completely changed his mind and forgot to tell her. She started to make her way towards the Hog's Head Inn, where Fenrir said to meet him but took her time. As she began to approach Honeydukes, she frowned slightly. There was a small crowd of students, and Emma wasn't entirely sure why she was surprised her father was in the center of it. She had grown used to the things people said about him that it didn't occur to her people might still be happy to see him.

"Daddy," Emma shouted, not caring to stop herself when she started to run to Remus. She pushed through the crowd of students that stopped to talk to him and threw herself into his arms. She had no idea that he would be in Hogsmeade so early, but she wasn't too upset by it.

"Perhaps we can talk later," Remus said lightly to the students surrounding him. "If you'll excuse me…" Remus pulled Emma off to the side towards a bench and sat her down. He took a quick look at what she was wearing, looking as though he wanted to question the coat, but decided not to. Remus sat down, taking one of Emma's hands in his and cupping her cheek.

"How are you?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," Emma said. "I'm…I'm tired. I don't want to do this. Why are you so here early?"

"I thought it would be better for me to come early just in case," Remus replied. "I just wanted to make sure that everything will go as smoothly as possible. I know that today's important…and if you don't want to, then don't go."

"And have Fenrir come searching for me? You know that he would happily burn this village down just to get to me. Or he'll sit and brood and try to figure out the best way to destroy me later on. Either way, if I don't go, it won't end well."

Remus's lips pressed into a thin line, and he pulled in a deep breath through his nose. He couldn't deny that claim even if he tried.

"You still don't know what you're going to do?" he asked.

"No," Emma said quietly. "I don't think I'll know until I see him. I mean, I thought I knew for sure, but now…" Emma trailed off, looking across the way at Honeydukes. She wondered if Greyson would want to go in with her later if he didn't change his mind. "What if he doesn't show up?"

Remus followed Emma's line of sight and sighed, pulling her close and hugging her tight.

"He will," Remus said in understanding. He didn't dare say more, just in case. The village wouldn't be safe until they knew Fenrir had left. Remus pulled away from Emma and sighed, taking another look at Emma's coat, scratching his head. "We really need to get you a new coat, don't we?"

Emma snorted as she looked down at the coat and nodded.

"It's not too terrible," Emma said quietly, peering at her rolled-up sleeves. "Other than being way too big, it's warm. It has a warming charm, and it is water repellant. I'm not sure what else it might have, though. I never thought to try and check. I didn't even know that I had it until I went into my bag. Suppose it was one final parting gift because Fenrir knew I didn't have one."

Remus nodded, a wry smile on his face. "Well, when you're home next, we'll make sure to find you one that fits," he said, "and I'll make sure that it's the warmest coat you've ever had."

"I'm sure you will," Emma said with a small smile. She looked down at her watch and leaned forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder with a groan. "Fifteen minutes until I'm supposed to meet him," she muttered. "Do you think he's here?"

"He's been here," Remus said softly after a long pause. "He's been here for the past half hour at least." Emma sat back up straighter, looking around as if she would spot Fenrir. She always knew when Fenrir was about, and it didn't sit right with her that she was unaware. Even Soleil was calm in her mind, curled up and resting, not at all bothered by the very thought that Fenrir was already in the village.

"Really?" Emma questioned with a frown. "I don't…I don't, er, sense him? I'm normally very aware when he's somewhere, but I don't feel that at all. Did you…did you see him?"

A slight frown crossed Remus's face, but he nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I did," Remus said quietly. "Talked to him, too, actually."

"You did?"

"I did."

Emma fell silent, searching Remus's face, looking for any sign of something. The idea of her father actually talking to Fenrir was concerning when she knew his thoughts. What she was looking for, she wasn't entirely sure, and Remus chuckled softly.

"I'm fine," he said, "I haven't seen him since you were twelve, but things are a lot different now. And as for you being unaware of him, well, perhaps that means you're not as worried of him as you once were. I suppose we should be glad that you can go into things with a, ah, clearer mind. But you really look exhausted, fy nghariad bach."

"It's not the first time I've had to deal with Fenrir while exhausted," Emma sighed, looking back over at Honeydukes. "But perhaps that's when I deal with him best. The less I have to care about how I act around him, the easier it is. Besides, he appreciates a bit of honesty from me. Considering…well, the sooner it's over with, the happier I'll be. I hope."

"He'll come," Remus repeated, gently turning Emma's face to look at him. "Every time I look at you, you look a little bit older. You will always be my little girl, but my God, it terrifies me how fast you're growing up."

"Yes, well…between this year and last, I feel as though I've aged at least fifteen years alone," Emma said, taking a look down at her watch, her frown deepening. "Are you sure that you can't come with me for this?"

"If I could, I would," Remus said sadly. "If negotiations are involved, Fenrir is going to want you and only you. He won't even bother with having Raoul present – this is between the two of you."

"And you promise –"

"No matter what you decide, I will always support you. You know what I'd rather your decision be, but we figure things out in the end, yes?"

"And what if –"

"If he is truly worthy of you, then he will understand."

Emma met Remus's eyes with a sigh. She wondered when exactly it was that they finally figured things out, to find a point where he could read her mind with ease. He had always seemed to have a sixth sense for her thoughts, but it had become increasingly easier for him to read her. She rarely needed to finish a thought for her father to understand what worried her, and she was grateful for it, especially when she couldn't think straight. Remus knowing precisely what she was concerned about made her feel the tiniest bit more at ease.

In the end, Emma wasn't sure if she was more worried about Fenrir or more concerned about Greyson. Perhaps both, perhaps neither at all. She just wanted to make the right decision that would involve the least amount of people getting hurt. Really, she just wanted to be happy.

"I should go," she said quietly, standing up slowly. "I don't need Fenrir to find a reason to 'alter things further' as he so loves to say." She gave Remus a tight hug once they both stood, holding onto him almost desperately for one last moment of comfort.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It'll be fine."

"No," Emma said softly, "thank you. I know that –"

"All I want is your happiness, sweetheart. And if it means that I suffer a little discomfort for you to be happy, it's worth it. I promised you I would go into things with an open mind. As our correspondences have been amicable, I suppose it would be unfair to not give him a chance," Remus said, leaning back to take Emma's face between his hands. "But you should go. We both know how he gets…"

Emma nodded, reluctantly pulling herself away from Remus. She wasn't at all ready to leave her father, but if she was late meeting Fenrir, she didn't want to know the consequences.

She had been near the Hog's Head several times, including the fateful day where Persephone told her to be nearby. It wasn't a place that she wanted to visit, too put off by its run-down appearance. She knew that the Hog's Head Inn had a reputation for being one of the dodgier places in the wizarding community. The usual patrons of the pub were the sort of people who didn't want to be seen and, Emma had to agree with that sentiment. She didn't want to be seen with Fenrir, and the chances of anyone noticing was slim. It was perfect.

Emma frowned as she stopped just far enough away to stare at the building. The wooden sign over the top of the door was just as battered as she remembered, its bracket rusty and barely hanging on. She snickered to herself, rubbing her temples as she stared hard at the door. This was absolutely ridiculous, and the very visual in her head seemed stupid.

Her, little Emma Lupin, was about to go into the Hog's Head Inn to meet with Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf in which her relationship was undetermined. She was about to sit down and have a conversation she wasn't ready to have to try and determine what direction her life would take. And somehow, if she survived, she would be heading off to the Three Broomsticks to hopefully see Fenrir's son, the one she was sure he was unaware of. Even worse, when she saw Greyson, she would either come with bad news knowing he would leave, or good news and somehow hope Fenrir didn't kill her. She just hoped that she could keep everything that needed to be secret still a secret.

Either way she looked at it, things weren't going to end well for her. The only thing keeping her moving forward was the idea of just a few moments with Greyson. Even if Greyson hated her in the end, at least she could say that he gave her confidence that she didn't know she could have. In a short amount of time, he taught her how to start taking what she wanted and do things for herself.

"Oh fuck me sideways," Emma muttered, looking down at her watch. Even if Fenrir knew she was right outside, she could see him counting it against her if she was a minute late.

Having never set foot in the Hog's Head before, Emma wasn't at all surprised that it appeared exactly how she thought it would. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop her nervous laugh. If she thought the outside was fitting for what she was doing, the interior was even worse; dark and dingy and far dirtier than she thought it would be. Despite the sun being out, it barely came in through the bay windows, and the room was lit by candles. She couldn't convince herself to look around too much out of fear of giggling, but her gaze automatically turned to the bar. At least in the pub, she was more aware of Fenrir's presence, but she didn't look for him. The desire to run suddenly overcame her, and she started to debate the possibility of leaving.

Emma locked eyes with the barman, her head cocking to the side and her brow furrowing as she looked at him. He was tall and skinny with long hair and an equally long beard. Something about his blue eyes seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place why that would be.

"No students this weekend," the barman said gruffly. That was all the incentive that Emma needed.

Emma cast him a nervous smile and started to walk backward to leave, but she was stopped by a hand wrapping around the back of her neck. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine at the familiar feel of Fenrir's calloused fingers touching her skin. She didn't miss the feeling at all, the way his fingers would hold on to her possessively and the coldness that came with it. Her thoughts immediately started to drift, but she refused to let them. Even if Soleil knew not to speak to Fenrir, there weren't any guarantees he wouldn't realize something was amiss. He was scarily intuitive, but it was possible to keep Fenrir in the dark; she just had to remember that it was possible.

She cringed inwardly and gulped, turning her head to give him a sheepish grin in a show of feigned submissiveness. Her stomach sank at the dark look on Fenrir's face, and she had to immediately look away for fear of completely losing her nerve. Meeting Fenrir's eyes for the first time after spending so much time with Greyson was startling and made her nervous. This was going to be far more complicated than she thought it would be.

"Good try," Fenrir grunted. "She's with me," he said to the barman.

The barman studied Emma for a long moment and then turned his attention to Fenrir. As curious as he was, he didn't dare ask and only gave the slightest of nods in response. Fenrir made it very clear who was in charge of the meeting, guiding Emma over to the bar, hand still firmly around her neck.

"I'm not taking any chances with you," Fenrir said pointedly, and Emma shot him a glare. "I know what it's like to be on the opposite end of your wand. Leave it at the bar."

"You complain about me and my wand, but I think your nails are a bit more worrisome than what I can do," Emma said, crossing her arms as Fenrir released his hold on her. He lifted his hands to show that his nails were filed down and not claw-like at all. Emma hummed quietly to herself – she never thought she'd see Fenrir with normal fingernails in her life. She couldn't remember him ever filing his nails down even when she was younger, but it didn't mean he was any less dangerous. It just meant that he wasn't entirely intent on mauling her.

"Fine," she said, "you first. I'm not taking chances either. I'm at more of a disadvantage than you are."

Fenrir rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, dropping it on the bar counter, staring hard at Emma. For a moment, Emma considered taking her wand and casting the first spell she could think of on him and making a run for it. She had no idea just how far she would wind up getting, but the idea was tempting. Fenrir's nails weren't long, but she knew how much damage he could do with his teeth, which worried her. The idea of running lasted a few seconds longer until Fenrir's eyebrow started to lift, and she reached into her coat and pulled her wand out, dropping it on the counter.

The barman looked between Emma and Fenrir, his eyebrows shooting up. Either this wasn't typical, or he was very fascinated by the display in front of him. Emma wasn't at all fascinated and folded her arms, staring at Fenrir. The sooner they got this meeting done, the happier she would be, but he didn't appear in any rush.

"Knife," Fenrir said simply, his eyebrow arching anyway.

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, and a helpless giggle escaped her lips. She should have figured that Fenrir would remember that she had a knife. It had become second nature to carry it with her everywhere, and she had taken to putting it in different places. She refused to go anywhere without it.

"Remembered that one, eh?" Emma asked, scratching her head.

"Hard not to when you stabbed me with it, you little shit," Fenrir said dryly. "Now – knife."

Emma stared hard at Fenrir, running her tongue over her teeth. Her current hiding spot for the knife was very unfortunate, and Fenrir refused to look away from her. She huffed out a breath and reached down into the front of her dress to find her knife, which she had tucked into her bra. It was impractical, and Emma knew it, but at least she carried it. If she didn't have her coat, it wasn't like she had pockets to carry it, so down her dress it went.

Fenrir's brows lifted in surprise, and an amused smile crossed his face as Emma pulled the knife out and deposited it on the bar counter. She wished she had thought of having a second one, but the thought was fleeting as she felt a slight breeze blow over her. The barman gave a small shrug as Emma shot him a look, putting his wand away and pulling both wands and Emma's knife behind the counter.

"Thought I should check, considering you hid the knife," the barman said in explanation as he returned to what he was doing. "Not looking for any bloodshed in my pub today."

"Wouldn't expect it with this little one, eh?" Fenrir said gruffly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Might be small, but she'll strike if she feels like it."

"Technically, I didn't completely stab you," Emma muttered under her breath and crossing her arms once more. "You're the one who decided that it would be all right to impale yourself on the damn knife."

"You were taking too long, and you had to do it right."

"Doesn't mean that you should have kept going," Emma said with a shudder. She would much rather forget that particular memory. "Lead the way, Fen."

Fenrir rolled his eyes and grabbed lightly onto the back of Emma's neck to steer her towards a shadowy corner. She would have been more than content with one of the tables near the building entrance, but Fenrir had other ideas. Fenrir stopped at a booth and gestured for Emma's coat. Emma rolled her eyes, mildly annoyed at Fenrir's attempt at a gentlemanly display, but she allowed him to help her out of the oversized jacket. She had no idea just how exposed she would suddenly feel in just her dress. A disbelieving laugh escaped her lips when Fenrir went to pull out her chair, and Emma slammed her hand down onto the seat's back, pinning Fenrir with a stare.

"I can do that myself, thanks," she said firmly, an eyebrow lifting in challenge. Emma planned to play Fenrir's game just as well as he did, and she was pleased when he raised his hands in surrender with a smirk. He studied Emma for a long moment before draping her coat over the top of the chair next to her and proceeding to sit across from her.

Emma finally allowed herself to fully look at Fenrir, her lips twitching slightly at the irony they matched. He was back to his menacing self, his clothes barely fitting. His button-up shirt was in a similar red to her dress; the top buttons were undone to allow the fabric to stretch over his chest. Fenrir had acquired yet another new coat, which he was just shrugging out of, so the one she was wearing was the one he had last. She had noticed he was wearing his boots as well, and as usual, his trousers were obscenely tight. Emma didn't think his trousers could be comfortable at all, and she had to quickly look away. His trousers never left much to the imagination, and there were certain things she just didn't need to think about.

Fenrir leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Emma. He was quiet, gaze searching and wary, and it made Emma worried. She was surprised to find that she felt okay around Fenrir, but she didn't like how he looked at her as if he was trying to figure her out. She felt surprisingly relaxed – anxious, but relaxed. At least now that Emma was looking at Fenrir for the first time in a month and a half, she could say that she was not attracted to him.

It was a very small comfort to make that realization with definitive clarity, but it was a comfort all the same. She had a type, and Fenrir most definitely was not it, but his son certainly was. Funny how that worked out.

"How is it you have somehow become more beautiful since the last time I saw you?" Fenrir finally asked, scratching his beard.

"You're getting old, Fen," Emma snorted. "Do werewolves have glasses? It might ruin your entire look, but it might be worth looking into. Hardly think I've changed enough for you to even think of making such a comment."

"And yet…"

"And yet what?"

"And yet you are different."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you wouldn't dare have been caught in a dress like that at the end of the summer," Fenrir said pointedly, eyes tracing over her bare shoulders. A pleased smile crossed his face as his gaze settled on the bite on her shoulder. Emma suddenly regretted choosing a dress with such thin straps, and she held herself a little closer as his eyes lifted to meet hers. "You're more confident in yourself now. It's refreshing. I thought I was going to have to start at square one all over again with you, but it doesn't appear that way at all."

"Well, it's not as though the scars are going anywhere," Emma said, casting her gaze elsewhere. "And considering all the things that have been said about me, I'm not too sure that it matters anymore. It's not as though they're a secret."

"And they shouldn't be," Fenrir replied. "You know I always found it foolish that you were trying to hide what you are."

"But I'm not a werewolf, Fenrir. I can't hide something that I'm not."

"You might as well be. And is that not why we're having this conversation today?"

Emma frowned as she looked over at Fenrir and turned her attention to the barely lit fireplace. "Just jumping right into things, eh, Fenrir?" she asked, shifting nervously.

"I'm afraid I have places to be today," Fenrir sighed. He smirked when Emma eyed him curiously, her expression possibly a little too hopeful. "Oh, no, we're not putting off our little conversation again, fy lleuad. A deal's a deal, Emma. One way or another I'll be leaving here knowing your final decision."

She was herself that day; that was a mild relief. If Fenrir called her Rabbit, she would have worried that he would take her less seriously.

"But that doesn't mean I don't have time to hear about how you've been," Fenrir added with a smirk. "I'd ask you if you want a drink, but I'm not too sure that it's a good idea considering your history of overindulgence."

"It was one time," Emma grumbled. "Besides, I wouldn't want one anyway."

"Because you're meeting with your father?"

"Yes," Emma answered. She was glad that the question was phrased in a way that she wasn't lying. As long as she could keep her mind off of Greyson, it would be fine. "I heard you talked to him. What about?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Fenrir said, waving her off.

"It's my father. Of course, it concerns me," Emma said.

"And you have yet to give me an answer."

"You're the one who insisted on playing catch up with me, so obviously, I won't have given you an answer."

"Then let's continue with catching up first, yes? If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to worm your way out of things again, but you wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Wouldn't dare think of it."

"So, how's your boyfriend?" Fenrir asked, dropping an arm onto the chair next to him and leaning back a little further in his chair.

Emma tried to stop her sharp intake of breath before it happened, but it slipped out of her audibly. She wasn't expecting Fenrir to jump right into personal questions, and she was annoyed with herself for not considering it. It was stupid of her to not entertain the idea that Fenrir would be very interested to know about that. They already strayed into dangerous territory, and Emma was wracking her brain to figure out how to get out of it. However, the curious glint in his eyes and the slight twitch of his lips told her she was in trouble. Fenrir was intrigued, and a curious Fenrir was possibly one of the most dangerous versions of all.

"We broke up," Emma said simply. She very much wished that she had a glass of Firewhiskey to nurse, just to ease her nerves and keep her calm.

"Why?" he asked, not bothering to hide his amused tone.

"We were…incompatible," Emma shrugged. She wasn't expecting Fenrir's response.

"You're such a fucking liar," he said, a brow twitching slightly upward.

"What?" Emma asked slowly.

"You spent days bitching about him being your cousin, decided it was fine, and now you've decided that you're 'incompatible?'" Fenrir leaned slightly forward towards her, eyes narrowing slightly as he searched her face. "I call horseshit."

"It's not a lie, Fen," Emma insisted. "We got back to school, and he got all weird. You already knew I decided to give things a try, and then I realized it wasn't working. There was no point in wasting time in something that was going nowhere."

"So, you broke up with him?"

"No," Emma mumbled, crossing her arms. "The day I went to break up with him, he wound up beating me to it."

"Then he broke up with you," Fenrir said simply. "But you haven't been entirely innocent, have you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, when your letters to me were less than satisfactory, I decided to go through the little songbird. Imagine my surprise when she informed me that you've been, ah, we'll say much more relaxed than you normally are," Fenrir said, leaning a little more forward in his chair. "So, tell me, was he at least good?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Emma repeated to herself in her head. She didn't know that Fenrir talked to Persephone and had no idea what could have been said. If Persephone didn't tell Fenrir about Greyson before, she would hope that Fenrir was still left in the dark, but he still knew too much. He was going to be curious about who it was she was with. Emma swallowed hard, shifting herself nervously in her chair.

"Pardon me?" Emma managed to ask through her very dry mouth.

"Well, if you've been as relaxed as she said, I imagine you would have fucked whoever he is. I remember how high strung you were. For you to be as relaxed – as confident as you are – then there was some sort of…release. Did you enjoy yourself? You needed a good lay."

"Shitting hell, Fen," Emma said sharply. She wasn't sure if Fenrir's phrasing was because he genuinely didn't know about Greyson or if he was waiting for her to admit to everything. The conversation could go wrong quickly and very fast. "No, I didn't fuck him."

Not for lack of trying, of course, but Fenrir didn't need to know that. Fenrir's amusement only seemed to grow, and Emma could swear that she saw his eyes glittering. Soleil, who had been silent the entire time finally decided to lift her head with a low growl. At least she knew that Soleil wouldn't give away that one secret.

"Ah, so it is a boy then," he said. "And you didn't fuck him? I'm surprised."

He doesn't know, Soleil purred. We're still safe. But tread carefully – you know of Fenrir's tricks. He will use them to get the information he wants.

It was always odd to Emma when Soleil spoke in human words in a voice that was terrifyingly similar to her own. Was it her own voice? Soleil often communicated in barks and growls and snapping teeth, rarely using a language Emma fully understood. Soleil's language had evolved over time from more simplistic but more archaic words into one more similar to her own. It compounded the whole Jekyll and Hyde analogy she made the year before a little scarier at how accurate it was. Was it normal for the wolf to be able to communicate so easily like Soleil was? She would reserve that particular question for Remus. At least Soleil got the impression Fenrir had no idea about Greyson.

"I didn't want the first time I had sex to be rushed all to appease your sick need for me to not be a virgin," Emma said firmly. "Yes, it was, in fact, a boy."

"And you haven't fucked him?"

"I already told you, I'm not rushing the first time I have sex, Fenrir. Believe me, it wasn't for lack of trying, if you must know. But I doubt it'll happen at all," Emma muttered. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd much rather not talk about my sex life, or lack thereof, and move along. You said you wanted to know how I've been, and I would like to think you see me as more than an object for sex. I've got other qualities, you know."

Fenrir looked delighted, stroking his beard with his aggravatingly pleased smile.

"Gods, I forgot how perfect you are," Fenrir said, his tone somewhat proud. "Absolutely beautiful and now very clearly willing to take what she wants. Didn't realize how much good it would be for you to be away from me for a little while. Did you miss me at all?"

"Could anyone ever really miss you?" Emma questioned bitterly.

The smile on Fenrir's face slipped slightly, and Emma thought she might have annoyed him. His gaze was once again searching, and he hummed thoughtfully.

"Perhaps something to take the edge off would be best," he said, standing up. "Clearly, you've been keeping a lot out of those letters of yours." He studied Emma for a minute longer as if judging what was best and made his way over to the bar.

Emma ran her hands over her face, trying to process what was going on. She had no idea what to expect from her meeting with Fenrir, but this was most definitely not it. How was it only a month and a half apart from Fenrir made her forget everything she needed to know. She knew that Fenrir was sneaky, and he wasn't going to be any different now. The fact he just jumped right into personal questions was nerve-wracking, her stomach churning with anxiety. All it would take is one accidental slip, one wrong thing being said, and everything would unravel.

Fenrir dropped a bottle in front of her, and Emma sighed. She would have preferred the glass of Firewhiskey Fenrir held, but the dusty bottle of Butterbeer would have to do. Emma stared at the bottle for a moment and then grabbed tight to it, prying off the rusted top. She slowly lifted the bottle up to her lips and took a drink.

"You know, I wasn't expecting you to dress up for me," Fenrir said, fingers dancing along her bare shoulder. His fingers brushed against her bite mark, and she shivered at the feeling. Fenrir's fingers were rough and calloused and felt odd against her smooth skin. She didn't like it. "I'm proud of you for not destroying my coat again."

"Just wanted to wear something different," Emma lied, watching as Fenrir finally took his seat across from her. "Gets a bit boring wearing the same uniform every single day. I didn't expect that we would wind up matching, and I told you – I never found a new coat. I'm not stupid."

Fenrir's gaze was off-putting – entirely too focused and searching for her liking. Emma knew she wasn't acting normally, but she still hadn't recovered from the day before.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing," Emma muttered, taking a long swig of her Butterbeer. She let the butterscotch drink sit on her tongue for a moment, face scrunching up at the sweetness before swallowing. The minuscule amount of alcohol in the drink wasn't going to do much at all.

Emma let out a soft gasp of surprise as Fenrir leaned forward across the table, grabbing her chin and tipping her face up to look at him. If she wasn't used to Fenrir's rough behavior, she would have been more concerned. It wasn't his usual bruising grip, but it was firm.

"What is wrong with you?" he repeated with the hint of a growl.

Emma would say it over and over again, but she hated this version of Fenrir. She hated how he would issue silent challenges with her, pulling out the parts of her she kept hidden. She hated that he ever pretended that he cared about her outside of his twisted visions. Most of all, Emma hated how in just one gesture, she found herself slipping back into her younger self, a part of her still clinging to the need for his approval.

"I don't know where I belong," Emma supplied weakly. It was the first thing she could think of to get him to release her, and they were alone. None of the Hog's Head patrons would dare tell anyone how she could be a little more open with Fenrir because he was honest with her. He searched her eyes for a painfully long few seconds and released her, sitting back in his chair, gesturing for her to continue.

Emma sighed, taking a steadying breath and setting her Butterbeer bottle down with shaky hands. "Until yesterday, I thought I understood myself. I thought I had a good idea of where I actually fit in," Emma said quietly. She lifted her gaze up slightly to meet Fenrir's, hating herself for even admitting that much, but now that she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. "I've had to listen to what others say since the start of term, listen to the things they think about me. I've had to deal with multiple death threats, all of which were unexpected. Even now, they still talk about me, and each time I have to pretend it doesn't bother me. I thought that I could handle things, but…"

"You want to belong somewhere where you're not judged."

"I feel like that makes me selfish."

"For wanting to feel like you belong?"

"Yes," Emma said, taking another drink.

"You feel guilty."

"Yes," Emma said with a small nod.

"Why?"

"Because I know there are people who love me. People who…who think that I can be worth more; people who think that I still have a chance at doing the things I want to."

"And you don't think that you can do that with me?"

"I don't know," Emma said quietly, huffing out a laugh. "Is this the part where you decide to sell me on the pack?"

"Not yet," Fenrir replied. "There's more to this, and I want to know what your issue is all of a sudden. Why did you bring up yesterday specifically?"

It was odd for her to see Fenrir look genuinely concerned for her. The expression on his face was one she had seen a few times at Persephone's and while back at the children's home, but it still seemed odd. She had started to attribute it to Fenrir seeing her as a lost pup, his concern manifesting from his need to care for his pack. That was a good sign, at least.

"Er, two reasons," Emma muttered. "First is I might have accidentally managed to have people convinced that I've aligned myself entirely with you and werewolf supremacy, and second, I might have had a moment that scared me with Soleil."

Fenrir looked torn on which part of her statement to focus on, and he ran his tongue over his teeth as he contemplated. He slowly lifted his glass to his lips to take a drink of his whiskey.

"And how, pray tell, did you somehow manage to achieve the first thing?" Fenrir asked slowly.

"Er, well, one of my classmates decided that they wanted to create a group to bring awareness to the lack of house-elves rights –" Fenrir practically choked on his drink, to Emma's amusement "– and I might have gone off on her about how stupid it was. I very pointedly mentioned that she was ignorant to the matters of magical creatures and mentioned that there was an issue much closer to home. If she was going to concern herself with anything, I didn't understand why it had to be house-elves. That, unfortunately, got people talking again just as the rumor mill was dying out. So, I'm a bit worried about someone seeing me with you, honestly."

"And the issue with Soleil?"

"I believe in one of my letters to you, I mentioned that we were covering the Unforgivable Curses in Defense," Emma said slowly.

"Yes, I do believe I recall you writing and telling me that."

"Well, yesterday we had the Imperius Curse cast on us," Emma said, flinching at the darkening look in Fenrir's eyes. The muscle in his jaw jumped, and his grip on the rim of his glass tightened. Emma worried that if he squeezed any harder, the glass would shatter. "Uhm, I don't know exactly how it happened, but I broke through it…or Soleil did, rather. I thought with the Wolfsbane Potion, she would be quiet, but she wasn't, and she just took over, I think. I don't recall any of it. Why was that at all possible?"

Fenrir's darkened expression shifted to intrigue, and he set his glass down after a long drink. He studied Emma closely, eyes narrowed and unblinking.

"I wanted to know more about how you've been, but I think now's where I need to sell you on the idea of the pack," Fenrir said. "But I question if I even need to do that. Has your answer changed since the summer?"

Emma frowned at that, opening her mouth to protest and say that it had changed, but had it really? At the end of the summer, she was sure of her plan and knew exactly what she wanted to do, but Greyson changed everything. Greyson made her truly and honestly believe that she was worth more than what Fenrir planned for her. She loved the idea of their little apothecary, growing their own plants, and brewing potions together. It was such a lovely idea, one that wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but then she also wanted to take Fenrir down. She frequently thought about the children in the packs and the wasted potential they had.

"You're worth more," Greyson had told her nearly every time they were together in between his whispered promises. She wanted the life that Greyson tried to sell her, but she felt a certain sense of responsibility to the children in Fenrir's pack in a way she didn't understand. The children were worth more, too. She worried her lip between her teeth, trying to think as fast as she possibly could.

What was she supposed to do? She was pulled in too many different directions, and each thing she wanted seemed to sit on an equal playing field. Emma wanted to somehow make a life with Greyson if he would have her. She wanted to ruin Fenrir and make things better for other werewolves. She wanted to give the children a chance at a better life. But had she been looking at things entirely the wrong way?

What if there was a possibility that she could have everything?

It would be difficult, of course, but her father had Sirius while in Fenrir's pack. Sirius didn't leave her father, even when he had an idea of what was going on. Keeping Greyson a secret would be a challenge, but that would be fine. It wasn't like Fenrir would bother her every day of her life while still in school. If Sirius could handle Remus being in Fenrir's pack, could Greyson accept her the same way? Of course, there were the issues of them not trusting each other, but it was a war. They were in peacetime now, and Fenrir appeared to only want her answer on joining his pack as he had something else to do. Everything else could be figured out later.

The potential new possibilities seemed endless. What if she could have so much more than what she thought?

"No," Emma said quietly, trying to ignore the excited glint in Fenrir's eyes.

"Good," Fenrir practically purred. "That will make the rest of this easier. You said that you wanted explanations before the end of the summer."

"I did," Emma said quietly.

"Then you'll get them. But I don't have enough time to explain everything."

Emma sat up a little straighter, curious to know where the conversation would go. She had been waiting months for Fenrir to give her an explanation of things.

"First and foremost, you're a threat," Fenrir said, making Emma blink owlishly at him in surprise. "Not just to yourself, but to me. I don't like it."

"To myself?" Emma questioned.

"The reason you don't remember a thing from the Imperius is because you're fighting yourself too hard. If you were to truly be working with Soleil, as you should, you would have been fully aware of everything that was happening. There's absolutely no reason why you should have been affected by the Imperius Curse at all if you didn't cling so hard to the human side of yourself. It's also a problem that it was cast on you when it's known you have spell damage from the Cruciatus, but that's not the issue."

"The issue is that I'm a threat?"

"Yes," Fenrir said, holding himself a little taller. Not quite dominating, but with authority. "The moment I realized you were willing to challenge me, you became a threat. I had two options – get rid of you myself earlier or see what you would decide."

"But you waited."

"I waited until today."

"So, what? You would have killed me if I were to tell you I changed my mind?"

"I would have tried one more time to get you to see things my way. If you were unwilling, well, let's just say you wouldn't have been walking out of here once I was done with you."

Emma's stomach took a sudden dip south, and she thought she might be sick. It wasn't the first time Fenrir had threatened to kill her, but the sudden, almost monotone bluntness hurt in a way she didn't expect. Emma searched Fenrir's eyes, hoping to find that he was lying to her, but there was nothing to deny it. In fact, he looked excited by the idea. When she realized he was telling the truth, she averted her eyes and swallowed hard. She could only imagine what Fenrir would have done to her, and she cleared her throat. The last conversation she had with him at Saint Nicholas's suddenly didn't seem like it was his way of scaring her – he would have killed her then, too.

"I sense there's a 'but' to this entire thing," Emma said quietly.

"The 'but' is Jude."

"I don't care about Jude," Emma sneered, eyes shooting back up to meet Fenrir's.

"But Jude cares about you," Fenrir said. "Well, in the sense that he's quite invested in figuring out ways to get rid of you. He's why I can't stay."

"Because you're still working with him?"

"I consider it a courtesy," Fenrir shrugged. "He's a bastard, and I can't fucking stand him, but I can respect his ambition. Either way, I was leaving here to tell him I took care of things myself or you made the right decision. I'm pleased that it's the latter."

"Only because you want – buggering fuck – only because you want pups, isn't it?"

Fenrir tilted his head from side to side like he was weighing the possibility. "That's not the only reason," Fenrir admitted. "Like I said, you're a threat to me, but with you being at my side where you belong, I'm willing to work as equals."

"So, you agree to the idea of a partnership, like I asked? More than mates?"

"Provided we can come to terms we both agree on, but we'll save that for next time."

Emma took a swig of Butterbeer, licking her lips to clear them of the overly sweet drink, and studied Fenrir. She wasn't expecting him to be so agreeable, but then she remembered the last few days at Persephone's.

"But that's another issue," Fenrir said. "The moment Jude finds out, he's going to be relentless. That means more work for me. He's already less than thrilled that you ruined his chance at getting his job back at the Ministry."

"Well, he should have thought about that before attacking me, the bastard."

"Doesn't change that it happened, but you're in more danger from him now. He's determined to take his mark when the Dark Lord returns, and he plans to get it through you."

"How? Why me?"

"Because it was always meant to be you who died in the first place, not your precious mother. The daughter of a Black? While the Dark Lord would have been upset by losing valuable magical blood, he would have approved of your death."

Emma hadn't thought about her mother in months. She had been so preoccupied with everything else that trying to find the answers to that situation had fallen to the wayside.

"What did Jude have at the time, then?" Emma asked, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. "He showed you something, didn't he?"

"It was a false mark. I knew right away it wasn't real."

"And yet you went along with things."

"Who was I to pass up a gift? You were a guaranteed bargaining chip for us."

"And that's why Jude said to wait until I was seventeen to do anything to me?"

"It gave us time. None of us knew where the war was heading. If we needed leverage, you were perfect – an heir to the Black family, female or not, was beneficial. Jude wanted nothing to do with you, and if it came down to it, he would have had the dog sign the papers. But then things ended as they did. That left us with a problem as certain plans had already taken place and we had no idea what to do with you. So, it was decided we keep you somewhere no one would think to find you. At seventeen, you would be of age - whatever happened to you was no longer anyone's responsibility. But now that you're more wolf than human, that changed again, and well, that works to my advantage. Quite honestly, you were never meant to make it past eleven."

"But then you decided that I was worth keeping."

"Correct."

"Well, that's completely fucked."

"It was war."

"And then it wasn't."

"And then it wasn't," Fenrir agreed.

"Why doesn't Jude have the mark?"

A near-feral grin crossed Fenrir's face. "Because he's Muggle-born, remember?" Fenrir asked. "The Dark Lord reserves the mark for his most loyal of followers, mostly pure-bloods."

"The Dark Mark – would he be able to actually get it if it's true Voldemort's returning?"

"Ah, and that's the issue at hand," Fenrir said as if Emma had just solved a very complicated puzzle. "I can't say one way or another. According to Wormtail, there's a strong possibility. The rat seems to think that Voldemort's most loyal followers will get a free pass, but if Jude kills you, then it's nearly guaranteed for him regardless. If it weren't for me, he would have killed you already."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Would you take a mark?"

"I never would have taken it the first time even if he offered. What makes you think I would take it this time?"

"You're essentially a free agent, then?"

"I go where it benefits the packs. Don't get me wrong, I will work with the Dark Lord, but I serve only myself, and the packs serve me."

"And what of me?"

The smile and words Fenrir said next sent a chill down Emma's spine. "And now you'll be serving along with me," he said, his gaze raking over her far too long for her liking. "I told you that you're mine, and I want to control you, but you want power."

"I do," Emma said slowly. "And you took that into consideration?"

"I did. And do you understand how your wanting power makes you a threat to me?"

"No."

"Do you not see an issue with how you speak to me sometimes? Things that you say that would give me a reason to be concerned about your motives after I had time to really think of what you've said?"

"No," Emma said even more slowly, drawing out the word so it lifted at the end in question.

"You wouldn't, would you?" Fenrir asked with a grunt. "A pack, Emma? Have you never thought about how that would be concerning to me?"

"No, should I?"

"Only Alphas make packs."

Oh. That would be a bit of a problem, wouldn't it? Emma felt herself grow pale, and she silently cursed Soleil. Fenrir had to have an idea of what she was planning, and she wasn't intentionally trying to give that away. She knew that mentioning wanting power would be a problem in itself, but she had no idea her phrasing of things was too specific. How was she supposed to know that? How was she meant to get around this one?

"You're the one who conflated pack with family, Fen," Emma said pointedly. "You can't claim that was something I came to entirely on my own. And the wolves in my pack are the ones in yours, so wouldn't it be the same?"

"Not the same at all, and that's the problem. I know what lies in your future."

"What lies in my future, then, Fen? You've never told me."

Fenrir glanced over Emma's head towards the clock near the bar.

"Then it's time I do," he said, standing up. "I have just enough time to show you and finish things up before I have to leave."

Seemingly seconds later, Fenrir returned to the table with a cup of tea, and Emma eyed him suspiciously as he set it in front of her. If she wasn't turned off by the idea of drinking from the cup of tea, she was turned off by what the cup already implied.

"Fenrir, please don't tell me that you're going to read my tea leaves," Emma said sharply. She knew that Fenrir enjoyed divination, but even this was too much for her. It was admittedly a quick way of predicting the future in a timely fashion, but she almost would have preferred palmistry.

"It's the easiest and most convenient way," Fenrir said, pushing the cup even closer towards Emma. "Drink."

"And what happens if my tea leaves aren't to your satisfaction?"

"They will be. Drink," Fenrir repeated.

Emma sighed, picking up the cup of tea and staring down at it with distaste.

"Fenrir, I swear if this is some sort of sick joke, I am going to take my chances," Emma muttered. "Don't think I would get far, but I will be damned if I don't try."

She swore that the tea tasted even more bitter than it should have. Emma wasn't sure if it was from the cup being dusty or the fact that Fenrir gave her little opportunity to actually let it cool long enough. It was hot and burned her throat unpleasantly, but she was curious to know what nonsense Fenrir wanted to show her. Emma coughed when she made it to the end of the cup, swirled what was left, and tipped the cup upside down onto the saucer. With a pointed stare, Emma pushed the cup towards Fenrir.

"Go on," Emma muttered, crossing her arms and glowering at Fenrir's smug smile. He seemed to think that whatever he had been getting during his readings would be found in her tea leaves, but she wasn't convinced. It was the longest three minutes of her life.

Fenrir very slowly picked up Emma's cup, his face screwed up in concentration as he looked through what was there. His brows knit together, and Emma worried slightly that something had gone wrong, but then his eyes lit up.

"Just as it should be," Fenrir said, setting the cup down. "I think you should look for yourself," he said, pushing the cup towards her.

Emma was about to roll her eyes until she found herself looking at the clumps of tea leaves in her cup. The first thing she noticed was Gemini's symbol, something she didn't expect to see, and it made her curious.

She had seen a few of the signs in her own cups of tea when she was bored and curious – a laurel for power, an oak tree that could either be for strength or happiness, perhaps both, figures that could be a man and a woman, but some were new. The ring was unexpected, but it was the letter G and the letter F sitting so close to the sign for Gemini that threw her off.

It seemed impossible that she would get a reading like this. A few more symbols popped out at her, a possible clover and something that could be a crown, but that wasn't her focus. It seemed impossible that this was the reading that she would get.

"Fen, is this what you get every time?" Emma asked, unable to pull her eyes away from her cup. She didn't think the letters were meant to stand for Fenrir but for Greyson.

"Just about every time. There are variances here and there, but the base is always the same. This is why you're still alive," Fenrir said, pulling the cup out of Emma's hands. He reached out and held tightly to one of her hands with both of his, leaning forward, so he was in her line of vision. "When you turned eleven, I started doing readings to see what was in your future. Do you recall the time you scraped your knee walking back from school the summer you left the hovel?"

"I…yes, barely," Emma said. "You…" she trailed off, trying to think of that day and what exactly Fenrir did. He had a vial with him for whatever odd reason, and he didn't explain what he was doing with it. She tried to work through everything that she knew and why Fenrir would ever take her blood, and she frowned. "Fenrir, you did blood magic, didn't you? To do your readings on me?"

"I did," Fenrir said. "Under the light of a nearly full moon, I performed a ritual to find out just what lay ahead for you, and it's brilliant. This entire time, you've had no idea what power you have, which is why I grew worried when you tried to kill yourself. The potential you have and what you'll grow to be is incredible, and to lose that...It would have been a terrible loss. You were always meant to be a wolf."

"Yet you would have killed me today? You really would have killed me? You tell me it would be a loss if I would have killed myself, but yet you have no problem killing me yourself?"

"Of course, I would kill you. Do you think I would ever be stupid enough to let you walk out of here if I thought you would try to ruin what I've built? You are a threat to me because you are power, but you said you want more – that you want to serve with me. Does that still hold true?" Fenrir asked, his gaze once again a little too searching for Emma's liking. She practically held her breath, trying to force Soleil to agree. Emma nodded slowly, and she nearly sighed in relief as a genuine smile crossed his face. Fenrir slowly released her hand, leaning back in his chair. "Then you have nothing to worry about. I still have my concerns over you, but Soleil seems willing. However, will you two figure out how to work together? You two are the very same, but you keep fighting her."

Emma's eyes darted between her cup of tea and Fenrir's face. What sort of magic did Fenrir use to learn about her future? They had never covered it in class, and she had no desire to dabble in it, but something was off. The sudden inclusion of Gemini in her cup was too specific, and Emma was fascinated. She hated divination, but it looked as though she was going to have to pay attention to it a little more. If she had any hope of understanding what Fenrir saw, she would have to learn more, and his sudden insistence she continue the subject made sense. He wanted her to understand what he supposedly saw for her.

"So, Emma," Fenrir said slowly, pulling Emma's attention back to him. He searched her face once more, his tongue running over his teeth, and Emma's stomach did a flip. Fenrir hadn't officially asked for her answer just yet. She had hoped that she would get away without confirming anything, but he was business-like again.

"Normally, I wouldn't need things to be so formal, but you are a, uh…very special case to me, and I need to leave," Fenrir said slowly. "So, with the understanding we'll discuss the conditions of our partnership when we meet next, will you guarantee your loyalty – not just to pack, but to me? Will you promise to serve along with me and do whatever is asked of you in return for what I can provide you? I'm sure you understand very well the type of protection I can offer you, and you can benefit from learning how to work with Soleil. Besides, you know that you will always have a home with me."

Emma knew very well what Fenrir could provide her, and she watched as Fenrir held his hand out for her to shake. She had her worries, but she would be stupid if she didn't, and really Fenrir left her with few choices. Her wand was at the bar, and if she said no, he would kill her anyway. Her eyes darted between the cup, Fenrir's face, and then his hand. They hadn't even negotiated anything, so what was she really agreeing to?

"Time's ticking, Emma," Fenrir said, peering over her head at the clock. He was starting to look a little too excited by the potential of her changing her mind. His eyes were glittering, and his lips were beginning to pull back to bare his teeth. "If you don't answer me in another minute, I'll take it as you've changed your mind, and I'll be taking you out back and having my way with you. I know how your blood tastes now; I'm not entirely opposed to doing whatever I want to you and savoring every last inch of you afterward."

You know what must be done, Soleil told her as Emma's stomach did a nervous flip. The young one will understand – we forgot of Fenrir's tricks. No one will fault you. Running will not get us far. You have your proof that the young one was always meant to be yours. Let Fenrir help us so that we can destroy him later. For now, we have more time to prepare.

Emma bit her lip, doing one more nervous scan between the cup, Fenrir's face, and his hand. Emma swallowed hard, peering down at her watch – there wasn't a lot of time. Fenrir had never lied to her before, and she doubted he would start now. If she changed her mind, he would kill her and take his time with it. It was a risky move, but Soleil was right.

"Yes, I'll join you," Emma said shakily, placing her hand in Fenrir's. Her stomach was knotting almost painfully, but she couldn't take her decision back now. "You have my loyalty."


a/n: AH, FENRIR HAS RETURNED. For a moment.

So, do we think Fenrir knows about Greyson? Was it all a trick? What's the big bad wolf up to? HEHEHEHEHEH. We all knew what was happening in the end, right?

Anywayyyy to all of my late night readers, please go to sleep, thank you and good night!

Maricate - Hahahahah! I loved your last comment so much! I promiseeeee details are coming. I've been very distracted with this next chapter, but the one shots are coming. I think I'll wait a bit for the prequel, might be a side piece for in-between book 7 and the trilogy, but we'll see!

Shard - I'm cracking up I love you so much. I still can't get over how beautiful the Marlya drawing was! HOTTIE MCWEREWOLF WAS IN THE HOUUSEEE. *awoooo*