Wolves are patient creatures. They must be patient in a hunt, wearing down a single animal until they can move in to take it down. They must be patient in finding another who suits them well enough to start a pack of their own. One thing that a wolf does not tolerate, however, is dangers to the pack. A single pack member in danger is always cause for alarm. An Alpha wolf must always think of the pack as a whole first, and individuals second.

There are times, however, when the call to save the one outweighs the pull of responsibility to care for the many. It is a fault that wolves must live with and sometimes work against. It is not only for wolves, however. Just as many humans struggle with the ability to choose between doing what is right for many and protecting the one they loved too much.

Dawning

Later that same week, Ylva cornered poor Ginerva Weasley. Despite initially making friends and being as fierce as any Weasley, Hermione had noticed the other girl did not have the same happy scent or rosy cheeks that she had come to Hogwarts with. Perhaps Ylva could help her. Hermione certainly wasn't certain how, and she had been so busy with trying to solve the mystery of the Chamber that she had not put in the effort she thought she could have. Hermione watched the other two girls interact with a quiet grin.

"Ginny!" Ylva had marched across the common room and sat down forcefully next to the red-head. "Tell me about your brothers!"

The other girl looked taken aback, but only for a moment. She then donned a pair of narrowed eyes and a tight jaw, "Why do you want to know?"

Ylva met Ginny's suspicion with a genuine smile. Not even Ginny could intimidate her. Actually, from what she saw last night, Ylva was so very comfortable in her own skin. Not even Alpha perturbed her much. Hermione often wished she could be so confidant; she was certainly more at home at Hogwarts than the other werewolf, but there were so many things she was insecure about. She knew books and she knew she was clever, but she always felt as though she lacked in so many other areas. The girl's response brought Hermione once again out of her thoughts.

"I don't have any siblings. What is it like to live with so many other people?"

Ginny's distrustful demeanor fled almost instantly. She broke into a wry grin, "It's kind of horrid. I love my brothers, but they are so obnoxious! Of course, being the only girl is nice. I don't have to share a room with anyone."

"Really? They had to share rooms? Tell me more!" Ylva's eyes brightened and Hermione could smell her excitement from across the room.

It was so nice to see Ginny talking, Hermione mused. She had been so quiet over the year and Hermione wondered if she had made many friends in her year, or out of it, for that matter. The redhead's face was still a bit pale, and she looked so tired, but she was smiling now. It was clear that she loved her family, despite how often her brothers seemed to irritate her. Being an only child herself, Hermione listened quietly to Ginny as she told Ylva of life at the Burrow.

After a time, the pressing fact of the school's resident monster began to weigh in on her mind. Ylva seemed occupied and happy, and Hermione so desperately wanted to solve the problem. She knew that was something she could do. She had to figure it out. She began to head to the library, mulling over the most recent events in her head.

Was that it? Harry was a parselmouth. Suddenly it seemed to click. The only way that Harry would hear words that escaped both Hermione and Ylva's hearing would be if the two werewolves couldn't hear the words at all. That had to be part of the answer. She strode determinedly to the library; she was going to find out what was harming the students, and what had killed Myrtle.

Fenrir stopped dead; he had lost whatever Lauri was saying to him, but it turned out she had stopped speaking as well. Every noise seemed to dull slightly, if only for a moment. Something was wrong, and he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was. He swallowed, almost afraid to reach out through the bonds that still tied the girls to him and to the pack.

One was fine...happy, even. He knew that was Ylva; her magic had a certain bluntness to it. The other was odd. It was the girl's, but it was like there was a wall between them. She was startled, and frozen. He snarled quietly in frustration and anger.

"Alpha, are you alright? Has something happened?" Lauri's concerned voice finally reached his ears.

He stared sadly at the young woman, shoving down his harsher emotions. He nodded, rubbing his forehead. He did not like this feeling at all.

"Is Ylva okay?"

He nodded once more, "She's fine. They're both okay."

Andor came trotting up as he finished his short sentence. He met Fenrir's eyes briefly; just long enough to understand that something was off. Lauri must've smelled it, because she quickly made herself scarce.

"Ylva?" Andor's voice was understandably full of concern and his scent was increasingly agitated.

"She's fine," Fenrir growled quietly. "I don't think she knows yet."

The two adult werewolves could not leave until the next day. The bond from the younger girl tugged at Fenrir in an unfamiliar dull ache that he couldn't ignore no matter how he tried. He knew why it was there; it served to inform him when something was seriously wrong. The problem was that it refused to subside even for a moment. He paced restlessly in the forest, wanting nothing more than to charge into the castle and save the girl. He knew it would do no good, in fact it would probably harm them all. She was just petrified, she was going to be fine, or so he tried to tell himself. His instincts screamed at him to storm in, to find her, and to bring her out. She was trapped in the castle, helpless, at the mercy of those humans. Just the thought made him snarl.

As night fell the second day, Fenrir caught sight of a distraught Ylva headed into the forest. She darted into her father's arms and cried quietly. Unable to stand the sorrow that seemed to seem into his being, Fenrir snarled and took off, running to relieve his own sorrows, or at least mask it for a time. He should have known it wouldn't work. Nothing that happened around the little bushy-haired Alpha-to-be worked the way he wanted it to. He knew this was coming and he felt like he had done nothing to stop it. The world that the wizards inhabited was dangerous; always playing with forces they didn't understand, lusting for power over others. He hoped this was the most dangerous thing the little witch would ever have to face, but he knew it was too much to hope for. There was bound to be some great calamity to throw them all into yet another upheaval.

The large werewolf ran until he found himself back where he started: staring at the castle with an angry growl in his throat.

He did not noticed Ylva come up beside him until she was already there. "She'll be okay, Alpha. I'll watch out for her."

Fenrir quited slightly. He could smell her concern, and though it was not her place, he could not snap at her for being observant. He had shown her his feelings, however unintentionally, and she was just being herself. He knew the girl beside him wasn't afraid of him; she was much like the other girl in the castle. Nothing but trust came from the two small werewolves. Trust, in one case, Fenrir knew he did not entirely deserve.

Weeks went by. Fenrir managed to maintain his demeanor after some practice and accidental snarls. Never before had there been a problem with the pack that he couldn't fix. Not on this scale. His chest ached; a sensation that never truly went away. Occasionally he caught himself poking at her bond, hoping for some change, but there was nothing. Just fear, frozen in place, growing stagnant and cold.

Until one day, the pressure lifted. With nothing but a look toward Andor, Fenrir took off toward Hogwarts.

Hermione blinked rapidly, or tried to. Her eyelids were sluggish and sandy, and her limbs stiff. Her whole body felt heavy and numb. She must have been petrified by the basilisk. Attempting to move was like trying to wade through a swamp on a summer day.

How long had she been gone for? Her eyes widened and she attempted to sit up, expending great effort to do so. Once she was sitting, she swayed slightly, feeling dizzy.

"Oh, give it time, love. You'll be back to normal in just a few hours," Madame Pomfrey's voice was soft and cheerful.

Hermione knew she was trying to be soothing, but she could not wait a few hours. Already she could feel Fen's agitation through the bond. Agitation, and anguish, and fear. The latter two were small, quiet feelings, but they were still there. Hermione imagined she was only getting the leftovers of what the older werewolf had been feeling. She had to go meet him. Frowning at her unresponsive limbs, the girl concentrated on moving them methodically. She started with her fingers and toes until they wiggled just the way she wanted.

The next time Madame Pomfrey came by, Hermione was able to move her limbs again. It still felt like swimming through molasses, but it was working. The mediwitch smiled at her and waved her wand in a way that made Hermione believe it was a diagnostic spell. She had never seen one before, and was fascinated. Magic swirled around her and she felt it delve through her and her own magic before it left, settling on the parchment that Madame Pomfrey beckoned it to. The witch surveyed what Hermione assumed were her results with a small smile.

Hermione could smell her, though. She had smelled normal, happy doing her work. The moment she looked at the parchment, a spurt of fear had wafted over to Hermione, stinging her nose.

"Is everything alright?" she asked quietly, coughing slightly as the words came out. Her throat felt like it was full of dust.

The older witch nodded, her voice strangely airy, "Oh yes, Miss Granger. Everything is normal. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

Hermione nodded, plastering a smile on her face. There was something odd about the way Madame Pomfrey was acting; there was something on her chart that the witch didn't like. She reached for the glass of water next to her bed to wet her throat before speaking again.

"How long?"

"You've been in here three and a half weeks, Miss Granger."

Hermione blanched; she had missed the full moon. It was no wonder Fen was so torn up. She was trying to come to grips with the potential consequences of missing a transformation, but she did not know enough to come to any conclusions. "Did anything strange happen while I was out?"

The nurse shook her head. "Not any more than normal, dear," she responded hurriedly before excusing herself to see her other patients.

Hermione moved her concentration back to her limbs. She had to find Fen. He was getting close now, she could feel it. She so wanted to see him, she could not bear the worry that was seeping to her from his end of their strange bond. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, only ensuring that he knew she was okay.

Fenrir paced at the edge of the dark forest. His head snapped toward the castle whenever he heard even the slightest sound. Andor had remained silent; which was wise of him. Fenrir was tense; every muscle in his body was on high alert, ready to fight. There was no need for it, but there is was. After so many weeks of tension and worry, he was so close to being able to let it all go.

Suddenly, there she was. It took more self-control than he wanted to admit to keep from running straight toward her. Ylva was helping her out to the forest, it seemed she was not moving quickly yet. Once the girls had reached the protective confines of the forest he darted toward them, scooping the girl up into his arms.

Hermione felt unbidden tears flood down her cheeks as Fen pulled her into an unrelenting grip, words from his native tongue spilling from his mouth with more ferocity than she'd experienced before. His words were accompanied by a steady, happy growl that was backed with so much feeling she did not need to understand the words. He had worried so much for her, and the relief was coming off him in waves. Truth be told, she was just as relieved that she was okay, and that Harry and Ron had saved the school once again. She took in the Alpha's scent, with all of his strengths and a few weaknesses that made him smell like no one else. He was her Alpha and his scent hadn't changed.

Ylva watched the large werewolf scoop up her friend with a smile. She had already shed her relieved tears when she had visited Hermione shortly after she had woken up. Hermione had insisted they come down to the forest straightaway. Ylva knew she could feel the Alpha werewolf's presence and had helped Hermione out of bed as soon as she could.

Ylva's eyes widened slightly at the stream of quiet words coming from Fenrir's mouth. It was one thing to be relieved at a pack member's safety, but this seemed a little extreme. She glanced up at her father, who smelled surprised. Andor looked down at her with a wry grin and put a finger to his lips.

The young werewolf nodded at her father, thought she was very confused. If there was more to what was going on than simple pack bonding, Ylva wanted to know what it was. She would figure it out herself, if necessary, but the look on her father's face told her it was best to leave it be.

If there was one thing Hermione had taught her this last year, it was that some things just have to be meddled with.

"Hermione," Ylva said once Fenrir had put the other girl down, "are you coming home with us this summer?"

Ylva watched Fenrir's face darken slightly. She frowned right back at him, setting her jaw. There was no way she was going a whole summer without seeing her new friend. She noticed Hermione's worried glance up at the adult werewolf and continued to stare the Alpha down. He let her challenge him for a few brief moments before growling at her sternly. She dropped her eyes, certain he was going to say no.

"Alright," Fenrir said with an amused growl, "but she has to ask her parents first, Ylva."

Ylva brightened immediately. She was going to get to teach Hermione all about the pack, just like Hermione had showed her all around school. She was so excited to share her life now. She was certain Hermione's Mum and Dad would let her come.

"Dumbledore, I must speak with you immediately."

The old man turned, a concerned look on his face; it was not often that Poppy Pomfrey came to him with such a look of dread. Especially not after reviving all of their basilisk victims.

"Of course, Poppy. Please, sit."

The witch did so. "I have been running full diagnostics on the petrified students to ensure the potions are working. Everyone is fine except...Miss Granger."

Dumbledore frowned, "What is wrong with the girl? She is not having adverse effects to the point?"

"No, no. She's healing fine. In fact, she's healing faster than the other students," Poppy lowered her voice to nearly a whisper, "She's been infected with Lycanthropy. There is no infection, no wound, and she's been in the hospital wing enough times this year that I know she did not acquire it in school. She's likely been a werewolf the entire year, if not longer,"

Dumbledore gave the distraught woman a solemn nod. He suspected it might come up at some point. Poppy was nothing if not thorough. After a moment of deliberation, he said, "Has she bitten anyone?"

"Sir?" Madame Pomfrey looked taken aback at the simple question. She regained her composure and replied, "No one has come forward."

The old man nodded once more. "You remember what happened with Remus when he was a boy? I want these girls to have a better chance than he did."

Poppy nodded thoughtfully. "I understand, Albus. I am extremely concerned about the welfare of the other students. I am going to begin performing routine medical examinations to ensure it is not spreading. Wait, did you say girls, Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded eagerly. "I think that is a fine idea. Although, I believe if you run exams on our new Miss Vollan, you will find that she has the same affliction."

"Two werewolves?"

"They have been careful so far, Poppy, and I will not penalize them for something they cannot control. Miss Granger is clever and won't endanger the lives of the other students. I have already written to Remus to see if he is willing to teach next year. It would be best if they have an adult around who's been through some of the same tragedies."

A/N: And we have wrapped up year two!

~Cheers