A/N: This is just a fun idea I got while in the hospital. Let me know what you think and anything you'd like to see, okay?

So you think I'm special?
So you think I'm nice?
Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?
Between the noise you hear,
And the sound you like,
You're drowning in the ocean of faces.
It can't be possible,
For the rain to fall,
Only when it's over our heads.
The sun is shining everyday,
But it's far away,

"Look... We both know this isn't working."

"Do we? And what do you intend to do about that?"

"Nothing. I'm just telling you what's already obvious. You know me. That's what I always do. Point out the obvious."

Hermione snorted and put down her knitting to give Ron her full attention. Truth be told, she had been aware their relationship hadn't been strong recently. She'd just thought Ron would want to do something about it. Because Hermione was tired. She was always the one that had to do the chasing. Always. It felt like she had been chasing the ginger haired boy since her first year. He'd let her catch him eventually, but it didn't feel like a victory. It just felt like she was struggling to hold on.

"You mean you don't want to fix it?" It made her chest hurt a little at the heart. Not in the way she had expected, but in the fact that Hermione felt that Ron had never really found her worth it.

Because when it came down to it... She'd always liked Ron more than he liked her.

"That wasn't what I was saying. But..."

"But it's what you want?"

"I think we were better off as friends."

"I see. Well. I guess that's that. You know the way out, I'm sure."

Ron gave a long suffering sigh and scooped his paperwork up.

"I guess I'll see you later, Granger."

He turned to leave. Hermione didn't speak up until he was standing in the open doorway. "And Ron?"

"Yeah?" He didn't turn to fully face her.

"That was the wrong moment to call me Granger." She shut the door with a flick of wand and bit her lip. Crookshanks, god bless his smushed face, jumped up on to her lap.

Hermione buried her face into his warm fur and let her tears fall.


Funnily enough, George really hated rare meat. He'd never actually been all that fond of meat to begin with, but he loathed rare meat. It wasn't that he disliked meat per-say, he'd just rather have a salad most of the time. Not terribly manly, but George never really cared what other people thought. It was the benefit of being a Weasley twin. Most of the time anyway.

The humor of his current situation because of that fact that he disliked meat wasn't lost on him. Never let it be said that George didn't appreciate a good joke, even if it was one the universe had decided to pull on him.

"Why are you poking at the steak?" Fred asked from his spot on the couch. George was sitting at the bar in the kitchen contemplating a rawish piece of meat that was supposed to be his dinner.

"I'm trying to decide if it's actually worth it."

Fred snorted and flipped through the pages of the transfiguration magazine he was reading. "You've got to be the worst werewolf to have ever existed."

"You know," George started, "It really isn't funny. Like, at all." He poked the meat again, wincing when a little bit of blood oozed out. It. Was. Disgusting. Blargh, yuck, and urgh. George did not want it and, wolfish appetite or not, he was not eating it.

"I don't care what the books or specialist say. I'll put up with an itchy throat and upset stomach before I eat a bite of that. My wolf can get his own meat when I change. Until then, he can put up with a well-cooked burger and some green beans."

"Exciting." Fred deadpanned. George balled up his napkin and tossed it at his twin before hopping off the stool.

"I'm going to cook this up. Do you want anything?"

"No, and you really shouldn't be eating. We're going to Harry's birthday party in a half hour. You know how mum gets when you don't eat." Fred dropped his feet off the couch and set his magazine down. He stretched his arms out and cracked his back before dropping them back to his side and yawning. George watched the scene with a subtle sniff of the air that made his stomach warm. He could smell Fred's happiness from here and it made his wolf side happy. His pack was content and that was all that mattered to his wild side.

"And mum knows how I feel about eating in front of people with my furry little problem." George said after a moment. Fred wrinkled his nose in mild annoyance.

"What? Just because you're a little messy... I doubt anyone would notice or mind. Don't forget, mum invited Dudley. And if anyone can beat you on the manner department... well."

"Shut it. I'm eating here. It's two days till the moon. My furry friend is getting restless. Darn Harry for being born close to the moon."

Fred barked out a laugh and stood up while George cooked up a burger. He did it magically to save the time they really didn't have. They were technically already late.

"Madame Trelawny would be thrilled at the implications, wouldn't she? It's probably a sign that he's going to be run over by a bus."

"Hasn't that happened before?"

"Nah," Fred said as he stole one of George's crisps. "Not yet anyway."

George's stomach grumbled as the scent of the cooking meat reached his nostrils. It didn't appeal to him anymore than it usually did, but it excited his stomach.

Which was rather a weird feeling.

It had been a year since the war and the Last Battle. A year and a half since that horribly dark night that had changed George and his life.

It was October 17th, a date George would never forget. Fred and him had been working with Lee, Remus, Alicia and Oliver on Potterwatch. They'd just finished the radiocast when the caterwauling charm they'd placed on the perimeter went off. Fred and George had taken up distraction duty while the others got their equipment together to apparate away to the next safe spot.

It had been very cold and unusually bright that night. George could still remember how clearly he'd been able to see his breath in the still night air. Fred had run out ahead of him and George had followed right behind, casting the typical charms every few meters to draw the attention of whoever had tripped their wards.

He'd tripped on a root that he hadn't seen despite the bright moonlight. He'd gone down with a yelp. Fred didn't hear his cry and continued running. George had scrambled to get up when it hit him.

As clear as his memory is about all the other details, the shade of the leaves he'd fallen in, the chill of the air, the smell of decomposing vegetation, he could never really remember what happened next. It was really just a mess of heat, fur, and blood.

That much he remembered very clearly. The blood that was too red and too bright, and too thick pouring down his arms from the hole in his chest. The blood and the searing pain, like liquid fire, that flooded every pore of his body.

Fred said later that he could hear George screaming and that was why he knew to come back. Thanks to Bill's attack the year before, Fred knew how to take a werewolf out. He'd done some studying when George hadn't been looking.

By the time Fred reached him George had passed out from the searing pain. Fred had lost his breath and dinner at the sight of his twins ravaged chest. It glistened in the light of the full moon even as George's body convulsed.

He'd woken up a few days later at Bill's wrapped up from head to toe in bandages with a very worried Brother, Twin, and Mother peering over him.

And thus began George's life with a wild side. His furry little problem as Fred referred to it. The chest wounds had healed up, leaving impressive scar tissue, but George didn't mind. He'd already lost an ear, aesthetics weren't really that important to him anymore. He was just glad it hadn't torn his face apart like Bill's attack had.

That was one good thing about the attack it had improved his hearing in his still there ear. So, that was nice.

"Woah," Fred chided, poking George in the side, "slow down or you'll get sick." George hadn't even realized he was eating, which just went to show why he shouldn't daydream. His wolf instincts tended to take over anytime he did.

"Don't say anything about woofing it down." George warned, swallowing his bite. "Besides, I thought we were out of time."

"Whatever. I don't need you sick or smelling like meat. People might talk." Fred winked before grabbing the bag of crisps back up. George ignored him and finished his burger. He suspected Fred was more worried than he should be. Fred tended to do that now, worry more than he should. He'd been bad after the whole ear-cursed-off-debacle. He would follow George everywhere and question how he was doing for weeks after words. After the werewolf attack he didn't leave George alone ever. He slept in the same bed, followed him around like a lost puppy, and made sure he helped George eat. He wasn't even able to escape Fred when he went to the bathroom.

Not that George blamed him. He'd been over protective of Fred since he almost got squished by a wall. If George hadn't had his wolf senses, he might have lost Fred in that explosion.

That was why George didn't, and couldn't, mind being a werewolf. Ever.

"Alright. Enough dawdling. You've finished your snack and now it's time to par-tay." Fred dragged the last word out and did a ridiculous little dance jig that made George snort out the water he'd just drank.

"Alright, Casanova, let's go. You're driving." George declared, looping his arm through Fred's. Fred beamed at him and nodded his head.

"But you're going to be the DD, right? I don't mind abstaining, but you're a ready-made designated driver."

"Of course." George said simply. If he drank he tended to slip into more wolfish tendencies. He became grumpy and bitey in short.

"Righty-o and off we go!" Fred exclaimed ridiculously before twisting sharply into the air and taking George with him. They reappeared a moment later at the Burrow which was already overflowing with people.

"Fred, George!" Molly Weasley exclaimed. She rushed up to the twins behind and shoved a platter of sandwich meat into George's hands and a tray of drinks in Fred's. "Take these outside." She hurried off before pausing and coming back to them. She gave them each a wet kiss on the cheek which made Fred splutter and George grin. "It's good to see you both. Now go, take that outside."

"Yes mother." The twins chimed together. Molly rushed off again and Fred prodded George in the ribs with his elbow.

"I have to point out that she gave you the meat." He was grinning a bit manically but George was used to the wolf jokes. He simply gave Fred an un-amused look.

"Woof." He deadpanned. Fred chortled and lead the way to the back yard where the part was in full swing. Fred lost half of his drinks before he set his tray down and George was surrounded by hungry people the minute he set down the platter.

"Freddy" he squeaked out, "a little help here?" Fred didn't hesitate before grabbing his twins arm and jerking him out of the horde of hungry people. Needless to say, George didn't care for being surrounded. Especially not this close to a full moon. He could feel the wolf under his skin, fighting the moons insistent call even as it itched to be released. It was a sensation that made George want to scratch himself all over until it stopped. Which it wouldn't until he changed. He still had a few days before that though.

"Is it me, or are Harry, Ron, and Ginny making a point of having a conversation without Hermione?" Fred drew George's wandering attention back with a pointing finger. George looked to what he was pointing at and saw that the three were deep in a discussion while Hermione stood a few meters away, swirling a drink with a sad aura. It was a scene that reminded George forcibly of his fifth year, Hermione's third year. She'd spent most of it by herself while her friends chatted together. Hadn't they out grown that yet? Besides, Hermione was dating Ron. They should be standing together.

Regardless, George didn't like seeing Hermione standing by herself dejectedly. He considered Hermione to be part of his family, and the wolf saw her as part of his pack, and that meant he wasn't going to just let her mope in the corner.

Fred, with his twin mind reading ability fully working, flashed George a grin and sauntered forward until they were both right beside Hermione.

"Hermy," Fred sing-songed. Hermione stiffened and glared at the nickname she hated. Fred looped his arm around her uncaringly.

"What's up, Hermione?" George intoned. Hermione shifted her gaze to him before shrugging and dropping her eyes.

That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. A Hermione Granger that did not have a snappy comeback to her hated nickname and didn't say anything about the fact that a new bookstore had just opened up was a Hermione that needed to be cheered up.

Luckily cheering up was what Fred and George did for a living.

A/N: Hey everyone, I'm back. That's right, Mya has finally beaten her cancer. It was a hard fight, with some ridiculous setbacks, but I'm healed and ready to write again. I've started on my novel again, and I've got a few good ideas for HG/FW and HG/GW stories. I'm not sure what happened to Song of the Midnight Moon, but I'll get it back and repost it while I try to remember what it's plotline was. Lol. This one is inspired by the fact that I like the show Grimm and love the way they don't make their werewolf hate everything he is. It's time we had a wolf that was okay with himself.

However, I'll talk more about that later. Right now I want to focus on all of you. After a painfully long absence, I logged onto my fanfiction account and found 119 pms in my inbox. They were all messages that were encouraging and sweet and I was unable to see my screen through my tears by the end of it. I'm responding to every one of them, but it'll take me a while. In the meantime, I want to extend my truest and deepest heartfelt gratitude to each of you. My cousin told me that the Fremione/Geomione community had been missing me, but I didn't really believe her. (She's the brilliant writer of "Chances Are" Here user name is 'Fanficfanforev. Unfortunately someone hacked her account and deleted a few of her stories so she's gone on hiatus for a while.)

I feel so loved and cared for now, and I cannot thank you enough for that fact. If any of you ever need anything, or just want to talk, let me know. This story is going to be light (because after these last years, I need some light) and it's dedicated to all of you and your beautiful faces and hearts. Thank you again, and I promise to keep getting better and writing.

Mischief started again.