The seasons of the moon's magic come and go, and there are times when it is weak, and times when it is strong. For the uninitiated, the pull of the moon is overwhelming; the first time one is subjected to the moon's pull, it it not an easy transition. For most, it is quite a shock. The massive power of the moon has immediate and unrelenting effects on those it is allowed to influence. Once a soul has become used to the magic of the moon, it is easy to give in, to let the power flow through them and allow the magic to have its way.

Once a soul has given in, there is so much freedom that comes with the power of the moon. It grants energy and life; the promise of new things to come. Learning, teaching, and playing. Fear holds souls back from letting the moon take over, but once that fear has been abolished, there is a soothing feeling that comes from the great natural magic.

All who truly know the moon look forward to its arrival as it waxes in the sky.

Magics

The week went by quickly, and Hermione found herself increasingly excited for the full moon. The girl had taken to finding the moon at least once a day, admiring the way it grew each day. It was beautiful, shining brightly in the sky each and every night. She could feel the orb calling to her; it pulled her instincts further toward the wolf that she felt lurking beneath the surface. It was not an entirely odd feeling, not after feeling it for weeks now. She didn't fight it when it came up, which often happened when she was feeling a particularly strong emotion. A growl when she was angry, or a wayward whine when she didn't get her way. They no longer surprised her when they slipped out of her mouth, but she could see a strange light in her parents' eyes and could smell their apprehension. It made her sad. They didn't understand, and neither would her friends.

Fen was her only base; her only anchor for this part of her life, at least until she met the rest of his pack. Her pack, she supposed. He had seemed mildly concerned when she asked about going to visit them; and she was unsure why he was so hesitant, but he as good as promised her they would go when she was older. Hermione was excited to see her Alpha again. He had not been kidding when he said werewolves needed each other. She felt the loss as soon as Fen had left the week before; it wasn't an unbearable feeling, but she missed him all the same. On-top of it all, the werewolf was one of the few friends she had outside of Hogwarts, and though she'd written letters to Harry, he hadn't responded to a single one. She assumed while they were in France that the letters might be waiting for her at home, but was disappointed to find nothing.

Hermione put those thoughts out of her mind, tonight was about her first transformation. She began to grow slightly nervous as the sun began to go down toward the horizon. Now that it was truly upon her, everything she had read and thought jumbled around in her head. She could feel the moon rising, she could not explain the feeling entirely, but there was no mistaking it.

She looked at her parents, their eyes as concerned as she felt. She smiled, not able to completely hide her nerves, and hugged each of her parents tightly.

"Be safe, bookworm."

"I will, Dad. I promise," Hermione said quietly, "I'll be back in the morning."

Hermione turned, the feeling of home coming over her once more. Fen was standing the open doorway.

"Are you ready, little one?"

Hermione nodded, swallowing slightly.

The two werewolves walked together into the forest. The girl leaned toward the older werewolf as they walked, craving the constant heat the other werewolf emitted. She knew she was probably just as warm, but she didn't feel it.

"We have over an hour yet," Fen said as they walked, "I know you must have questions."

Hermione took a deep breath, nodding. She had planned out so many questions, but decided to settle on the most important ones. "Will I lose myself?"

Much to her relief, Fen shook his head with a slight grin, "I can't promise you'll remember, but I will. You're young and brand new. It may take months before you fully remember your moons."

She nodded, taking in everything he said, but still bursting to have the rest of her questions answered.

"Will I hurt anyone?"

"No," Fen replied emphatically, "I will be with you the whole time."

Hermione nodded once more, dreading to ask her last question. She was so grateful for Fen's patience and willingness to teach her, and he was telling her the truth; she knew he was. She stopped, taking a moment to breathe. Fen's footsteps stopped and she could hear him turn toward her. He was quiet, waiting for her to speak.

"Does it hurt?" she whispered.

He didn't say anything immediately; she could hear his sigh. The girl took one look at the larger werewolf and it was all she needed to confirm her fears.

Fen's blue eyes pierced her with a concerned frown and his lips were pressed together in a line of pity. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice quiet. "I promise you, it's worth it, pup."

She eyed him with awe, recognizing the conviction in his voice. There was a glint in his eyes that told her he meant every word he said; more than meant it, he truly believed it. It was worth every bit of hardship; it was both encouraging and frightening.

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"Never," he replied, a strange look on his face, his eyes glinting in what was left of the rapidly setting sunlight.

Hermione set her jaw and nodded again.

After walking in a companionable silence, Hermione asked the other werewolf one more question.

"How far are we going?"

"As far as we can. The more distant, the better," Fen replied, seeming slightly absent-mindedly.

"So we don't hurt anyone?"

Fenrir chuckled quietly at the girl's naivety. "So no one hurts us. Most won't take kindly to your screams, little one."

The small witch blanched; Fenrir felt a bit guilty for scaring her, but he was telling the truth. He shifted quickly and quietly after decades of practice; but this cub would scream. He ran a soothing hand through her hair, "You'll be fine, pup."

She nodded, her bushy hair bouncing along. Fenrir could smell her anxiety, but there was a firm mask of resolution that hung over the small girl. The werewolf quirked a small smile at her, but it slid off his face when he realized how close the moon was. They weren't far enough yet. Without a word, he scooped the girl up onto his shoulders and ran.

She laughed quietly at his movements, "I can run, Alpha."

"If you thought you were tired last week, you're in for it tomorrow."

She didn't argue with him, but did reply with enough sass that he chuckled heartily.

The moon was close. They had some time yet until it rose enough to affect them, or so Fenrir thought. Only moments later he heard the small witch panting quietly. It had begun for her. They had to stop.

Fenrir gently placed his charge down, stroking her head soothingly, brushing away the beads of sweat that collected on her warm forehead. It had been so long since his first transformation, he hardly recalled it anymore. He did remember it being the most painful of the hundreds of transformations he'd had over his life.

He watched the girl groan as she doubled in on her small body. Fenrir's heart clenched slightly as he watched the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. It was only lessened by a twinge of pain in his own shoulders that was slowly crawling to the base of his neck. It had begun; he made sure to stay close to her as he shifted.

"It hurts, Alpha," she cried, a pained whine echoing through every breath.

"I know, pup. Don't fight it," he growled through gritted teeth.

Fenrir grunted in pain as the change began to flow through him. He growled, absent-mindedly removing his shirt as he bent nearly double. He was more concerned with the screams coming from the small witch next to him. Her agonized half-human, half-lupine voice pierced the dark forest; Fenrir crawled over to her, ignoring the pain in his spine, until he could reach out and touch her. She writhed and whined and screamed, her bones cracking and popping as they tried to figure out her new form.

Fenrir felt his chest tighten and knew the change was nearly through for him. The large werewolf took a deep breath and let the change flow over him; the moments that it took feeling like an eternity with the girl screaming next to him.

It took him the better part of a minute to shift, but his girl was not so lucky. He watched her small form writhe painfully on the ground, her screams turning to yelps, her half-formed libs spasming as they, too, changed.

Fenrir knelt down and rubbed his nose along her arm, before jumping back to avoid a flailing limb.

Resigned, the werewolf sat and watched as the cub went through the most painful transformation she would ever have in her long life. His emotions were simpler now that he had shifted, but he whined softly in some semblance of pity.

It took the girl over five minutes to shift, and when her growls ceased, she merely lay panting on the forest floor. As soon as she stopped flailing, Fenrir darted over to her and nuzzled her fondly. She whined, her small body trembling as she tried to stand. Her legs collapsed underneath her, eliciting a hurt whine and a yelp from the small cub. Ever patient, Fenrir gave her a gentle nudge once more, trying to convince her to stand. She still trembled as she stood, but the second time she stayed up.

Slowly, Fenrir tried to encourage her to move. She took trembling, hesitant steps at first, but soon she was up and testing her limbs, her earlier pain seemingly forgotten.

The large werewolf stood and sniffed the air, picking up on the scent of some nearby deer. He was wary around the cub; she was carefree and needed watching over. There were too many things that could be dangerous for her. Despite the urge to hunker down, he knew he was hungry, and he assumed the cub would be as well. The night was busy for the pair of werewolves, he showed the cub how to hunt before the two began to play. The wolves romped through the woods, never sighting another creature unless it was to frighten it out of wherever it was hiding. Alpha and pupil danced under the moon, learning and teaching, embracing the freedom that came with their moongiven forms.

Fenrir sat up slowly, shaking his head to clear the sleep from it. He stretched lazily in the cool air of the summer morning, grinning down at the small girl using his leg as a pillow, completely exhausted. Despite his comfort, he removed himself from the sleeping girl to look for the clearing they had shifted in.

It took him longer than he wanted to fetch their clothes, and it was minutes later when he realized his mistake. He was heading back when he heard the girl frantically calling for him. He ran back as quickly as he could, carrying both sets of clothes.

His heart wrenched slightly and he berated himself in his native tongue when he saw her crying, naked and alone in the middle of a cold forest. The relief he saw on her face when she spotted him only made him feel worse.

"I thought you left—" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I brought your clothes," he said softly, averting his eyes as he held them out to her. He turned away when she thanked him and quickly put them on. Fenrir did the same with his own clothing. The cold did not bother him, but he did not want her to feel uncomfortable.

"I'm cold, Alpha," the girl said sheepishly after she had dressed.

Fenrir pulled the shivering girl into her arms, inhaling her scent which was still a mystery to him. He gently rubbed her shoulders, "It will pass, little one. Let's get moving. Your parents will worry."

She nodded and began to head toward her home. It worked for a mile or so, but Fenrir noticed her stumbling steps. Her feet fumbled ahead of her and her walk swayed bath and forth as she continued forward. Fenrir could smell her exhaustion increase rapidly. He caught her just as she stumbled forward, falling instantly asleep. Fenrir cradled the girl in his arms before taking off at a comfortable jog that would not wake her.

The back door to the cub's house opened the moment Fenrir entered the garden. The girl's parents ran out, frantically checking over their daughter to see if she was alright.

"She's just exhausted." Fenrir must have said various iterations of the same line at least ten times before they finally believed him. "She should wake in a few hours."

Fenrir watched her parents take her from him, thoroughly dismissed. He growled quietly, holding back the sound as much as he could. The moment she left his arms he was immediately felt possessive and wanted her back. Before he could do something he regretted, he turned on his heel and left. He was already upset at the separation from the rest of the pack. He wanted nothing more than to take her home, but that feeling wasn't new. He knew he would be fighting those feeling for years to come, and pushed it to the back of his mind.

Hermione was the youngest member of his pack, and she was alone. He hated that. He wished he could take care of her, but he knew better. She had tied strings around him that were not just the pack bonds, they were of some part of the strange bond that inexplicably tied the girl to him. He was more than a little fond of her. He could see her running with the few other children in the pack, but she deserved to go to school. So, against his screaming instincts, he left, waiting patiently for the next full moon.