Time seemed to move both slowly and quickly after meeting with Sirius. Remus turned 35 with very little fanfare, March's full moon went by in its usual fashion, and classes grew a little more difficult each day. With the third task not taking place until the end of June, there wasn't much else for the school to talk about. Emma continued her ballet lessons with the students of Beauxbatons that hadn't quite warmed up to her and found herself spending more time with the Durmstrang students playing Quidditch. Even though there were no official matches, there was a consistent group of students that had continued to play. On nicer days, Sirius would emerge from the confines of the Forbidden Forest to sit in the stands of the Quidditch stadium to watch. Other times he would disappear for days with only a short message sent with a random owl to let her know he was fine. Within the castle walls, Emma mostly felt at ease; it was everything going on outside and outside of her power that left her worried.

Emma refused to question Remus about what was going on with their case, too afraid of breaking and telling him her plan. She felt considerably more secretive than she had been her second year, keeping her thoughts closely guarded. Not wanting to make things more complicated, she didn't even tell Greyson of her plans. As far as anyone knew, Emma was taking each day as it came.

Time seemed to be running out and running out quickly. Not wanting to waste too much time, Emma started to write to Fenrir in an almost feverish manner. Each letter sent off came back with no response. A part of her was beginning to think that her mail was being intercepted, and Emma felt herself grow agitated at the idea. When Fenrir didn't send any supplies to make the Wolfsbane Potion, leaving her at the mercy of Snape's stores, she knew she was in trouble. He was blatantly ignoring her, and her attempts to write to Raoul were also met with silence. Fenrir appeared to be serious about her being on her own.

When March threatened to turn into April, bringing along the last Hogsmeade trip before the Easter holidays, Emma started to panic. She knew that Fenrir was less than pleased with her, but she had hoped that he would be a little more forthcoming in assisting her. It wasn't until she sent him a letter insisting that he was neglecting his duties for her that she finally got a response.

A few days before April's arrival, a strange dark-colored owl sat in front of Emma's breakfast. A single piece of parchment sat in its beak in a way that Emma didn't even have to take it from the owl. Emma stared at it long and hard and only let out the breath she was holding when she had read it several times.

Saturday in Hogsmeade at 1. I'll find you. Make it worth my time. -F

"Who's that from?" Justin asked, his brow furrowing as he stared at the owl waiting impatiently in front of Emma.

"No one," Emma said, quickly snatching the parchment from the owl's mouth and sneering at it when it made an aggravated hoot. To annoy Emma further, the owl was just as quick to snatch a piece of toast from her plate before flying off, knocking over her goblet in its departure. When she looked over at Justin, his expression was dubious. "What?" she snapped, pulling out her wand to clear up her spilled pumpkin juice.

"Emma, who was that from?" Justin asked, his tone surprisingly sharp.

"I told you," Emma replied, her tone equally as sharp as Justin's, "it's from no one. Now, if you don't mind…." Before Justin had the chance to question her further, Emma stormed out of the Great Hall. The less people who knew, the better. Unfortunately, not much seemed to get past Justin, and he wasn't afraid of bringing in reinforcements.

The day before the Hogsmeade trip, Emma found herself being joined in the common room by Cedric. She thought nothing of it as she worked on revising for the onslaught of end-of-term exams coming up after the weekend. The conversation was normal, or at least it seemed to be. Cedric asked how she was, how her studying was going, and made their usual small talk and discussed the upcoming holiday. It wasn't until there was a lull in the conversation that Emma started to question what was going on.

Emma looked up at Cedric, pulling her eyes from the page in front of her to level him with a look. She hadn't been paying too much attention to Cedric, but now Soleil was alert and wary. Soleil was generally quiet around Cedric, but Emma appreciated the unexpected added input from the wolfish side of her mind.

"You can't change my mind, Cedric," Emma said. A crease appeared between Cedric's brows, and he looked torn. She hummed quietly to herself and turned her attention back to her book. "Cedric, you don't understand the situation. And how long did it take for Justin to figure out who the note was from?"

"It took him a few days," Cedric admitted. "He recognized the writing after a while. Why are you meeting with him?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I do, actually."

"Well, I can't tell you. Sorry."

"Emma," Cedric said pleadingly, "what is going on? I thought you said that you were done with him."

"I was," Emma said bitterly. "But I can't…." Emma trailed off, drumming her fingers on the table. She found herself looking at everything besides Cedric or her book, no longer unsure of what to say. "It's complicated, Cedric."

"Well, what's going on?"

"Cedric, I can't tell you."

"Emma, please. Let me just –"

"No, Cedric," Emma snapped, slamming her book shut.

Cedric didn't look phased by Emma's sudden outburst. He sighed, reaching out to take Emma's hand in his. Emma looked taken aback by the gesture, and she glared at Cedric, unsure where the conversation would go.

"You're worried," Cedric said simply, his thumb running over Emma's knuckles rhythmically. Emma went to pull her hand from Cedric's, but he held on a little tighter. "About having to go to the Moon's," he continued. "And your case."

"I'm not," Emma started to say, but the words died out the moment she saw the look on Cedric's face. There wasn't much that she was able to keep from him. "I need to be able to go home, Cedric. I need to make sure that everyone is kept safe, but I need help."

"So you'll go to Greyback?"

Even though Cedric kept his voice low, Emma immediately took a look around the common room nervously. When she was certain no one had heard a word, Emma cast her gaze down to the table and nodded.

"Things aren't looking too good," Emma said. "He's the only one who can help. I know it seems mental –"

"Because it is mental, Emma. You're not like that, and you don't owe him anything."

"That's the thing, though. I'm sure that I probably do."

"Why would you say that?" Emma shook her head, and Cedric hummed to himself thoughtfully. "Well, then why didn't you say anything to me? You know that my dad –"

"Can't do a thing?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows as she ripped her hand out of Cedric's. "Is one of the few people that refuses to say a word about the case? Yes, Cedric, I'm fully aware that your dad works in the same department as my grandfather."

"Then let me talk to him."

"So he can tell you that he can't do anything? Or perhaps tell you why you shouldn't even interact with me?" Cedric's face fell, and a deep frown crossed Emma's face. "He's already told you that you shouldn't talk to me."

"It's not that," Cedric sighed. "He…he worries. He didn't tell me not to talk to you, not exactly –"

"But he's just like all the others." Emma stood up, pulling her things into her arms. "It's fine, Cedric, I get it. I've…I've gotten used to it," Emma said, grimacing at the realization of how much she sounded like Remus. Cedric looked sympathetic, a faint smile crossing his face, but he said nothing. "I know it seems mental, and I know it is mental, but right now, he's the last chance I've got. I don't know what that says about me as a person, but it's been nearly a year, and nothing has changed."

Emma shifted her things in her arms and gave a slight shrug. "I have to do what I have to do, Cedric. And if I know him the way I think I do, then I'll be fine. He won't hurt me…not seriously, at least." Cedric didn't seem too convinced, his lips twitching into a frown, but he nodded.

"I don't agree with this, you know," Cedric said firmly. "I think you should go to anyone else to try and get this figured out." He stood up, walked around the table, and pulled Emma into a tight hug. "There are a lot of people that love you, Emma. You need to be safe. Can you promise me that?"

Emma wanted to be able to promise Cedric exactly that, but she couldn't. She decided it would be best to lie.

The day of the Hogsmeade trip arrived with beautiful weather. It was warm with a light breeze that seemed to tickle the high grass and make the leaves dance in the trees on the way to the village. Birds were chirping in pure delight, roosting in their nests to take care of their young chicks or flying about. Everything about the weather felt wrong to Emma. While outside was beautiful and light and airy, Emma felt heavy.

She was tired, her thoughts a thunderous storm of doom. Every possible scenario was running through Emma's head, and she had no idea what the outcome would be. Having to go to Fenrir at all was a problem, but she wasn't beneath begging. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Emma was beyond desperate.

Rather than heading into the village with everyone else, Emma stayed back for a bit longer. She wanted to get to Hogsmeade, meet Fenrir, and return to the castle without much issue. But once she was in the village, she wanted to immediately turn back.

Emma paused at the entrance of the village, wondering where exactly she should go. She watched as her classmates walked by, laughing and smiling without a care in the world. Emma wished that she could go back to a time where she could be just as free as the others. But was there ever a time that she was truly free?

She allowed herself to think about where to go, debating on what would be best. The Hog's Head seemed too open, too expansive. Even though the pub was shady, she couldn't risk anyone else knowing what was going on. Emma briefly considered heading towards the Shrieking Shack, but that would put her too close to Sirius. Emma knew that he would be out wandering, but his attention would be focused on Harry. She often spent time with him near the lake – no one questioned when her "pet dog" returned. Emma considered her possibilities for a moment and then snorted when she realized where she should go. She was sure Fenrir would appreciate her choice of location.

Emma wanted to laugh when she made her way down the alleyway she hated most and turned the corner to find Fenrir's makeshift throne still half-assembled. She wondered if he secretly used the alley for most of his dealings in the village for nostalgia's sake. It was the sort of thing Fenrir would do.

With a snort, Emma settled herself down into the odd set up of crates. She dropped her arms onto the makeshift armrest and crossed her leg over her knee, leaning back just as Fenrir would. For a moment, Emma wanted to preen and bask in the strange feeling of power she felt in such a position. Emma's stomach sank at the realization that she liked the feeling of power. It felt almost exactly like back at Saint Nicholas's when she had succeeded in taking Fenrir down, even if he had let her. She started to scramble up from the crates but froze almost immediately as she stood. Emma hated just how punctual Fenrir could be.

Fenrir looked as he usually did. He looked cocky and arrogant with his clothes that never fit correctly and a cigarette between his lips. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as he took Emma in, lips twitching slightly in amusement.

"What do you want, Black?" Fenrir asked, sounding almost bored. Emma nearly started with the mention of Black but forced herself to calm quickly. They were in a place no one would think to go down – her secret would still be safe. Everyone had long since forgotten the beginning of the year, and she was determined to never have anyone know. "Writing me nearly every single bloody day and annoying the entire pack with all of the stupid birds you sent. Should've eaten every single one of them, so you would have stopped."

Emma paled at the thought. She hoped it was just an empty statement, but sometimes it was hard to tell with Fenrir.

"I need your help," Emma said, crossing her arms. She stood up from the crates and pulled herself up to her full height. It wasn't very much, but she needed to force herself to seem confident. She knew that Fenrir would see right through her, but if she knew him as well as she thought she did, he would appreciate the effort.

"Why?" Fenrir scoffed.

"Because we had a deal, Fen," Emma said, trying to level Fenrir with a hard stare. It was much harder to do when he was taller than her, and she doubted she looked at all intimidating. "I know you well enough that you always keep your word."

"Until the deal is broken," Fenrir replied with a slight growl.

"And what part of the deal did I break? I've done exactly as you've said," Emma said. "I have done everything you have asked of me. I'm still…I'm still loyal," she added quietly. "Just because you're angry at me, you can't hold up your end of things. You're cross for something that you don't even know is true."

"We both know the truth," Fenrir scoffed.

"Do we? Last I checked, you have yet to tell me exactly what it is I've been keeping from you. I have done nothing to go against the deal we made, and last I checked, you also promised me that I could keep three people safe outside of my family. You told me I had until Easter break, and I have my names. We had a deal."

Emma could see Fenrir's aggravation growing plain as day on his face. His brows pulled in tightly together, and his jaw was clenched. As if he needed something to do to keep himself from lashing out, he dropped the half-smoked cigarette in his mouth onto the ground and took out a new one. Emma knew that there was no way that Fenrir could deny what she was saying. Fenrir's anger with her had nothing to do with their deal, and she hoped that her catching onto that would be in her favor.

"What do you want then, Black?" Fenrir finally asked. "What do you honestly need my help with?"

"Oh, come on, Fen," Emma huffed. "I need to go home, but I need Elara safe, too. Both my cases and Elle's are on the twelfth, and I can't… Fen, I can't not go home, and I can't lose Elle."

"Why do you care so much for the bitch, anyway? It's not like she's family."

"No," Emma muttered, finding a different place to look. Fenrir's gaze was just a little too intense for her to handle. "She's pack. And you know that, Fen."

Fenrir hummed, almost to himself, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "And say I were to decide that the deal is worth pursuing – say I decided to continue with it and do what you've asked. What's in it for me?"

"My loyalty as always, Fen," Emma said, barely meeting Fenrir's eyes. "Every part of our deal still stands." Fenrir seemed to consider it a moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. Emma could feel herself getting dizzy from holding her breath. She didn't dare breathe again until Fenrir shrugged and gestured for her to continue.

"And what are these names?" Fenrir asked slowly, once more sounding bored. "I can only imagine the absolute wastes of spaces you'll tell me of."

Emma felt herself bristle slightly at Fenrir's comment, but she shook herself out. "Justin Finch-Fletchley," Emma said quickly. "That's my first name."

"The Muggleborn you hang around with?"

"Yes."

"And the next?" Fenrir asked with a sigh.

"Cedric Diggory."

"A Diggory? Really?" Fenrir asked, his eyebrows raising. "You know Diggory is part of the problem and why you're having such difficulties going home."

"Cedric isn't his father," Emma said, swallowing hard. In any other instance, Fenrir would have a point. Cedric's father was one of the few consulted from the Ministry that couldn't make up their mind. Emma didn't blame him for wanting to keep his nose out of the situation, especially knowing that Cedric was friends with her.

Fenrir snorted and shook his head, looking amused. "And the third?" he finally asked after a long pause. He lifted his hand to pull his cigarette out of his mouth, staring hard at Emma. There was a sudden intensity in his eyes as if he knew exactly what name she would say next, and she looked away again.

"Well?" Fenrir prompted when Emma couldn't convince herself to say anything. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and finally looked back at Fenrir.

"Greyson Fenmore."

Emma expected Fenrir to immediately look angry, but instead, his expression was completely blank. Fenrir's eyes didn't leave Emma's as he took one final drag of his cigarette. Emma watched as he dropped the butt to the ground, dropping his heavy boot onto the cigarette to put it out. Emma wasn't sure what to think, and she began to curl in on herself, hand ready to go for her wand if she needed. However, to her surprise, Fenrir began to laugh. The sound was hollow and bitter, and Emma braced herself for whatever might happen next. She was sure that Fenrir would lash out, come at her with his sharp claws, but he did something entirely unexpected.

Fenrir started to walk away.

Emma was rooted to the spot, staring at Fenrir's back with wide eyes. She expected him to do any number of things – attack her like he usually did, perhaps yell at her or threaten her. It seemed wrong to have Fenrir walk away, and even Soleil was left confused by the sudden switch.

"Fen?" Emma squeaked out, startled by how small her voice sounded. She frowned when Fenrir continued to walk away and ignoring her entirely. "Fen?" Emma blinked owlishly as Fenrir kept walking, and she let out a quiet groan. She couldn't let him leave – not yet, and so Emma chased after him.

"Fen!" Emma said sharply, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. She only had the opportunity to let out a sharp gasp of surprise before Fenrir pinned against the building wall next to them. Emma met Fenrir's angry expression with wide-eyed horror, her hands flying up to grip Fenrir's wrist to try and pull his hand from around her neck. While he wasn't squeezing tight, she felt the subtle pinch of his sharp nails against her skin. This was the reaction that she was expecting from Fenrir – teeth bared with a deep growl, eyes flashing with his anger.

"What would ever make you think that I would help you after what you've done?" Fenrir snarled. "You went against everything."

"I didn't!" Emma squeaked out, wincing as Fenrir's nails dug into the sensitive skin of her neck a little more. "Fen, I didn't! You told me to go out and find someone to get experience. I can't help that it happened to be –"

"My son?" Fenrir growled out, forcing Emma to fall completely silent. She could only nod in response, flinching and looking away at Fenrir's deep growl.

"I should have known better than to trust you," Fenrir said, his voice dripping with venom. "You have spent months telling me that you want absolutely nothing to do with me, but the very moment you sink your claws into the little bastard, things are different?"

If Emma hadn't prepared herself for Fenrir's anger, she would have been more worried than she was. It was almost fortunate that it wasn't the first time Fenrir had her in their exact position – she almost knew what to expect. Emma held tight to Fenrir, holding her breath in anticipation of him tightening his hold, but it never came.

"It's different," Emma managed to stutter out. "He's different."

"Oh, please," Fenrir scoffed. "You can't tell me there's much of a difference in how he looks. You can't tell me that he's not exactly like me."

Emma wanted desperately to deny that claim more than anything. Even though it had been months, she was still sometimes startled when she looked at Greyson. It happened less frequently, but one wrong look, and she had to force herself to remember to breathe for a moment. Greyson wasn't his father, just like Cedric wasn't his. As smug and arrogant as Greyson could be, he was nothing like Fenrir.

"He's not you," Emma spat. She swallowed hard, almost wishing that her nails were equally as clawed as Fenrir's so that she could dig them into his skin. "I'm more like you than he is."

"You're right," Fenrir snorted. He made a noise of disgust, his lip curling. "What was the point in having me come out here? For you to finally admit that you're a liar –"

"I never lied, Fenrir!" Emma said, hating herself for the pleading tone in her voice. "Never at any point did I lie!"

"Well, you certainly never bothered to tell me the truth!"

"I couldn't," Emma whined. "I didn't…No one else knows. The only ones who know are, well…us." Emma knew her words fell flat, but she didn't know what to say. She watched as Fenrir's nostrils flared and winced at the subtle twitch of his fingers against her neck.

"What exactly do you know?" Fenrir asked slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"Enough," Emma answered. She closed her eyes tightly when Fenrir's fist came up towards her face suddenly, bracing herself for something to happen. When she felt Fenrir release his hold on her neck, she cracked open an eye warily. Very slowly, Emma opened her other eye, blinking at Fenrir in confusion. He was pacing like an animal preparing itself to strike, his incessant growl rumbling from his chest loudly.

"I should kill each and every one of you," Fenrir growled, his head twisting sharply in Emma's direction.

"But you won't," Emma said, daring to test the waters. When Fenrir only growled in response, Emma nodded to herself. If Fenrir was going to kill her, he would have done it already. "Fen, I can't lose the only things I have. I need to go home. I need Elle to be safe. If Jude were to get custody of me –"

"If Jude were to get you, he would kill you," Fenrir said. Emma watched as he pulled out another cigarette and immediately took a long pull after lighting it. "Perhaps that would be the better option, after all. You're lucky that I haven't let him get to you, even though you deserve it. I should've fucking let him get to you at Christmas, but the rat had to stick his nose into things and make things that much more difficult."

Fenrir's comment gave Emma pause.

"The rat?" Emma asked in confusion. "Peter?"

"Is there another rat you know of?"

"At Christmas?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No, but I don't…." Emma trailed off, her brows knitting together to try and figure out what Fenrir was talking about. The only thing she could think about was the footprints and the front door of the house being open. She tried to remember the footprints in the snow, trying to think of what they looked like, and her eyes fell on Fenrir's boots. There was no doubt that the one set of prints belonged to Fenrir, but the second set she had never been too sure. The logical explanation had always been Jude, and the explanation of Jude running into the other werewolves would have fit that. She tried to think a little harder, and then it hit her – the footprints weren't that big.

"It wasn't Jude that night," Emma said slowly. She wasn't about to dare go further into that night, but she was curious. "You were stopping Peter?"

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner, everyone," Fenrir said dryly, holding his cigarette between his lips and twirling a finger in the air.

"But wait, why Peter?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Emma said sharply. Fenrir only shrugged, and Emma huffed out a breath. "Fenrir, what does Peter have to do with this?"

Fenrir pulled his cigarette from his mouth and looked as though he was about to say something, but he froze. He lifted his head, eyes not quite looking up at the sky, and he sniffed in annoyance. It was almost like he was listening for something, but for what, Emma wasn't sure. Fenrir tossed his cigarette to the ground with another growl, stomping it out and pointing an accusatory finger at Emma.

"You're on your own, Black," Fenrir said, giving Emma a once over. Emma wasn't even given a chance to open her mouth and plead her case before he Disapparated.

Emma stared blankly at the spot where Fenrir had just stood, leaning heavily against the wall she couldn't bring herself to part from. She rubbed her neck, still feeling the ghost of Fenrir's fingers, unsure of what exactly had transpired. Rather than making any progress with Fenrir, she felt that she had taken several steps back. What did Peter have to do with anything, and why was he involved?

She startled violently out of her thoughts at the sound of a loud bark, and Emma found herself staring at Padfoot. There was no mistaking the confusion and worry in his furry face and in the way he held himself, tail not wagging and straight down. Emma plastered what she hoped was a smile on her face and shook her head at the slight tilt of Padfoot's head, ignoring his growl as he sniffed the air. There was suddenly another new piece to the puzzle that Emma needed to figure out, but not nearly enough time to do it. She couldn't let herself dwell on it for too long and gave Padfoot a soft pat on the head, jerking her head in the direction of the high street.

As she walked back to the main shopping area with Padfoot at her side, Emma found herself trying to come up with her next move. Emma didn't want to find out what would happen if Fenrir truly wouldn't do anything for her? If she couldn't get Fenrir's help, what options did that leave her?


a/n: AAAAAHHHHHHHH. Here you go. Okay, bye.