The magic that the moon gives does not leave with the heavenly body itself. It lingers, affecting those who are closely entwined with its spell. It binds those souls closer together. Where there is such a bond, there is trust. It is neither earned nor warranted, but yet, it remains. An unwritten pact between beings who may not be aware of what they are doing.

A wolf needs a pack; and moreover, a wolf cub without a pack will die. They need both guidance and protection from their own kind. A cub does not even think not to trust its own pack; it needs it, and it loves it. It is pure and simple. Such a love must be protected and nurtured, just as the cub itself. Hunting, tracking, hiding; all are necessary skills that must be taught to keep a cub alive into adulthood. Above all, the closer to civilization, hiding is of the utmost importance.

Men and wolves have been at odds for too long. Men fear wolves, and wolves have learned to fear men in return. Fearful men kill. So wolves run, and hide, every second feeling their pride slip away. No longer able to stand tall and hunt, they scuttle in the dark, hoping to not be noticed for fear of a rash action that can never be taken back. If docile enough, and willing to swallow any scrap of remaining pride, a wolf might live among the men, but it will not benefit either in time. The wolf must run and play and hunt. The man will one day realize his mistake, and once again, strike out in fear and anger.

Play is as important to a pack as the hunt. Bonds form through squeals of delight and surprise, as one soul greets another. Running, hunting, catching, repeating until they are too tired to continue; play is life. It is impossible to ignore, to sit out as others engage in such behavior. Learning to play lasts a lifetime; and bonds are forever.

Bonding

Fenrir sat quietly near the stream; knowing Hermione was relaying everything that had happened once more to her mother. He could hear her telling the story, trying to ignore her quiet sobs at some of the memories. He was glad she could not remember any more than she had. He still had not completely gotten his memory back from the night before. It was all very blurry, and bloody.

The werewolf shook his head; he was amazed at how well-adjusted the girl was already. She hadn't fought, she hadn't irrationally ordered him to fix it. She had accepted his words the moment they were out of his mouth. She was handling what had happened better than he had, and Fenrir had some help.

After some time, the little witch came up to him with two plates of food.

"Thank you for saving me," she said softly, handing the larger of the two servings to him.

Fenrir bottled down the ping of guilt when she looked at him with such innocent eyes. He did this to her, and he was letting her thank him for it. He tried not to growl at himself, only barely succeeding.

"Anytime, pup," he responded with a wry grin, truly meaning it. He would protect her from anything.

"Can you really help me?" she inquired quietly while they ate. "Mum and Dad are arguing about it."

Fenrir nodded, holding back a snort of irony. She trusted him so much already; he was starting to feel the bond with her as it tied her to him; to the pack. "I can. Better than anyone who isn't one of us." He frowned slightly, not wanting to tell her everything that he needed to in order for her to survive. "I want you to know that werewolves are not...welcome in much of wizarding society. It's something we all have to live with. If you want to go to a wizard for help, you'll likely not receive any. Or worse. Our kind is not treated well."

The girl nodded seriously, her hair bouncing with the motion of her head. "I've read a little about werewolves…" she trailed off as tears formed in her eyes.

Fenrir cocked his head to the side, she'd obviously had a thought and he was curious as to what had upset her so.

"They— They won't try to keep me out of Hogwarts, will they?" The way her brown eyes looked up at him, pleading and full of tears filled him with an emotion he could not describe. He loved this little cub already.

He chuckled quietly at the thought, "Who's to know, pup?"

The way her eyes widened made him laugh further. Apparently the thought of bending some rules was not appealing to her. She'd get over that, it would just take a little while.

"Isn't there a registry?" she asked, a small frown crinkling her brow.

He nodded, "There is a list, but the magic isn't infinite. It only reaches so far. Each region handles it differently. France hasn't had a werewolf problem in centuries."

Hermione nodded once more, and then frowned thoughtfully at Fenrir. "Which list are you on?"

Fenrir laughed quietly, he wasn't about to tell her that he was generally on the blacklist for most regions. There were some tidbits of information that the countries liked to share. "I'll let you figure that out for yourself."

"Will you tell me where you're from?" She inquired.

A curious sort. It made sense from all the reading he had seen her do the last several days; and how the bookstore own knew her. "Can't place the accent, pup?" he grinned at her slightly.

She frowned and shook her head, clearly frustrated, if only mildly. "I know I should, but everything's a bit fuzzy."

"It'll get better," he comforted her in his native tongue, smirking when realization hit her face.

"Norway." She eyed him with a air of pride that the werewolf could not help but chuckle at.

"Very good," he praised her, laughing again when she beamed at his simple praise.

Fenrir could not help but stare at the girl. Young as she was, she was so easy to let his guard down with her. The longer she spent in his presence, the more he could feel their magic entwining, creating a bond he knew all too well. The bond between Alpha and packmate was not always a quick process; some trust had to be built, but this girl didn't seem to need that time. Fenrir felt like the bond had already been there for days, though it had been less than twelves hours since it had begun to form. It was so strong, tugging at him even as he sat next to her. He could feel her elation at his praise, just as surely as he could smell it, or see it on her bright face.

They remained in a comfortable silence for a time, until Fenrir noticed a change. The girl's posture began to curl in, and he knew she was upset.

"I can hear them," she said, a pained look on her face, like she wanted anything else to have been the problem.

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about her parents. He had no trouble hearing them, or tuning them out, for that matter. He had been doing the latter for the last while; he honestly did not care what her parents thought. They could not get her away from him now; they could make things harder, but never completely keep him from her. He would always be able to find her. Just as the rest of the pack, her bond would tug him toward her like a rope, should he need to find her. He hadn't thought about how her parents' argument might upset her. He frowned slightly, smelling her distress. He did not like it at all.

He looked down at the girl, her brown eyes shining with tears again.

"First lesson," he said quietly, "You're going to know more about everyone than you ever wanted."

She looked up at him, rubbing the tears from her eyes.

"But," he smiled gently, "there are benefits." He knew immediately that he had piqued her curiosity. Fenrir gave her a mischievous smirk, "Do you want me to tell you, or would you rather figure it out yourself?"

She deliberated his words for a moment before her small features plastered into a determined frown, "I can figure it out!"

Fenrir grinned; his new pup liked a challenge. Pulling the leather cord from around his neck, he handed it to the girl. He lifted her chin to meet his eyes, a gesture she would soon understand better.

Hermione once again found herself staring into the impossibly blue eyes of the werewolf in front of her. She grasped the pendant that he gave her tightly in one hand. He was really serious about this, despite all the grins he shot her way. He was going to teach her. She wasn't going to have to go alone.

"You have everything you need," he said simply, before grinning. "I want you to close your eyes, count, then follow me."

The girl was taken aback for a moment. "Hide-and-go-seek? That's a kid's game."

"And you, little one, are a child," he poked her nose with a grin. "Humor me. You wanted to figure it out."

Bemused, the young witch closed her eyes and counted to twenty. She picked up slight sounds of rustling, but could not tell which way the older werewolf had gone. The running water had covered the sound of his steps just enough. She knew he had not gone into the river.

You have everything you need. Hermione stared at the pendant in her hand. It was shaped like a crescent moon, with three small moonstones in the center; it was beautiful, but didn't seem to be magical. What did he mean her to do with such an object?

Her parents' voices still reached her ears clearly enough to understand what they were saying. Hermione frowned at the campsite and stood. She looked around, hoping to find some sort of indication of which way the werewolf had gone. A moment later, she noticed half a fresh footprint in the soft grass by the riverbank. He had gone downstream. The witch followed the footprints with a new spring in her step, at least until the moved up into the forest and disappeared.

Frowning once more, the girl moved her hand up to scratch her head. The pendant flew past her face, giving her a noseful of a scent. She froze. The first thing that hit her was how wonderfully comforting the smell was. It brought a sense of home with it; like remembering a place from a feeling. It smelled like Fen; and home. It smelled like strength and the wild. Like the forest just after a storm. Bringing the pendant up to her nose once more, she took in a lungful of the werewolf's scent, swooning slightly with an overwhelming amount of the same feeling. She tried to memorize it, but mostly ended up distracted by the scent itself.

Shaking her head to try to clear it, the girl removed the pendant from her nose. Concentrating, Hermione took in the air, trying to pick out every scent. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the new smells that came to her with her deep, focused breath, she felt slightly dizzy before everything seemed to right once more. After a few more tries, she managed to take in a great deal of air without feeling lightheaded. She circled the area twice before she found the scent she wanted. Sniffing, she followed the scent further into the forest. Once she had the trail, it was surprisingly easy for her to follow. She soon found her feet pounding on the forest floor as she dashed quickly after the trail.

Hermione had run for several minutes before the scent abruptly disappeared. She turned, confused, backtracking to where she had smelled him last. His scent had taken a sharp turn around a tree and she had missed it.

Fenrir chuckled quietly to himself as the girl ran around beneath him. She was confused by the trail he had left, as he had intended. He watched her struggle for a few more moments before he heard her sigh quietly. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he watched as she stopped directly beneath his hiding spot in the large pine tree.

The werewolf grinned, she was so close. He knew she was frustrated, and could not resist the urge to surprise her. Another good lesson, perhaps. He swung down, almost silently but for the purposeful crash that made the girl jump. She turned, her eyes wide, but her shock quickly morphed into a smile.

"My turn?" she squealed with delight before running off without waiting for an answer.

Fenrir laughed at the girls' enthusiasm. He closed his eyes to play along, but soon darted after her. She was naturally quiet, and he was impressed with how little noise she made. She did not, however, yet offer much in the way of tactics. He tarried quite a bit, trying to give her time to thing, but he still found her quickly.

"Gotta be faster, little one." He grinned when she huffed quietly.

"Your legs are faster than mine!" she defended herself, giving him a large pout. There was still mirth in her eyes; she was learning, and having fun.

"Lesson two. Not everyone is going to give you a fair fight," he said quietly, letting the graveness of that mental image sink in before allowing a grin to return to his face once more. "So, figure it out," he challenged her. He watched her put on her increasingly familiar determined frown; she was a stubborn little thing.

"My turn." He smirked, darting off when she closed her eyes.

A/N: Playful Fenrir is really fun to write. We'll be seeing lots of him in this story.