Monday, the seventh of October, 1976

I cannot believe my friends. This has got to be the most idiotic, most profoundly stupid, imbecilic, dangerous, horrifying thing they've ever done in their entire lives. I should feel terrible and guilty that they went through so much trouble and put themselves in so much danger—already—just for me. But I don't feel bad, and if anything I feel guilty for not feeling bad, because it's so unbelievably brilliant and kind. They've become animagi—unregistered, I might add—to help me during the transformations. They actually went to the library without me to read, and when I was gone, they'd practice. I knew they were crazy, and incredibly bright, but I never thought they would do this. Especially not for me, a sodding werewolf.

The way they told me, too—classic. I was just reading under the willow by the lake, and a stag simply appeared from the woods. It seemed so odd—it was the middle of the day—and then it just looked at me and started to walk over. Animals normally hate me, and for a moment there I truly thought this stag was coming to bludgeon me or something, when out of nowhere this big, shaggy black dog tackled the stag. I had never seen anything like it in my entire life. Dogs didn't attack deer; it wasn't done. It was enough to get me to drop my book, and when I finally looked down I saw a rat nibbling at one of the pages. I shrieked, stood up, as the three animals started walking ever closer towards me. It felt like the end of days.

Then, when I was about to close my eyes and hope for the best, the shapes of the animals became familiar to me. The stag was James. Sirius, of course, was the shaggy black dog, and the all-terrifying rat was Peter. I felt myself go into shock—a strange feeling—and I promptly fainted.

When I came to, my friends hovered over me. Sirius, I assumed, had gone through my bag and offered me a piece of chocolate. They hadn't meant to scare me, he explained. Only surprise. They told me they've been working on this for two years—Merlin, I still can't believe it—ever since that day in D.A.D.A. in third year when we learned about werewolves. They kept asking me if I had any pets, which I explained no, not since the cat ran away when I was five, and whether or not I thought I liked animals, and all of that. I thought they were just curious, but now I know they were trying to probe. They wanted to distract me during the full moon, make it so that I wouldn't hurt myself so badly.

When the shock had finally worn off, I wasn't sure what to say. It's incredibly dangerous—even if they managed to stay transformed the entire night (which is difficult), and even if we never get caught (which is unlikely), there will always be the chance that they can't outrun me, that I'll run free, bite someone, and my life and theirs will never be the same. It's horrifying to think about, makes my head spin. And then there's the guilt—not only the guilt of knowing what I was putting my friends through, even if everything ends up going according to plan, but to break Dumbledore's trust? After all he's done to help me and to make sure I can get an education, to throw it all away…And for what? Fewer broken bones? Fewer scars? Am I turning so self-absorbed that I want to look better, to feel better, maybe get a lay?

There are tangible benefits, I know: I would miss much less class and with O.W.L.'s this year, I need all the help I can get. And I know my friends care for me—I'm not as daft as I was—and that seeing me so badly hurt after the full moon takes its toll. They help me loads just by visiting me in the ward, making my life far easier, and just being my friends. But they want to do more to help, and I can't blame them: if I were in their shoes, I would have done the same thing. That's the worst part about all of this. I can't be mad at them, I can't be upset, and thought I feel incredibly selfish, the thought of waking up and going to class the morning after or even the next day is something I've dreamed about for years.

But even if this all works out (and I'm positive it won't, but at least my friends have learned a useful bit of magic and Peter's confidence is sky-high), they'll still have to see it—they'll have to watch me transform. And I don't know how to explain to them what they'll see, because no one has ever seen it. I don't even know what I look like, but I have to imagine its terrifying. They've never thought of me as a monster and I'm eternally grateful for it, but they've also never seen the monster. I'm worried that after seeing me, nothing will be the same. Once they see me for what I am, what I truly am, they won't ever want to be my friends again. And that would hurt more than the bruises and scrapes and pains all combined. I'm a bloodthirsty monster, and they don't know it but it's so very true.

But maybe it will work. Maybe, just maybe, I'll feel less hurt, more alive, and they'll stay my friends regardless. Maybe Dumbledore will never find out, and I'll never have to worry about breaking his trust. I told them that we need to practice—trial runs, if you will, where we enact everything that will happen and multiple times too. There is no room for error. One mistake costs us our lives, and I need to impress upon them the severity of what they're doing. But I'm just so bloody happy.

The next full moon is three weeks away. In the meantime, we'll sneak out at night, every night, to get it right. Hopefully they'll listen—I know they don't take much seriously, but this time I think they will really listen. I think they know what's at stake.

Next week I have an essay due for—

"Dora!"

Remus' voice echoed throughout Andromeda Tonks' house, all the way up to the attic. Nymphadora "Tonks" Lupin, known affectionately as Dora to one and only one, closed the dusty journal and shoved it back into the single box of her husband's things from his Hogwarts days.

"Dora, what are you doing up here?" Remus asked softly. "It's late, I'm headed to bed soon." He looked at his wife intently. "You've been snooping," He said plainly.

"Have not," Tonks retorted, hair lighting up red.

"I've spent enough time with mischievous folk to know what snooping looks like. Is that…my box of things?" Remus asked, wincing slightly as he bent down to kneel next to his wife. The full moon had only been a day or two ago.

"Yes," Tonks admitted, hair returning to its normal bubblegum pink state. "I was hoping you'd have something—pictures, a scarf, anything for the baby's room…." Remus kissed the top of her head.

"He'll want nothing of what I have, believe me," Remus said rather darkly. "The more like you he is, the better." Tonks looked like she was about to protest, but Remus continued. "What did you find?"

"A couple of things. Some notes from class—you wrote like a professor, even back then—and a few photos of your friends but none of you," She pouted.

"I wasn't much to look at," Remus admitted. "Still am not—"

"—Oh hush," Tonks said. "Only thing I found of interest was your old journal—"

"—Merlin, don't tell me—"

"—Which is full of useful little details about a certain Moony and his friends." Remus flushed red. He knew what was in those journals, and he wouldn't wish to read any of it now. It was drabble, nonsense from his younger days.

"You're not selfish, you know," Tonks said softly. Remus furrowed his brows.

"When did I say—"

"Often. You felt selfish for having friends, selfish for wanting to fit in, selfish for wanting company when you transformed—"

"—It was selfish," Remus said rather abruptly. "I was a selfish teenager. I let my friends do things they never should have done, all for my benefit, and for what? If it weren't for me, my friends would likely still be alive. Harry would have parents, you would have a cousin—"

"You stop that right now," Tonks said, raising her voice, her hair positively fuchsia. "Without you, James and Lily would have never gotten together—Harry wouldn't exist. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named would have caused far more hurt than he already has, Peter," She spat, "For all he's worth, would have been a sniveling fool regardless, and if he hadn't been Padfoot, Sirius would never have been able to escape Azkaban. You have to understand—"

"He never would've been in Azkaban in the first place," Remus snapped, "If Peter hadn't been able to hide like he did. I caused it," Remus said, voice breaking a bit. "It was my fault."

Tonks could see how much Remus was hurting. She pulled out the journal, flipping through pages of:

Sirius and James are in detention—

I wonder if Marlene likes me—

I think I'll write my essay on vampires, they are probably just as misunderstood—

"Here," Tonks said flatly. "Read."

I can't blame them: if I were in their shoes, I would have done the same thing.

Remus scanned the page. "This is—"

"Out. Loud."

Remus sighed. "I can't blame them: if I were in their shoes, I would have done…the same thing. Dora, this is—"

"—this is you, Remus. You said yourself, you would've done the same thing. Perhaps not if you had known the entire future—but what 15-year-old does? Need I remind you, this is the same 15-year-old worried about 'getting a lay,' so don't tell me you weren't a normal teenager sometimes," Tonks said pointedly. Remus, ears pink, remained silent. "Besides," Tonks said, softly and more kind, grabbing one of Remus' scarred and calloused hands, laying it across her belly. "They kept you safe. Your body had time to recover, you survived, and you've given me this," Tonks whispered. "Which is more than I could ever dream of."

Remus sighed. He knew when he had lost. And, it was best not to argue with a very pregnant Tonks. Besides…he couldn't ignore the past entirely. Everything he had done, good or bad, brought him to where he was. A beautiful wife, a baby on the way…It was everything he could've ever dreamed of. "You're right, Dora," He said meekly. Tonks smirked.

"What was that?" She asked, "I couldn't hear you." Remus smiled, and rolling his eyes, said:

"You're right, Dora." Remus got up, pressing his arms onto his thighs, an extended a hand to help his wife with her balance, which had only gotten worse over the past eight months. Dora took the hand, and slowly rose up.

"That's what I thought. Now let's get to bed," she said with a smirk. And that was all Remus needed to hear.

I know, I know...really only 50% in the Marauders' world. But I felt someone should be reading his journal, and who better?