Of the many things that come naturally to a wolf, protecting the ones they love is high on the list of priorities. The pack must be protected above all, but each wolf has their place, their own group to guard. When the safety of the pack is not at stake, there may be conflicts within. As with any group of humans, wolves are not above picking favorites and acting on those choices. When wants and needs conflict with wisdom and propriety, trouble can be quick to brew.

New Places

It had not been difficult for Hermione to convince her parents to let her spend some time with the pack. It would be good for her, just like going to Hogwarts. After all, she still knew very little about her own kind, and she did not want to make a mistake. She told them of Ylva and how much she missed her friend. They were not certain at first, but by the end of their family trip to Italy, Jean and Charles had agreed to let her go. She owled Ylva as soon as she received another letter from her.

A few weeks later, after an unfortunately solitary Full Moon, it was time for her to go. Ylva hadn't told her who was coming to get her, and while she did not assume, she would have been lying had she said she wasn't disappointed to find Andor at her front door. She tried to hide the way her face fell, but she knew it wouldn't matter.

The man chuckled quietly. "Alpha is very busy this time of year. I'm sure you'll see him later this week."

She nodded, too abashed to speak. Was she really so obvious? Andor's calm, amused scent soon soothed her as she realized he was not going to tease her further. Hermione's demeanor once again drooped slightly when she caught the scent of her mother. She seemed sad.

Andor made himself scarce by making conversation with her father.

"Mum?" the girl asked, her lip trembling slightly. She did not want to inflict more grief on her parents than she had already. She wanted them to be proud of her.

Jean held out her arms and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. "I want you to know that I wish I could have protected you more. You have grown up so much." She released Hermione from her hug for just a moment, to meet her eyes. "I am very proud of you, Hermione."

Hermione gave her mother a tight hug, memorizing her scent. "I love you, Mum. It wasn't your fault. And— I really don't mind being a werewolf." The girl took a breath, she had never said that aloud before. In fact, she was starting to like the fact she was so different. It was so easy to read people now, everyone gave off a scent based on their feelings. It was not something they could hide. She hated sneaking around and acting as though she wasn't a wolf around her friends, but that had everything to due with society and nothing to do with her.

Jean nodded, her smell was certainly proud, with a hint of amusement. Hermione was so grateful for her parents and how they trusted her, even when they did not understand her.

"I'll owl you, I promise," Hermione said earnestly.

"I want to hear all about your adventures this summer, alright. Don't give Fen or Andor too much trouble," Jean smiled.

"I won't!" The girl gave one more hug to her mother before saying a quick goodbye to her father. "I'll see you soon! I love you!"

Ylva was thrilled to have Hermione come visit for the last half of the summer. She knew it would be hours yet for her father to finish bringing her friend over from England. To pass the time, she had been helping Geira with her summer herb harvest. Before she had gone to Hogwarts she had learned a great deal of her magic from the old werewolf. Everyone in the pack had tutored her at one point or another, but Geira handled most of her tutelage.

"Make sure you harvest the valerian as well, we are running low," the old woman said with a kind smile.

Ylva nodded as she wrapped up one last bunch of moly. The valerian was the last herb to collect this time of year. The girl took her knife and basket and headed back out to Geira's herb garden. She watched the pack as she picked out the best of the valerian; they were all excited to meet the newest pack member. She did not see Fenrir, which made her wonder slightly. He was always around when a new member was present, and Ylva knew Fenrir cared about Hermione more than he often showed. Still slightly perturbed at the Alpha's absence, Ylva walked back inside with a basket-full of herbs.

"Elder?" She spoke up quietly after a time.

"Yes, Ylva?" Geira responded, almost absent-mindedly.

"Hermione is special, isn't she?"

The old werewolf grinned at her. "She is."

Ylva pursed her lips at the vague answer. Geira's scent matched the grin on her face. Fenrir had told her earlier in the year that Hermione was important, but after watching the way he doted on her, she was not certain he was being entirely honest with her.

"How?"

"I think you would not be asking if you did not already have a guess."

Ylva frowned at the old werewolf. Fenrir was not around, and she was going to speak her mind. "He loves her."

"Don't you?" Geira's eyes twinkled mischievously.

Ylva nodded with a small smile. "He loves her more, Geira."

"Is the Alpha not allowed to pick favorites now, Ylva?"

Ylva knew she was not going to get a straight answer out of the old woman. Geira knew something, she was sure of it. She knew Fenrir better than anyone, but was not going to give away a secret if he had entrusted her with it.

Geira was giving her hints; perhaps enough to figure it out herself. Favorites. If Hermione was Fenrir's favorite...Ylva's eyes widened. "She's his mate, isn't she?"

Instead of answering with a smile, Geira's eyes flashed. She still smelled amused, but her demeanor had changed slightly. "Valerian and fairy wings. What will it do, Ylva?"

Ylva paused. She knew both ingredients, but had never heard of them being used together. This had to be related somehow. Or she was right and Geira did not want her to speak of it. It could not have been that much of a secret, could it? Unless Hermione was in danger because of it.

"Do you have an answer?"

"Valerian is used for calming. Fairy wings are a common love potion ingredient. Love potions don't work on us, because we have mates. A love potion only strengthens the call to find your mate," the girl looked to the older werewolf for approval as she began listing the things she knew about the ingredients.

Geira nodded. "You remember well. Do you know what they do when combined and ingested?"

"Assuming the original properties of the ingredients don't change, it should do the opposite of a love potion. It would...suppress the need to bond?"

Geira nodded seriously once more.

"Would it be strong enough to hide the bond itself?" Ylva asked, her concern rising slightly.

"With a hint of dittany and a strong tea. Yes."

"Why?"

"She's young enough that Alpha is feeling the pull without understanding it, dear one. It makes him irritable. The tea calms him. Your friend probably does not understand her own feelings either, and once she does, she will perhaps be old enough for Fenrir to realize who she is."

"But Elder, isn't it better for them to know?"

The old woman smiled. "For two wolves, yes. Hermione has not grown up in this world as you have. You would accept your mate without question. I will not risk her running from who she is meant to be to spare her feelings in the short term. It is good you are spending time with the humans, it is not normal for them to know their mates. They have to choose them."

Ylva understood the fierce glint in Geira's eyes. She was keeping this from Fenrir to protect him. She still wasn't entirely certain how it protected him, but the scent was unmistakable.

"Alpha won't like this," Ylva managed quietly.

Geira laughed, her good humor returning. "I've known that boy since he was just a teen. I'll deal with him if he finds out."

Ylva frowned, but remained silent. She wasn't going to argue with the woman. Even Fenrir avoided doing so, and he did not shy away from conflict. Hermione was the same way. Ylva did not enjoy such things. She knew others considered her forward, but she did not want to be seen as brash, she merely said things as she saw them. She knew he time with Hermione and her friends had instilled a sense of curiosity and mischief in her they had not previously been so strong. There was probably a lot of wisdom in Geira's words, but Ylva did not like keeping things from her friend. She couldn't outright tell Hermione, but maybe she could help her figure it out. The girl sighed, she shouldn't meddle in such things; but she could ask Hermione about it without actually mentioning it.

Which was exactly what she did that evening as Hermione got settled in. It was late when Hermione arrived and most of the pack was already asleep. Ylva had an extra bed set up in her room for Hermione and the two girls went straight there after a bit of dinner. They hadn't really had any good talks about the boys at school, so Ylva thought there was no time like now to ask.

"Hermione? Do you ever think about your mate?" It was the best question to start off with, she thought. The least unobtrusive. She wanted so desperately to know how her friend felt about the Alpha werewolf, but she could not simply come out and ask her.

Hermione cocked her head to the side at her friend. "I guess not. I don't really know how it works. I suppose I've dreamed a little, but nothing specific," she said quietly. It was one of the reasons she was here: she wanted to know more about herself. She loved spending time with the pack, and she would learn all she could while she was here. She had not thought specifically about who her mate might be. She was still struggling slightly with the idea that she seemed to have no choice in the matter. Ever other werewolf she had met so far was so certain that it was the right way to do things that she decided it was wiser to wait and see. Maybe she would find her mate and agree completely with everything she had heard, but for now, she was skeptical. "Alpha told me it was different for everyone," she said finally.

"All I've heard are stories. Papa told me the story of how he and Mama met. He said he just knew. I think it's a scent," Ylva replied with. Her scent was odd, but excited.

"What about Ron?" Hermione asked. The two of them had not been able to figure out why Ron seemed to smell different to her friend.

The older girl shook her head immediately, her golden hair swinging with the emphasis. "Ginny, Fred, George, Ron...Even Percy all have the same scent. And I know you don't smell it. There has to be something to that, right?"

Hermione shrugged at her friend. She supposed it had to be something. There didn't seem to be enough evidence to suggest anything solid yet. Ylva seemed to think there might be something there. They really had no way of finding out, and Hermione could not help as she was unable smell the same anomaly.

Ylva seemed convinced that they would find their mates. Hermione was not so certain; Fen had not found his yet, so why would they find theirs early? Fen did not like to talk about it, but perhaps Ylva knew more.

"Does Alpha really not have a mate?" Hermione asked quietly. She did not miss the way Ylva grew nervous and excited as soon as she asked. She did not know why, however.

Ylva struggled to keep a grin off her face. She hadn't expected Hermione to bring Fenrir up without any more prompting. She wasn't certain if she was just curious, or if she was asking for a reason, however. Perhaps more prodding was in order. She wanted to just ask, but Geira would murder her if she did so. Instead, Ylva dropped her voice, "He doesn't like it when we talk about it. I think it makes him sad."

"I know he spent a lot of time with Ingrid when he was younger." It wasn't a lie, she knew the two alphas had a history. Watching Hermione's reaction to her words, she noticed the other girl tensing slightly. She was unhappy. "I guess he called it off, but she keeps coming back." The moment the words were out of her mouth, Ylva felt bad for the other girl. Hermione's frown was particularly murderous. She didn't say anything, but there was a small growl rumbling in her throat. A small scent of jealousy wafted over to her and Ylva quietly locked that away for later.

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth, stifling her growl that had somehow escaped. She didn't like Ingrid, and neither did Fen. She knew what he smelled like when he thought about that woman, and it was not a fond scent. She couldn't read Ylva any longer. She seemed...satisfied. There was also a scent she couldn't quite place, it was something she had smelled from Fen occasionally. It was a sad smell, but it was different than sadness. There had never been a facial expression that was solid enough that she had been able to pinpoint it, and she felt in the dark about it. She was certain she'd figure it out eventually, but for now, she'd have to be patient. She settled into her covers as Ylva waved off the light.

A/N: Fixed a typo.