The rain was almost horizontal as the three men made their way across the sloping lawn towards the Whomping Willow. Remus's cloak was already wet through and his feet slid on the soaking grass. This was not how he imagined spending this evening. "Recapturing their youth" Sirius had insisted – capturing a bloody cold was more like it. Remus already felt weak and shivery.

Finally they reached the willow's violently swaying branches; it was hard to tell if it was the tree's more vicious nature, or if its bare limbs were just flailing in the high wind.

"Mobilicorpus," Remus said, as he directed his wand at a fallen branch, but instead of it jumping from the lawn to prod at the knot in the trunk that would seize the tree, it gave a feeble sort of waver before falling back to earth. Remus's wand arm felt heavy and another violent shudder shimmied up his spine, a shudder that seemed to be from within and not caused by the chill rain. James's arm clapped around Remus's sodden shoulders as he swayed. One thing he loved about the Wolfsbane was that it generally prevented such severe symptoms; generally, however, Remus wouldn't be using magic while standing in icy rainstorms an hour before moonrise, so apparently he'd moved beyond reasonable expectations.

"You right Rem?" James asked, chivvying him towards the gap in the roots; Sirius must have seen to the freezing of the willow while Remus was distracted because it was quite still.

Remus went along without out a fuss. The tunnel below might not be as warm and comfortable as his office but it would at least be dry. He shimmied down through the tunnel entrance, shivering as rain water caught in the collar of his cloak was dislodged by the movement and trickled down his back. The hunch-backed journey down the passage was not as horrible as Remus had been expecting, though he was ready to tolerate quite a bit, given the promise of a soft, if horribly dusty, bed at the end of the tunnel.

Remus didn't have breath for talking as the three of them moved along. He felt remarkably unfit all of a sudden, and made a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh. As many times as he'd claimed to have the flu on the day after a full moon, it would be just what he deserved if it turned out to be true. James and Sirius were in excellent spirits however.

"Sorry to interrupt your boring evening Moony," Sirius called back to him, "I'd been trying to think how to celebrate my birthday for weeks, then Prongs suggested this."

"Your memory must be going in your old age Padfoot, it was your idea to come to Hogwarts," James said.

"Ha-ha," Sirius laughed sarcastically, "Whatever, accompanying you seemed like a grand way to spend the thirty fourth anniversary of the most important day in history."

"And we haven't done anything fun in ages," James added, "don't ever get married Moony, I mean it's lovely and everything, but there is definitely a lot less …."

He trailed off and Sirius piped up from in front, "Spontaneity?"

"Exactly," said James, "Spontaneity,"

"In need of a stag night Prongs?" Remus mumbled, though his intended dry tone was lost to yet another teeth-chattering shiver.

Sirius groaned loudly at the overused line but James sighed nostalgically, "Ah," he said happily, "see, an oldie but a goody, excellent form Rem."

Remus smiled despite himself. He found it incredibly ironic that both James and Sirius were married, with a kid each, and sensible desk jobs, and had been for a decade, while he, cardigan-wearer and teapot aficionado had spent most of that time traveling Europe, meeting interesting and important people, and helping raise money and awareness for werewolf rights. Not to mention the attention he received from women for being either the wizard who killed Voldemort or that well-spoken, well-educated and gentlemanly werewolf. He'd never understand why this seemed to hold a fascination for some women, but he wasn't going to complain about it. Remus had definitely gotten over his reluctance in regard to dating. He wasn't an idiot after all, and even fame seekers and danger lovers could be fun on a short term basis.

The three men reached the tunnel exit after what seemed like an ungodly amount of time to be crouched over while walking. Remus's back made the most horrible grinding crunch when he stood upright on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. It made him feel a bit better that both James and Sirius were moving gingerly too.

It turned out that while James and Sirius were determined to relive their youth, they too needed more creature comforts these days. The bulky backpack that Sirius had been carrying contained a teapot and cups, milk and sugar, as well as a dozen beer, three large bags of crisps and a container of Lily's baking – jammy-dodgers abound.

Remus was still coughing from James's poor effort at dust removal from the four-poster's mattress as they set up a sort of camp on the floor of the upstairs bedroom. It wasn't long before it settled though and Sirius produced clean blankets from his pack, one of which Remus gratefully accepted. He rolled himself in it and propped himself up against the headboard of the bed. James sat at his feet, leaning on the tall corner post and Sirius lounged on the floor in a pile of all the cushions he'd been able to find in the house.

Wrapped in a blanket with a steaming cup of tea in his hands, Remus was feeling much better, and realised this hadn't been such a terrible idea after all. He did miss his friends every full moon - not the necessity of them, but this part, sitting together, talking. James and Sirius had never really been ones for heart to heart conversations (unless drunk) or for sitting quietly in any form, so Remus had always enjoyed this forced calm, even when he had been frightened and ill with the impending moonrise.

James and Sirius had both cracked beers, and Remus experienced a moment of extreme fondness for his friends that they'd remembered, and gone to the effort to supply him with tea.

"So, how's the first few months of a Flora-free home been?" Remus asked Sirius.

"Predictable," Sirius said, "honestly, quiet and dull, I can't wait for the holidays. Hermione's at work so much, but I never really noticed until Flora was gone."

"You get used to it," James said, "although Lily's not nearly as much of a work-a-holic as Hermione."

Sirius smiled, "I shouldn't complain, having the place to myself most evenings is pretty nice, absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that. I certainly don't miss Flora's mile-a-minute storytelling. Merlin that girl can talk!"

James and Remus both laughed, and James said, "It's a bit like karma really, isn't it?"

Remus nodded in agreement, "Her teachers are constantly grateful that she only inherited your looks and loquaciousness, rather than your attitude to authority."

Sirius grinned, "That's what she wants them to think, crafty little mite." He shook his head, "I wish she'd have latched on to Harry or Neville as role models though, instead of Draco, he's far too cunning."

"Be glad she doesn't look up to Harry," James laughed. "He, Ron and Neville are going to be the death of me." He took a large gulp from his bottle and continued, sounding rather tormented, "I had an irate Molly Weasley in the floo to me every other night this summer. The three of them have been going at it with her twins all holidays: practical jokes, jinxes, hexes… half the time I don't know whether to tell him off or commend him for his inventive spell work."

"What did you say about karma?" Sirius asked innocently. James flipped him two fingers, and Sirius laughed, clinking his bottle against James's. "Aren't we supposed to want them to take after us?" he said.

"Why is Molly mad at you?" Remus asked James, "If Ron is involved too, and does she call Frank about Neville?"

James nodded, "Yeah she does, but she insists that Harry is the 'ring-leader', though she's always saying that she swears her twins are part poltergeist, and it's only within her power to control them, so it's mine and Lily's job to stop them having someone to spar with." He frowned for a moment, "I agree with her, Fred and George are mental, they have good hearts and all of that, and well, they're bloody brilliant beaters so they're definitely not all bad but hell, they're more trouble than we ever were."

"We never had competition," Sirius put in, "Harry has your nose for mischief, and Ron must have the same misbehaviour gene as his brothers, and Neville … well," he chucked, "I'm not sure what happened there. It horrifies Frank though. I love seeing his face when he gets a letter from McGonagall about the latest misdemeanour Neville's been involved in."

"Harry and Draco aren't getting along at the moment," Remus said to James, "they had an argument in the middle of my Defence class because Draco's injured arm means a change in the Quidditch draw. From what I could figure out Harry thinks Flint put him up to it, so Slytherin won't have to play in this storm tomorrow."

"They're always fighting about something," James said, dismissively, "never could just get along, those two, there always has to be some little spat."

"Not normally about Quidditch though," Sirius said with a frown.

A look of concern crossed James's face, "You're right," he said, "it's normally teasing or more bloody practical jokes…"

Remus shrugged; in his opinion, brooms might still be a sore point, but he wasn't inclined to worry. Draco had grown up at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with his mother, and frequent visits to Sirius and Hermione's house in Godric's Hollow often as a child. Narcissa and Hermione had maintained a friendship since the war, something that baffled Remus, but this was where Flora had decided that cousin Draco was the be-all and end-all of sibling substitutes. Godric's Hollow meant close proximity to the Potters, and Narcissa even managed to suppress her upbringing enough to share tea with the Muggleborn Lily. Draco and Harry had played on brooms in the trees behind the Potter's house as often as they were allowed, and were both very good. However when Harry had made the Gryffindor team in first year – the unexpected result of Gryffindor and Slytherin house rivalry leading to an airborne race and chase – their friendship had suffered. In second year Draco tried out and made the Slytherin team – still an impressive feat – but Remus suspected he would never get over Harry being chosen the year before. Not when the pair of them had always been equals in their forest games as children.

"Draco has a bit of a rough time I think," Remus said, "I never see him with any of his year mates, just Flora occasionally, and his Father's parole was just turned down, I imagine that's hard for him."

"He doesn't even know Lucius," Sirius said, shortly, "he's been in prison Draco's whole life. And is a horrible wanker," he added.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't care about him," Remus replied. "The kids have no real idea about the awful stuff that happened during the war; half the students think I strolled up to Voldemort on the street and AK'd him right there. It's all just stories to them."

James smiled. "Thank goodness for that."

An enormous gust of wind shook the little house then, whistling eerily through the dilapidated walls and intruding on the cosy atmosphere they had built in the upstairs bedroom. A chill swept over Remus again; the strangely strong symptoms had returned now that his teacup was empty. There were goosebumps lifting all over him, so he drew the blanket tighter around his shoulders and held out his mug.

Sirius seized it at once, consternation flitting over his face. "You look pale Moony, are you okay?"

"Feel a bit odd to tell you the truth," Remus admitted, "How long til moonrise?" he asked, unable to read his own watch through layers of blanket.

"Five minutes," Sirius said, after checking the time. He poured more tea and knelt up from the floor to pass it back. "You'll have to scull it," he warned with a smile.

Remus wrapped his fingers around the mug gladly. The joints in his fingers felt stiff and sore, and the heat of the ceramic eased it, but as he lifted the drink to his lips instead of the lovely aroma of sweet milky tea he was expecting, the sharp tanniny smell was repellent.

"What's wrong with it?" he said, sniffing at the fragrant steam again and feeling an annoyed grumble in the back of his throat. Why would Sirius mess with his tea? He sniffed again, aware that as he did so there was movement at the foot of the bed – James had got to his feet.

"Moony?" Sirius said softly and Remus looked to see that he'd gotten up too. Both he and James were standing a pace further away from Remus than they had been, and for some reason they looked frightened. Without warning the annoyed grumble worked its way up Remus's throat again, louder this time. Why were his friends acting so strangely? Why did they smell better than his tea?

When the noise came again, it was no longer a grumble but a snarl; he felt his lips curl back to bare his teeth and then his vision blurred as horrific bone-breaking pain lanced through him. He heard a thud and opened his previously clenched eyes - the world was sideways. His spine seemed to twist inside him and Remus realised that he'd fallen from the bed.

"Remus!" a human shout registered as the pain consumed him. It was the last thing he remembered before another growling snarl ripped from his chest and the world turned grey.

The next thing Remus was aware of was a constant dripping – water plopping repeatedly right next to his ear, which made him aware of the unnatural thirst crawling across his tongue. There was the howling of high wind in trees, but the air was cool and fresh, and smelled wet and earthy. He flexed his fingers, and his nails dragged through damp dirt, then there were hushed nervous voices nearby.

"Moony,"

"Remus, mate,"

"Are you with us?"

Remus's eyes flew open, Sirius and James were both on their feet looking down at him. They were barely more than dark silhouettes, lit from behind by the dull dappled morning light filtering through the trees in the Forbidden Forest. Remus could just make out a purple shadow blooming around Sirius's left eye, and James's right leg was wrapped in conjured bandages, but most disturbingly both of his friends had their wands pointing directly at him.

"What the hell?" Remus rasped, as he struggled to sit up. His hips and shoulders bore a deep heavy ache, one he hadn't felt in twelve years. His mouth was parched and horribly metallic tasting, and his lips felt cracked. All these things flashed through his mind in a moment, before a very worrying throbbing made itself known in the region of his abdomen. Seriously injured, his brain supplied. The situation suggested something quite obvious, but surely, surely that couldn't be right.

He looked up at James and Sirius again, "I didn't…" he began fearfully, and when there was no immediate reassurance, a rolling wave of nausea surged through him, his heart crashed violently around his ribcage. "I-I didn't," he repeated, the words shaking with the terror that was building inside him.

"You didn't take your potion last night?" James asked, Remus recognised the tone of voice at once, it was James's Auror interrogation voice. Something deep in Remus's heart twanged painfully at that. As if he'd be so careless, how could James think such a thing?

"I did," Remus said hastily, forcing his dried out tongue to comply, "I did, I had to wait to get it, Madam Pomfrey was busy," his head pounded heavily, "Christ, is anyone hurt?"

Sirius crouched down beside him, "Only me and Prongs," he smiled, just barely, "it's alright Moony, just like the old days. We're a bit banged up and you feel like shit."

"It's so lucky we were here," James said, he sounded shaken up. "We need to get up to the castle as soon as you're ready - you need more healing than Padfoot or I can manage."

"Greta!" Remus said suddenly, his own injuries were nothing compared with the thought of an adolescent werewolf loose in Hogwarts. "Flora's friend," he added looking at Sirius, "we took our potion at the same time yesterday evening. If the batch was faulty… she sleeps in the hospital wing on full moon nights but those doors…" Remus trailed off, frightened at what they might find in the castle.

"The kids," James said at once, his face grey and drawn, "come on, we better –"

"If they were in the tower they'll be fine," Remus said, "Minerva had all the entrances to the common rooms safe-guarded just in case something like this ever happened."

Sirius nodded, tight-lipped. James just looked ill. "We're going to have to stretcher you up there Rem, we've bound up your wounds best we could but you were mad last night, mad. We could barely –" James broke off, looking concerned.

"You did a right number on yourself mate," Sirius said, "so we reckon it's best not to move until Poppy has worked her magic." Sirius twitched his wand and a blanket appeared from nowhere to tuck itself tightly around Remus.

Remus couldn't see any of his body now, he was swaddled up like an infant in the scratchy blanket. At a second glance he recognised them as old ones from the shrieking shack. "How bad is it?" he asked.

Sirius and James shared a fleeting look, their faces grim. "I don't remember the wolf ever being that insane," James said soberly, then he looked toward the school, "Come on, we need to make sure everything's alright up there."

"Remus! Oh, dear, what on earth? Mr Potter, Mr Black what are you doing here?"

The shocked voice of Madam Pomfrey jerked Remus from the drowsiness that was trying to overcome him. He must have actually drifted off he realised slowly, because he had no memory of the trip up to the castle.

As Madam Pomfrey leaned in close to his face Remus felt detached from the whole situation. His eyelid was pulled back and the tip of her lit wand blinded him. There was a fuzzy buzzing in his head that was very welcoming, like an old friend. He supposed in a way it was.

In the days before Wolfsbane it had been the best part of the twenty four hours surrounding the full moon, the way he slept so heavily. Nothing penetrated it- not pain from injury, not worry that someone would figure out his secret, not guilt for the close calls he and his friends had while roaming irresponsibly about the forest. Just blissful nothingness. He tried to fight it this time, and even as the warm waves of sleep crashed over him he attempted to focus, but his concerns were becoming a disjointed jumble; the potion, the pain radiating through his abdomen, the confused panicked voices of Poppy, James and Sirius.

Little Greta, he thought suddenly, was she hurt? Had she hurt others?

^V^