Different forces have often worked together in order to achieve goals that align in some manner or another. The sun and moon together light the world, though both function in extremely different manners, both with their own unique magics. As it is with many forces, large and small. Some of these alliances are unexpected and welcome; while there are others that are foreseen and unwanted. Whatever the case, many such relationships are beneficial for both parties involved. However, one must be cautious, as one side may receive more advantages than the other.

Discretion is always warranted.

Longing

Hermione has successfully snuck back into the castle and was on her way back up to her dormitory when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Thinking quickly, she dove into an empty classroom, closing the door silently behind her. She held her breath as the footsteps passed by her. There were two of them, whoever they were. She stayed in the room until she she could no longer hear the footsteps. After another moment she stepped carefully into the hallway. She had taken no more than three steps when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She held back a startled yelp and turned to face the person who had grabbed her, only to be met with the grinning, freckled face of Fred Weasley. Her eyes widened, but she knew the troublemakers would not turn her in for being out too early.

"Why, if it isn't our intrepid Hermione!" The older boy said.

Hermione was immediately suspicious, they were clearly up to something. The young werewolf had the feeling that it had something to do with her.

"What do you suppose she's been up to, Fred?" George flanked her with an equally suspicious grin.

"Dunno, George," Fred sent her a wicked grin. "I get the feeling she's been oooout." The emphasis and drawn out vowels that the redhead put into his words was unmistakably a mimicked howl.

Hermione froze, her feet stuck to the floor. She felt the blood drain from her limbs in horror. They couldn't know. They smelled like they knew; she stared at the grinning pair with wide eyes.

"Don't look so surprised, 'Mione. We know a lot of things."

The young werewolf took a deep, calming breath. They didn't seem to be hostile in either their demeanor or scent. Before being bitten, Hermione had been a stickler for the rules, and tended to step on Fred and George's fun, and she was afraid it had come back to haunt her.

"First of all, how to sneak out of the castle without being noticed," Fred said with a wry grin.

"Considering what you've been up to lately, we thought it might come in handy for you."

The girl found her voice again, but couldn't help the growl in her throat, "What do you want for it?"

The twins were never going to give up something so precious for free. They wanted something.

"Oh, I'm sure you can give us a favor someday."

Hermione curled her lip at the older boys, but she was close to agreeing. She really did not have any excuse to not aid them in rule breaking now that she was breaking them regularly herself, no matter her reasons. "You'd give that away just for a favor?"

"Or two," one of the twins grinned at her.

Hermione sighed, she knew she would need the help. She really ought to have thought of it earlier, but she had been so caught up in making certain the Polyjuice potion was made perfectly that she had neglected her own needs. They now had enough dirt on each other that neither could give the other away without incriminating themselves.

Hermione nodded at the pair, "How do I get out?"

The pair led her to a tapestry on the second floor corridor. When lifted, there was nothing but wall behind it, making Hermione frown. Giving the space a sniff, she smelled more than just the same stone that pervaded the rest of the hall.

George gestured to the middle space, "It's just charmed."

Hermione frowned at the wall again, but walked toward it. She took a hesitant step toward the wall, meeting none of the resistance one would expect from a hard stone wall. Instead she stepped through a material that felt strangely like a liquid, it was cool and unpleasant on her skin, but when she came out on the other side, she found herself in a dark hallway with a slight breeze blowing fresh, outside air through her hair. This was her way out.

It was Christmas. The potion was finally ready. Hermione had used her new secret passage to get in and out of the castle during the last full moon, and it was so much less stressful with the new addition to her routine. There was also more of a sense of comradery between her and the Weasley twins. They were far friendlier to her than they had been in the past. Finally, she had someone that she wasn't afraid of who wasn't a ghost. She wasn't truly afraid of Harry and Ron, but she was afraid they would find out she was a werewolf and would hate her for it. She knew it was an irrational fear, but she had not managed to overcome it yet. Compared to brewing polyjuice potion, being a werewolf ought to be small on the scale of things to worry about.

Hermione had gotten everything they needed. She doled out the potion and they added the respective hairs. Myrtle was hovering around the trio, giggling slightly. Hermione ignored her for the moment; the dead girl often giggled at nothing.

Hermione hated the smell of the potion, and it only grew worse when the tree added their respective hairs. The girl gagged at the smell that overpowered her sensitive nose. Everything smelled absolutely foul, and Hermione felt dizzy. Before she could think better of it, she drank as much of the potion as she could choke down, almost immediately gagging the odorus concoction back up. She continued to heave and darted for one of the toilets, not caring what her friends were up to any longer.

She felt the familiar sensation of her bones contorting and immediately began to panic, fur sprouted along her arms and she could feel it itching under her robes. She hadn't read anything about adverse effects with polyjuice potion on werewolves; but it couldn't be making her transform, it couldn't. Her breath heaved as she attempted to calm herself. After a moment, she realized that the pain that always accompanied the full moon was completely absent. Finally able to clear her head, she took a long look at herself and groaned when she saw her fur was not the soft brown she expected, but instead a dark, striped grey. Her hands curled into strange claws as she realized she was still standing on her feet. She could hear the boys talking, but wasn't registering what they were saying. She was so uncomfortable, she couldn't even begin to describe how wrong the whole thing felt.

The girl wrinkled her nose at the smell that met her; she smelled like a cat; an unfortunate fact that lined up with everything else she had observed so far. She didn't hate cats, in fact, she quite liked them, but she wasn't a cat, and everything in her wolf-like nature was bristling against her body.

Close to tears and even closer to letting out the growl she had so carefully been controlling, Hermione sent Harry and Ron on ahead of her. Once she was certain they were out of earshot, she let out a pained whine. She stared at Myrtle, who was giving her a grin that was only mildly sympathetic.

Not in the mood for talking, Hermione send an upset growl at the ghost before trudging down to the hospital wing. She had a hard time grabbing the door with those stupid claws that she couldn't seem to control, but eventually she made it into the hospital without anyone noticing her.

"Miss Granger, what on earth have you done to yourself?!" Madame Pomfrey's shrill voice finally set loose the tears that the girl had been holding back.

The healer sighed, "Nevermind. Find yourself a bed, girl. We'll get you fixed up."

Hermione spent the new moon in the hospital wing, her heart aching and so uncomfortable in her own skin that she cried, pulling her temporary tail around herself. She wondered what Fen was doing, and couldn't help feeling neglected by the pack. She knew why they were so far away, and she didn't expect any of them to come help her; not when it would mean exposure and expulsion. She knew once the new moon had passed, she would start to feel better, but for now she was miserable.

Fenrir had woken out of a dead sleep; feeling the girl's panic through their inexplicably strong bond. He was on his feet before he was awake enough to realize her fear had passed and her emotions were once again settling in the back of his conscious, but he was more aware of them than normal. He was concerned about how absolutely panicked she was, despite how quickly it had gone away. He groaned, knowing he was unlikely to sleep well until she calmed. The werewolf rubbed his eyes and made his way out of his hut, ignoring the frigid winter air on his skin. The pack was quiet tonight; the new moon was only a day away and there was always a hush that fell over everyone as those dreaded hours drew closer.

Fenrir's thoughts went back to the girl so very far away, where he had left her two weeks prior. Before her, he had finally come to grips with the new moon; he had managed to function even through the exhaustion that the lack of magic provided. Every new moon that passed since he had bitten her seemed so much longer than the last. The urge to find her and make certain she was fine when the bond dulled and he could no longer feel her clearly grew stronger every month. He could still feel her, the moon's power not yet showing through. As the hours of the night went on, he felt her slowly fade into a quiet despair. Something had happened to her that made her feel worse than normal.

The large werewolf took off at a comfortable run, climbing up the steep sides of the fjord to end up looking out over the sea as the sun came up behind him. He stared out over the sea, knowing at the end of his gaze, lay a small, scared werewolf, so far across the water. He growled softly when he heard soft footsteps behind him sometime later.

"Geira sent me, Alpha."

A female voice greeted him.

Fenrir turned and nodded at the teenage girl; she was Andor's daughter and Geira often employed her as a second pair of legs. She was holding a large coat in addition to the one she was wearing. The Alpha sighed and nearly rolled his eyes; it wasn't the girl's fault. He took the coat off her hands and slung it over his shoulders. He had been enjoying the cold, but perhaps the elder was right to send someone to him.

"Is there really another girl in the pack, Alpha?"

"Yes, Ylva," Fenrir replied quietly, his thoughts still stuck on the girl in question.

"What is she like? When will we get to meet her?"

Fenrir chuckled quietly, he wasn't particularly in the mood to talk, but Ylva was always so earnest, asking more questions than she knew she ought to. "Someday, you'll see. She is going to wizarding school."

"But can't she learn magic here?"

"It's not the same, pup," Fenrir said quietly, wishing the same thing the girl had been saying. It was still as frustrating as ever, but he managed to keep a lid on his temper when he needed it, which was more often of late.

"You're sad, Alpha. You miss her," she observed, earning herself a sharp growl from the older werewolf.

Ylva had always been perceptive with her nose, but she had not yet learned when to keep her mouth shut. Rather like her father, Fenrir observed with amusement. There was a reason Andor was his Beta. He did miss the girl, and he hated the feeling of longing that lingered so acutely whenever she was not around. Shaking his head, the large werewolf frowned slightly.

"Geira didn't send you just to make sure I was warm, did she, pup?" He had smelled her nerves the moment she came close. There was something going on, and Fenrir got the feeling he was not going to like it, a feeling that was realized the moment the girl opened her mouth once more.

Ylva shook her head, her bright blue eyes widening. "Ingrid is here."