Emeline found herself drawn to her conversations with her father at the end of every Defense Against the Dark Arts class that week. This was not unusual for her. DADA was her last class of the day, anyway, and she had felt ease in her conversations with Professor Lupin for some reason - a reason she now understood well.

He was very easy to talk to and she often discussed her schooling and anything she didn't understand with him. The only difference was that she could now sit huddled up on a chair, overlooking the Great Lake out the window as the sun dimmed, and not feel as though she was overstaying her welcome despite before hanging around for maybe a few minutes in comparison to the hours she passed now sat in front of her father.

It was already common knowledge to the entire school the news that spread through her own heart like wildfire. Everyone was too shocked and fascinated to dare say anything to her, yet. Even Draco had so far found himself at a loss for words, which Emeline was grateful for. She wasn't expecting muteness from him and was enjoying the time before she'd inevitably need to put him in his place. Certainly, what was saving his snide remarks on that front, was the fact that despite everyone knowing Remus Lupin was her father, they were still none - the - wiser to his condition, which is a secret Emeline now shared with him, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey and the other professors.

As she peered out the window, the moon glistening menacingly through it with just the slightest sliver left unfilled , she sighed deeply and turned to face her father who was grading papers.

"How do you feel?"

He finished the remarks he was in the middle of writing and set his quill down, fixing all of his attention on her.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you know…" she cocked her head slightly toward the window to motion to the moon and chuckled. "Impending doom and all."

Emeline was a humorous and exaggerative teen. She was social, kind, always up for a laugh, and quite compassionate. She had a sarcastic wit but was fairly oblivious. She spoke her mind with no second thought and was incredibly accepting. Though that all sounds well enough, her father staring blankly at her almost convinced her to think she'd gone too far, (something she'd accidentally done with her comments in serious scenarios many times before). At attempting to ease the strain of a horrible condition, she was sure it had backfired and he was angry.

Until he laughed.

A quick and short, genuine chuckle that immediately set her smile back on her face.

"My condition has been many things, Emeline, but never humorous. If you must know, I feel much better after that comment, as doomed as I may be."

He set back to work grading and Emeline fixed her eyes back on the moon. Sometimes she wished she didn't lead with humor as often as she found herself doing so. She did truly wonder how this must feel, but she knew enough to know that pressing him further in that moment would be the wrong choice. She cracked open the book in her lap again and they passed the rest of the evening in knowing silence, the smell of chocolate wafting through the air, tea getting cold on his desk, and in their own little bubble until she heard those heavy castle doors sliding into place, which beckoned her to sleep safe in her dorm room once again.

•

The next morning, Emeline bounded out of her dormitory, chesnut curls bouncing against her face and her robe half off her shoulders, bag clutched against her chest and a few extra books under her arms. The second she ran out, she found herself running clean into someone and stumbled backwards as they caught her, almost as clumsily as she was.

"How in the world do you manage the marks you receive when your life is in such shambles?" Remus took a few books from her arms in one hand, leaning against his cane with the other.

"I dunno really. One thing I've never subscribed to is the early bird getting the worm, though. I think most of my professors just accept the fact that my intelligence makes up for what I lack in…"

She had never seen his disappointment before. After all, she hardly knew him, however she certainly knew that look. She swallowed thickly. "Punctuality." She flashed him a convincing smile and he let out a sigh.

"I really don't want to take a hard day out on you, Em, but try and be prompt. For Merlin's sake, you're halfway through an entire class already."

"Charms is hardly good use of my time." She muttered under her breath, almost silent.

"My condition awards me many heightened sensibilities: Catching your muttering is one of them, and I don't think Professor Flitwick would take kindly to your disdain of his entire subject, Emeline, do you?"

"Likely not. This conversation has cost me an additional five minutes already, though."

He straightened up as best he could and looked down on her with what resembled his usual calm, yet somehow it still came off forced. She supposed she needn't wonder how impending doom made him feel anymore.

"I only came to tell you to have a good day today, not expecting to wait twenty minutes, might I add. I won't be around until after tomorrow. You've faired just fine on the sidelines of all of this and I'm sure you just thought I was an exceptionally ill person, however now that we have all these truths out in the open, I felt it fair to keep you involved. Professor Snape will be hosting Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon as well as tomorrow whilst I recover."

"Thank you," she softened. "I do want to be involved and it helps make the most abnormal thing I've ever grasped feel… more normal. This has all been quite a bit to manage, but did you really need to make it worse by enlisting Snape?"

"Professor Snape is well versed in the dark arts, believe it or not-"

"-oh I believe it-"

"-and," he continued, ignoring her interjection. "I know he will do just fine as a fill in. I understand how heavy this all must be for you. I'd really like to talk more about…" his demeanor shifted and he looked less forced now. As his shoulders relaxed, Emeline found her guard crumbling and the kindness she was used to him having shining through once more. He smiled painfully. "Your mother. Your mourning and processing. I do worry about you, Emeline. I don't pretend to believe we can play happy family forever without these conversations; and many others, I'm sure."

Emeline noted how much heavier he was leaning on his cane already and settled into an uncomfortable silence while feeling terribly sorry for just how mentally and physically taxing the moon was even before transformation. I suppose she imagined the societal scorn but not as much the true pain.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to push you either." He tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.

"No, you haven't pushed me. Not at all. Here." She grabbed his free arm and pulled him over to one of the vintage bench seats that was outside their golden toned dormitory door. "You shouldn't have pushed yourself."

He smiled warmly at her and shook his head.

"No, you deserved to know how this works. I wanted you to be prepared for Professor Snape's lecture. Sometimes he doesn't take too kindly to me and I have a feeling he's been antsy to make it into my classroom for reasons that go beyond a love for dark arts." He sighed and leaned back into the bench. "However, Dumbledore backs him as do I still. Thank you for your kindness, Emeline. That is something I don't deserve."

"This was mostly out of your control. I can't find it in my heart to shun my only family left."

He opened his mouth to speak, but they were broken from their conversation by students flooding the halls. The first class of the day was through.

Remus gripped his cane tightly and pulled himself to stand, gently declining her extended hand to help.

"I will speak to Professor Flitwick. And I will see you in two days." He turned but she quickly interrupted once more.

"Wait, Professor."

Turning back to her, he prompted her with a nod. She lowered her voice to that faint mutter again for only him to hear.

"Where do you go exactly?"

"That's a conversation for another day. But Madame Pomfrey has always cared for me exceptionally. Don't miss your second class of the day, Miss Whitticker."