There are few things a wolf hates more than pretending. Being open is not only important to the pack, but allows each individual to get what they need. Humans are not so simple; they have machinations and plans and are free of the same ties to packs, mates, and forced loyalties. With senses beyond those of a human, a wolf can easily detect lies and dangers, but can do little to change what humans believe about the same items, as it may reveal them for what they are, and frighten away those who would call them friends.

Restraint

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath as grasped the handle of the door to the hospital wing. She did not know what to expect from her friends; as much as they had agreed with her about defending Lupin, she had lied to them for far longer and was much closer to them than their Professor ever was. She exhaled slowly, opened the door, and slipped inside.

She was nearly tackled by Harry, who drew back almost immediately.

"Hermione! You're okay!" He exclaimed, a big grin on his face. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?"

She smiled and shook her head, "I'm fine, I'm not really hurt at all." She looked at Harry, and glanced at Ron, who smiled at her from his bed. Did they really not care at all?

"We were so worried! I don't know how much you saw, but Pettigrew got away," Harry recapped glumly, "Sirius is in hiding now. With Buckbeak. I wish we could've cleared his name. I was so close to…" he trailed off for a moment and Hermione understood without needing the scent of bitterness that rolled off him. "I almost had a family," he finished quietly.

Ron began regaling the story of the previous night as though she had not been there, and she tuned him out as she surveyed Harry's crestfallen face.

Hermione understood Harry's need to belong somewhere. She had felt that way much of her life, but now that her friends knew...

"What?" she interrupted Ron, not certain that she heard him correctly.

"I said that Sirius chased Lupin off into the woods. It was too bad you were unconscious for it, it was really scary. Well, maybe it was actually a good thing."

She stared at him with wide eyes. Unconscious? She swallowed, trying to figure out why there seemed to be a difference in their story.

"Are you sure you're alright, Hermione? You look a little pale."

"I— I don't remember much, I must have hit my head." Her voice shook and her heart sunk as the words left her mouth. They didn't know. It should not have bothered her as much as it had; after all, nothing had truly changed. Except that now she knew that someone was deliberately changing her friend's memories. Someone knew now, someone powerful enough to alter Harry and Ron's memories. She and Ylva were in more danger now; she was not afraid, as she perhaps should have been. She was angry.

Hermione stayed with Harry and Ron until Madame Pomfrey gently but firmly shooed her away so the boys could rest. As she stepped away, her anger returned and she stomped out of the Hospital Wing fuming slightly. No one had the right to take away their memories. She stalked down the hall, past the entrance doors.

"Miss Granger, if you keep growling like that, your secret will not stay a secret for long."

She spun at the sound of Snape's voice behind her, her throat tight. "I was not growling," she insisted with a snarl. "Was it you?"

To her surprise, he shook his head calmly, unfazed at her demeanor.

"Why should I bother to hide if Dumbledore is just going to obliviate everyone anyway‽" she said, knowing it was a foolish question.

"Use your brain, girl. I know you have one somewhere behind that impetuous attitude of yours. The last students who ran around this school with a werewolf became animagi illegally and almost killed a fellow student. Your friends get into enough trouble."

She was slightly taken aback at how calm he was. For a brief moment, it was almost as though he had forgotten she was an irritating Gryffindor. He smelled...odd. His expression carried the same sneer that it ever did, but he smelled of pity.

"Do not pity me for what I am," she snarled.

He tensed and the smell left. "You know nothing, foolish child. Get out of my sight," he spat in a tone she was much more familiar with.

She did not need to be told even once; she had not wanted to be there in the first place.

Fenrir had been paying close attention to the girl's mood since she left the forest. He had feared the worst when she plunged into sadness stayed there, straying occasionally into bouts of anger. He was not going to leave until both of the girls were safe. He snapped his head toward the castle and had taken a few steps when her anger flared up once more and he felt her getting closer. She was only angry, not panicked or fearful, and so he stayed, and waited.

He did not speak when she finally approached him, smelling of salty tears and disappointment.

Her lip trembled slightly and she took a few moments to breath before she spoke.

"They don't know," she said, unable to keep the tears away once she opened her mouth. "He erased their memories!"

Fenrir kept his angry, though unsurprised growl inside; she was hurt enough already. It may have been true that they were all safer this way, but taking anyone's choice away made him angry. He pulled the upset girl into a solid hug; there was nothing he could say to make her feel better about what happened.

"It's so unfair." She sniffled, "You've been trying to tell me that."

"I hoped you would not have to learn it," he returned quietly. "Werewolves are messy, and get in the way. Dumbledore has some sort of scheme, otherwise you wouldn't be getting in his way, pup."

She frowned, her tears drying up as the gears in her brilliant mind worked, "A plan for Harry?"

"I can only assume."

A soft growl was the only reply he received, and he was tempted once again to join her.

"It's better this way, anyway," she said quietly, her voice tight, "We'll be safer this way, right?"

Fenrir nodded grudgingly.

"Nothing has really changed, I suppose," she continued.

"Your anger is more than reasonable, little one. And as much as I hate to admit it, being friends with the Potter boy might go a long way toward being able to change the future for us. If it doesn't; home is safe regardless."

It has always baffled Fenrir how leaving Scandinavia suddenly changed people's ideals so radically, but perhaps the world was just closing in. They were more secretive in their home country than they were when he was younger. Perhaps one day witches and wizards would stop believing everything they heard from fairy tales without prompting, but he doubted it. Something drastic would have to happen to change anything for the better.

Summer flew by for Hermione; she had a lovely vacation with her parents. They had gone to Spain on holiday and it had been gloriously warm; and the food was just to die for. Of course, after such an adventure, she was ready for the coolness of the English summer and the familiarity of her books. She had a few weeks to just that before she left for the final adventure of the summer.

Ron had invited both Hermione and Ylva to come to the Burrow for the last few weeks of summer, and to see the Quidditch World Cup with his family. Neither girl was particularly interested in the sport, but they were both thrilled to spend more time with their friends. After the full moon had passed, they joined the festivities at the Burrow.

The moment Ylva and Hermione arrived, Ylva was tense. Hermione noticed that her normally outgoing, bubbly friend was quiet. Her eyes were animated and searching. It was similar to the way she had gone into high-gear when she had first met the Weasleys, but she was better now at hiding her wolfish tendencies when others were around. Hermione resolved to speak to her later, as she was quickly swept away by Ron's excitement at showing her the house.

Ylva followed behind, trying to track the scent she was looking for. They all criss-crossed over each other so much, it was hard to tell them apart, even for her. There was something different in the scents here; something that sparked a hope that she could not quite place.

She finally got her wits together enough to really look around at her first magical British home. It was so different than the cottage she shared with her Father; it was busy and buzzing with active household magics. She supposed that having so many children to care for was much easier when you did not do everything by hand. Geira always emphasized physical labor was to be used alongside magic. It made one strong in more than one aspect. Everything fascinated her, from the self-washing dishes to the knitting doing itself while Mrs. Weasley flew about the kitchen fixing dinner. She gave Ylva a quick smile and continued her preparation. Ylva continued to wander the house; she found the stairs and recalled that Ginny had said her room was up on the first floor. She continued to wander until she caught the scent of her friend. A door down a few steps was open; light beams streaming through in a way that reminded Ylva of a morning on the fjords. She smiled and walked into the room. It seemed Ginny was out, and Ylva did not want to snoop, but she was curious. She walked across the small, cheerful room to the window, which looked out over the orchard. She breathed in the wind from the land and sighed happily. She sat happily in the window for a time, merely listening to the sounds of the house and the garden. George waved to her, a gnome in his hand before he tossed it over the garden wall. She waved back, smiling at the oddity of it all.

After a time, she heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling. "Oh good! They're back! Ronald! Come and help your Father and your brothers!"

Curious as ever, Ylva quickly made her way outside to see what exactly was happening. She saw Ginny's form coming up the drive, carrying a bag, and trailing behind her were three red-headed men, also burdened with various suitcases.

"Ylva, dear, would you mind helping them out with their baggage? I don't know what's become of Ronald and Hermione; or Fred and George."

"Of course. I'd be happy to help," Ylva responded cheerfully. "They're in the garden...throwing gnomes?" she offered, still not sure why they were throwing the creatures or why the gnomes liked the garden enough to put up with being thrown. As she finished speaking, she walked toward her friend and the part of the family she had not yet met.

Ginny smiled at her; "Would you grab Bill's bag? For some reason, he has way more luggage than Charlie."

Ylva nodded, not actually knowing which one was Bill, but she assumed he was the one carrying the most. She walked up to the three men and froze. The scent she had gotten small hints of every time she had been around the Weasley's filled her nose. In that moment, the young werewolf finally knew what it meant. Mate.

She blinked when Bill handed her his smaller bag and she took it, still dazed, unable to look away from him. He had bright, laughing blue eyes and long red hair tied back in a ponytail. A smile spread over her face as she started to regain her wits.

"I'm Ylva," she said.

"Bill," he replied, returning a friendly smile.

"I'm Charlie," the next Weasley over said.

"Ah! Ylva, excellent to meet you! Arthur Weasley at your service."

The girl grinned and walked alongside them toward the house. She breathed deeply, filling her nose with Bill's scent until she could smell almost nothing else. Magic flowed around him; he was strong and brave, and the look in his eye reminded her of Fred and George. She was positive she would like him even if his particular scent had not run straight to her heart; piercing her so thoroughly that she knew that no one else would do. No matter how long she had to wait; and that could be a long time.